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Thick, eastern Tennessee hardwoods hug The Iron Mountain Inn, standing in glossy magnificence against a backdrop of green mountains and crystal clear brooks.

We pull into circular drive of Iron Mountain Inn after a two hour trip; last 15 miles are up a beautifully winding highway that forms an arbor umbrella in heart of Cherokee National Forest, a spur of Appalachians.

Inn owner, Vicki, greets us on porch of her gorgeous log cabin lodge.

The inn is a pillar of stability, exuding gentleness and comfort along with reliability. The large porch wraps around entire structure, with tables, chaises, and a hammock on each side. Equipped with occasional cat to greet guests, inn welcomes us, luggage and all.

Vikki shows us through air tight door where scents of fresh cut burning wood wafts through inn, happily spitting out its fragrance. The reading and breakfast room is to right, kitchen to left, with an all purpose room adjacent, making a full circle around stairs.

Upstairs houses three bedrooms, two on left, each room representing a time period of Vikki’s life and telling story of what brought her to sleepy town of Butler. All rooms have whirlpool tubs; two outer rooms have balconies overlooking a small rock garden with a trickling stream through middle.

We place our bags in our room and I proceed to porch and hammock for some relaxation before dinner. But first I pick a book off shelf where travelers trade in their tomes for others, continuing on their journey with fresh reading material.

We talk for some time, Vikki and I, about why she lives in eastern Tennessee and what deciding factors were in her building a bed and breakfast.

She loved horses for as long as she could remember. She used to ride in an annual celebration through national forest. She is from North but she loves pristine stillness of South and area she was riding through. He husband passed away and she thought there was no better time to make move.

Vikki lived in a small trailer on property she had searched for endlessly; when inn was completed she opened doors to public and she has loved it ever since.

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hoa. Few places, especially any as vaguely defined as "The Silk Road," are as steeped in picturesque myth as this collection of ancient trade routes from Far East to Europe. Dusty trails, smelly camels, dangerous bandits, treacherous mountain passes - it just doesn't get any better than this.

I love music that evokes visions of places, and I have long enjoyed Alexander Borodin's marvelous "In Steppes of Central Asia" for its European-oriented musical image of route. Now, with Silk Road Project (www.silkroadproject.org), cellist Yo-Yo Ma and his ensemble give us Asian translation, which is closer to source. The Project, on tour with an eclectic mix of musicians from East and West, performed a collection of new and traditional works from as far as China and as near as France. Any yoga instructor will tell you that stretching, while sometimes uncomfortable, is very good for you. Tonight's performance was musical yoga.