The Smoky Mountains National Park is the most visited national park in America, for reasons that I cannot fathom. There's no entrance fee -- maybe that explains it. But more visitors than Yellowstone, or the Grand Canyon, or Yosemite? That's just crazy.
From afar, the mountains are sultry and mysterious. And don't get me wrong, they're pretty up close too. They're just not spectacular. Maybe I'm just sour since we missed the chance to see yet another bear due to a bunch of inconsiderate drivers stopping smack dab in the middle of the road, leaving us stuck uphill inside a forested patch of land where there were no bears to be seen.
But before Jun and I reached the mountains, we scooted up the west side of Georgia and into Tennessee territory. It was getting dark, so we found a state park and set up our tent for the last time. We cooked up a feast on the hot coals, cracked open a couple of beers and then crawled into our sweltering tent. It was so hot I could barely breath, and the crazy thunderstorm that rolled in for the entire night cooled off the outside air but didn't make the slightest bit of difference inside the tent.
Perky the next day we were not, and the world's worst cup of gas station coffee didn't help matters. But then, after our ho-hum lap through the Smokies, we stopped at a river rafting spot, ordered up two tubes and headed to the water. We floated a mile downstream, sometimes leisurely moving along in a light current, and at other times being tossed through quick-moving rapids.
We made it back to the base in one piece and scarfed down a barbecued pork sandwich and a big ol' mason jar of southern tea.
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Sunday, August 14, 2011
Day 49
What can I say? The temptation proved to be too strong at the Indiana State Fair, and we made like the oversized Hoosiers (I was born in Indiana, so I guess I am a local too) and ordered up a deep-fried Snickers bar. A chubby girl beside me in the waiting vat was finishing a big cup of ice cream before getting her hands on her deep-fried butter. The verdict: ew. Too sweet, too squishy. Give me a regular Snickers any day, or a fried cheese...mmm.
We also learned that the Tilt-a-Whirl can make you queasy as an adult, the spinny rides are horrifying, the haunted house is the lamest thing in the world unless you're 3 and you can't take a shortcut through the monster truck pit when the show is going on.
After our fair-going experience, we watched the sun sink under the lavender sky and drove through the cornfields toward home, a sad and exciting final destination.
TRIP ROUNDUP
States visited: 27
Miles logged: 10,000+
Weeks on the road: 7
Flat tires: 0
This journey has been the time of my life, full of stimulating scenery, fascinating people, delectable food, freedom and pure, simple love. There's no one in the world I would have rather sat beside in the car for hours on end, camped in the rain with and watched magical sunsets and the occasional sunrise together.
I love you, Jun-bug. It's good to be home.
We also learned that the Tilt-a-Whirl can make you queasy as an adult, the spinny rides are horrifying, the haunted house is the lamest thing in the world unless you're 3 and you can't take a shortcut through the monster truck pit when the show is going on.
After our fair-going experience, we watched the sun sink under the lavender sky and drove through the cornfields toward home, a sad and exciting final destination.
TRIP ROUNDUP
States visited: 27
Miles logged: 10,000+
Weeks on the road: 7
Flat tires: 0
This journey has been the time of my life, full of stimulating scenery, fascinating people, delectable food, freedom and pure, simple love. There's no one in the world I would have rather sat beside in the car for hours on end, camped in the rain with and watched magical sunsets and the occasional sunrise together.
I love you, Jun-bug. It's good to be home.
Friday, August 12, 2011
Day 47
I'm going to be honest. My favorite part of Tennessee was the food. In particular, the spicy chicken we ordered up from Pepperfire. It was the most deliciously painful eating experience in recent memory. Fiery hot chicken, icy beer and tons of napkins.
The only problem with embarking on this enormous road trip and not being in our early 20s anymore is that oftentimes our days were so packed with travel and sightseeing that by the time we checked into a motel and took a shower, we were too exhausted to explore the nightlife in any proper form. So, no, we didn't see live music in Nashville. I was up in the air about hitting one of the local tourist traps anyway.
Storms rolled in the next morning as we drove toward the neon-laced stretch of downtown. We jumped out of the car once or twice, then headed to the outskirts of town for lunch at Loveless Cafe. Afterward, we pointed our ailing Pontiac toward the bluehills of Kentucky and one state closer to home.
The only problem with embarking on this enormous road trip and not being in our early 20s anymore is that oftentimes our days were so packed with travel and sightseeing that by the time we checked into a motel and took a shower, we were too exhausted to explore the nightlife in any proper form. So, no, we didn't see live music in Nashville. I was up in the air about hitting one of the local tourist traps anyway.
Storms rolled in the next morning as we drove toward the neon-laced stretch of downtown. We jumped out of the car once or twice, then headed to the outskirts of town for lunch at Loveless Cafe. Afterward, we pointed our ailing Pontiac toward the bluehills of Kentucky and one state closer to home.
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Day 44
The Deep South is a strange, sultry part of America and a world apart from the Midwest, although it's only separated by a couple skinny states. My first sighting of the confederate flag made my stomach turn, as did every other time it was displayed with sickly pride.
Jun and I cruised through the bottom lips of Mississippi and Alabama, peering at the sandy beaches on the Gulf as Biloxi and Mobile rolled past. We stopped only in search of touristy magnets, which we started collecting early in our trip and now we have a big, colorful bag full of them.
The mission: get to Florida as fast as possible and snag a spot on a sunny beach in Pensacola. Sounds easy, right? The water was so close, but the stretches of sand eluded us as we hunted for a swimming area. We crossed a long bridge and then zoomed right by the toll bridge for Pensacola Beach, which is supposed to be beautiful, in search of a smaller, free area. Instead of a lovely, wet afternoon, we ended up fighting about the whole thing and then giving up and heading north. I was bummed, but we had also been watching Shark Week on cable here and there and my urge to set foot in the open water was notably diminished. I'd settle for a fresh-water swimming pool.
That night, we checked into a Ramada in Montgomery, Ala., only to find that the pool was closed indefinitely and a giant cockroach was waiting for a kiss goodnight in our bathroom. Sigh. A room switch and bottle of wine got me through that one.
But on to the good stuff: the Rosa Parks Museum is incredible. The way the story is set up puts you as close to the historical action as you can possibly get. You can practically smell the exhaust from the bus. It still surprises me how recent those events that seem like millions of years ago really were, even in my father's lifetime. The battle for civil rights still blazes on, of course.
Jun and I cruised through the bottom lips of Mississippi and Alabama, peering at the sandy beaches on the Gulf as Biloxi and Mobile rolled past. We stopped only in search of touristy magnets, which we started collecting early in our trip and now we have a big, colorful bag full of them.
The mission: get to Florida as fast as possible and snag a spot on a sunny beach in Pensacola. Sounds easy, right? The water was so close, but the stretches of sand eluded us as we hunted for a swimming area. We crossed a long bridge and then zoomed right by the toll bridge for Pensacola Beach, which is supposed to be beautiful, in search of a smaller, free area. Instead of a lovely, wet afternoon, we ended up fighting about the whole thing and then giving up and heading north. I was bummed, but we had also been watching Shark Week on cable here and there and my urge to set foot in the open water was notably diminished. I'd settle for a fresh-water swimming pool.
That night, we checked into a Ramada in Montgomery, Ala., only to find that the pool was closed indefinitely and a giant cockroach was waiting for a kiss goodnight in our bathroom. Sigh. A room switch and bottle of wine got me through that one.
But on to the good stuff: the Rosa Parks Museum is incredible. The way the story is set up puts you as close to the historical action as you can possibly get. You can practically smell the exhaust from the bus. It still surprises me how recent those events that seem like millions of years ago really were, even in my father's lifetime. The battle for civil rights still blazes on, of course.
 |
| This museum was pretty neat too |
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Days 42 & 43
No time for Houston. Or rather, we chose New Orleans over Houston, making it merely a sleepy blip on our road map. That's an easy one, right? Our final stop in Texas was for a surprisingly tasty Thai lunch right on the border, then it was off through Baton Rouge and into the arms of the Crescent City.
To get there before dark, we took the interstate. It was still a slow, colorless journey, so when we arrived in New Orleans it was a like a Red Bull for my road-weary soul. Jun maneuvered the car through the narrow streets of the French Quarter in search of lodging, while I was reminded of a tipsy 22-year-old version of myself that had raised a ruckus on those same streets.
Oh, how things change. This time around, the sights and smells and sounds of Bourbon Street were downright repulsive. The hurricanes? Nothing to write home about. But the architecture was endlessly divine and the seafood...yum. We filled up on oysters at Acme Oyster House and Mother's, which were full of tourists but finger-lickin' good.
We walked around in the searing heat, stopping in art gallerys and souvenir shops and even a cathedral to soak up the AC in small bursts. My husband did not let me go on a swamp tour, alas, and within 24 hours our time in the Big Easy had come to a close.
To get there before dark, we took the interstate. It was still a slow, colorless journey, so when we arrived in New Orleans it was a like a Red Bull for my road-weary soul. Jun maneuvered the car through the narrow streets of the French Quarter in search of lodging, while I was reminded of a tipsy 22-year-old version of myself that had raised a ruckus on those same streets.
Oh, how things change. This time around, the sights and smells and sounds of Bourbon Street were downright repulsive. The hurricanes? Nothing to write home about. But the architecture was endlessly divine and the seafood...yum. We filled up on oysters at Acme Oyster House and Mother's, which were full of tourists but finger-lickin' good.
We walked around in the searing heat, stopping in art gallerys and souvenir shops and even a cathedral to soak up the AC in small bursts. My husband did not let me go on a swamp tour, alas, and within 24 hours our time in the Big Easy had come to a close.
Day 41
Arriving in Austin with the last of the daylight, Jun and I were at a loss over what to do. We weren't hungry. We didn't feel like shopping. The temperature was a sultry 100 degrees, so strolling through the park did not exactly appeal to our senses.
The air-conditioned car tour was short and sweet, weaving through one-way streets and passing a cluster of cute little bars, the state capitol and the famous Stubb's BBQ. Then it was time to head north for a little taste of Man vs. Food. The first stop was Roundrock Donuts, which has a drive-thru and makes mouthwateringly glazed sweets. We made the mistake of only ordering four -- two for dessert and two for breakfast.
The smell was intoxicating and soon our tummies started to rumble, so we drove 20 minutes to our dinner destination: Salt Lick Bar-B-Que. We shared a dinner plate, scarfing down the smoky meats and sides with a cold Lone Star beer until that happy, stuffed feeling took over.
So, in my mind, Austin will forever be equated not with live music, but with delicious food.
The air-conditioned car tour was short and sweet, weaving through one-way streets and passing a cluster of cute little bars, the state capitol and the famous Stubb's BBQ. Then it was time to head north for a little taste of Man vs. Food. The first stop was Roundrock Donuts, which has a drive-thru and makes mouthwateringly glazed sweets. We made the mistake of only ordering four -- two for dessert and two for breakfast.
The smell was intoxicating and soon our tummies started to rumble, so we drove 20 minutes to our dinner destination: Salt Lick Bar-B-Que. We shared a dinner plate, scarfing down the smoky meats and sides with a cold Lone Star beer until that happy, stuffed feeling took over.
So, in my mind, Austin will forever be equated not with live music, but with delicious food.
Saturday, August 6, 2011
Day 40
With its little manmade river winding through downtown and providing much-needed shade from the sun, San Antonio is endearing and steeped in history. After meeting my super-fabulous friend David, whom I met so many wild years ago in Tokyo, he took us on a whimsical nighttime tour of his fair city that included a lesbian bar and the Alamo.
We threw back a couple cocktails and wandered through the dark heat in search of nothing particular. We peered into a Cowboys bus to see if we could spot any football players, who were practicing at the local stadium all week. We stopped in a fancy-schmancy hotel to soak up the AC, then walked through a lonely park while David told us about the time he and his friend were almost robbed. Funsies!
The next day we went back for another trek through downtown, eating tasty Tex-Mex at a riverside cafe and then heading back to the Alamo to look inside. It really is incredible. Most of my familiarity with the place comes from watching Pee-Wee's Big Adventure as a child, and even that's hazy now.
The searing heat eventually drove us, after listening to lazy music drift over the water at the River Center and watching droves of quinceañera sweethearts and brides (sometimes it was hard to tell the difference) parade by in poofy gowns, to the cool refuge of our car and we left San Antonio and dear David in the dust.
We threw back a couple cocktails and wandered through the dark heat in search of nothing particular. We peered into a Cowboys bus to see if we could spot any football players, who were practicing at the local stadium all week. We stopped in a fancy-schmancy hotel to soak up the AC, then walked through a lonely park while David told us about the time he and his friend were almost robbed. Funsies!
The next day we went back for another trek through downtown, eating tasty Tex-Mex at a riverside cafe and then heading back to the Alamo to look inside. It really is incredible. Most of my familiarity with the place comes from watching Pee-Wee's Big Adventure as a child, and even that's hazy now.
The searing heat eventually drove us, after listening to lazy music drift over the water at the River Center and watching droves of quinceañera sweethearts and brides (sometimes it was hard to tell the difference) parade by in poofy gowns, to the cool refuge of our car and we left San Antonio and dear David in the dust.
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