"My home is across the Smokey Mountains.." 358 Miles

Nearly 3 weeks in the US and I am beginning to get the scent of home. If I took the shortest route it is only about 700 miles to New York from here.

Another late night in Nashville where the only person who wasn't a musician appeared to be me. They do have some truly awful buskers though. Not sure why they bother with all the quality acts in the bars and theatres.

I was leaving the day the Flugfest took place; people build ludicrous flying machines and do a bit of a turn then hurl themselves into the river. Brighton does something similar, I think, from the end of the pier.

Like everything I have witnessed so far, there is a sponsor for this event. Most disconcerting for me, a man of the BBC, is the habit newsreaders have of stopping after the news headlines to deliver a lengthy sponsors message before the main body of the bulletin. I can't imagine Fiona Bruce doing that. However, it might cheer Huw Edwards up a bit. Several people have said to me, and I have also heard one commentator say, that the BBC is "dry". Well if you are not editorialising I suppose it would appear that way. However, our people do seem to take themselves rather seriously in comparison. To American eyes, British TV newsreaders must appear a little like Sam Eagle from the Muppet show segment "Rubber News" (even though I suspect he was based on US news legend Walter "and thats the way it looks" Kronkite). I do like the habit the some weather reporters have of giving little tips with the forecast though:

"Very high temperatures with low humidity today so if you are baking make sure you add extra water to your flour as it will be rather dried out and your cakes won't rise as easily". Now that is a helpful forecast!

Nashville this morning was a ghost town. I was unable to squeeze into the motel dining room for the "complimentary continental breakfast" as it was full of people pushing and shoving and generally chowing down. so I thought I would pop round the corner and find a cafe. Some hope. Nothing seemed ready to open much before 10.30. In the end I plumped for a Gyros sandwich in a Greek place. I am beginning to develop a taste for unsweetened iced tea. I expect it will taste vile at home in temperatures below 70F.

Getting out of town was easy; turn right, then the next right and it was straight onto the freeway. The further east I get the more traffic there appears to be. I suppose it is all to do with population density.

Headed east as usual and started to climb up between the Appalachian and the wonderfully green Smokey Mountains. I am beginning to get a better understanding of where the bits we have heard of are. So I now know where the Oak Ridge Boys presumably hail from. Not to be confused with the Ozark Mountain Daredevils - they are further west.

I crossed into North Carolina listening to some Appalachian Dulcimer music on public radio. There are some fantastic accents to be heard in this part of the country. At first some of them sound like they are doing it for joke (hey...fair's fair, they have been laughing at the way I talk for 4,000 miles now!).

Passed a sign for Dolly Parton's theme park "Dollywood" at Pigeon Forge, but the need for speed prevented me from taking a detour. Arrived at Morganton about 6.30, hot, sticky and as usual, in need of cold beer. Not seen any evidence of bars nor liquor stores - was this a dry county? "Yes" said the desk clerk "but you are in luck, the county is dry but the city is not - there is a mexican restaurant in the shopping mall that has a bar". Yippee - more burrittos!

I am not a religious person, so it amuses me that in a country that takes its Bible very seriously, and in many instances literally, the local convenience stores are open all day on Sundays - one boasting 7 day opening 0700-2300....hallelujah! What happened to the day of rest?


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"Let me tell you a story 'bout a man named Jed" 162 Miles

I set off from Paducah with no particular plan in mind. Ahhh, the optimism of the Americans and their broad highways coursing through my increasingly clogged veins.

After the excitment of Fathers Day, they were yipping about the 20th June, which for us Brits is a moment of gloom being the longest day. Soon we will be plunged into darkness of winter. To the Americans the 20th is the first day of summer! This keeps them happy and is a useful peg for their advertising strategies (BBQ and pool sets) for a couple of weeks until July 4th - whatever that's all about!

After stopping at a roadside diner for catfish (damn, fried again), I thought I would head for Lexington.

The idea of this trip was to see the big country. The cities I can visit on a piecemeal basis another time. It has all been about the journey. However, the moment I saw a sign which read "Nashville 139 miles" I was toast.

I24 took me there in 2 hours and I took the downtown turnoff. Ten minutes later the valet parking guy "stole" my vehicle and it was out into town.

Not sure if I have been anywhere yet where the daytime temperature has been under 85- 92F, and a high humidity makes for a very sticky boy.

After getting my bearings, I picked up a free newspaper and had a look at the events listings. Who was on in town tonight? A rare performance by 83 year old banjo legend Earl Scruggs. I hot footed it down to the Ryman Auditorium and they had a few single tickets left. A little laundry, a shower and some chicken tenders later and I was being ushered to my seat.

The Ryman is a former church and so the seating is in the form of long curved pews with numbers screwed to them to denote places. The elderly usherette looked at my ticket and then at the pew said "No, this won't do at all - I am going to have to put you someplace else". The reason was enormously and bulbously clear - sitting in his seat.....and mine as well, was a bloke who at a conservative estimate must have weighed thirty stones! I was shown to a nearly empty row about 5 from the stage.

Earl Scruggs may be 83 and obviously frail but he can still cut it. With the help of an amazing band, which included two of his sons, and an audience who applauded every "plunk", it was a memorable evening. 61 years after he first appeared at the Ryman, he was headlining for the very first time. To hear everyone (myself included - I still remember the words), singing along to "The Ballad of Jed Clampett" brought a lump to the throat.

All over by 10.30, it was a short walk to Broadway and its bars. Every joint had a band playing....and a good one too. I went and sat in "The Second Fiddle" and watched a terrific group, which included a phenominal guitar player and a pedal steel player. They played for tips - no cover charge. What was interesting about the audience at the Ryman and the crowd in the bar, the age range was across the board - young to old. Country has no barriers.


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