Probably the time I went hiking around Mount Guyot. It is a very remote mountain away from everyone, trail hasn't been kept up for decades, no people around at all. Had to park 20 miles away and hike to it on foot. When I got to the mountain on the second day, the trail was surrounded by tree's and fog, it was like a living version of the tunnels that go through the very heart of the mountains, and it felt as if I was going through a corridor that was not meant for earthly eyes. On the hike, I saw many deer. Even thought I saw a mountain lion, though it could be my imagination, as they were supposed to have died out here 100 years ago(however, you never know what you will find in the deep parts of the Smokies). After climbing a few hours, I bread free from the tree's into a green ridge just under the cloud bank. Climbing through the dense mist had an almost mystical feel to it, and I could not see more than three feet in front of me, and surprisingly, the silence was overwhelming there(the land was vibrant with sound lower down).
Upon ascending the cloud bank, I see, before my eyes, an untouched, unending land of white and grey as far as the eye can see, ending in a blueish termination that one reads about in novels. Jutting up every few miles were outcroppings of rock and tree's, seeming like islands of earth and green among a sea of cloud.
I sat down on a soft bed of lichen, resting against a cool rock, and used my water purifier to get some of the water from a nearby stream, cold and brisk, and thrilling. I just sat, and watched as, every now and then, a bird rose, and fell though the clouds for what seemed like hours, while being lulled by the soft and mournful whistling of the wind. The peace, the contentment I felt, it makes my sad just thinking about it, makes me yearn for it again. That, I have to say, is my happiest moment.