After an overnight stop in Athens, Georgia, we ploughed up through the green and red fields of rural Georgia under a crystal clear sky, briefly cutting through a thin slice of North Carolina, where we passed more churches than was surely practical. I immediately had a burning question for these churches:
WHERE DO YOUR CONGREGATIONS COME FROM?
Seriously. This is how the drive went:
Church. Church. Fields. McDonalds. House. Church. Gun outlet. McDonalds. Fields. Church. House. Church. Gun outlet. Fields. Church. Rifle range. Church. McDonalds. Church. House. Fields. Gun outlet. Church. Church. Fields. McDonalds. Church.
I can only imagine that their congregations are solely made up of gun-wielding McDonalds’ employees.
After an hour winding through the deep green veins of the Smokey Mountains, we emerged into the flat valley of Gatlinburg. I had imagined a quaint Swiss-style resort tucked humbly in the mountains, hanging baskets blooming from wooden chalets, the smell of mulled cider wafting on the fresh breeze – the odd cow roaming pensively – instead, we got the Blackpool of Tennessee. Under the disapproving gaze of the hazy blue Smokies lay a bustling strip of arcades, amusements, hot dog and doughnut stalls, tacky bars, shops selling all the tat you could possibly wish for – and it was when I saw the Ripley’s Believe It Or Not and the movie memorabilia store that I wiped a tear from my eye. It was ruddy brilliant.
Upon walking through the door of the Airbnb office, the moustacheod cowboy behind the desk drawled ‘Ah, there y’are, Becky and Sarah,’ and when I asked how he knew it was us, he replied ‘Cos there ain’t no other soul comin’ my way today.’
Three minutes later we were back out the door with the key to our condo. This relaxed process was a far cry from the Spanish Inquisition we’d had checking in to the Daytona and Athens hotels, where we had been asked for ID, credit card, date of birth, known allergies, top ten favourite album covers, mother’s maiden, and favourite sexual position.
Our Airbnb was on the fifth floor of a condo complex (block of flats to us Brits), with a view from the balcony that was reasonably acceptable.
A couple of hours later we were sailing high above the mangle of shrubs and trees as a ski lift hoisted us up the mountain, our bare feet dangling in the hot air, our knuckles whitening and our colons twitching at the beautiful yet almost-certain-death below us.
At the top of the mountain, bathed in the red evening sun, was an Alpine Disneyland: a toytown of chalet-style shops, a bar, and a complex of rope bridges clutching the tree trunks of the mountainside. All accompanied by some yodelling. When one finds oneself in a mountaintop toytown, the only thing to do is to have a pint of incredibly strong local ale and go for a stroll on the perilously high treetop walk. This we did with the alacrity of a couple of slightly tipsy mountain goats.
The next morning, we felt we should do A Walk as that’s what people do when they’re in the mountains, so we drove into the darkening, tangled heart of the Smokies to do A Walk to Grotto Falls.
At the entrance to The Walk was a sign telling us that at any one time there would be 37,000 bears watching us, and if we should come face to face with one we should firstly try this:
And if Mr Bear took umbrage to that, and if we were still alive, we should secondly try this:
That was the long and short of it, anyway.
Fortunately we didn’t get to practice our bear-survival skills, and made it to the extremely pretty waterfall with merely a few splodges of bear poo on the soles of our trainers.
Are you a die-hard supporter of the 45th president of the United States? Do you live in the Gatlinburg area? Do you enjoy a statement t-shirt? Then it’s your lucky day!
Bizarrely, neither Sarah nor I fancied any of these jolly t-shirts, but we DID fancy the movie memorabilia store, where we spent probably the happiest 20 minutes of my life.
After a hard day of not seeing any bears and avoiding being gunned down by Tennesseans as we took photos of us giving Trump t-shirts the finger, we spent the evening on our balcony playing cards (Charlie and the Chocolate Factory cards – thank you, movie memorabilia store) and drinking wine, which was a delightful way to spend an evening until a bug flew into my nose and I threw my wine in Sarah’s face in shock.
Question: what do you do if you’re staying six miles from a Dolly Parton-themed theme park called Dollywood?
Answer: go to Dollywood.
For three solid hours we were flung about on some of the best roller coasters I’ve ever been on, and I became intimately acquainted with Sarah’s vocal chords.
In the gift shop – a veritable shrine to Dolly Parton, her plastic face beaming from every item – I had the following illuminating conversation with the pink-capped girl at the checkout:
Then came Funnel Cake-gate.
A Funnel Cake is America’s way of making a doughnut even more lethal to your arteries. Instead of a single lump of batter plopped into the fryer, the batter is piped into the hot fat so it creates an intricate nest, thereby increasing the surface area of available fat-soaked dough by approximately 23,000 times. It is then doused in icing sugar.
We demolished this arterial onslaught in around eight minutes (theme parks are hungry work) and experienced a brief moment of sugar-induced elation, during which we planned every detail of our campaign to be the first female presidential duo of the United States, and then, as though draining through the bottom of a bucket, our blood sugar levels succumbed to the greatest sugar and adrenaline crash in the history of the universe.
It was all I could do to drive us back through the mountains and crawl into a late afternoon coma. The lesson? Roller coasters + funnel cake = absolutely nothing. Forget it. You’re finished.
Conclusion: Gatlinburg is F.U.N. And if you’re a Trump-supporting, church-going, gun-toting, bear-fighting, Funnel Cake-loving adrenaline junkie, then you should definitely go.
UP NEXT: Rain, country music, and another booze-filled afternoon in Nashville, Tennessee.
14 thoughts on “Becky says things about … an American road trip PART 3: Gatlinburg, Tennessee”
brilliant, brilliant, brilliant. I want to go, too.
Go! It was so much fun!
Thank you for reading 🙂
Sounds barry (Scottish slang, chiefly Edinburgh, used to mean something good)
In that case, it was indeed extremely barry!
That guy already said, “Brilliant”. That other guy already said, “Berry”. What’s left? Awesome. I say awesome!
Haha, I understand ‘awesome’! Thanks for reading 🙂
Yes, Gatlinburg is definitely a tourist and shopping mecca. My husband grew up a few hours to the north, so we try to get back that way and visit every year or two. As much as we’ve gone to Gatlinburg a number of times, I’ve never been to Dollywood. I’ve always wanted to go… just not during summer break when it’s hotter than blazes and very crowded. As I business woman and a philanthropist, respect the hell out of Dolly; and I happen to like her music as well.
Years ago, my husband told me you couldn’t sell alcohol/ have a bar within a mile of a church in certain counties there in TN, hence so many churches. I don’t know the validity of it, but that’s what I was told.
You MUST go to Dollywood! It is so much fun! And we commented how we couldn’t imagine how hot and busy it would be during the summer… we were there around 23rd September, and it was SO HOT, but despite crowds around the entrance, we didn’t queue at all to get on the rides. It really is so much fun, it was much better than I thought it would be.
We did so love Gatlinburg, but also loved the surrounding area. Tennessee is very beautiful state – and thank you for clearing up the church mystery! 🙂
We are a church-going nation. Too much so, if you ask me. Are you guys as divided as we are? I can’t wait until this phase of our history has run its course. There’s no *way* it can go on indefinitely. Reet?
I’ve always wanted to visit Dollywood. Can’t understand why anyone wouldn’t. I’ve always wanted to visit Nashville as well. Can’t wait for that chapter!
Icing sugar. Ha. We call it powdered sugar. Same results.
fwiw, I think you’re very courageous to undertake this trip.
You certainly do love a church! To be fair, it was mostly Baptist and Methodist in North Carolina / Tennessee, but the craziest place I’ve been for churches was Page, Arizona – literally about 40 churches of every denomination imaginable along a single 1 mile stretch of road. Who needs that many churches??!? We’re pretty divided at the moment as well, but not necessarily for religious reasons – for Brexit reasons! And sadly this period of history shows no signs of running its course any time soon! Sigh.
You must go to Dollywood. It is amazing. And Nashville is BRILLIANT, and it’s up next so keep an eye out!
Not sure ‘courageous’ is the right word, but I appreciate it! I love America, and I find the mix of cultures and beliefs very interesting. The South was certainly unlike anywhere else in the States I’ve ever been – hard to believe some of hte places we visited are in the same country as New York!
Thanks for sticking with me, keep reading! 🙂
Ooh! I’ll have to visit for sure. And make sure to buy every single one of those Trump t-shirts so I can burn them when we all die in the climate change apocalypse.
Sorry to say that we already bought them, and we already burnt them. Well, most of them. We’ve saved a couple for when we run out of toilet paper.
Thanks for reading! 🙂
Your funnel description is apt. Uniquely American, I suppose. We only want more more more. And as an American, I do want to apologize for putting ourselves in a situation to even have a store that sells such t-shirts. Egads. Still in shock that that actually happened. I spend many waking hours waiting for it all (metaphorically here, not the store itself you understand) to come crashing down. Trusting that those outside of the US understand that there are so many here who do not support that guy. Arrgh. That said, another piece of brilliance here – hurrah hurrah for Becky and Sarah’s road trip!
Hah, well, we are in the same situation over here with Brexit – I have spent MANY hours waiting for it to all just blow over and go back to normal, but it is dragggggging on interminably..
And the funnel cake – well. An experience I probably won’t repeat. I’ll stick to donuts, which I LOVE.