Our original adventure, posing as guests at the Grove Park Inn and fully exploring the facilities, was satisfyingly anonymous. We and our fellow 60s-something patrons enjoyed the views on a few of the many patios, roamed the hallways (looking for our room, if asked), made phone calls from the courtesy phones, and fully enjoyed the Spa (to the extent one can without intention to take part in the many, wildly-expensive services). We even took pictures of the staggering views of town:
After our jaunt at the main building, we decided to take an unofficial tour of the grounds. Disappointed that the antique car museum had closed five minutes earlier, we sauntered through the sculpture garden to find such creations as this seductive face in the trees:
With the sun setting and our pockets filled with Grove Park Inn pens and notepads, we headed home.
On our more recent adventure, all we wanted was a simple view to enjoy as we picnicked. My solicitation of "how about the Grove Park Inn?" was answered with a mostly definite "yes", although we both knew what we wanted was a little bit more. So as we rounded the corner to the GPI fork, Catie suggested we go further. So, up the mountain it was.
Reminded of the Virgin Islands by the decadent houses and hairpin turns, we were in awe that this place existed and we never knew. The further we went, the more astounding the views.
"Let's just park here."
"We can't just park in front of someone's house."
"Why not? I bet people do that all the time. I mean, look at their view."
"No."
Turning on whims but mainly just going up, we approached a sign that advertised a new mountain community. After convincing ourselves that they've got to be used to car-picnickers hankering for a view (after all, their sign said theirs were "majestic"), we turned in and soon noticed that there were no houses in this new community. We passed lot numbers until we reached a dead-end and decided this was the spot. Lot 12. Someone's future home; our current picnic blanket. We had a good laugh at the ridiculousness of it as we pulled out our sandwiches.
Four bites into my turkey sandwich, we noticed a big white truck approaching. Sure that we are going to be asked to leave, Catie opened her door as a man approached. He informed us that he was the builder and was wondering if we had any questions.
"Oh no, we are just eating some food, enjoying the view."
Surprisingly, he leaves without concern. We finish our sandwiches, snap a quick shot of us at "majestic" Lot 12, and head back down the mountain.
