Chasing Waterfalls

I just got home from a fabulous trip to Georgia this weekend. After I lost my job last Monday, the original plan was to drive down to Blue Ridge on Thursday or perhaps Friday morning, but a new temp job came through on Wednesday night, so I couldn't leave until after work on Friday. My good friend and former roomie, Miss C. and her boyfriend, Mr. G. moved down there a month ago. He is caretaker of a huge house and vast acreage on the lake, and they are now living quite nicely in the "guest house," the expanse of which would swallow my house threefold. They have a waterfall outside their window. I can't imagine a more idyllic and relaxing setting.

Now, Blue Ridge is in the middle of nowhere, and that kind of isolation isn't for everyone, but it's been a long time since I've felt that relaxed, and it seems like the two of them are basking in the mellow lifestyle. It's about a four-hour drive from Nashville, and I started out from here just after six. Of course, you lose an hour driving east, so I expected to arrive about 11 or so. Those of you who know me know that I'm a human GPS system and possess an uncanny knack for knowing where I'm going, but I decided to use the real GPS system on my way down there, partly because Miss C. said it was tricky to find and partly because my car's speedometer no longer functions and a GPS is handy for telling me how fast we're travelling on long trips.

Here's my tip for the day: Never let machines think for you.

The GPS was doing swimmingly until about twelve miles outside Blue Ridge. It was pitch black and I couldn't read the written directions even if I wanted to, but I knew I was getting close. The GPS told me to turn off the main highway onto a small road - this felt weird to me- but I figured it knew better than I did. Big mistake! I started up a mountain (or at least a very tall hill) down a narrow, windy road, and as this was eleven o' clock at night, on my own, in strange territory, with no cell signal, I started to second guess the GPS a little. However, I kept trucking. Suddenly, the road disappeared and was replaced by a gravel "road." There were houses scattered around and I just kept going - the GPS told me I had nine miles to go- and I thought the road would become paved again soon. Nope. My little VW soldiered through 4.5 miles of windy, narrow gravel mountaintop road before we reached paved territory again. I swore I could hear the banjos. The GPS had led me on a shortcut that took me twice as long (max. speed 15mph on gravel), completely bypassed the town, and brought me directly to the lake. It took the "take shortest route" command literally - screw paved roads!

I took four rolls of film this weekend, which of course, I am excited to get processed and imported in so I can share them with you, oh faithful readers. However, there have been several short breaks in my employment lately, so the photo-fun-fund is running a little low. Sorry to try your patience, oh diligent ones, but I will post pics as soon as I can.