If the Natchez Trace is a massage, the Blue Ridge Parkway is a hot stone massage. I think I could travel it every day of my life and not tire of the misty blue vistas, even though our first day on it was pretty foggy.
We shopped two Farmer’s Markets for fresh produce and the entire town seemed to be there, intent on eating food grown close to home. I don’t think I have ever eaten fresh garlic before, but it has been quite a treat.
I like a town that’s big enough to have amenities, but small enough that I can get my arms around it. Asheville fits the bill.
Hot Springs, NC, on the other hand, is oversold and under delivered. The Hot Springs Campground is not a spot I would return to. It felt like an army of people had trodden over it, and the evidence was in the clearly visible garbage pile. Restrooms were slightly above fishing camp. The spa itself charged like airlines. $1.99 for water if you are thirsty, extra for a towel. Maybe I had mineral water in my hot tub, maybe I didn’t. I’ll never know. But the minute the guy knocked on the fence to say time is up, he started draining the tub. At least that means I was in clean water, I guess. Thank heaven the massage was good. Still no offer of a drink of water though. Everything was advertised as river view, but the river was mostly blocked by foliage. I’ll take the hot tubs at Truth or Consequences NM any day. Now that’s a river view.