1/17/16: Movin’ On Down: Part 2: Knoxville Delights
New Year’s morning in Kentucky was a visual stunner. Joe and I emerged at ten thirty a.m. into tepid sunshine and freezing weather from the impressive Frozen Niagara tour of Mammoth Cave. This beautiful, eerie cave graphically demonstrates the persistent power of water to shape and carve out limestone over eons, creating giant rooms with massive, fancifully decorated pillars set off by the smoothest of walls and floors. Sharp edges are rare.
The discretely placed lighting highlights nature’s work as she perpetually, patiently continues to form and polish her hidden masterpiece, one drip-drop at a time.
Mammoth Cave, discovered thousands of years ago, has been mined for saltpeter to make gunpowder in the War of 1812, and used as a hideout and for religious rituals- and even tried out as a possible cure for TB. A doctor, desperate to help his consumptive patients, built several roofless rooms deep in the caverns and encouraged his dwindling souls to live in them ‘to take in the pure water and air.’ Unfortunately, they died a bit faster down there, as it was worse to live where the sun didn’t shine or where adequate lighting and hot food was hard to provide. (High altitude, and low oxygen adversely affects the TB bacillus, so this opposite approach was woefully ineffective.)
Those little rooms are still there, mute monuments to medical ignorance. But they’re also reminders of one physician’s deep dedication to his patients’ welfare. A decent life before antibiotics was mostly about being lucky. All it took was one sneeze near a concerned family member or passerby, who would probably breathe in the microscopic droplets that hosted the horrific bacterium, which would slowly, inexorably consume its new victim.
Another century would pass before doctors finally had an effective weapon against such a murderous scourge.
Bryn greeted us sleepily from the car’s back seat, had a quick walk on park grounds, and then we were off again- to Knoxville. Tennessee was largely a blank in my knowledge bank: I’d always driven straight through it on the expressway, heading for somewhere else. Now we’d see the Smokies up close and personal, and explore, very briefly, this southern city.
Even in the late morning the lovely sun-lit mountains ‘smoked;’ deep valleys were robed in thick fog that blanketed parts of the highway. Drivers slowed down to avoid the precipitous drops. We were glad to descend 5,000 feet to flatter ground two hours later.
At about 3:30 we arrived at our hotel in West Knoxville, about six miles out of town, right off the expressway. The Hampton Inn, remodeled and refurbished by the Hilton chain, suited us perfectly. (Back in Cave City I’d rung a toll-free number that kept popping up on my computer screen as I searched for dog-friendly hotels- BRING FIDO- at 1-(877)-411-FIDO. The lady at the other end of that line had been incredibly helpful. She told us the Knoxville hotel she had in mind was lovely, just re-opened. It would charge a nominal fee for Bryn’s inclusion.) The second floor, where we were placed, opened right onto the parking lot, as the building was set on a steep hill.
Knoxville’s the most pet-friendly city in the US. PetSafe, a national business that creates invisible fences, training collars, drinking fountains, pet doors, special harnesses- anything that makes it easier and more fun to care for a pet, is based here. The company has set up at least five really nice dog parks in and around this city for everyone to enjoy. After settling into our room we programed the GPS to guide our car to one such park along the river- a long, narrow, fenced strip of land set on a hill almost in the middle of downtown, that the FIDO lady had recommended. “You can run Bryn, then park a couple of blocks closer to the city center and walk down the middle of Gay Street to Market Square to enjoy a great lunch in one of its many casual restaurants. Don’t miss the other little shops there: they’re such fun!”
Perfect.
When Bryn saw the dog park she gave an incredulous groan. Stuffed into the back seat for hours with barely room to turn, this sight was heaven. We parked, let her in and chatted with other dog owners while enjoying her pleasure.
One small, elderly lady in particular, Maude, had twinkling eyes. Her terrier-beagle mutt and Bryn were having a fine time together, so we struck up a conversation.
“I nursed my dear husband for seven years, until he died three years ago. So I sold up and moved here to be near my daughter, and have never looked back. It’s a wonderful town, easy to walk around in with Buster, and the food is great. Buster was a flea-bitten, worm-infested street pup abandoned in an alley when I found him, and we’ve been inseparable from that first day. He and I know every dog park. I do have just one warning for you about this one, though.” She smiled. “If you sit on one of these park benches, always look up.” I did. And saw nothing but sky, treetops and a forest of criss-crossing power lines. Seeing my puzzlement she elaborated. “ If birds are sitting on those wires, you, my dear, provide an irresistible target. Beware the poop bombs! Trust me-I speak from experience!”
We had a good laugh, but I nervously edged away...
Bryn was a blur! She ran up and down the hill, feinted, bounced, wrestled and played tug-of-war using our thick, knotted rope. Her joy was infectious. So we stood outside in the freezing cold on the green grass, shivering in the snowless weather, but happy to be part of such exuberance. Finally, when enough time had passed and our fingers and toes were numb, we collected the rope and loaded our panting Bryn back into the car. Exhausted, she could barely hop in, but that dog was grinning.
Five minutes later we found another, closer parking spot just off Gay Street and began to walk up and down the large, thriving pedestrian shopping area, called Market Square, while Bryn snoozed in the car.
What a cool street! (It reminded me of Hereford’s huge pedestrian Market Square in England, so near our old home!) The Blue Coast Bar and Grill, a hip, casual restaurant, serves delicious lunches: we loved our fresh crab cakes and salad. And the price was right!
We enjoyed the rest of that cold afternoon, delighting in all the little stores, the people wandering about, the laughter, and conviviality. Knoxville clearly requires much more than just one day.
We’d be back!
Last word: If you have a pet you hate to leave behind, include him/her and visit this vibrant city. You won’t regret it.
Our hotel room was warm, with a very comfortable bed. Bryn settled into her snug nest on the spotless carpet and we all slept hard. Early the next morning we scarfed down two McDonald’s Egg McMuffins with sausage (but tossed the buns, being low-carb people) plus two black coffees, and pointed the car’s nose toward Charleston, about seven hours south-east. We had a room waiting (very reassuring) and four full days to enjoy its Southern charms...
(Continued next week...)