As the train picks up speed, the view from the window seat hardly blurs, the
brilliant hues of autumn lazily parading by in a slow ride to nowhere in particular. The Great Smoky Mountain railroad is a tourist trap, and a damn good one. Vacationers are enticed by the “
old-timey”-ness of taking a train. The mountains make people want to get closer to nature, and trains are one step down from too-real cars. We can imagine the steam and coal coursing through the veins of this primordial metal beast, but in reality it’s run by far more modern means. The train’s open-air cars let in a cool breeze, occasionally misted by fog banks. There are no seat belts, just guardrails to keep passengers from falling off a bridge or from tumbling down a mountainside.
For just over $50,
you too can experience the slowest train ride ever through the most beautiful forested mountain land that American can offer. Leisurely country train rides cost more monetarily than city subways but save you in sanity. Stepping off the train after two hundred and ten minutes and fifty three miles is stepping back into the
real world.
