When we were living in Atlanta in the late 1980s, we would often spend week-ends in North Carolina, Alabama, South Carolina or Tennessee. We spent that time exploring the great natural out-of-doors of those states, looking for remote-from-urban-area sites where we could canoe or hike. The canoeing left much to be desired since there, we found, was a dearth of natural lakes. Instead there were water reservoirs which people were accustomed to using as recreational spaces. There were rivers which presented as reasonable canoeing alternatives and we made the most of them.

But there were ample opportunities to hike in the forests and along mountain trails and we sought them out. One of our favourite fall and winter-hiking areas was the Great Smokies around Gatlinburg. And we loved the accommodation we found there, renting condominium apartments in town and venturing fairly short distances out of town to find the trails we looked for.

The places we rented were quite wonderful, set down in mountain settings in this most touristy of towns that verged toward but didn't match the tawdriness we saw in Niagara Falls, as an example. We really liked and enjoyed being in Gatlinburg. And we had some really interesting trail hikes there, once finding ourselves deep in a forest of gigantic old tulip poplars. We took plenty of photographs only to discover that the film hadn't come out.

On another trail at another time one of the features of the hike was a waterfall. The trail continued right on into, it seemed to us, but in fact, behind the waterfall, and we edged ourselves along the trail, under the waterfall, to access the opposite side of the trail which continued its journey through the forest.

In the places we rented there were features like hot tubs, and floor-to-ceiling windows, gas fireplaces, along with all manner of amenities to embellish the terrific architectural design of the places we rented. One of the places was accessible only by a narrow, winding mountain road that went up, up, up and further up and was quite the adventure to drive on a winter's night.

On one of these trips we had gone out the day we arrived on a late fall day on a long but relatively undemanding trail hike, returned to the condo, had dinner and bathed in the fully-equipped whirlpool spa, and tucked ourselves into bed. We left the floor-to-ceiling, wall-to-wall windows at one end of our bedroom uncurtained, cocking our eyes upward to see the moon and the stars above.

When we awoke the following morning our incredulous eyes informed us that we had been transported overnight to a completely other landscape. Everything was covered with a dazzling, thick layer of newfallen snow. And the local news informed us that all highways leading in to and out of Gatlinburg were closed due to weather conditions, including the still-falling snow.

We hadn't brought winter gear with us, but intended to try for another hike regardless. We did manage to access a trailhead and soon found ourselves floundering, gasping and laughing in snow too deep to negotiate for any length of time. The purpose of our visit denied us, we thought we'd drive out and return to Atlanta, but it was not to be -- not quite yet. 

It was a strange feeling to find ourselves cloistered in that little town, thigh-deep in snow and nowhere we could go. Until we finally did when the highway re-opened and we drove out, to find to our astonishment that the snow that had held Gatlinburg captive was nowhere to be seen a mere few miles out of town.

That Gatlinburg has just been destroyed by a catastrophic wildfire is sorrowful news indeed. We feel for the people of Gatlinburg and their pride in their beautiful little town set in the forested landscape of the wonderful Great Smokies.