I left Knoxville on a Tuesday with one bag and no particular plan other than to drive north on the parkway until I felt like stopping. I stopped a lot. At one point I pulled over at an overlook I'd passed a dozen times before and realised I'd never actually gotten out of the car.
Peak color on the Blue Ridge is something photographers talk about like it's a guaranteed thing. It isn't. It depends on rainfall and temperature and a half-dozen other things you can't predict. This October it came in late and strong, and I happened to be there for it, and I'm still thinking about some of what I saw.