Nashville may be the official capital of Tennessee, but Knoxville, located three hours east, is the unofficial capital of Appalachia – the polite term for Deliverance country. The massive Appalachian Mountains reach as far north as Newfoundland but become steeper down through West Virginia and Kentucky. South of Knoxville, they are known as the Great Smoky Mountains; these peaks are the highest in the eastern states, which also makes for some scenic and challenging highways. If I’m not mistaken, the Bimmer’s pedals respond better when I wear my new boots.

Musically, the city of Knoxville considers itself to be the anti-Nashville: a place where music does not betray its roots with show-business pretensions. But hillbilly has gone upscale in its own way at Blackberry Farm, a luxury hideaway on 4,200 acres of rolling foothills south of Knoxville. The miles of fences and many of the buildings are painted white; they enhance the pastoral setting, but they are also (as any Southerner can tell you) a traditional symbol of wealth since white paint requires more maintenance and money than black.

It’s all about the porch in these parts. With a porch, you can enjoy the outdoors even in bad weather, and inclement weather often makes for better scenery. On a chilly evening, after an exquisite hayseed-fusion dinner – kimchee collards, pork osso bucco, fried green tomato salad with peanut dressing – we walk out on to the back porch of the main house and watch the fog form in the valleys. “We are nowhere near water,” notes Lynn. “Where does the fog come from?” Our horseback guide later tells us that the fog actually forms from the dense underbrush of the woods, which is why it clings so tightly to the hills.

We retreat to our cottage, aim the miniature stereo at our private porch, wrap ourselves in blankets and light up a couple of cigars. Blackberry Farm offers its own Zen-bluegrass CD, Blackberry Folk, but tonight we opt for a women’s bluegrass compilation titled O Sister! The current revival owes much to female voices, from Appalachians Ola Belle Reed and Hazel Dickens to current stars like Alison Krauss and Rhonda Vincent, who don’t hail from here but whose musical tradition definitely does. Their vocals all share a sharp timbre capable of making songs of coal mining disasters sound uplifting. At this moment, the voices seem made for cutting through fog.

High in the hills of old Kentucky
Stands the fondest spot in my memory
I’m on my way back to the old home
The light in the window I long to see

– “On My Way Back to the Old Home,” Bill Monroe