99. THE GREAT SMOKY MOUNTAINS

Tennessee and North Carolina

12/20/2011

Our final stop on our way home took us briefly into North Carolina to the entrance of the Smoky Mountains. Highway 441 ensures a safe drive all the way through the imposing mountain range.

I never quite understood the name before, but now that I’ve seen them with my own eyes I get it now. Natural vapor released from the trees truly creates a mist that looks like smoke. At one point the “smoke” got so thick as we rose through the mountains we couldn’t see a car just a few feet ahead of us. We stopped along the road along the way and when we got out of the car we noticed an odor we couldn’t place. It had a slight sulphur tinge. This only added to the strangeness of the environment.

We traveled the entire route from one side of the range to the exit in Gatlingburg, Tennessee. All along we were unnerved by the eeriness of these strange mountains – the mist and the smell and the dark, unforgiving rocks. All nature is beautiful, and the Smoky Mountains are no exception – but there is something mysterious about these mountains that even the comfortable highway couldn’t cut through.

98. THE APPALACHIAN TRAIL

Georgia to Maine

12/20/2011

The Appalachian Trail is probably Patricia’s broadest entry, since it runs over 2,000 miles from Georgia to Maine. She includes the entry in Georgia – the beginning of the trail – so it seemed an appropriate place to dip in. No doubt we’ll be in and out of the trail other times in the future.

Right outside of Helen is the Chattahoochee National Forest – considered the entrance to the Appalachian Trail. After spending the night in a very nice Rodeway Inn in Helen (in Bavarian style, of course) we drove 15 minutes north into the forest. The specific landmark we made the object of our quest was Anna Ruby Falls – a majestic waterfall hidden in the middle of the unspoiled woods.

It’s not completely unspoiled, I suppose, as a handicap accessible ramp has been installed. Reaching the falls still requires a hike of a mile round-trip. Not too strenuous probably if you’re not trying to drag three little kids with you.

We can now all say with pride we hiked a little bit of the Appalachian Trail. Even Daniel.

97. HELEN

Helen, Georgia

12/19/2011

Twenty minutes from Dahlonega is another gold-dried town and the polar opposite. This city of 500 people unashamedly panders to tourists in an outrageously tacky way. Yet, somehow it works. It really shouldn’t, but it does.

In 1969 the citizens of this dying town decided to completely rebuild their community to resemble a nineteenth-century Bavarian village. Strict zoning codes force even powerful franchises to comply. (One of the most ornate buildings in town is the Huddle House.) As we pulled into town we were faced with a perfectly manicured gingerbread house village – the fact it was only a few days before Christmas only amplified the illusion.

The people at the visitor’s center were very friendly, but they said they couldn’t recommend anywhere specific for dinner because we might be mystery shoppers. Little did they know that all both of our readers base their dining decisions on this blog.

Keeping in line with the shtick we thought a German restaurant would be apropos… I mean, angemessen. There were only two that serve dinner, and we randomly picked the Old Heidelberg – a real disappointment. (Patricia gives no dining suggestions, so we can’t blame her.) We got a sampler of their sausages which were all clearly frozen and reheated. And there was no doubt that Bratwurst was a grocery store hotdog. The German noodles were prepackaged and inconsistently cooked. The icing on the strudel was the bathroom. The men’s room floor was so sticky I had trouble walking on it. The door facing into the dining area wouldn’t close all the way, while the “door” in the actual stall was a piece of unfinished wood quickly hobbled together to replace the original. It didn’t quite fit and was latched by a makeshift metal hook.

Restaurants like this probably survive because they rely on ignorant tourists who make the same uneducated assumption we did – a town modeled after a German village would have great German food. The dissatisfied tourist moves on, but a new one replaces him and makes the same mistake. The restaurant continues on with no need to build up a good reputation with locals. A shame really, and the only dark spot on an excellent evening.

We spent the rest of the night wandering the cobbled streets, peeking in plenty of fudge hauses (How do they compete with each other? Who cares! More free samples!), and little shops pushing vaguely-German kitsch made in China. The best places were the craftsman shops where men were carving wooden toys and blew glass as we watched. The kids were hypnotized by the latter.

Is this place tacky? Yes. Thinking back rationally and rereading what I’m writing it sounds like a terrible place on paper. Yet Laura and I both agree (and we rarely do) that this is one of the best places we’ve ever visited. It shouldn’t be, but it is.

96. DAHLONEGA

Dahlonega, Georgia

12/19/2011

“Dahlonega” is Cherokee for “precious yellow” and the town was the site of America’s first gold rush – some 20 years before the “precious yellow” would be discovered in California. The gold deposits dried up, but the town is still here as a reminder of their place as a footnote in American history.

The workers at the Lumpkin County Court House-turned-gold museum seemed especially good humored about hanging on to the not famous gold rush and their unpronounceable town name. Being “not famous” famous has its perks. The town square seemed upscale, unspoiled, and a genuinely nice place to live. The people seem proud of their unique heritage – certainly a large percentage must be the descendants of those wannabe failed prospectors who never got rich, but built a town instead. They’re happy to share their story with tourists, but they’re not going to pander to us.

95. STONE MOUNTAIN

Stone Mountain, Georgia

12/19/2011

Aren’t all mountains stone? Never mind. This particular mountain is an 825-foot high chunk of granite only 5-miles at its base. Apparently this odd protuberance has been a tourist stop-off since the 1820s. Today, a whole industry has built around it and now the mountain is surrounded by an amusement park with your typical amusement park jazz.

We had no interest in the park – we just wanted to see the mountain. Well, I wanted to. Laura couldn’t have cared less. We still had to pay $10 for the pleasure in an architecturally devious parking lot designed in such a way that you can’t see a colossal mountain without parking there.

The side of the mountain is scarred by the largest bas-relief sculpture in the world. It shows Jefferson Davis, Robert E. Lee and Stonewall Jackson riding forever into battle. It was designed by the Mount Rushmore guy in his younger days.

In the 1910s the Ku Klux Klan was revived beneath this mountain. Now people ride inner tubes down tracks of artificial snow. The South is complicated.

94. SWEET AUBURN AND MARTIN LUTHER KING JR. HISTORIC DISTRICT

Atlanta, Georgia

12/19/2011

We spent the night in a Savannah Suites about a block or so from the birthplace of Martin Luther King. Tragically, it looked to be one of the worst parts of town. Groups of homeless people lay about in the streets with shopping carts full of possessions scattered about. Outside the hotel a man came up the security officer who was checking me in. (Yes. The security officer checks you in here.) The officer made the man clear off and then explained to me that he was a “regular” who wasn’t allowed on the premises. I got the impression this explanation was supposed to make me feel better.

The hotel was actually very nice inside, but this was the first time my cheapness made me feel concerned for my family’s safety. If I could do it over again, I would have spent a few more bucks.

After surviving the night we drove over to the Martin Luther King Historic District. Run by the National Park Service, it is a series of free buildings dedicated to and associated with the King legacy. His birth home and The Ebenezer Church where he preached still stand here.

The centerpiece is the Martin Luther King Jr. Center for Nonviolent Social Change. As arguably the most-honored non-statesman in American history I was surprised that the official King Center was so sparse. Essentially three rooms – dedicated to King, Gandhi, and Rosa Parks respectfully – the displays are basically placards with text and black-and-white photographs readily available in any book on the Civil Rights movement.

Dr. King was an incredible man who takes up a unique role in the history of the United States and the world. He’s certainly one of the most important people of the twentieth century. Millions have been affected by his words and deeds and there is a continuous dialogue on his highly documented life and legacy. I mean no disrespect to the King Center of the memory of the man himself. In fact, I mean the opposite. If someone walked in here and knew nothing of Martin Luther King they would walk away still uncertain. Those who already know a lot about the man will get nothing new. The King Center has an opportunity – perhaps an obligation – to present the passion of the man they seek to represent.

One strong point is on display: King’s funeral wagon. The television audience who watched the largest non-presidential funeral in American history may not have seen that the man himself was carried to his resting place in a rickety, wooden wagon. This is the humble spirit of Martin Luther King to me. More of this, please.

93. THE GEORGIA AQUARIUM AND DOWNTOWN DRAWS

Atlanta, Georgia

12/18/2011

The Georgia Aquarium is the world’s largest and the pet project of Bernard Marcus, the founder of Atlanta-based Home Depot. We’re used to these kinds of places being non-profit or government run, so it was a little strange being routinely reminded of the awesomeness of Home Depot (the facility’s mascot is a cartoon clownfish named Deepo), but it’s his money and I suppose Marcus can do what he likes with it.

Naturally, the kids loved everything. Kathleen was riveted. The boys especially liked the moving walkway that slowly moved them under a transparent tunnel filled with hundreds of species.

After we had seen all the live exhibits we were suckered into the 3D movie. We were the only people at that particular viewing, which was probably a good thing. This was the first time any of the kids had been in a movie theatre and we weren’t sure how they would behave. Incidentally, Laura and I have never seen a 3D movie – even though they’re the hip thing now.

The movie was only 15 minutes and the sort of thing where they spray water at you and shoot bursts of air at appropriate times. Philip was terrified out of his mind, but Daniel couldn’t stop talking about it afterwards.

92. ATLANTA’S GREAT NEIGHBORHOOD RESTAURANTS

Atlanta, Georgia

12/18/2011

Mary Mac’s Tea Room is an icon of Georgian downhome cooking – the name is supposed to add a touch of class. It doesn’t need it. Although a tad pricey the atmosphere, service, and quality of the food meant we didn’t much care.

Terry, our waiter, was terrific. When he found out we were first timers he brought us two cups of Likker soup on the house. (What was it? A broth with turnip greens you crumble corn bread into. It sort of reminded me a little of matzo ball soup – except with ham.) Terry was great with the kids too. When Philip threw his kid menu crayons on the floor Terry picked them up, stared Philip down, and took the crayons away. Philip never made a peep. How amazingly refreshing. It’s easy to say no to your own kids, but people are always afraid to say it to someone else’s. Way to go, Terry!

We loaded up on the most stereotypically southern meals we could – meatloaf, collard greens, tomato and squash pies, peach cobbler and peanut butter pie. Oh, and of course, fried green tomatoes.

We had a lot of leftovers and we could barely move afterwards, but it was worth it.

91. MIDTOWN ATLANTA

Atlanta, Georgia

12/18/2011

I learned at the museum that General Sherman’s base before his march to burn Atlanta was at Chattanooga. We took the same route, but with much friendlier intentions.

Our stop in midtown (Patricia calls it the cultural center of Atlanta) was the Margaret Mitchell House and Museum – it is here the Gone with the Wind author began her masterpiece.

Laura read the book years ago and I finally got around to it this summer. I didn’t expect to like it – but frankly, my dear – it might be the best book I’ve ever read. Nonetheless, we braced ourselves for the obligatory house tour. These “houses of the rich and famous” tours rarely do much for us, regardless of our interest in the person.

Our tour guide was very knowledgeable and friendly, although it was slightly awkward since we were the only people on the tour at the time. The tour consists of two room of “the dump” as Mitchell herself called it, filled with replica furniture. Nothing in the house is original. Don’t get Laura started on her feelings on this.

(Confession time, Patricia. You claim Mitchell’s original typewriter and her Pulitzer Prize are on display here, but her the tour guide said her husband donated these items to a library and they were never in the museum. Did you really visit here? Come on. We’ve been through a lot together. You can tell us the truth.)

The one thing worth seeing for any film buff is the actual door of the Tara movie set. Daniel ran up to it and started banging on it. Yes. My son nearly destroyed the most famous movie set in Hollywood history. We’re all so proud.

Bravo to the marketing department, by the way. Cheapskate that I am it was hard resisting buying the bottled water they labeled “I’ll never be thirsty again!”

90. CHICKAMAUGA AND CHATTANOOGA NATIONAL MILITARY PARK

Fort Oglethorpe, Georgia, and Chattanooga, Tennessee

12/18/2011

We spent the night in a Days Inn in Chattanooga. The hotel was fine, but I accidentally ordered a room with just one double bed. With nowhere for Daniel to sleep we put him in the tiny bed with us and spent most of the night getting kicked in the face. Ah, memories!

We skipped the continental breakfast (just dry cereal without milk) and headed to Mass at St. Gerard’s in nearby Fort Oglethorpe – a small and simple, beautiful parish. Laura and I both admitted afterwards that we were both thinking, “Why are the readers putting on those silly Southern accents?”

Literally less than a minute down the street from the church is the Chickamauga and Chattanooga National Military Park, which is most notable for being the nation’s first military park. The layout became the format for all the other Civil War battle sites. Laura, meet your Professor Moriarty!

I enjoyed the driving tour and learning about the lesser-known Civil War battle in the museum. Laura took a nap in the car. Daniel was Daniel.

89. CHATTANOOGA & ROCK CITY

Chattanooga, Tennessee, and Rock City, Georgia

12/17/2011

Rock City is aptly named for its spectacular rock formations, which reach their peak at Lookout Mountain. Miles outside of town we started seeing plain, black billboards with the words SEE ROCK CITY in white, boring-looking capital letters. It’s strangely good marketing.

(Speaking of billboards, we often see strange ones on our travels. Our favorite for this region was for Farmer and Fox, attorneys at law. If Beatrix Potter needs a lawyer, she’ll know who to call. Oh, and guys – you can’t all be the world’s largest fireworks store.)

We finally reached Lookout Mountain around 7pm. Usually it closes at dusk, but they decorate with lights for Christmas and stay open late this time of year. We expected Lookout Mountain to be similar to a state park, but it’s a highly organized tourist facility. It was extremely crowded and we had to stand in line for a long time. Since this was the Saturday night before Christmas this shouldn’t have been too surprising. Like all good mommies, Laura was so concerned over making sure the kids had everything they needed for the trip (aka “The Flight into Egypt”) she forgot her own coat. Of course, there were plenty of kiosks more than willing to sell her one.

Despite the crowds, by overhearing conversations it seemed most of the people were locals. A guy behind us in line was desperately trying to impress a girl on their first date. I accidentally ran over the foot of the ticket-taker with the stroller (aka “The Hummer”), but he was good-humored about it. He said he was hoping to get hurt so he could go home early. Even though we were swimming in a sea of people the atmosphere was nice and comfortable.

Once we got our tickets we were led along a walkway, passing the rock formations illuminated by Christmas lights. It was tough getting through with the kids. One of the passages – “Fat Man’s Squeeze” – was apparently named after me. Not for the claustrophobic.

At the top of the mountain is the piece de resistance where you can see seven states at once. Even in the dark it is an incredible view. Philip was amazed. He kept pointing into the distance exclaiming “Oooh!” There’s also a 90-foot high waterfall we stood at the top of. I’m not afraid of heights, but Philip’s fearlessness near the edge made me tighten my grip on him. He was never in any real danger, but when I think about the possibilities it makes my skin crawl even as I type this sentence.

Along the way there were brief stopping points – some of them kind of odd. (“Oh man! I’m halfway up this mountain now. If only I had some kettle corn.”) At one stop a brass band was playing Christmas carols, with kid volunteers chosen to “guest conduct.” Elves and gnomes were placed within crystal caverns and a vaguely human-shaped rock formation was dressed up as a snowman. (Daniel found this particularly funny.)

I must make note of the Nativity scene about halfway through the walk. The display was one of the humbler ones, but it was accompanied by a recorded narration declaring Jesus Christ as the most important man who ever lived. Non-aggressive, but self-confident, I think it would cause anyone to pause in the middle of all the gingerbread houses and Santas.

By far the kids’ favorite display was a representation of fairy tale and nursery rhyme characters. I sometimes forget how quickly they’re growing up and how more active their imaginations are now. They recognized many of the characters from their story books and were excited to see them “come to life.” I do have to talk to Daniel about women though. In “fairy tale land” there was a “mommy” and “baby” pig family. Since he saw them, Daniel has started pointing at Laura screaming, “Oink! Oink! Mommy! Oink! Oink! Mommy!”

If I were a real fuddy-duddy I would say all this “noise” somewhat distracted from the natural beauty of the mountain. However, like I said, most of the visitors seemed to be locals and the Christmas lights is probably a nice tradition to remind them of the landmark they – like all people who lived near anything precious – sometimes forget about.

88. MUSEUM OF APPALACHIA

Norris, Tennessee

12/17/2011

This Christmas we decided it was time to go south for the winter – with Atlanta as our main objective. To get in the southern spirit instead of saying things I tried to do declare them. I do declare I tried it once before Laura murdered me.

During our six-hour drive that first day we passed by a lot of our old haunts – Cincinnati, London, the Kentucky Horse Farm, Berea… We feel like we’re becoming fairly well versed in our local area, but it was nice to cross the border into Tennessee and some truly unexplored territory.

The Museum of Appalachia is the largest site in the world dedicated to Appalachian culture. I expected my stereotypes to be challenged, but what we got were streets and streets of wooden shacks, painstakingly moved log by log and then rebuilt so they can fall apart here instead of wherever they originally came from.

The oddest in the collection was the log cabin of Mark Twain’s parents. America’s most famous wit never lived there, but we are promised he was conceived there. Chalk up “the conception of Mark Twain” as one historical event I never even wanted to think about.

Laura and I had a heated argument over whether a building that has been disassembled, moved, and then rebuilt somewhere else was in actuality really still the same building. Laura says no, I say yes, but the kids didn’t comment. They spent most of their time chasing the wild peacocks that roamed the complex.

Despite my flippancy it was hard not to be intrigued by the whole concept. One building that struck me was a Port-a-potty sized shack in which its occupant willingly and happily lived in until his death until 1989. If one stereotype was addressed, it was definitely the idea that “Appalachian life” exclusively belongs to bygone days. Another interesting exhibit featured the work of an itinerant preacher who travelled the country leaving behind giant stone carvings featuring his evangelical message.

The museum is basically a love letter from one man (founder John Rice Irwin) to a way of life he saw dying around him. Most of the displays are labeled with his handwritten notes, peppered with his personal anecdotes. Although we thought the price was a bit steep for entry ($14 a person), I have to respect one man’s passion to preserve something he clearly cared deeply about.

On the way out of the parking lot Laura got herself into her very first fender bender. She backed into someone’s truck. There was no one around, so she went into the visitor center and left our information. There was no damage to the other vehicle, but we wanted to be honest. These are the kinds of “fun” experiences family vacations are all about.