We are running out of time. We all know of noteworthy local places that we have not visited. Tourists go there, but residents don’t. Being here for only six months, and here being a spectacular region, we are working hard to see all such places. We won’t quite succeed, but we are having fun trying.

This weekend we visited the arts district of Asheville, the Kituhwa mound of the Cherokee, and the “Road to Nowhere” out of Bryson City. The entrance to the road is adorned by a rusted sign that states “Road to Nowhere – Broken Promise - 1943 to ?” The road did go somewhere before the Fontana Dam was closed and made a lake that ended the road.

The government promised that the road would be rerouted along the lake shore. That has not happened and with the retirement of the local congressman in this last election, it is likely not to. The congressman-elect will seek a cash settlement to resolve the issue. In Bryson City there are those who have found it hard to believe that the government would not keep its promise. Their neighbors the Cherokee say, “tell me about it.”

We being folks who often enjoy going nowhere took the road this afternoon. The highway crosses a major bridge and ends just before a 1,000 foot tunnel. We parked and walked through the tunnel that is now part of a hiking trail. I dare say the tunnel is the longest, widest, and highest I have ever encountered on a hiking trail. A fine curiosity.

The hike was pleasant. Bright sunlight illuminated coves that are dark during the summer. Remarkably Anne’s cell phone rang as we crossed a ridge and we conversed in the woods with the Woods.

The afternoon hike in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park followed a morning bird walk on Cherokee lands. The historical low mound, a central meeting place for the Tuckaseegee Cherokee, is now on an Indian owned farm and will be preserved. The riverside farm was largely fallow but provided an assortment of fallow fields, weeds patches, and woods to wander across. Killdeer cried and waggled their rusty rumps at us as they flew off. Savannah and song sparrows skipped from bush to bush to maintain their modesty. A Coopers Hawk rose from a tree and circled away harassed by blackbirds and a crow. The birding was not exciting, but it provided a great excuse to walk about on a fine autumn day.