The Smokies, Tennessee

“The mountains are calling, and I must go.”

One weekend, in the mood for adventure, we loaded the car with a few friends, and drove towards Tennessee. 14 hours and 2000 miles, over a weekend, just to experience the magic of the Great Smoky Mountains!

In what was the first snowfall of the season, we reached a beautiful, secluded cabin, Cosby Creek on Spruce lane, overlooking the icy summits. Imagine this, filtered light through the window, the trees wearing blankets of snow, a view of the slender valley, and us, cozily settled in with the fireplace and hot tea.

As the weather slowed to a few gentle flakes, we decided to explore Gatlinburg and drove to a little resto-pub, Blaine’s Grill, the city’s favourite restaurant.

The sun slowly started disappearing behind the peaks and we spent the rest of our time eating warm funnel cakes, taffies and chocolate raisins, walking through the city lights that beckoned to us like tiny constellations.

As a warning, the roads were closed for the evening due to inclement weather.

The next morning, as the high altitude sun brushed the landscape, we awoke to the smell of homemade eggs and coffee. We set out towards the Smoky Mountain National Park, via Gatlinburg and the Sugarland trail, a thickly forested cover of spruce trees dusted with snow.

We continued along the banks of a creek, breathing in the cold mountain air and taking in the scenic fall foliage that never ceases to amaze.

Closer to the North Carolina border, we chanced upon the famed Tail of the Dragon in Deal’s Gap - vertiginously sloping roads, the stony mountainside, weather bound valleys, and 311 bends in 11 miles!

It was like flying over another world, one we were reluctant to leave.

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Summertime in Maine

Sans plan, a few friends, and us, mapped out our 4th July-long weekend along the undulating east coast, from CT to the state of Maine.

First, we were greeted by Portland, where, the occasional warmth from the sun, howling winds, the swirl of the sea and the incessant drizzle from the tropical storm, Arthur, snuggled us into a local pub, Rí Rá. Best part? We made it just in time for the World Cup football game between France and Germany.

As we sat by a table overlooking the harbor, relishing our home-cut fries and white bean burgers, the clouds outside began to further darken.

Reluctantly, we made our way back into the tempest, in the direction of Belfast, where we were booked into the Belfast Harbor Inn. A town situated in mid-coast Maine and, yes, it came with a view of the Penobscot Bay.

As if a sign, we promptly perched ourselves on the balcony, watching the moored boats sway in the distance, droplets of rain dancing on the eddying current and just a glint of the eclipsed sun. A sense of repose reined (and I know I speak for all of us when I say this).

Decidedly, we sat indoors all evening after a quick stop at Rollie’s, a local restaurant serving, probably, the crispiest onion rings on the planet!

As dusk turned to dawn, we drove, in the downpour, on the Penobscot River Bridge, only to reach the Narrows Bridge Observatory, 447 feet tall, dauntingly situated on the bank of the Penobscot River (ultimately leading into the Atlantic Ocean). In under a minute, we were atop the tallest public bridge-observatories in the world!

Getting a bird’s view of the place, including Verona Island and the Hancock Bridge, was indeed a splendid sight. Ignore the beads of rainwater scattered as tiny specks and covering the entire town that morning.

Next, Fort Knox. A statuesque fortification, that immediately took us back to the 1800s and the American Revolution. We toured this establishment, built to keep out lumber-invaders, and soaked in its history.

After a heavy Mexican lunch, we travelled some distance to get to Acadia National Park via the glorious, Park Loop Road. The sunlit afternoon, the queue of serrated trees, and the ribbon of a road ahead of us made for a delightful drive. But before that, a quick beach stop!

We neared one of Maine’s most scenic points, Cadillac Mountains. The hills were soft where the sky stood high and blue. While watching the dynamic, summer sky as we dwelled in the comfort of our lives taking shape.

We then took the route to Jordon House Pond, the source of public water supply, again, established in the 19th century as a summer destination with serene outdoor dining. The reservoir was swollen from the rains, slapping against the stony shores every now and then.

Acadia is a mammoth-sized park. Our next visit was to the Sand Beach: fine grains, crystalline waters, uncongested, and a stiff sea breeze that could bring back childhood memories.

A phantasm.

Unwillingly, as the evening light started to set in, we made our way back – the land seemed sunk into the ocean.

Ended with some off-the-beaten-track Thai red curry and mango sticky rice.

As the morning dawned bright, we blocked out the day to do some kayaking, along the glittery, turquoise, leaping waters of Castine Bay, which is incidentally bioluminescent by night.

Our kayaks took us a long way from the shore, leaving behind a trail of frothy water, and met us with azure lake houses and freewheeling seagulls.

A fitting end to a beautiful holiday.

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Making History in Washington DC

By the end of what was a painfully long New England winter, we found ourselves on a windows-unrolled-feet-up road journey towards the Capital. The overcast skies had nothing to do with our weekend plans. We drove from CT to NY to NJ to DE to MD to DC, got a sweeping glance of the panoramic city by night, before settling into a warm, king bed.

Following a quick breakfast of cinnamon bagels and coffee, we drove past The Pentagon, in the state of Virginia – the colossal defense establishment – and towards the direction of the Washington Monument.

Beautifully sparkling in the sun, a memorial to George Washington, it stood erect on the far end of the Potomac River in wisps of blue sky among glistening flashes of the white and pink cherry blossom. The first signs of spring!

Of course, we were a few days away from peak season.  

The Tidal Basin, where reflections rippled in the water, was like balm to the soul. We walked in tranquility (there’s an art in that too) - despite the, we were told, yearly cherry blossom tourists - and dawdled and let the cool breeze stroke our faces.

The loop around the Basin gradually took us to the Thomas Jefferson Memorial, another construction built in memory of a President.

After a quick slice of pizza, we wandered off to the Smithsonian Museum complex, the largest in the world, each building embellished with swaths of lawn and pebble; the IRS, the Dept. of Justice, the National Archives Building, Constitution Ave and much more.

A view of Capitol Hill in brilliant light! We especially love how this fascinating, multilayered city has touches of sprawling greens, wooded parks and broad avenues.

We renewed ourselves before entering The Air & Space Museum (Tip: If you are ever in the vicinity, take some time off to visit this illuminating display, the best museum in the city).

Last stop before day one: The White House. Funnily, we were reminded of House of Cards' Frank Underwood's “Let the butchery begin.”. 

The next morning, an extravagant brunch awaited us at Mad Hatter near Dupont Circle, succeeding which we made an abrupt stopover at the Lincoln Memorial. The cherry blossom, in the unblemished sunlight, was unrelentingly beautiful, shadows of branches intersecting on the ground below.

We had some time to kill before taking the metro (another scene from the aforementioned sitcom came to mind) back and we used that at the Natural History Museum.

DC in the fewest words: reverberations from the past, intuitions of the future. 

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The Art of Tea: Munnar

We love travelling back to India every once in a while. It's almost like looking for beautiful places around the world only to come home to find it.

Bangalore to Coimbatore to Munnar: three cities in three states with old world charm. We stopped for breakfast and realized, there's nothing that ghee pongal, crispy vada-sambar and steaming traditional South Indian filter coffee can't cure. Even the blazing midday sun was forgiven.

We watched the changing landscape, from the Annaimalai Tiger Reserve across the Chinnar Wildlife Sanctuary towards the city of Munnar.

From the countless windmills, the warm wafting air, the paddy fields as they unrolled ahead and the hills running along the horizon to the sight of green peppercorn on creepers, the scent of purple jacaranda, low-lying clouds, occasional chilly gusts of wind and an intertwining web of passageways, with the tea gardens on either side.

A carpet of greenery.

As our car burned rubber climbing uphill, we watched the planet shrink below us.

Silence reined.

We reached our hotel, one that was perfectly nestled in a quaint village and as we checked into the extra large double suite (with a tres magnifique view), a meal and nap were in order.

Day Two. 6am. Sunrise.

The sky was painted in watercolours and the light of dawn strobing the mountains (of course making the one hour gruelling journey to this point, Top Station, worth it).

Words don't describe this moment. Only, now, it's, as glorious as the rising sun.

We trudged our way to a higher altitude, the hills awash with tea leaves, only to reach the world's highest organic tea garden, the Kolukkumalai Tea Factory.

We were guided through the processing and grading (met lovely tea pickers on the way), generously refilling our cups with orange-pekoe cardamom tea, while being shown the antiquity of an establishment still making thousands of kilograms of organic tea a day.

This led us to the sight of the finely chiseled peaks of the Western Ghats running along the length of the country's west coast. The heavens for a view and an overwhelming sense of smallness of ourselves.

We soon came spirally down to the city and not before doing a local breakfast of puttu, made of ground rice and coconut and aval payasam soaked in jaggery, did we visit the fuchsia, rose and spice gardens where just the fragrance in the air cried, spring.

We circled the quiet lake adjoining the Mattupetty Dam before heading home and couldn't help spending some time revelling in the surrealism of this city.

Photo credits: The very talented, Akshar.

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Vermont in all its Fall Glory

There are only a few things more thrilling than a Mustang and fall colours, and them together. We checked this off our bucket-list, one beautiful October morning.

Moaning winds and a partly sunlit autumn sky - enhancing the greens, yellows and oranges of the maple - was a day we, and some friends, picked to do a little trip up north: Connecticut to Vermont. About 500 miles, back and forth; a white, sleek, high performance, attention-seeking Mustang convertible being our ride.

But, of course.

Beyond, the landscape was lined with climbing wood, the sun golden on its branches and houses set in the backdrop of fall foliage.

We were floating in a world of picturesque trees.

The small city of Burlington, the largest in the state of Vermont - located on the shores of Lake Champlain - was vibrant and bustling with activity, mid-morning: flame-throwers, street dancers, free tasting in chocolate stores, open fronted pizzerias and plenty of tourists from across the country.

And yet, we found our moment of peace in this hubbub. As the leaves tossed about in the sudden gust of wind, we stood overlooking the circle of the placid lake.

A quiet so deep.

Then, there were samples of strawberry cheesecake ice cream had, at the Ben & Jerry's Factory in Waterbury.

Before going back home, we stopped to stare while the evening light gently picked out the colour on the grass and leaves.

It is believed that true quests of adventure aren't measured so much in time and distance as much as in hope. Here we are already hoping to discover Vermont some more. Soon. 

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A Thousand Miles & Back: Virginia

'Weekend getaways are like curling up into a soft cloud.'

Our road trip mapped out to be a bell-shaped journey. We chose the opportune Labor Day holiday; from CT to NJ to PA to DE to VA. After meandering through roads unknown, we reached our hotel. The sky was burnt black and we, almost instantly, shrimp-curled into bed.

Outside, the next morning, the sun was warm in our cheeks so we dove headfirst into the day, in the direction of the much celebrated, Luray Caverns.  

The salt formations of stalactite and stalagmite roared in height, intricately sculpted from the walls and it's reflections, as clear as glass. We ambled through the passageways, awed by the magnitude yet stability of these natural 'living' structures, only to end the tour with a performance by the Stalacpipe Organ, the sound of inimitable melody.

"..to dungeons deep and caverns old". Like a fairy tale in stone. 

We then proceeded to do some mining of our own! Picked out a few unpolished crystals of quartz, sandstone and amethyst from a large bag of sand, a constellation of stones, against water lashing around in narrow tunnels.

PS. A visit to the quaint Car & Caravan Museum, just adjacent to the Caverns, with the Benzs, Buicks, Royces, Mustangs, Bugattis and more, from the 1800 & 1900s, was an absolute value-for-time experience.

The sky was luminous except for a few clouds, as we entered the Spotswood Trail along the Shenandoah Valley. The drive was made beautiful by sunlight pushing through the canopy, the chorus of chirping birds and a hazy string of mountains in the distance. Not before long, was there a slashing drizzle that made the road to Richmond, capital of Virginia, much more of an adventure!

After crossing plenty of vast farmland, lush pastures (ah, the countryside!) and the historic triangle of Williamsburg, Yorketown and Jamestown, we accessed a tunnel - towards Chesapeake - and the light at the end of it was the dazzling waters of River James with a few tugboats in the horizon and the sight of waning light.

Serendipity.

We woke up to the glaring midday sun in the summer sky. The Virginia Aquarium, fairly less crowded at that hour, was a kaleidoscope of colours and sea creatures. We spent our time watching lesions of fish, gliding sea horses, schools of stingrays and mantas (that we touched!), energetic otters, bored Komodo dragons, wary snakeheads, disciplined sardines, moody sharks and tigerfish, lionfish & zebrafish among the swaying kelp, in water that was myriad shades of blue and green.

As the day deepened, there was a sweeping gust of cold wind but the boardwalk in the Virginia Beach area was too hard to pass up; the gentle wash of waves, the delicate moon, the sky crammed with stars and the serenity of the moment.

We started back home, via the Chesapeake Bay Bridge Tunnel, in the early morning chill, in a whirl of wonder, along the glistening sea.

They say, Virginia is for lovers and we left very much in love with its austere beauty. 

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