The Blue Mountains Sing: Of Rivers, Old Men, Trails, and Trout

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We are a meld, the blue mountains and me. We are part of each other. Pigeon Forge was my home; The Smoky Mountains, their foothills, and the Great Smoky Mountain National Park I considered my yard. From Elkmont to Deep Creek from Walnut bottoms to Davenport Gap, the mountains stretched my playground. The Sevier County 1940s and 1950s era was like no other. Unmatched in countryside beauty, they nurtured a Mayvberry-esque life style. The rural one-day-at-a time pace of the mountains and the peace of the countryside offered ...

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