This Bittersweet Existence : Samber Camping Adventure: Part Two "Beer Coma, Chimney Top, and the Invasion of the Cheerleaders"

After crawling into our jeep, one goal was crystal clear in our brains...BEER!!! We headed straight to the Smokey Mountain Brewery where the waitresses are Russian, the beers are Tennessean, and the food is Mexi/Italian. Oh, and the beer is ridiculously cheap. I got 9 5oz samplers for $8.50 total and Sam got a 35oz beer for $7.00. It was pure hops heaven and even though Sam had to help me finish mine, I held my own and made my forefathers proud. We got back to our hotel and I fell blissfully into a beer coma for two hours while Sam took a shower and watched Swamp Men. After I woke up feeling refreshed, we walked to Bennett's for Sam to get a barbeque sandwich. I was too full on my beer and quesadilla so I picked on a baked potato. We were back at Bennett's the next morning for breakfast then off we went to our campsite. I was really sad to leave our hotel room and said an emotional farewell to the bed and shower. The TV and I had become buddies so it was difficult to say goodbye. We got to the campsite which was quite a bit further up the mountain than the city; therefore, our new home was quite a few degree colder. I was admittedly a bit grumpy so Sam and I walked down the river and took a few photos. The campsite area was beautiful and I was admiring it and walking at the same time. That was a mistake on my part. I tumbled down a slight hill in full view of some campers. Damn my clumsiness! I had climbed up a bleepin' mountain and back without injury, yet I can't casually stroll next to a river without nearly breaking something. I dusted off my pants and readjusted my pride all the while blushing a lovely shade of red. Back at the campsite, Sam built a roaring fire and we realized when it came time to cook the hotdogs, Sam had forgot the evil looking pronged-hot dog spits. I was actually glad that Sam forgot them because I forgot to pack pillows and now we were even. So I took a fork and used tape from the emergency medical kit to tape it to a long stick. Dinner was saved!!! The next day, we hiked up Chimney Top. So we were told it was two miles long and involved some climbing. There was even a lovely sign that said climb at your own risk, but the photo had a nonathletic preteen on it so I figured, I got this. After the 8 mile hike the other day, 4 miles is nothing. Except that the two miles up Chimney Tops is nothing but up. Minus the three bridges you cross, all you are doing is walking up an incline. My body hated me and I hated my body. Sam would grab my hand and pull me up to keep going. He would encourage me, remind me to breathe deeply. I told him that based off this he was going to be a good partner in the birthing room one day. He will be very supportive and encouraging during my labor while I yell various, expletive-filled insults at the top of my lungs. Back to the hike. So after climbing for a few hours we reached the rock outcrop at the top. To get to the actual top you have to rock climb sans rope. There are two different routes you can take. One involves a section with a drop off to certain death either way you fall. Sam took this route. The other option has trees that might catch you were you to fall. I took that route. Once on top, the views are spectacular!!! The sky was bright blue with no clouds and you could see out forever. It was nice to just sit and take in everything. This was a moment for quietness. Even though I'm pretty sure I made some dirty jokes while up there. I can't help myself. We headed back down and while I was walking, just walking, I sprained my ankle. I had just climbed my second mountain and was injured twice just by walking. I give up. After we got back down and felt awesome in our accomplishment, we headed into Gatlinburg to do the some touristy stuff. Apparently there was a cheer leading competition because the city that had been mostly empty when we arrived, was full of little girls in more make-up and glitter than all of Atlanta's vast array of strippers combined. They were intimidating. There is nothing more scary than a 4-foot, pony tailed, mini-Tammy Faye look-a-like, tweaking off a Mountain Dew high and screaming out cheers manically. The majority of them seemed to be from Kentucky and as soon as that came out of my mouth, Sam, a college cheerleader, gave me a history of cheer leading and how Kentucky breeds cheer leaders just as much as they do horses. And they always win. I then asked Sam if he was having flashbacks to his cheer leading days and wanted to grab one of the girls and throw her up in the air. Sam then told me I was making him sound like a pedophile. Point taken. The next day we packed up and headed back home to Squeaky. I was sad to leave the mountains. You can actually see the stars and breathe in fresh air. Atlanta just can't compete.

Time for pictures!!!

Sam's 35 oz. beer