Two routes. Route 75, the sensible one — interstate, three hours, gets you there. Then the other one: Ducktown, Tellico Plains, Robbinsville, Cherokee, Newfound Gap Road directly through the heart of the Smoky Mountains. Longer, twistier, with a non-trivial chance of the road being closed for weather on New Year’s Eve.
I took the latter one (of course)!
The Drive
This is one of the most scenic drives I’ve been on in this entire country, and I’ve covered a lot of ground. The road through the Nantahala Gorge and up into the Cherokee National Forest does things that are difficult to describe from behind a windshield at dusk. Waterfalls appearing off to the right, elevation changing fast enough to pop your ears, the last light of the day doing something dramatic on the ridge above. I stopped several times. I should have stopped fewer times, given what was coming.
By 4:52 in the afternoon the light was going fast and I was still about an hour from Cherokee, which is where I’d pick up Newfound Gap Road for the final push into Gatlinburg. The road occasionally closes for high winds. Reports were mixed. I kept driving.
I made it. Road was open. Went through the park in the dark, the headlights catching fog and switchbacks and absolutely zero visibility of the mountains I was driving through. The one image I captured somewhere in there might be good. I’ll find out in the edit.
Gatlinburg
Gatlinburg on New Year’s Eve is not a quiet experience.
I will say that with the kindest possible framing.
The GPS routing through downtown produced a series of turns that made no sense in the dark with crowds six people wide on the main drag and every intersection backed up in four directions simultaneously. I said some things to the GPS. I said some things to the other drivers. None of it will be transcribed here. The camera was running, which I did appreciate at the time in a kind of abstract way, even while everything was actively terrible.
I found the River Terrace Resort. It had a balcony overlooking the river. I had mint tea and four cameras set up and the whole town spread out below me. This was the correct call.
Finding the Pocket
Before I retreated to the balcony, I did walk the quieter side of the river, staying off the main drag and following the water instead. There’s a version of Gatlinburg that works. Ripley’s Aquarium is down there — penguins, which I noted for the following day. The river runs through the middle of everything and if you follow it instead of the crowds you find something that functions. It’s like Disney and Vegas had a child in the Smoky Mountains, which sounds like a criticism but isn’t entirely one. There’s real energy here. You just have to find your pocket.
Dinner was a burger standing next to a garbage can. On balance I’d recommend it over fighting for a table.
The Drone Show
I had the Sony A7S3 with the 70 to 200, the Fuji on interval stills, the DJI Osmo, and the iPhone all pointed off the balcony. Possibly excessive. Probably not.
The fireworks drone show launched somewhere below and to the left. I was expecting it to be way up high. It wasn’t. It was at a manageable altitude for the balcony, the drones moving in formation against the Tennessee sky over the mountains, the river below, the town doing what it does on New Year’s Eve. Front row seat, mint tea, nobody asking me to move anything.
Happy New Year.
Lori
One more thing before I close this out.
Thank you to my sister Lori. She sent me the Mel Robbins podcast that became the backbone of the last two episodes, and doing that exercise on the drive from Chattanooga gave the last day of the year something it needed: intention. I’ve spent the better part of forty New Year’s Eves loading trucks and managing crews and making sure the champagne service was timed correctly. This one was mine. She helped me know what to do with it.
It’s going to be an amazing 2025. I’m quite sure.
