We hate to disappoint everyone (especially Noah), but Dollywood was not to be on this pass through Tennessee. Gatlinburg was cheesy enough, and after 12 hours there, we were ready to head back into the woods. It's a hard decision; do we go for the places that will be funnier on the web site, or do we go for the places where we'll have more fun. Irony and kitsch is fun, sure, but it only goes so far. We promise to do more stupid shit in Florida, we'll not be able to avoid it.

So, leaving Gatlinburg we hit the highest point in Tennessee and then back into North Carolina were we. (It's hard to use Tennessee in a sentence without rhyming. Go ahead. Try it.)

At first we were going to go for the wimpiest of raft trips. It was cheap, no travel was required, and we were both feeling rather unconfident in our rafting abilities. The receptionist at the Nantahala Outdoor Center, Jude, told us we would probably have more fun in a two person inflatable kayak, but that would be without a guide, we'd be on our own. Sure the rapids only went up to Class III, but that last one was a doozy, seems nearly everyone had taken an unexpected swim there.

After lunch though, we felt like wusses, so we went back and changed our reservations. We would take the "ducky" and take our chances. What the hell. If we die, at least we'll die like men. Err... whatever.

Besides being a lot more fun and interactive (the people in the raft ahead of us didn't really do anything, their guide did the work while they chatted about god-knows-what. Thankfully, we couldn't hear them.), the main difference between the ducky and the raft is the people in the ducky, us, get completely soaked. As soon as we sat down in the boat we were sitting in 50° water. Anthony was heard to remark, "$5 for those rental booties seems like a pretty good deal now. These New Balance aren't helping me at all."

The good news is, besides being freezing and, as usual, desperately having to pee, we made it down the 5 mile trip without swimming. The guide in the other raft didn't think we'd make it down the falls, but we did, in grand style. We rock.

Friday we hit the mountain bike trails at Tsali Recreation Area, a reginally famous spot for some fun, roller-coaster like riding. They were right, it was fun.

Crossing the border into South Carolina (motto: "We Hate the Dixie Chicks"), we're stopped in Greenville for a day or two visiting our friend A.J. Diamond and doing a little routine car maintenance. Now you're caught up.

Next: The Beach.

Life in the Badunk	Old cars make good embankments, apparently	Fine Art by Anthony
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