Camping in the Great Smoky Mountains

When I was growing up, no matter where we lived (and we lived in a lot of different places since my dad was in the army), we always managed to take a vacation in the Great Smoky Mountains.
I love the feeling of security that comes from being wrapped in a blanket of mountains. The expanse of open sky where I live now always makes me vaguely uneasy.

(Perhaps I have a latent fear of aliens from outer space finding me and carrying me off to do research on my brain. Don't worry, they'll only find lots of useless information about yarn.)

Anyway, we drove the Bompey Bus to our campsite in the Elkmount area, where we immediately set up a tent to house our other "necessities".
Camping is, after all, about "roughing it". Having to watch TV outside is apparently our definition of "roughing it".
Aware of Gabe's wandering proclivities, I decided to ensure that he stayed in our campsite. I don't think he appreciated being my containment policy.

(Look closely and you'll see the leash attached from his harness to the clothesline.)

It is a commonly known fact that a parent can buy expensive toys for their children, but their children will still prefer a cardboard box. In my son's case, it was rocks.
Er, excuse me, "GEMS".

Since we were roughing it already, we decided to really go rustic and eat a delicious meal at Calhouns. Calhouns is famous for their ribs, although Peter wasn't exactly sure what he thought about eating them.
I think he managed to catch on to the idea quite quickly.
Ah yes, we were definitely roughing it.