Tennessee Aquarium

My wife the impromptu tour guide decided that we would not have plumbed fully the true attractiveness of little Chattanooga unless we went to see the Tennessee Aquarium, a place of wonder Trip Adviser assured her. I wasn't so sure but in the end after we dithered about for a while we easily found covered parking to keep Miss Cheyenne cool and comfortable in our absence, so in we went, at $25 a ticket.

The structure is impressive when seen from the outside. We took a run across the bridge to see the other side of Chattanooga and while there engaged a young woman in conversation on the subject of her perfectly preserved Bajaj Indian built scooter of which she was inordinately proud, as she should have been.

I did rather wonder what we might find inside this magnificent structure, this is the Bible Belt after all as this tour bus reminded us, had we forgotten. In God We Truss seemed a rather orthopedic stricture to me, but I am far too literal as my wife never ceases to tell me. I think they meant that they were full of trust not of hernia supports. In any event I did rather ask myself if I was going to be subjected to Noah's Ark inside the aquarium.

The plaza in front of the place was an absolute riot of Dali-esque melting sidewalks to nowhere and concrete pavement twisted like pretzels.

Watching families playing with the altered reality while my wife was off buying our tickets started me thinking this might be a very worthwhile visit after all. The exterior promised a very unusual interior.

 Up close one could see the glass pyramids were some sort of biosphere.

 Inside Ranger Rick, some sort of Raccoon character was teaching young minds about the merits of conservation and wilderness and stuff.  It was a rapt audience.

 We had decided to take the river tour as neither of us had ever been to a freshwater aquarium before, but first we had to check out the seahorses. It was clear this was a first rate exhibition hall, no expense spared.

 Clambering upstairs we enjoyed a view across the river. I loved the informal viewing area created very simply out of two glass walls. Too bad there was nowhere to sit, but the absence of places to pause and contemplate was my major gripe about this place. The exhibits deserved more time and some quiet contemplation.

Inside one biosphere was a very popular exhibit. Habitat destruction (home building to you and me) has been wiping out otters in Tennessee and so many other places. They are raising them here for release into the wild. I dare say the youngsters and some of their parents who watched these delightful creatures may be moved to think differently about habitat destruction after seeing them here.

 Or maybe not. We do have a penchant to follow the imperious demands of constant growth and  otters be damned!

The interior of the aquarium was filled with huge tanks of freshwater fish. I sat on one of the all too rare benches and watched for a while mesmerized by the circling fish.

I hope they really do have very short memories as they deserve to be out in the wild rather than restrained in these tanks swimming endlessly in circles.

The worst for me was watching the frantic scrabbling of turtles imprisoned by the invisible plastic walls of their tanks. I hope their captivity isn't in vain and people take the time to learn and be educated, not just amused.

 This cabinet  I loved.

 And this was exceptional also, aquarium employee and musician Matt Downer playing Appalachian blue grass tunes.   Matt Downer also can be found on YouTube if you want to hear his fine playing.

These two photographs illustrated the way private/public partnerships can restore damaged habitat to everyone's benefit:

It was a surprisingly effective and rich experience strolling through the place. There isn't unfortunately much printed material on the exhibits so you do have to spend a bit of time dialing phone numbers with your cell phone to hear recorded descriptions which I found tedious. But there again I am a reader... 

 I can't wait to go back. We might even have the time to check the Ocean Exhibit next time.

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Museum Of...Wreckers?

When my wife looked up from her iPhone and said there was a wreckers museum in Chattanooga I thought for one confused moment he meant Key West style wreckers - people in boats rescuing people in stranded ships and claiming their cargo. In this case it's the more modern version involving tow trucks. Yup. There a museum!

This place takes the art and silence of towing vehicles very seriously. Indeed the list of those who died doing this job was astonishingly long. Who knew? And why Chattanooga?

The answer to that latter conundrum was explained in the introductory film. At the beginning of the 19th century there lived a dude by the name of Ernest Holmes who was domiciled in this fair city. Around the time of World War One (in Europe) Holmes dreamed up the genesis of the modern wrecker, in Chattanooga.

And here it was, named the 485 after the price he charged for it. Odd but true.

We were free to wander here and there as we pleased. So we did.

Owing to my total lack of knowledge of the field I thought I would add this link so you can read all about it: Home - International Towing & Recovery Museum.

This little Japanese wrecker, powered by a two cylinder engine, called a Cony ended up in the States. It got short shrift from another museum goer for whom apparently there is no substitute for size. "Good for golf carts?" he grumbled."Ford Escorts actually," my wife piped up, reading from the information sheet. He gave her a filthy look and strutted off to look at the big boys of towing. I found the identical conversation online. How weird. 1970 Cony 1/4 Ton 2 cyl.engine-Rogner's Wrecker Palatine IL. | Flickr - Photo Sharing!

They also display wrecker tools.

Things have only changed incrementally; they seem to have always been pick up trucks with a crane:

This is where they get careers started:

And this is an international museum. Members belong to countries in Canada, Mexico, Europe and Australasia. The toys are British and German:

I loved this piece of craziness:

Even I could appreciate getting this truck, fully equipped up to 109 mph, such that the tires started to catch fire! Balls of steel these wrecker drivers have!

I like history, and if it's the history of towing so much the better. All I could think of was Bonnie and Clyde. Actually Chattanooga has some history in that department. This town was the scene of Machine Gun Kelly's last bank robbery. Machine Gun Kelly - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia. This truck puts me in mind of the era:

And the Hall of Fame, all white, mostly men, from all over the place. Key West gets no mention anywhere in the museum, unfortunately.

My wife got me a t-shirt because we really liked this place, as fascinating as it was unexpected.

Great fun. I shall never look at a tow truck the same way again.

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Southern Tour 2013

It was, my wife said, her swansong before her summer teacher's break faded into history. We loaded the car, dog food, overnight bag for the hotel, picnic bag for dinners in the room, and all the little bits and pieces that make middle class road travel a pleasant break. It's my alter ego, the Family Guy, walking his family Labrador (on a pink leash as it happens) his wife carries the purse, he drives, she packs, he loads the car. He watches men riding motorcycles and wonders what that might feel like.

I have long wanted to explore Chattanooga, a city perched on a loop in the river seen from freeways curving round the bluffs and through the canyons. Cumberland Gap was a strategic pass for the generals of the Civil War, and today it's an outdoor play pen for young people with time on their hands. I wanted to see it.

Road trips require freeways and I enjoy using the car to slice and dice my way through traffic. I hug the right lane as I know 70% of tickets are given to vehicles traveling in the number one (left) lane, so I avoid that as much as I can. The car I photographed above hugged the left lane, the sole occupant slouched low behind the wheel. The tag on his Ford Fusion Sport was an enigma. Black letters on a yellow plate with no state, federal or consular ID. A freeway mystery.

Dog walks on the road are a little odd as I walk Herself where I can, parking lots empty fields, the loading zones of strip malls, wherever we are. Cheyenne doesn't much like riding the car, but she very much likes being with us, so as the week progresses she gets tired, but she is always game for a new smell and a new down town. I love listening to her snore as the lights go out in our La Quinta (dog friendly) motel room.

We usually eat a motel breakfast, nowadays they offer more protein and less pastries happily. Lunch is sought out by my wife, her iPhone and Urban Spoon and Trip Advisor. No longer do we stop at random, the Internet travels with us. S&S southern buffet in Macon, Georgia, a local landmark in a dying suburban mall.

Dinner is take out usually, but we try to eat that which isn't available on our small island home. Which we sometimes end up being reminded of in the oddest places:

Food drink and sightseeing, cheap motels, NPR on the satellite, conversations, pictures and three thousand miles later we get home. The result? We have batteries charged for another nine months of work. I like my breaks on the road and I'm lucky that I work a weird schedule so if I time it right I can take a week using not much of my accumulated leave. I don't drink ten dollar cocktails on Duval to refresh myself. I drive to Tupelo instead to spend my money!

Getting on the road is more than a vacation for me. It reminds me who I am. My mother put me on her passport when I was ten months old, and while I was born in England I was baptized in Italy. After my parents were divorced I already had my own passport and I traveled back and forth between London and Rome every vacation, a seasoned traveler at twelve years old. When my mother bought me a Vespa, partly I suspect to annoy her ex-husband who feared motorcycles, I used it to travel every vacation I was in Italy. I learned to ride every road and trail with twenty miles of my home by the time I was almost fourteen. I made roadside repairs and I reveled in the alone-ness of being out of touch. I still do.

Of course nowadays it's hard to be actually out of touch, but I like the feeling that I'm not physically present. I see things that others take for granted but that are far outside the circle of my daily life. Driving through the dappled, tree lined roads of southern Tennessee I know I'm not in Tibet, or on the Peruvian Altoplano, but I'm also not at home. I'm not in the flatlands of saltwater and mangroves. Oak trees, kudzu and trailers parked under pine trees. Brick buildings and Palladian courthouses. Rivers and mountains, might as well be Tibet, because it sure isn't the Keys.

Cheyenne liked exploring Chattanooga, not least because it wasn't the car. She doesn't see stuff like this except when we are on the road.

We ate lunch in TerraMae Appalachian Bistro | Chattanooga, TN nouvelle cuisine southern style. It was brunch actually and it was delightful.

The parchment-like menu was long and filled with classics, all served with a twist. The server was delightful, charming efficient and capable, so far removed from the usual Key West amateurs. The bill was small and Chattanooga introduced itself as a place worth seeing.

I had a breakfast bread pudding, what you or I might call a quiche while my wife had the eleven dollar Appalachian lunchable, plate of local flavors in small bites. We talked and wondered at the high price of endless summer, translucent waters and island life. Inland life seems to be so much less expensive, and a road trip reminds us of that.

Check out the tumbler with sesame seed thick cut bacon sprouting out. Pickled shrimp? Pimento cheese with feta? Those are not Key West flavors.

I like traveling The South because in part the region lives in the shadow of its past and all those stereotypes. You see a movie like The Help and imagine its set in 2013. It's not. The boom years boomed in The South too, and the electronic era brings a lot of the outside world into the quiet corners of the country. I'm pretty sure corruption and racism and nepotism rule the roost to some degree here as anywhere but for the casual visitor from another planet the South presents itself as the ideal region for a varied road trip.

This isn't the desert country of the Southwest obviously, nor is it the temperate rainforests of the Pacific Northwest, other regions I have thoroughly enjoyed. The South is its own gentle land of rolling hills, farmland, rivers and good manners. Southerners see Florida tags on a car and assume the occupants are carpet baggers. Not real Southerners, they snort. They'd be right in my case.

But there again I claim no roots anywhere much. Born in England, grew up mostly in Italy, became an independent adult in California and am slowly resigning myself to decrepitude in the Keys. The road trips remind me of my rootlessness, my pleasure in absence, my life away from where I belong.

You hear people in Key West say they never leave their island. I've heard of folks who never leave Old Town. My sisters never leave home anymore and watch the Italian seasons from their Umbrian farmhouses. I suspect it's all genetic or something, like being gay, or the color of your eyes. I find myself unable to shake the travel bug. I'm going to Italy in September so pasta and motorcycles will be on the menu next month.

The good part for me is that I like coming home. This time I have come home to news of changes at work. Next week I shall be working day shift. Not my choice but when the bosses ask, I remember I like working for the police, an environment where "No" is not an option. Besides when they need my help it's good to be wanted. I just wish it wasn't on days. Oh well. Change is good.

For the next ten days The Keys will not feature on this page. Change is good, but normal service will resume only after you travel from here to there with my wife my dog and me. William Faulkner, Vintage Motorcycles at the Barber Museum, Johnny Coley, Cooking School in Atlanta, Tea in Tupelo, Outlook Mountain, the fresh water Aquarium and the history of...auto wrecking? All will be revealed.

 

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