How the Smokies saved smoking

Just returned from a 3 family trip to the Smokies.  We do it every year as a reunion of the 3 kids's families from my own family.  My sisters all have families, leaving the confirmed bachelor to sort the world out for himself.  And left over from the original fab five is my mother, who once again proved this year that she can out-work any man.  73 years old I think?  She would be both gratified and mortified that I have no idea.  As a young man, she could easily outwork me.  Not outlift me.  Not outcarry me.  But when I was DONE, she merrily worked circles around me everytime.  It never did much for my self-esteem, but once I learned to embrace the humiliation, it was OK by me. 

MOM ROARING DOWN THE APPALACHIAN TRAIL
ON ANOTHER DAY

So we are off to visit the Walker sisters homeplace above Little Greenbrier, and she looks like some kind of power-walker, leaving the ranger and our group in the dust.  She says it was in case she wore down, and by putting so much space between herself and the group, if she faltered and ran out of gas, she would then only be at the same point as we were.  To me it sounded like a RECIPE for wearing down, but whatever she says is fine by me.  She certainly kicked my own personal a$$.  But she didn't climb up to the summit of Mt. Leconte.  It's just as well, she would have embarassed me there, too.

THE VIEW NEAR THE SUMMIT of Mt. LeConte

ANYWAY, sometimes cigars can save a bad day.  Over the course of this particular week, the SMOKIES saved the smokes.  I had a box full of cigars, but with me having a pipe now and again and it being hot, I had occasion to smoke only two cigars.  A Cohiba Siglo II was launched while my brother in law created his championship ice-cream in two separate churns.  It was good, but not Cohiba good.  It's smoothness and refinement were features of it's 3 years of tube age, but the flavors were muted at best.  As I began to chain smoke the second half, I got a little cinnamon and spice, but outside of a few regular tobacco tastes, I got none of the characteristic bean notes that I love so much.  For my non-smoking follower Leslie, that's Vanilla, Cocoa and some other bean that escapes me.  We always find a way to have to describe the "bean flavors" even though by now with the term in common usage in cigar circles, we should be past it.  We come up with acronyms to describe drawn out concepts, and end up having to say BOTH the acronym and the long concept to be understood.  Ah, Humans.   I give the Siglo II about an 80.  ehh.

On the morning of our hike up to the Walker Sister's cabin, I spent my lunch at a picnic area, and fired up a 1998 Punch Corona.  It was surprisingly strong for it's age, although my personal taster Leslie said it was very smooth and subtle.  I enjoyed it while walking around in a stream that ran beside the picnic grounds, skipping stones and waiting for a woman of legal age to walk by in a bikini.  Luckily my family had mercy on me and did two things.  We MOVED to the Elkmont campground "play in the stream" spot where there was a girl in a tiny bikini to observe subtly through my aviator shades.  And 2nd, they let me let my cigar go out in the car on the way over.  As we prepared to leave Metcalf Bottoms I had offered the half smoked corona to a few old timers, and got no takers.  So even though it took more time than normal to go out with the stimulating breeze from the sunroof, it eventually did go out and didn't smoke up the car too bad.  Had I known we were leaving, I would have stopped puffing earlier and been less of a pain to endure.  The cigar had lots of slight creamy flavor and a tobacco core.  It was not overly complex by any means but continues to be the star of the re-discovered old cigars they found in King tut's tomb a few years back.  Box after box, stick after stick, just a great little cigar.  I'd score it 88. 

And as it turns out, the girl in the tiny bikini was not exactly of age to be ogling, but she was close enough to justify a close inspection to make that determination.  She was not hiding her light under a bushel, that's for sure.  And I certainly hope for her sake that she befriended the group she was with, since she appeared to be spending the afternoon with a large group of pretty fundamental folks.  The other girls were in skirts and barely got wet feet while the menfolk stripped to the waist in their surfer shorts and fully immersed themselves in the cool water and buzzed around the tiny bikini like bees.  There is something fundamental about it alright.  Fundamentally hypocritical, that is.  If the bikini girl was actually part of their group, I am sure they burned her at the stake later that night.  LET THE LADIES SWIM, I say.  For MY sake, if not your own.