Smokies, Ozarks, and The Big Chi Part 1

One of Gatlinburg's more subtle attractions

Sorry for the delay everybody.  Out on the road we had spotty Wi-Fi service that otherwise had to be dedicated to TMZ.  Leaving Chapel Hill we made a brief stop in Asheville, NC and had a cocktail on the veranda of the Biltmore Inn while our amiable server, Steve, sweated all over us.  This portion of our journey was bookended on either side by similarly gorgeous but diverse national parks, the Great Smokies and the Ozarks.  The sitting capitals of these parks are also similar, but in a retail eye-sore kind of way, and with a direct lineage.  Gatlinburg, TN is Branson Jr.

A town that it was once possible to describe as "cozy" - according to the local bookstore owner - is now a capital tumor leaching tourist dollars off the popularity of the park.  Its easy to think of the place as a scourge.  Driving on the main road out of town we passed such eye-bountiful wallet magnets as Three Bears General Store  - the bears, without the assistance of opposable thumbs nonetheless were able to find God, as evidenced by their proclamation that "Jesus Saves" - a scale mock-up of the Titanic that hosted dinner theatre, and numerous "As Seen on TV" stores (which  gave Hillary such a case of the willies that she refused to stop).  Ultimately though, the stores are there for a reason:  the people want it.  In a sense, it is much more fun to have an approximation of the experience of camping in a national park than to actually have to do the camping.
    We completed our first hike to the top of Chimney Tops, a two mile ascent in the Smokies before meeting Luke in Nashville.

Hillary with ursine chum

From Nashville we went to Memphis, a place which has also capitalized on its perceived identity with much of the American public of being the mecca of blues and soul music.  Memphis is no longer a source; it is one more in a list of falling down American cities that have chosen to save their downtown to the detriment of the rest.  Much of the city we saw was boarded houses or vacant businesses and it did not take long to get into the rolling chum of highway detritus:  check cashing, pawn shops, gas stations serving as liquor store/grocery/social hub.  Beale St. is cool for a Saturday night and little else.  On a lighter note we did manage to take in the King's house before we left.  Having been fleeced by his minions at the parking lot - $10 for parking and $30 a piece for the "basic" entrance - we were whisked across Presley Blvd to that stout manse, Graceland.  All joking aside, it was fun and something we were glad we were able to do.  The house now seems quaint in comparison to the McMansions of today, but you get an interesting look into the man's life from how he chose to arrange his grounds, albeit with a heavy dose of hagiography on the King's more sordid or bizarre moments.  There's only one mention of his lethal pill habit.

Area man peruses Presley HQ

We're in Chicago now, staying with Kevin's friend Whitey in the Ukrainian Village, which is neither a village or in the Ukraine.  Running out now, so look for Part 2 tomorrow.