Georgia to Gatlinburg

While I was getting ready for Day 2 on the road, Mark found his inner artist and practiced a reflective shot in the mirror.


"Success lives here" boasts a sign on a water tower northeast of Atlanta, in Gwinnett County. Another tower read: "Gwinnett is great," but Mark didn't make the shot in time.


A fun sign on the side of the road near Clarkesville, Ga.


A water tower welcomes guests to Clarkesville, Ga.


We pulled into a deserted-looking junk yard, with rusted buildings and lots of dry dirt.


Tallulah Gorge advertises a "free" viewing area, where Mark lounged with other visitors.


Mark was excited to see Nehi soda at the gift shop. "You can't get this anywhere," he said.


A sign tells visitors the gorge is 900-feet deep. Karl Wallenda walked across the gorge in 1970 on a tightrope.


Mark wondered what was inside this plastic container I was holding. It was the toilet paper I kept in my trunk, and I was happy to have it.


Danielle pauses in front of the tourist trap that is Tallulah Gorge.


Danielle checking out the gorge.


Danielle still checking out the gorge.


Mark takes a knee to get a little closer to a fellow visitor to the gorge.


Mark stretches his silly bone as he dangles his upper half from the lookout.


Webb Overlook is in the thick of the Smokey Mountains.


Mark looks intense as he flexes his muscles along a pullout in the Smokies.


A gorgeous scene along the drive.


Mark sits contemplatively near the water.


The creek ran alongside the road.


The definitive shot of the Smokies.


Passing the time in the rocking chairs at Cracker Barrel, Mark gets silly again.


For sale at an antique shop was this portrait of the characters from Mark's favorite television show, The Andy Griffith Show.


Orange flowers dot the side of the road.


She said
Historic 441 afforded us opportunity to sightsee.
Sunday, June 7.

The day began with breakfast and the Atlanta Journal-Constitution at a Georgia institution: Waffle House. After divvying up the paper (sports for him; features for me) and filling up on eggs, biscuits 'n' gravy, and OJ and milk, we hopped back on the highway. We snapped photos of the Atlanta skyline and cruised down a traffic-free I-75. Mark had downloaded MapQuest directions from Georgia to Pigeon Forge and played navigator while I drove. The best part of the journey came when we turned off on historic 441, which brought us through small towns in northern Georgia and Tennessee. “You mean we could have taken 441 all the way from Margate?” I quipped.
The cool thing about taking small roads on a cross-country trip are the bits of Americana that you see along the way. For example, while passing through Demorest, Ga., Mark got excited over a sign advertising the Johnny Mize Athletic Center and Museum. This Hall of Fame baseball player, nicknamed Big Cat, attended Piedmont College, which seemed to be the only institute of higher learning in the town. Mark hoped to learn where exactly in the city Mize grew up, so we stopped at a convenience store for information. Sadly, Mark reported that the woman he asked was “clueless,” and the man he asked was “probably drunk.” We dropped this quest and continued on our way. It would have been nice to have gotten a photo of the Mize road sign, but we did get some others.
Among them were a water tower that welcomed us to Clarkesville and a humourous sign advertising a business: "Scovill: Fasten-ating the world since 1802."
Historic 441 led us next to Tallulah Gorge, which I had visited on my road trip in ‘06. We got some nice photos here of the overlook and of Mark posing next to an old carved man. Mark also got a little silly when he reached out his arms and dangled from the open-air porch that overlooked the gorge.
While Danielle went to the find the restroom, Mark found a little refreshment: a Nehi grape soda. He said it tasted like a grape Sno-cone. He didn’t save any for me, so I can’t attest to that. I can attest to the lack of toilet paper in the bathroom. Luckily, I was a Girl Scout and travel with toilet paper in the trunk of my car. Mark found this amusing and took a photo of me with my stash.
After the gorge, we hit a couple of other tourist traps. Among them was a side-of-the-road antique shop that also sold something I was hoping to buy in Georgia: fresh peaches. The woman at the shop cut off a slice for me and Mark to try. Even though Mark doesn’t like peaches, he agreed the sample was juicy and delicious. I picked up a bagful while Mark found a Michael Connelly novel he’d never read. Not bad for $2.50. Mark also considered buying a black-and-white photo of Andy, Barney and Opie from the Andy Griffith Show but balked at the $10 price tag. Had Don Knotts still been alive, Mark would have bought the photo and sent it to the trio of actors for autographs. ("What good is this photo if I can only get two out of the three autographs," Mark lamented.)
We hopped back on the road, where the lanes seemed to widen and I started driving a bit faster. We had been making a lot of pit stops and thought it might be time to get serious about making it to our destination. But the ice cream gods, it turns out, had another fate in store. We looked at each other as we flew past a creamery. We made the split-second decision to turn around to taste another roadside delicacy.
The shop itself was bare: white walls, hand-written menu, one-size-fits-all milkshakes. Mark quickly decided on a Cookies ‘n‘ Cream shake (“extra thick, please”). I taste-tested two flavors: pralines and cream, and espresso fudge. I couldn’t make up my mind between the two, so I got both.
Here I learned something about Mark. He does not like to be pressured into doing anything. I asked if he wanted to try my ice cream, and he said he didn’t. I — completely enraptured by the taste of my snack — found it inconceivable that anyone would not want to try it. So I asked again only to receive a bark from Mark, who was content to sip on his milkshake, which he claimed contained entire chunks of ice cream. In any account, I still enjoyed my two flavors. Mark would have preferred his favorite, Ritter’s frozen custard in Margate, Fla.
Soon after the ice cream stop, we entered the canopied roads of the Great Smokey Mountains, one of my favorite parts of the country. Families, bikers and road-trippers shared the windy, two-lane road. I admit to wanting to stop at many of the picturesque parking areas; Mark had to reign me in, insisting that we actually had to be somewhere at 5:30 p.m. We did manage to stop at a few places, though. Along the way, Mark (always the deejay) found some music I knew the words to. We sang along to Meatloaf, Queen and the Who as we eased on down the road. I would be remiss if I did not mention the great song from the classic movie Smokey and the Bandit: “We got a long way to go and a short time to get there ...” (Ed note: I could have easily skipped this detail. Mark petitioned for its inclusion.)
We pulled in to Pigeon Forge with about a half-hour to spare before meeting Mark’s family for dinner. We lounged on some rocking chairs outside the Cracker Barrel before driving over to No Way Jose Mexican restaurant to meet the family. I’m looking forward to the next few days of R&R in the Smokies.

- Danielle P