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My Christopher Bean Bavarian Chocolate coffee tastes exceptionally delicious right now, flavored by the crisp mountain morning air, the nearby cooing of mourning doves and angry chatter of chickadees, and the smells of pine and honeysuckle. There’s not much that beats this. Although, I suppose, oceans and lakes come pretty damn close. But mountains; how did I live most of this life without these mountains around me?

My five-week journey — my anniversary — traveling in Junebug is today. Five weeks on the road, living in nature, challenged by remoteness and gigantic bugs, delighted by semi-wild bunnies in a dreamy marsh coast, hypnotized by a patio-side freshwater lake, and now, here, settled amidst the Smokies and only 24 hours away from taking up residence in my beloved cabin and giving Junebug a well-deserved month off.

The kitties are peeking out the screen door, no doubt aware of the new surroundings, even though they are at home inside familiar Junebug. How could they not know we’re in another place? Especially after the knuckle-tightened drive through three national forests yesterday: Pisgah, Cherokee, and Smoky Mountain.

My first towing experience through the mountains is under my belt, and aside from wanting a gallon of margaritas afterward, I felt rather accomplished. One thing you don’t realize as a towing newbie is the amount of strain your vehicle endures. Flat roads simply aren’t that burdensome. You focus on the roads, the traffic, your clearance on either side, changing lanes. But you don’t really ever think of your vehicle’s engine exploding or the prospect of being dragged off the highway by a careening RV to a fiery death in a deep ravine.

I have often driven through the mountains of northern Georgia, the western Carolinas, Virginia, Tennessee, adeptly zipping my vehicle around semis that were crawling up the far-right lane of the highway, flashers on, gears grinding, climbing like sloths in a big-rig centipede. I’d flash by in my Jeep, shaking my head in wonder. Losers, my subconscious mind mumbled as I flew by. It’s not that bad.

But. Consider me humbled. I am now part of that crawling line of overburdened beasts. I even — yikes — turned my flashers on at one point. And I thought going up was bad. Then we went down. Managing your speed to avoid sway in the trailer while coasting down a 7% grade (which doesn’t seem like much until you’re hauling a Junebug behind you) past a dozen road signs that always appear in creepy roadside horror movies: “TRUCKS MAX SPEED 50 MPH”, “EMERGENCY PULL-OFF AHEAD.” “SLOW YOUR SHIT DOWN OR YOU’LL DIE A FIERY DEATH AT THE BOTTOM OF A DEEP RAVINE.”

We actually traversed I-40 without becoming a casualty, and with only one instance of an upward middle finger held vigorously in my window at a trucker who wouldn’t allow me to merge in when my lane suddenly ended. We made it! When we reached relatively flat ground just east of Pigeon Forge, I could’ve stopped Junebug, dropped to my knees, and kissed the 90-degree asphalt.

The kitties have endured their last long drive for another three months. They have no idea of this fact, only that they’ll be enjoying the open-air deck at Willow and the comfort of a solid wood home known for embracing its occupants in an intoxicating, pine-filled sensory overload where there is space to get away from each other, a ground-level litterbox, and a bed big enough to stretch out next to their happily slumbering mom.

My coffee cup is empty, and it’s time to begin prepping for the transition to a more traditional life for awhile. Time to pack up my belongings, prep Junebug for a month or two of R&R, and finally–FINALLY–clear out my vehicle so that i can see out all of my windows. Time to set up my mountain home pottery studio and touch a whirling ball of wet clay for the first time in three years. Time to sit on Willow’s deck and embrace the idea that it is now my home base. After seven years of owning this “second home,” it becomes my first home. Junebug is now my second. Time for a new chapter in life. And time to plan the next nomadic adventure!