Chasing Cars: Bristol (and the South)

[UKCraig]

Thanks to a rather marvelous person from Sony I am now back up and running! I have uploaded a few photos for the time being. I hope to get some form of report online in the near future :)

[Quebec Gen]

Great to hear from you Craig. Great pics. Loved the hat. I didn't think the ladies were scary but the truck was. I hate International trucks.

Looking forward to read more about your adventures.
Gen

[UKCraig]

Ah, the organic nature of forum communication -- OK -- This point marks the start of the field reports in order... (if only life were this organized as we lived it....) UKCraig's excellent 2007 Summer Adventure is profiled and indexed here. You can read about his visits to the following places, by using the index link above or just be reading along in order as he filed his field reports:

Here are the places Craig visited on this trip:

Day 1 - Preparations
Day 2 - Manchester - Atlanta - Dawsonville
Day 3 - Dawsonville - Great Smoky Mountains National Park
Day 4 - Great Smoky Mountains National Park - Baileyton
Day 5 - Baileyton - Bristol Motor Speedway - Baileyton
Day 6 - Baileyton - Corbin - Mammoth Cave National Park
Day 7 - Mammoth Cave - Bowling Green
Day 8 - Bowling Green - Nashville
Day 9 - Nashville - Lynchburg - Chattanooga
Day 10 - Chattanooga - Stockbridge
Day 11 - Stockbridge - Warner Robins - Atlanta
Day 12 - Atlanta - Manchester
Day 13 - Back home

Editor.

**************************************************

Tuesday 21st August

It’s that time again – roadtrip time!

Many hours of planning have gone into ensuring not a penny of getting us across the Atlantic has been wasted. The itinerary has gone through numerous revisions and improvements and, with the help of my friends at RTA, the final plans for this trip are pretty damn cool, even if I do say so myself. There’s a real mix of destinations and attractions to look forward to but, even though our visit to Bristol Motor Speedway is the undoubted highlight, I’m particularly looking forward to the simple pleasures of some sun and being on the road in a decent car.

I’ve been keeping a close eye on the weather for the past few weeks and it’s averaged over 100 degrees in the area through which we will be travelling. For those of us who are enduring the wettest summer on record that is most agreeable.

Unfortunately for this trip we will be flying from Manchester Airport which is four to five hours drive from home. ‘We’ will be me and, for the first time, Andy Woodvine will be joining me. I’ve known Andy a few years through racing and he was bang up for the trip when I mentioned Bristol! We’re flying first thing tomorrow morning and, as my car isn’t anything like the Dodge Charger that we will be collecting on our arrival in Atlanta, we decided to play it safe and drive up tonight just in-case it does its usual trick of breaking down just when I need to be some place.

We’re now sat in the Knutsford Services on the M6 motorway as we are spending this evening in a Travelodge. To say it is a depressing place to spend time is a real understatement. We’ve done several circuits of the services in search of something to keep us occupied for a couple of hours but the most exciting thing we could find was a Burger King which we decided we should give that a wide birth to. By the time the trip is over we’re likely to be seeing burgers in our sleep. And, besides, it is closed!

As the only people we can find alive on the site are scouse scallies and Polish truckers we’ve decided that an early night is in order. Tomorrow is going to be a long day and, as Willie Nelson once said, I have Georgia on my mind. Roll on tomorrow!

[UKCraig]

Wednesday 22nd August

Today has been a long day but we’re here at last! ‘Here’ is Dawsonville, Georgia. And it’s HOT! Fantastic – I’m happy!

We started the day with the usual rigmarole of delivering the car to the car parking company, waiting for a shuttle bus, suddenly realising you have no idea which terminal you need to be dropped at then, when we had finally been delivered to the right one, waiting in line to check-in. Once we’d finally been checked in we then faced the prospect of fighting our way to the front of the queue for the security check point for the familiar routine of emptying pockets, binning water bottles, getting the laptop out of its bag and removing shoes and belts.

I can understand most of these but I couldn’t help wonder what damage you could cause with a small bottle of water. Whilst I was wondering I suddenly realised that there wasn’t the usual queue today and, totally unprepared for this rather splendid surprise, I found myself looking like a newbie traveller. Those around me took great amusement from my predicament as I dropped coins all over the floor, tripped over my shoe laces and generally flapped and panicked my way through to the departure lounge. Taking a moment to sit down and regain my composure I opened my bag and realised I still had the dreaded bottle of water in my bag. Just as well I wasn’t a terrorist!

The flight itself was a breeze; I even slept for an hour. The food wasn’t great but I’d already enjoyed a huge cooked breakfast back at the airport so that wasn’t an issue. We arrived twenty minutes ahead of time and all was looking good until we hit the tarmac and taxied to our gate. Well, we would have done, but it seems they’d forgotten to organise us one. This was somewhat forgetful of them I thought. “There will be a short delay as there are a number of broken planes occupying the gates today and a tug will need to move them”, announced the captain, “please remain in your seat as we’re parked on an active taxi-way and we will be on our way shortly.” After twenty minutes the engines shut down. We realised then that this short delay would be anything but short. Thankfully, after an hour, the engines re-fired and we started to move once again.

Immigration was easy – the guy was a race fan and was excited to hear we we’d flown all this way to go to Bristol – but the baggage reclaim was an utter farce. The carousel would start, then stop, then a bell would sound and it would start again. Eventually, after a total of two bags had arrived, it stopped once more. Painful, painful, painful.

Finally we had our bags and excitedly headed towards the exit, keen to experience once more that ‘wham’ of hot air as you emerge from the air conditioned building. We had to run to catch the bus to the car rental depot and I was totally mortified to be dropped at the ugliest car that I have ever seen. The bus driver commiserated with us but still demanded a tip for driving the three miles from the terminal. What is it with tipping in the US? I have no objection tipping in bars and restaurants where it all but guarantees fantastic service - which you very rarely see in the UK – but tipping bus drivers? What next? Airline pilots? Madness.

Off we set in this dreadful car - it was a Mercury Grand Marquis Andy informed me as we roared out of the airport - almost rolling the car as we rounded the corner onto the Interstate. I’d planned a short journey for this evening and I was pleased to arrive at the Super 8 motel in Dawsonville and get out of that dreadful car! I had a bad experience with a Super 8 near Memphis so I tend to avoid them but this one was relatively new and I’d booked it on the basis of nothing more than the hope that it wasn’t possible to ruin it in the space of a couple of years. I was half right – the motel itself was fine, the receptionist was very pleasant but, well, let’s just say I think the maids can only be employed part-time. Luckily I’m tired and I have a funny feeling that I could have slept well on the airport floor tonight!

[UKCraig]

Thursday 23rd August

Originally I had planned for us to visit the North Georgia Premium Outlet center last night but, after the fiasco getting away promptly from the airport, we arrived just as it was closing for the night. There was no choice but to wait around until it opened this morning as we had purposely travelled light, intending to stock up on cheap clothes once we arrived. In the UK, shops will usually open at 830am or maybe 9am, so it was a surprise to learn that the outlet center wouldn’t open until 10am. When you factor in the time difference that is equivalent to 3pm English time so there was no way that we’d be able to sleep until then. We woke around 8am and passed the time by taking breakfast by the pool, inspecting the engine in the car to see how it was possible for something so gutless to make such a lot of noise – we never did work that out – and having a second round of breakfast before finally heading out to Walmart for provisions.

I’m not sure if Andy has ever seen the inside of a Walmart previously but he certainly made up for it now. We had to walk every aisle and pick up everything that you can’t buy in a UK supermarket. He was particularly fascinated by the idea of being able to buy guns and knives at the same time as your Corn Flakes. Eventually I managed to - almost literally - drag him out of the store and we headed over the road to the outlet center.

After so forcefully steering him away from the guns I felt a little guilty as I took my time to peruse the wares of a number of clothes outlets. I managed to spend a small fortune but picked up some real bargains in the process. I’m not sure that it’s entirely down to the amazing savings – probably as much to do with the laid-back and helpful manner of the shop staff in the US – but I really do enjoy shopping here. It all seems such a hassle back home.

We finally left the Dawsonville area and headed out in the direction of the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. It should have been a relatively laid back day – compared to the rest of the trip which was going to be somewhat hectic – but we were now running late and I had to shelve our plan to spend time in the Tallulah Gorge State Park which was possibly just as well as Andy was positively underwhelmed when I pulled into the Tallulah Falls Trading Post/Overlook. I’d been here last year and thought it was mega, I still did on my return, but it seemed Andy was more interested in guns and knives than scenery.

Eventually, after a couple of dozen photos stops, we rolled into the national park. When I’d visited last year this had been my first national park visit so I didn’t really know what to expect. Since then I’d visited loads of them and had made it my quest to visit them all. This time I knew the lay of the land and had a plan. After stopping at the visitor center we headed out to Clingmans Dome to watch the sunset. It was good to get the walking boots on once again and, although the destination was a bit of a disappointment due to low cloud, it was good to discover that losing three stone since my last visit had made the hike considerably easier.

The hike had been a my warm-up for a proper hike tomorrow but, on the way back down the seven mile Clingmans Dome Road, I thought that the car deserved a warm-up of its own. By the time that we arrived at Newfound Gap it was more than warm. In fact I was convinced that the brakes were going to catch fire. This car was in the same condition that I was on my first visit – overweight and in need of some weight loss!

Deciding that the car needed time to cool off, we spent half an hour or so at Newfound Gap, just chilling and checking out the view. Finally Andy was impressed with something. Surprisingly, given we were in the mountains, it wasn’t the scenery but the wildlife. He’d spotted a dirty great-big strange-coloured bug of some sort and wouldn’t shut up about it. He then started to bore me senseless with his concerns about being eaten by bears before spotting a strange looking bird. I took the opportunity to sneak off and ended up chatting with a large family who were visiting from Chicago. One of them suggested boldly that they thought they might hike the Appalachian Trail next year. When I enquired which part of it they looked at me blankly, “all of it!” they replied. Some chance!

Andy caught up with me at this point and declared that he’d had enough and that he wanted to go and see the waterfalls that I had promised him. There were supposed to be two alongside the road as we approached Cades Cove – our destination for the night – but they must have dried up as we didn’t see any sign of them at all. The only thing that we did see along that road was a curious commotion in the woods along with a dozen or so cars and motor bikes parked haphazardly along the edge of the road. Wondering if there had been a bear sighting we pulled over to have ourselves a look, only to be shouted at for stopping by several of the group. As they seemed such an unfriendly bunch we sped off once more, this time with the rear wheels spinning as if to signal it’s displeasure. The car was growing on me!

Finally, after what turned out to be a long day, we have arrived on the campground at Cades Cove. The noise from the trees is deafening, I’m still not sure what it is that is making the din, and it is seriously hot. Add to that the concern that bears are likely to come and eat us to death in the night (at least they could if you listen to Andy!) and I do wonder if I will sleep at all.

But I can reassure myself with the knowledge that I’m very well off compared to the brother of the two panic-stricken guys we met on arriving at the campground office. They’d headed out on a long hike, with no equipment to speak of and only a limited supply of water, only to realise the true extent of what they’d taken on. One of the three wasn’t as fit as the others so, when they chanced upon a tarmac road, they had decided to leave him and set off to fetch the car. They found the car just fine but were then unable to find the road. That poor guy is still out there. I hope he’s okay.

[lhuff]

Gee - you should drag Andy to Louisiana at some point. Lots of knives, guns and bugs around here. I even know of a few alligators that I'm sure you'd like him to meet.

BTW - you never answered my question. Was this Pyro Andy from Le Mans? If so, the whole setting fire to your camp site incident may have been a good indicator.

Laura

[UKCraig]

Yep, that's the one.

Glad you liked the updates. That's your lot for the moment though as I need to go through the next days and bring them up to a readable standard. This'll be the middle of next week though as I'm off to Belgium tomorrow evening and then Dublin on Monday. I rather think that I'll be in bed asleep by 7pm on Tuesday after that... :)

[UKCraig]

Friday 24th August

We decided, even though the falls were dry last night, to press on to the planned stop for today – Abrams Falls. We had no idea whether or not it was dry but we be figured, if it was, then at least we’d have had a bit of a hike. Neither of us are in particularly great shape but this 5 mile hike was described as moderate so we were more than relaxed about it. When we reached the trailhead we were somewhat surprised – not to mention a little alarmed - to find a sign indicating that it was rated as moderately difficult to strenuous. But we pressed on regardless.

It transpired that the only moderately difficult part was passing a particularly unimpressed dear who we met coming down the trail towards us and who didn’t welcome our arrival. It was great to get away from the real world where people don’t make eye contact and step back in to the happy land of smiling and chatting with fellow hikers. The views along the trail proved to be pretty poor and we were never quite sure that a bear wouldn’t step out and rip our arms off but we finally reached the falls and were delighted to discover that they were in full flow. The cool water was a welcome reward for our hard slog.

After a couple of photos we headed off back down the trail. I was, once again, delighted at the ease of the hike in my new streamlined shape. Halfway down we stopped for five minutes to admire the one scenic view available on the trail and to take on board some water. Whilst we stood there I greeted a family coming up the trail who, it transpired, were also from London; just 30 miles away from me. They’re on an extended roadtrip so I recommend that they visit RTA the next time... always the sales rep!

Back to the car and off to Cades Cove visitor center, the ridiculous slow pace of traffic on the loop road infuriating me as we drove. Eventually I lose my cool and sound the horn. Immediately the car in front gets out of my way and I make headway for 20 yards until I get behind the next slow moving car. I repeat the inadvertently discovered process and, sure enough, I am able to pass another car. Champcar may have Push To Pass but, in the Smokies, the rule of the road seems to be Parp To Pass.

Somehow we manage to miss not only the visitor center but the road that I was planning to take out towards our next stop in Virginia. Not a great bit of navigating but, as is often the way, it all works out for the best as the new route takes us out of the park along some great driving roads.

Andy has developed a need to constantly stop for food and feels the need to continually tell me about it. I’m actually becoming a little worried about him so I relent and pull into a roadside country store. I really wanted to press on to Pigeon Forge as it promised a wide selection of food fare but I was really starting to think that he was going to die if he didn’t eat. Either that or I would go deaf. It was a truly awful shop, full of tacky gifts, but he buys a huge dirty great ice cream whilst I choose to go for something a little healthier; home made wraps out the cooler. Unbelievably he manages to polish off a couple of those too.

We soon pass through Pigeon Forge and I’m amazed at the size of the place. I had expected commercial but this was halfway to being Las Vegas. As we drove through Andy was reading off the names of the eateries that we passed like he was in some sort of day dream. The only other thing he would alert me to was gun shops, which was concerning me as much as his desire to continually eat frankly. We stopped briefly at the Nascar Experience which Andy seemed very uninterested in – which was odd seeing this was a Nascar trip! – before pressing on towards Virginia.

I had planned on stopping as we neared the Bristol area to enquire over vacancies for Saturday night at a motel. Quite apart from the heat of the tent, I had really fancied waking up on Sunday morning and watching the GP on Speed Channel. The 36 Motel – milemarker 36 on I-81, of course! – had one room left, at 70 bucks a night, but would only rent it on a two night basis. I was tempted after meeting a real friendly bunch of race fans in the motel office but didn’t think Andy would go for it. As I came out of the office I spotted him talking to yet more racefans so I turned right around and told them we’d take it. It was a rickety old motel, but then that’s half the fun.

We’d been warned not to tinker with the aircon when we went into the room but it was so damn hot in there, and the unit was only on ¾ speed so we had no choice but to crank it up. Eventually, and I mean eventually, it would cool the room to a point where you’d not burn your fingers when you touched the door handle. The heat was unbearable, the neighbours noisy, and there was no Speed Channel, but it would do just fine.

After a welcome shower we headed out – you’ve guessed it – for food! Not sure where to go we consulted my guidebook only to realise that there really wasn’t anywhere to go! Enthused by promises of a ‘stunning, beautiful and historic downtown area’ we headed 20 miles or so to Rogersville. First impressions weren’t great – the typical rows of fast food joints and strip malls – but we turned into the old town and things did improve there. It was, as promised, old. It really surprised me how there could be such a contrast within 100 yards or so.

I wasn’t hungry but we ended up in a Pizza Hut back on the main road and we ordered a ‘medium’ pizza each. When they were delivered they barely fitted on the table and we could only manage to eat half. We asked for a box and took the other half back to the motel for breakfast.

Whilst we’d been sitting in the restaurant we had seen a dozen or so drag racing cars heading past on trailers so we decided we really should go and investigate. Anything would be better than sitting in the motel room for the evening and chancing upon a drag racing meeting would have been most agreeable. We never did find where they were heading but we did chance upon some great mountain roads and decided to put the car through its paces. As per our previous experiences… it was thoroughly dreadful. But, despite it all, it was actually rather fun and we finally started to gain some affection for it. We really must, as we covered about 60 miles before realising how far we’d driven – and how little gas we had left.

The red light came on as we finally made our way back to Rogersville – another disaster narrowly averted. Something that seems to be a common theme on these trips!

[UKCraig]

Saturday 25th August

The big day had arrived – and boy was I excited! Andy, on the other hand, seemed rather subdued. He doesn’t say a lot so I’m still not sure what the problem was – maybe he was just hungry.

We stayed up late last night watching TV and drinking beer so were in no desperate rush to get out of bed. This suited Andy perfectly, of course! We’d returned ‘home’ from exploring the local area and, after some searching for the remote control, we tuned in to discover that there was live coverage of the Busch race. We’d missed most of it. Never mind. As any race fan can tell you, the most exciting part of any race is the final few laps; we still had that to look forward to, right? Wrong. Just as it was looking like we would get to see a storming finish, the coverage dropped out, only to return in time for us to see the winner on his victory lap. Great. It didn’t get much better – we resorted to watching a marathon showing of some series about truckers who made their money by hauling loads across an ice road… very random - so, if I’m honest, I’ve probably wasted sixty seconds of your life with this paragraph. It should have read simply: We stayed up late last night drinking beer.

It was still damn hot in the room so we were showered, packed and out the door pretty promptly once we finally decided to get up around 9am. We had no real plans for the day apart from the race so we simply hit the I-81 towards Bristol in the hope that something would inspire us along the way.

It didn’t take long for something to jump out at us. As we neared Greenville, TN we saw a sign for the ‘I-81 Motorsports Park’ and we swung off to go have a look. It wasn’t hard to find – there must have been 150 signs along the two or three mile drive off the interstate – but it wasn’t much to look at either. We watched a couple of dirt racers for a few minutes before we sped off ourselves. Sideways in a cloud of dust. I don’t think they’ll be welcoming us back if I’m honest.

For some reason Andy had taken a liking to the name of the town of Kingsport. I have no idea why. Really I don’t. But he really, really wanted to go. So we did. There wasn’t a great deal to see there but there was a huge shopping mall so, on the sworn understanding that I wasn’t to go into any clothes shops, we went for a quick look around. Two hours later we emerged, laden down with bags. Oops.

From Kingsport it made sense to take the back road towards Bristol. It wasn’t so much an effort to avoid the traffic on the main road – that was just a bonus – it was simply that it was a shorter distance on the map. We stopped at a gas station to refill our cool box with ice, our car with gas and Andy’s stomach with (yet more) food just before we hit the outskirts of Bristol and we spent some time there chatting to a local about the race, how it has changed over the years and its effect on the local economy.

We still had several hours to kill so we headed into the town of Bristol for a photo opportunity. Bristol is one of those strange towns that happen to lie on the border of two states – one side of the main street is in Tennessee, the other in Virginia – and they have erected a huge great sign across the road to celebrate the fact. The visit turned out to be so much more than a photo of a sign. I really liked the town - it had a real ‘old America’ feel about it – it seemed genuine somehow. We spent several seconds getting photos of the sign that we had come to see and several hours exploring a town that we knew nothing of before arriving but which we had suddenly become very fond of.

The speedway was hidden in a huge natural bowl so you do not actually see it as you approach. The only sign that you’re approaching it is the huge number of cars jostling to get into the vast parking lots. Other drivers had started giving up and were now parking on the grass verge alongside the main approach road. Spotting a gap we decided to join them and abandoned the car alongside a ‘No Parking’ sign. We wandered off with a nagging worry that the car might not be waiting for us when we returned.

When we finally caught a glimpse of the venue it was obvious why it would be so important to the local economy. I’ve to Talladega and Daytona, I’ve been to Le Mans and Silverstone and I’ve been to Spa. Those places were all huge in every sense of the word but - and I’m not sure exactly the reason as it is a short ½ mile oval and it has no right to – Bristol dwarfed them all. It was awe-inspiring in a way only the Coliseum could have been. I couldn’t wait to get inside and witness the gladiators and hastened my step.

Eager to avoid sitting in the grandstand for a couple of hours, frying nicely in the blistering sun, we spent some time exploring the trade stands and stores. I picked up a #42 flag for the car whilst Andy concentrated on knocking back as much as Jack Daniels as he could. I have to confess to being somewhat jealous and wished that he was the one that was doing all the driving. As we made our way to our seats – right up in row 60 – I purposely climbed the stairs without looking towards the track. When I finally reached my seat I turned round and was greeted with an awesome sight.

One of the problems with planning these things so far in advance is that you build up a certain level of excitement as the trip nears. It’s often the case that the event does not match up to the hype but Bristol did and in spades. The pre-race build-up made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up and the noise of 43 cars in such a tiny venue was deafening. In Andy’s case it very nearly was! Those around us – the regulars – said that the race wasn’t up to the usual Bristol standard but, wow, I was stunned when they waved the chequered flag. The race was probably the best that I had seen and the whole experience was beyond words. I knew already that I was going to have to find a way to make another visit in the future.

Surprisingly the car was sat there waiting for us when we got back to it and we quickly hopped into it and sped off; the satnav coming in especially handy here as we decided to ignore the directions of the state trooper and simply headed out into the Tennessee countryside for four or five miles before letting it navigate us back to the motel. This tactic worked an absolute treat and, amazingly, we were pulled into the salubrious surroundings of the Motel 36 parking lot less than 90 minutes after leaving our seats in the grandstand. I still have no idea how we made it from seat to car, drove 50 miles AND stopped at McDonalds for Andy – he was hungry again, poor love – but you gotta love it when miracles happen.

As we unloaded our stuff from the car and headed towards our beds for a well-earned rest, the race fans who we’d met when we arrived the previous day arrived back and insisted on us joining them for a beer or two. Who am I to refuse the offer of a free beer? We sat in the parking lot of the motel drinking beer, eating freshly bbq’d burgers and comparing notes about our countries. I don’t want to come across all hippy here but, whilst every race has differences, the more you get out there and speak to people, the more you realise we’re all exactly the same. We had a great time putting the world to rights until we all went our separate ways at just gone 5am. What a great day!

[lhuff]

The saga has finally continued. Andy is still alive and there was a race story to boot.