I read one of Dwight McCarter’s books, Lost, several years ago. Since then I have never hiked without a whistle. Furthermore, my guests hike with whistles. Period. If you are too macho to wear a whistle, I send you to Pigeon Forge to shop instead of giving you an overview and map of trails in the Park. After a day in Pigeon Forge, you will happily wear a whistle. Over time, I have populated the entire eastern seaboard with at least a gross of Wal-Mart whistles that my guests have taken home in their glove boxes, dreaming of orange and yellow leaves against the blue skies, rivers and mountains of the Smokies.
