This is what keeps drawing me back to the wild country that lies above the fall line in Greenbrier Valley, one of the wildest spots in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. It simply doesn't get any better than this. Every step opens up a new view of this primeval wilderness, a place that is more often trod by bears and wildcats than it is by human visitors. What you see in these two photos is the 'trail' or at least the route that we chose on that particular day. Every storm that sweeps over the upper Ramsey Prong drainage changes the topography, dropping a tree here, moving some rocks downstream there, and occasionally dumping a wide swath of riverbank into the stream, especially on the upper reaches of the Prong.

Movement is reduced to its basics - you stand, you look, you leap, then you stand and plan your next move. Repeat a few thousand times and you'll be at least halfway to the Appalachian Trail. It's a good rhythm and it allows you time to really absorb your surroundings. There are ghosts here - ghosts of the explorers that have passed this way in the distant past, good mountain people like Harvey Broome, Guy Frizzell, and Dutch Roth. Here and there you'll see something that brings to mind the words from Harvey's excellent journal, Out Under the Sky in the Great Smokies, "I have never wanted to leave the top of a mountain."