Nashville before dark

Day 2

Beginning our first full day in Nashville, our primary mission was to obtain a good country breakfast. We scoured the downtown, turning the West End upside down, but alas nothing caught our eye. We visited all three places Rachel Ray featured on $40 a day and still nothing could live up to the grand-daddy of all roadside haunts as the indescribable Loveless Cafe. We gave up our aimles search and opted to lunch here, even though our plan was to have breakfast there the next morning before heading out to Memphis. I feasted on the famous country ham and H scarfed down some fried chicken (BEST EVER), even though she has life-long fear of eating meat off bones. The waitress kept us supplied with homemade scratch buttermilk hot biscuits that we slathered with blackberry preserves and Apple Butter. This place is good, too good. Better than you can do at home and worth any drive within reach. (By the end of our trip, we would eat here three times--and would eat here every day if we could!) On our way back to town we stopped at the Belle Meade Plantation for a interesting tour before we had to get back to the hotel to make our show at the Grand Ole Opry. Our seats were great, right side of stage in the third row. They keep the show going in segments of thirty minutes with three artists playing two songs each. Although we missed Alison Krauss & Union Station by one week we were serenaded by eighteen different acts. Some of our favorites were Riders in the Sky, Hal Ketchum, The Whites, Sherrie Austin, and Pam Tillis. After the show we walked over to the adjacent Gaylord Opryland resort to check out the indoor gardens and atriums that make the place famous. Found our way into Jack Daniels Saloon on the premises and enjoyed myself a nice old fashioned.

Greetings from Nashville

Day 1

Just arrived in Music City, USA! Off the plane, get the car, and head on out to the hotel. Adventure begins as we find out that Hotels.com took our money but did not tell the Nashville Radisson that we were coming. We squeezed our way into the hotel in spite of the Country Music Marathon taking place the next day. H & I headed downtown to see what was happening and we walked the two short streets, Second Avenue and Broadway, that host the bulk of the Nashville nightlife. Famous honky tonks in the shadow of the Ryman Auditorium, the former venue for the Opry, include Legends Corner and Tootsies Wild Orchid where the legendary stars had a drink before their turn to go onstage and where the dreamers and hungry artists still look for their big break. We fixed our appetites on pulled chicken and ribs at Rippy's BBQ over some beers and then headed over to the huge Wildhorse Saloon. This place was great! Shiloh, the country equivalent of 98 Degrees, had all the teeny boppers in straw hats swooning. In spite of that cheese, the dance floor was crowded song after song of the saloon's patrons doing their country line dancing. This was top notch entertainment and the Wildhorse regulars can really stomp their boots. I took a picture of H with Shiloh guy, one of the leaders of the band, as he passed us going back onstage after a break. We had a real good time hanging out in Nashville at the Wildhorse. When we left the streets were flooding from a torrential downpour and it was if we were walking upstream in a creek back to the car. Once on the highway it didn't let up and a tractor trailer rooster-tailed a tidal wave onto us that seemed to have no end. 50 MPH on the interstate and we could see nothing for ten full seconds as H exclaimed "OH MY GOD.... M" (we recovered, eventually).

Whiskey Smash

Photo - Philip Greenberg for The New York Times

By WILLIAM L. HAMILTON Published: April 24, 2005 NY Times

BOBBY FLAY, the celebrity chef, is a bourbon drinker, so it would make sense that there would be a bourbon drink, the Whiskey Smash, on the cocktail list at his new restaurant, Bar Americain, which opened at 152 West 52nd Street last week.
"My wife is from Texas, so we drink a lot of bourbon at home," Mr. Flay said on Tuesday, sitting at the 28-foot zinc bar that is the centerpiece of Bar Americain with his business partner, Laurence Kretchmer, who devised the drinks list. "In the warm weather I'm a total sucker for mint juleps." (In the winter it's Manhattans.) Mr. Flay added that when he attends the Kentucky Derby, which is frequently, "I'm bathed in bourbon and mint."

Mr. Flay and Mr. Kretchmer's other restaurants, Mesa Grill and Bolo, have themes: the American Southwest and Spain, respectively. They've done Las Vegas too, with a Mesa Grill at Caesar's Palace. Bar Americain also has a theme, which is brasserie-style dining, but the not very hidden subtext is cocktail drinking. The two-story bar and its huge, ornate mirror greet those entering the dining room like Prometheus rising above the fountains at Rockefeller Center: a mythological place to take the waters. The restaurant was designed by David Rockwell, an architect and set designer who is the Walt Disney of the New York theme dining world. In Paris a brasserie with a "bar américain" is classically a place where you can order a mixed drink, as well as wine and beer. So Mr. Kretchmer's cocktail list, appropriately, is classics, including a Hemingway daiquiri (Papa's purist version, with rum and fresh citrus) and the Bronx cocktail, invented at the Brass Rail bar in the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel in honor of the opening of the Bronx Zoo in 1899, when the Waldorf was on 34th Street. The Whiskey Smash, a mint-infested julep, has a sunburst of lemon juice. "We don't want to serve the next kumquat mojito," Mr. Flay said of the era of cocktail innovation now upon us. "I'm a native Manhattanite, at least that I know of, fifth generation, from the Lower East Side. My grandfather was this really Damon Runyon character. He knew everyone: good guys, bad guys. That's the way New York was. The judges and gangsters all hung out in the same bars." That's very elaborate cocktail nostalgia, and one can only wish the same sort of success for Bar Americain, updated but with the kind of notorious elbow rub at the bar that makes hoisting a drink in unfamiliar company so enjoyable an enterprise. No, the pleasure's mine. What did you say you did again?

Whiskey Smash

2 lemon wedges
Several sprigs of fresh mint
¾ ounce simple syrup
1½ ounces Maker's Mark bourbon
Splash of club soda.

Muddle lemon, mint leaves and syrup in the bottom of an Old-Fashioned glass. Add bourbon and club soda with ice and stir. Garnish with a mint sprig.

We're Goin Back!

That's right! Heading back down south to Tennessee. One short week from today we'll celebrate GTM #2 for 2005 in the Great Smoky Mountains with a jaunt to Nashville and Memphis for some good BBQ, country, and blues. Stay tuned as we will post daily our great adventures along the way. We're celebrating our anniversary each year with a visit to a different national park, or at least as many as we can manage to fit into ten days. Last year, it was Acadia in Maine and 2003 was an epic journey that included Death Valley, Snow Canyon, Zion, Bryce, Grand Staircase, Capitol Reef, Canyonlands, Arches, Petrified Forest, Painted Desert, and Sedona. Back further in 2002 we tripped up in the Adirondacks and then Shenandoah in 2001. Back further in 1999 we had been through Arizona for Grand Canyon, Superstition Wilderness, and Saguaro NP. Still plenty to do; need to get out to Wyoming, Colorado, Alaska, Hawaii, and more.

Beloved Green Bandana

Blue skies abound! We got back into boots and racked up 12 miles in a
Harriman loop hike. Our first 10+ in as many months. Our GPS tracking,
pictured below, began at a ballfield off Tiorati Brook Drive. We
enjoyed the first 5 miles, walking on near rockless grassy moss (and
some muddy areas) without interruption from any other people until we
were chased down by a couple of trail runners coming off the Menomine
Trails intersection with Red Cross at a bridge crossing. These two
were aged 50+ and miles from any road, running without any water that I
could see. That's to be admired. We took the Red Cross trail to the
Burnt House landmark, which is nothing more than an old hole in the
ground with nothing burnt or houselike left standing. Unlike our usual
blazed trail adventures, it is getting harder to complete new circuit
hikes without bushwacking, so when Red Cross headed straight for the
Palisades Parkway we veered north searching for Owl Lake Road and
caught up to the historic 1779 trail where General Anthony Wayne led
revolutionary troops in July of the same year to fight the British in
Stony Point. We then headed back west up Black Mountain on the very
familiar Appalachian Trail. Just short of the summit we took an
extended break enjoying the sunshine by eating, reading, napping, and
watching hawks glide silently by. With another 6 miles left to get
back to the car, we picked up the pace to head out only to get caught
up in the middle of a Boy Scout pack, who sandwiched us in the middle
of their party and cut our pace way down. Once we finally broke free
and reached the ledge that overlooks William Brien Shelter, we found a
"tent city" of Cub Scouts and ther chaperones. A kid noticing our
presence said directly to me "I can beat you up!" but I later figured
he was talking to his friend about scaling the rock's ledge. Another
mile of pushing put us at another intersection where decisions needed
to be made. We chose to bushwack once again on the very sparse Bockey
Swamp trail. It was over a mile of a deer run, at best, with a cairn
every .2 mile and as many ghost blazes from an AT route from days gone
by. Finding our way back to the Red Cross trail to complete the
circuit definately required GPS and map. Somewhere along the way H
lost her beloved green bandana, so I promised one day we will return
to rescue it.

Twelve Mile!

Git-R-Dun!?

Dare I say it? Git-R-Dun! Well after our failed section hike of last Septemper cut short by mosquitos and the dreaded remnants of an unnamed hurricane we paid a visit to the Appalachian trail from Arden Valley Road to the intersection with the Ramapo-Dunderberg trail. This section completes our Western NY portion. Someday we'll complete the whole 2100+ miles one day hike at a time. The plan for 2004 - 2005 is to complete NY/NJ from Hudson to Delaware by traveling south. We've already been from the Hudson River to NJ Route 284 only bypassing Lakes Road in Greenwood Lake to NJ Route 94 which we will tackle in May on a Two day Backpack. After that we will basecamp at my brothers farm and hike the A.T. up from NJ284 to High Point and along the Kittitinies to the water gap. After that who knows except there is a long green tunnel ahead.

Tri-Cities

Tri-Cities is the region of Northeast Tennessee and Southwestern Virginia. The “tri” includes Kingsport TN with Bristol TN or is it VA? Well, actually it's both. The state line is marked and runs straight down Main Street pictured above. “A good place to live.” Yes I am quite sure! In fact it is probably nicer to live than to visit. Twice a year this little piece of hometown America is overrun by upwards of 150,000 racing fans and I am happy to say I am one who unfortunately wreak havoc on the community and leave behind a wake of empty beer cans and spent charcoal. Are we welcomed? I hope so considering each of us who visit here drop no less than $500 per person. I have come here no less than ten times in the last eight years and in spite of very friendly people, blooming dogwoods, cattle grazing on their farmland and lovely little churches nestled upon the beautiful pimple hills of Eastern TN. On this particular visit I have experienced some culture shock. Lets start with the Smyth County local morning newspaper whose front page story was “Naked Man found in town says Liquor and Flu made him do it.” or the waitress at the Perkins when asked, “why do you call home fries breakfast potatoes?” and she retorted snidely “I don’t know Yankees own this place and that's what they call them.” I suppose she didn’t notice our Yankee dialect or thought we were among the rebel persuasion. Our dinner had it’s own special treat where you would usually see a sign stating “Please wait here to be seated” was replaced with this sign – “Absolutely no weapons of any kind allowed! Thank you the management.” I am not kidding see with your own eyes – Village Café Best Western Exit 47 Interstate 81 Marion VA. Racecars are well known for the colorful sponsorships and don't not miss the Butt Paste Car (yes it is Paste and it is for your Ass!) or perhaps the car painted in camouflage sporting its banner for Gunbroker.COM I suppose this race team wasn’t welcomed up at the Village Café! The race fan base brings its own crowd and It includes more than a dozen or so mullet haircuts but the guy who stands up in the grandstand blocking the view screaming nothing but “Go Dale!” or “Git-R-Dun!” Like he was a toy with a ripcord hanging out of his back. Don’t forget the two young gentlemen standing at the start finish line who were encouraged by none other than the state police and track security guards to put that fourth Beer into the funnel and chug away to entertain an entire seating section cheering them on. Most disturbing to me in this scene was the two 13 or so year old boys standing right next to these idiots and looking upon them with envy as if they were heroes. You could see in the kids face “I can’t wait to grow up and funnel beer before 10,000 people and have the cop give me the A-OK” ah perhaps I’m a prude but can you wonder why the all the area schools were closed because the race was postponed until Monday from Saturdays rain and the race traffic would coincide with the bus traffic? A Local official called this “A recipe for disaster and a chance not worth taking.” Perhaps even more horrifying is one of the T-Shirt Vendors whose merchandise features “Rebel-Dawg” who in a sinister cartoon caricature of a Bulldog in front of a podium before the Atlanta Capitol Dome and the Old Glory Stars And Bars Rebel Flag exclaiming with fist (Paw) in the air “I too have a dream!” Just try to imagine the person who creates this and realizes it can be sold and even worse try to imagine the individual who proudly wears this out. I liken this to someone George Carlin describes as the inventor of the flamethrower…. “You know there’s a bunch of people over there that I need to set on fire and from over here I just can’t get the job done.” Finally I have to mention the teenage girl working the register at the Kentucky Fried Chicken in Lexington Virginia. Now Lexington is one of the nicest, cleanest, most beautiful settings you’ll find in Virginia if not the whole country and it is steeped in history. We rolled off I-81 for something to eat and landed in the KFC and noticed on the corner a sign “Thomas Stonewall Jackson Home” Well traveling with a pair of civil war history buffs made it necessary to stop for a look. So my buddy asks the girl who lives in Lexington and is easily 19 years old “Where is Stonewall Jackson’s house” The girl retorts who? “Stonewall Jackson! You mean you live here and you don’t know who he is?” My friend gasps. The girl says, “Wasn’t he a sergeant or something.” Frustrated that conversation ended with I’ll have the two-piece meal extra crispy.While we sat picking away at our chicken the girl comes back and tells us she feels bad for us pointing out that she (like most kids sadly) Have no clue about American History or anything for that matter.” My friend replied, “Damn girl! Where’s your daddy so I can tell him to slap some sense into you! I can’t believe you live right here and don’t know who Thomas Jackson is.” He then mutters to me “Stupid twit! All she has to do is to read one sign a day on the road around here and she would have learned a lot right there. In fairness I must say people around here aren’t much better when it comes to taking a stake in you local history or heritage, where you come from and who you are.