The yellow glow of high wind signs stood out against the dark backdrop of bulging storm clouds sliding across layers of gray already shading the vast sky that started off its clear blue tranquil self. With sore legs, near frozen fingers, and a cool fresh set of lungs, I finally stood atop clingmans dome overlooking endless waves of the smokies; the setting sun sneaking light through the holes in the sky and the cloud free gap in the horizon. As the thin slice of the bare sky turned golden yellow, the angle of the light revealed layers and layers of glowing mountains. Shivering, swaying, I stared. Just stared.