Skookum Traveler

The next stop after the Great Smokies on our week-long holiday was Chattanooga, Tennessee. Having sleuthed a deal of sorts online, we checked into the apparently popular Chattanooga Choo-Choo hotel on Monday, July 21^st. Old passenger train cars have been converted to rooms that looked intriguing, but they charge a premium for those. So we went for the cheap seats out back. We were in Building Number 3, an angular mass of concrete walls about as warm and inviting as an upturned sidewalk. Sorry Choo-Choo, but somebody really should add some greenery to the giant parking lot, some colorful trim, and maybe a little artwork to those mile-long hallways. The room was nice enough and the main lobby was great, and even the pool wasn’t half bad, so I suppose you get what you pay for. We only had one night since I had to continue on to Nashville the next day for a work-related conference.

We dumped our bags in the room and caught the free shuttle downtown for a quick tour of the city. We were struck how quiet the place was—essentially zero night life over the bulk of the downtown area, as best we could tell. I’m not sure that’s a fair descript, though, since there did not seem to be much urban housing in the city’s core and urban living is what makes cool cities work. There was newer residential stuff by the river and not surprisingly, that’s where the people and the action seemed to be. We strolled around awhile, then thought we’d try walking back toward the hotel to look for a dinner spot, but found nothing of interest. Back at the hotel, there was a microbrew restaurant close by (The Terminal), so we went there and were not disappointed. I think half of Chattanooga was there with us—a hopping place. Across the street, a burned out building had a ‘condemned’ sign on it, though I couldn’t help but imagine refurbing it, putting our dream coffee shop there and serving all the tourists stopping over at the Choo-Choo. Chattanooga has great potential and I could feel the optimism of this up-and-coming place to be.

Choo-Choo lobby in the old Terminal Station.

Darn, we missed the otter show at the aquarium.

Nice.

Urban art.

The next morning we walked across the Tennessee River on the blue Walnut Street Bridge that Kris had scoped out earlier. Very scenic. It led us past a big wheel riverboat, the Delta Queen, to some interesting shops across the river. We returned to the hotel to grab the truck, then headed over to the famous incline railway up Lookout Mountain, our one additional touristy thing we wanted to take in before leaving town. The ride up was a kick, though Kris wasn’t so sure when she looked out the window at one point and saw there was no ground below us. The rails exceed a 70 percent grade at the steepest, which is pretty impressive.

But the best part, I thought, was at the top when we walked over to the Chickamauga & Chattanooga National Military Park, a major historic site of the Civil War. Canons were profiled against white clouds and blue sky, with the city and sweeping river bend glistening far below. Scenic paths led among the viewpoints, rocks and relics, while signs shared parts of the story of this remarkable place. It wasn’t long after Chattanooga, the gateway to the deep south, fell to the Union Army—in a battle on Lookout Mountain in late 1863—that General Sherman began his epic march to the sea.

We still had a couple-hour drive ahead to Nashville and had to let go of Chattanooga way too soon. Definitely coming back.

Walnut Street Bridge.

Incline Railway.

Historic park on Lookout Mountain.

Groundhog!

Canon balls.

Watching the river rise.

We arrived at Smokemont Campground around dark with no ranger present and no idea which site we were supposed to camp in. So we grabbed one, threw up our big new stand-up tent and fortunately, weren’t chased off in the middle of the night by a 40-foot Winnebugger. It rained and rained some more, all night and into the next day. But that didn’t deter us from seeing some sights, including a morning drive up Clingman’s Dome, the highest point in the park and highest point in Tennessee.

The park map said there was a store near the top, and given the cold rain and gusty wind threatening to disembowel our umbrella, Kris was envisioning a hot cup of joe. But it was not to be. I know the Park Service struggles budget-wise, but they coulda made a killing on hot drinks that day. We marched on up the steep wide path to the overlook—just a short stroll, I promised. About 300 huffs and puffs later, we reached the ridge and the longer-than-it-looks-curvy-twirly-spyro-giro circular concrete ramp-a-doodle thing that led to the million-dollar view above the trees, only it was more like a two-dollar view that particular morning. It was blowing at least 40 and like all the other tourists, we were fashionably underdressed. A boy of about 10, descending, said “Don’t go up there!” We shrugged off his sage advice and leaned into the wind for the final stretch to the top. Click, picture, about-face and down.

Blowing 40.

Click!

Water everywhere.

What the heck, let's go to Katahdin.

View from the room in Gatlinburg.

Love this t-shirt.

Mini-golf on a steep hillside.

Smoky is for salamanders.

We headed next to the west-side campground, Elkmont, and pitched our tent during a break in the squalls. Then it was off to Gatlinburg, which an officemate had warned me not to do. Whoa, what a place. The amusement park atmosphere wasn’t exactly our cup of tea (reminiscent of Niagara Falls, Canada), but we made the most of it and tried to blend in. The weather began to dry out finally, but Kris had soaked up just the right amount of rain by then and wisely suggested we find a motel room for the night, which we did. She conked out early, so with the skies improving, I decided to brave the crowds and see what Gatlinburg was about: ice cream, caramel apples, miniature golf and t-shirts. I also found a nice little coffee shop and bakery tucked away and took Kris there in the morning.

Back on track weather-wise, it was time to get a good hike in. Mount LeConte had beckoned from my prior research, some calling it the best hike in the Smokies. So how could we not do it, especially now that the sun was back and all was perfect again? We packed a lunch and headed for the Alum Cave Trailhead. The first mile is a breeze, a nice warm-up for the steeper parts above. After a couple of footbridge crossings, we entered a very cool, dark crevice where a couple dozen stone steps climbed steeply behind a giant slab of rock. Having designed a few trails myself, I applauded the vision of the trail geek who saw the possibility here. They did an excellent job solving a technical problem, while creating a unique trail experience that people can ooh and ah over, me included. Woohoo, I love this stuff.

The crevice.

Alum Cave.

The trail climbed more earnestly and eventually reached a major landmark, the Alum Cave (really, a large overhang), two miles up. The terrain steepens and cables are bolted to the rock for handrails where the path has been carved from the rock. Views improve until we finally reached the LeConte Lodge five miles up. The lodge is a collection of cabins with a dining hall high on the peak. We agreed we most definitely want to come back here again with a cabin reserved and waiting, maybe for our anniversary next year? It would make a fabulous place to spend a couple of nights and perhaps take in a thunderstorm or two, and sip a shot or two or three of Jack Daniels, reading Michael Frome’s story of the Smokies, Strangers in High Places. It was nice to see Michael’s wise words highlighted in a big display at the one of the visitor centers. We enjoyed our lunch on the grand deck out back of the hall, then scooted over to the rocky ridge crest for a view, before heading back down. The clouds were moving in again, which I’ve learned is par for the course in the Smokies. Minutes from the truck, the rain arrived, so that was pretty good timing. We toughed it out, whipped up dinner at camp, and made it through another rainy night in our nifty new tent.

Day three in the Smokies was departure day and after a stop at a waterfall, it was off to Chattanooga for some civilized sightseeing there. But first came breakfast at the Riverstone Restaurant in Townsend, Tennesse, just outside the park. Splendid. The Smokies had be wet and wild, but a great time was had by all, and return we will.