Tick Tock, Tick Tock, Tick, Tick, Tick, Damn Ticks

We are in the Cumberland Mountains of Tennessee and while it's not my favorite place so far, its nice. Getting here was easy for once, we didn't get lost once – okay just once and just a little. Somebody moved the entrance to this place and didn't tell no body.

We went on long hikes through the woods where I found plenty of nice rivers or creeks to go swimming in. The water is clear as a bell, well not that bells are clear but the water was.

Our first hike was on Byrd Creek Trail and by the time we made it back, I had to put my leash on and pulled Tom the rest of the way, I tell you it ain't easy keeping him out of trouble. Partially I put the leash on him to pull him, but mostly so he wouldn't get lost.

We had dinner and than he went to sleep, I slept like a rock too, well not that rocks sleep – hey who makes up these expressions anyway.

The next day we went to the lake across the bridge. It is a nice bridge, built a long time ago by something called the CCC to give people jobs during the depression. Longest stone bridge ever built by them too.

I found some ducks and I was looking at them thinking how nice they would taste and I fell in the lake. Tom had to lift me out cause boy that water was deep and I couldn't get my feet on anything. It did feel good though. I thanked him by shaking all the water off me and on to him.

Later on we found this strange underwater set of steps. Why someone built them here I have no idea, maybe after they built the lake the needed them to get out, sounds like something Tom would do.

The next day we found more interesting stuff. There is a rickety old wood bridge across the lake. I made Tom go first. Figure if it held him, it will hold me. Plus if he fell in I could always run back and laugh from the shore.

On the other side of the bridge we found a set of steps.  Steps that go where?  We went up them and nothing? No where. Strange these people.

Oh, the reason I don't like this place so much is the ticks. There are so many and they keep landing on me. Tom picks them off and burns them, but one day he must have gotten seven off me. Nasty little blood sucking bugs. He kept dabbing me with some bubbling liquid, told me it was to get out any nasty stuff. It did, but it messes up my hair, so I made him comb me afterward. I found two on Tom but I didn't comb his hair, not much to comb after all – he, he, he!

Tomorrow we are off again.  This time to eastern Tennessee to see where Davy Crockett was born.  I'll tell you this guy got around.  Davy slept here, Davy slept there, sounds like a cat, wonder if he was ever awake.