I live two hours from the tippy top of the North Georgia mountains — just an hour from the foothills. I go as often as I can and hike or just ride around and look. I take the ol’ sketchbook and paints with me too.
Years ago I discovered the forest service roads up there. These roads are graded dirt and gravel and are used by the forest service for fire control access and land management. Some are well maintained such that a sedan can travel them if need be. As such, the outdoorsy of us just load up the ol’ Toyota and go do a little fishing in a cool, remote stream or lake — or visit one of the more accessible waterfalls.
The young and restless go mountain biking and multi-day hiking and camping on a regular basis. There is Appalachian Trail access up in those hills too. That’s quite handy if you’re actively being badgered to join the AARP and not generally known to be, shall we say…”active”, by your advice giving exercise and wellness experts at the office.
With a little effort you can drive to the AT on a Saturday morning, hike a mile uphill and a mile downhill back to the car, then spend the rest of the day ridin’ around, eatin’ bar-b-que and banana pudding, and being generally lazy and carefree in the cool mountain air — while they go to the gym, play a set of tennis, or heaven forbid run for eight or ten miles in ninety-five degree Georgia humidity, all on a diet of fruit, veggies, yogurt, and tofu.
Then on Monday, when they brag to you about the healthy exercise and eating they did over the weekend, tell your domesticated athlete, city slicker, tofu eating peers that YOU hiked the Appalachian Trail. Hah! Take that!
But I digress…
The painting is from my memory of traveling many of these forest roads. They are calming, remote…and interestingly…they lead to places you didn’t know were there. As you drive along you wonder, “where’s this go?” And that is oddly fun.
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