Cades Cove

Meadow in Cade’s Cove

With its fields surrounded by mountains, its trails, both very long and very short, its campground, its old buildings, including cemeteries, its bike shop and its sometimes wildlife, Cade’s Cove has lots going for it. It’s one of the few places with the kind of open scenery people crave, apart from the mountain tops.

What it doesn’t have is solitude.

Visitors to Cade’s Cove should expect crowds and traffic, even if my pictures don’t show it. Moving slow through a field amid mountains isn’t the worst thing on Earth though. Far from it. It’s actually amazing.  But people who want to get away from traffic jams and crowds? You’ve got the wrong place. Cade’s Cove isn’t an escape from other people, at least not in summer. It’s kind of like rush hour in Los Angeles, if Los Angeles was a field surrounded by lovely rounded mountains.

But that’s just it. Being stuck in beautiful scenery is glorious, at least to me. I may have just lost my Great Smoky Mountains hipster cred for loving a place that’s so well-traveled, but I still love it. There’s a part of me with restless legs that gets tired of being stuck in a car. But given how great my last trip there was in terms of scenery wildlife and just general beauty, I’m happy I went.

The area’s roads connect to many trails, some longer, some just short paths near cabins. As I was traveling with less long-walk inclined folks, my last trip there stuck entirely to the former.

Here are a few highlights of my last trip earlier this year. It’s not everything to see there, but I can always go back.

I will warn you the wildlife photos from the trip may not be the best. I’m the sort of person who will give wildlife a proper respectful distance. Unless it’s frogs. So just imagine what bear and turkeys look like. You probably know what bears and turkeys are.

These distant birds are turkeys. Take my word for it. We saw them in May, and I’ve seen them on other trips in the Great Smoky Mountains and the Cumberlands.
John Oliver Cabin

Above is the John Oliver cabin, no relation to the HBO comedian. John Oliver fought in the war of 1812, arrived in 1818 with the present cabin finished in 1820. The 1.4 mile fairly-level trail to this point is just the start of a far more foot-busting 8.5 mile hike, the 8.5 mile Rich Mountain Loop.


As a short little stroll, the John Oliver Cabin route has much to recommend it, with an alternate route in the shade, shown below, and a route through a field, offering views of the surrounding mountains as in the first image on this blog.

Shaded route
The shaded route to the John Oliver cabin.

The meadow was, in May, also a good place to spot butterflies.

Back in the car, we drove to Cade’s Cove Primitive Baptist Church, where John Oliver is buried. It’s on a bit of a side road.  We happened on good luck there, however, in that a bear was nearby.

Black bears often stop traffic in the Smokies in what are called “bear jams,” and this one was no exception. They’re the kind of cute, furry creatures that attract the kind of idiots who think they’re harmless and want to take selfies really close to them. Fortunately for me, I’m not one of those people. I prefer not to be torn to bloody bits. Unfortunately for you, that means you’ll have to make do with this mysterious shadow bear rather than something brighter. If you don’t know what a black bear looks like there’s always Google.

Black bear
This is a bear. Take my word for it.

Cade’s Cove is not a zoo. Animals don’t just show up to entertain you. So I suggest relaxing. You may see a bear. You may not. You may get a good picture. You may not. Enjoy what you see. Don’t expect it, and it may come.

Primitive Baptist Church

I do not mean “Primitive” here as an insult. There are many kinds of Baptists and Primitive just means they consider themselves the original ones in their denomination as opposed to Missionary Baptists.
I appreciate Oliver’s grave’s honesty about John Oliver’s role and not ignoring the people who were in the area before him. It lists him as the “First permanent, white settler in the area, italics mine. Cemeteries like the one here make it clear how early people died back in those days too.
Here are some other cabins, barns and structures we saw while in Cade’s Cove.


Big Ridge State Park


Big Ridge State Park

They hopped on the forest floor as I climbed to the Loysdon Overlook. Small shapes like crickets or beetles, just as easily ignorable.

And yet something inspired m e to pick it up. And then I saw it: A frog!

Heart, brain, organs bones, all in such a tiny fingernail sized package. Why do we need to sprawl into big bodies anyway? Certainly not ones my absurdly gross size. All the forms of backboned animals: endless variations on a theme. Eyes, feet, heart yet each twisted in a shape suiting a particular purpose.

Fragility. I could crush the little fellow. I videoed him stammering around, trying to say something worthwhile. I couldn’t even guess the species. The frogs I know are larger. Did that matter to it? Does its little mind even know it is a species?

I wished I knew how to sex frogs. That came out wrong. I wish I knew how to judge a frog’s sex. “It” always feels like an insult to a living being. If only “they” could catch on.

Golden light flooded through trees like something that floods through trees as I climbed. A sign told me Norris Lake had covered the Town of Loysdon, reducing it to the Loysdon Sea as some nickname it. Green leaves everywhere blocked the view, preventing it from being a panorama rather than just a view through leaves. Also it prevented the hike from being worth recommending at this time of the year. But I still enjoyed coming.

There was something satisfying about Big Ridge State Park, beyond just coming eye to eye with the tiny frog. Even though it should not have been satisfying. The boat rental with all its pedaled and paddled crafts sat closed.

I did not take even a moment to swim at the inviting area with a raft that still was open or even to eat at any of the picnic spots. The trail, strewn with logs led to nothing but an overlook crowded by leaves. I did not pitch a tent at any campsite nor did I stay at any of the cabins I walked past.

So what was it that satisfied me? Simply this: newness. I had not seen these woods or this lake since a very small age when Dad remembered me failing to be impressed at an osprey grabbing a fish.

I get restless. I want to go somewhere if only for two hours. I want to drive through the countryside, past where gas stations no longer have card scanners and their numbers flip manually, not digitally, then find a place like Big Ridge State Park. It really strikes me after being stuck in the same office all day, how amazing being in a new place is.

It was near the summer solstice. That really made the difference.

Things to do at Big Ridge

Loysdon Point is 0.9 miles from a trailhead near a playground. The area has many other trails, some of which are

Even if you don’t want to rent a boat at Big Ridge, you can launch your private one from a boat ramp near the park’s entrance.

I later returned to go swimming there, the first time my girlfriend and I got to go swimming.

The park has a variety of depths for swimming and even a raft. Out of all the lake swimming areas, in East Tennessee, it’s one of the best with plenty of room for families to mess about. The one thing it’s lacking is a long dry sandy beach, like at some of the areas on Melton Hill Lake.

When we were there a wedding was in progress and rangers were announcing water balloons ready for the children to throw.

Dayton: A new statue and an answer to a challenge.

[June Griffin] wants to debate Darrow supporters publicly, face to face, she said.

“No lawyers,” she said, “only personal confrontation. Engage them in the debate right there.”

Chattanooga Times Free Press

Yes, I will debate you, June Griffin. Though face to face may be hard to arrange, I’ll lay out my point here.

First, an explanation, because we’re dealing with frequently misunderstood history.

The trial of John Scopes

June Griffin is an opponent of a privately funded statue of Clarence Darrow being put up in front of the old Rhea County Courthouse. She opposes it because, in her view,  and the views of others, it promotes secularism.

Darrow’s connection to Dayton comes from a near century old event.

The town of Dayton put its high-school football coach and science teacher on trial in 1925, attracting the big name lawyers Clarence Darrow for the defense and former presidential candidate William Jennings Bryan for the prosecution.  The crime? Teaching that humans evolved from “lower” animals. It was against the law at the time, but no one had enforced it before then. Or after.

I say, “put on trial” because “arrested,” while technically right, would give the wrong idea. In my experience, people in small Tennessee towns would never so much as sneeze in front of their football coach, let alone put him in jail. Scopes was no exception.

A group of businessmen and notable locals, including  the awesomely named Dayton Coal and Iron president George Washington Rappleyea discussed an ad from the ACLU offering to serve for the defense of anyone tried under the law over sodas at a drug store, because that was how small-town people did things in the 1920s. Along with wearing silly straw hats all the time.

Scopes and Rappleyea
Photo from Smithsonian Institution. Scopes, left and Rappleyea, right,  looking like they were on their way to a Harry Potter convention.

The mining industry, which founded the town in the first place, was failing at the time, having had much bad luck including deadly explosions, the worst killing 29 people. But now they could get the town on the map for something bigger: hosting the trial of the century.

Some of the businessmen supported the law, some of them opposed it like Rappleyea who said he wanted it to go on trial in order to be repealed, but they mostly just wanted attention for their town.

So, a boy ran over and found their man, out playing tennis. He came into the drugstore chatted with the folks there, and while it wasn’t clear whether he’d ever taught much about evolution, it was in the textbook the school assigned. The drugstore sold it, so they could easily check. To be fair, schools didn’t have many creationist textbooks to choose from back then. Anyway, Scopes never spent a single day in jail and never even testified in a trial that became more about Bryan and Darrow debating each other. That debate and evolution vs. creationism overshadowed all of Dayton’s previous history, including union strikes, the mine explosions, a company president’s suicide and its also awesomely named British founder, Titus Salt Jr.

The trial led to the founding of Bryan College, named for William Jennings Bryan, in Dayton. So, naturally, Dayton’s old courthouse had a statue, not of Scopes, Rappleyea, the copperhead who bit Rappleyea and forced him to stay in Dayton (leading to the trial), or Titus Salt Jr. but of Bryan, just by himself. Then, this year, they’ve added a statue of Darrow.

Scopes, 24 years old at the time, agreed to go on trial because his father said it was a good idea. I can relate. At about the same age, my own father, coincidentally a strong believer in evolution like Scopes’, convinced me to stay in Tennessee and work with him on a book.

My book, a collaboration with my father, called “Wildly Strolling Along” is about hiking, nature and history along the Cumberland Trail. A side branch of that trail goes past some ruins which include a mine ruin connected to the company that would become Rappleyea’s. I mistakenly identified as a coke oven for processing coal in my book. But I still stand by most of what I said about Dayton’s mining industry, unless anyone else has any corrections. Please send them to if you do.

The museum and why the statue fits

Because that history peaked with the Scopes Trial, it led to me visiting the museum at the courthouse back when it had just one statue of Bryan as I mention in the book. I was impressed by the fact that the museum, while focusing on the trial, had displays portraying creationism and evolution accurately and a great timeline of mining company history, to which I owe a chapter of my book.

The museum already had Darrow’s straw boater hat (yup, another one) so it wasn’t like it ignored him. The courthouse is known for its accurate reenactment of the trial based on transcripts, which serves as a correction to the fictional and never-intended-to-portray-reality play and movie “Inherit the Wind” which has shaped far too many people’s perceptions.

While Griffin’s statements as reported in the media have been provocative and sensationalist, a good statement of her side’s views can be found here by someone who spoke at Griffin’s rally. Note that he never mentions the real background of the trial (coal mining and a struggling town economy) focusing on the “clash of ideas.”

While I do believe in evolution and have endorsed it in my book, I also admire Bryan, and many of his positions were ahead of their time. Neither of those opinions, however, really matter here.

The structure is a museum. It’s meant to tell people an unbiased truth about what happened, which is what it does so well. Having both lawyers in front lends credibility.

People from both sides of the debate can come there and learn accurately what happened after admiring the representatives of the different sides. Darrow’s statue is in keeping with the spirit of the museum as it was when I was there and the spirit of its general mission. That, to me is more valuable than endorsing either side of the debate: endorsing learning.

So, yes, I welcome the new statue, even as I wish there might have been more information about the coal company history. I support a place where people of different views can come together. To me, that’s the real issue here. That and promoting my own book. Because after all, what could be more in keeping with the original trial than shameless promotion?



I love Gatlinburg! Come at me.

People call it tacky, a tourist trap, garish, overrated, commercial, lowest common denominatory. And I will nod my head and say, “Yeah. So?” I love it that way. And I hope it never leaves us, no matter how many fires it endures.

“This is a roadside attraction,’ said Wednesday. ‘One of the finest. Which means it is a place of power.’”

-Neil Gaiman, American Gods.

I’ve known it since I was young. We never really spent much time there. It was always a way into the park and a place to eat afterward, but never really our destination. My mother found Ober Gatlinburg’s ski resort to be overpriced for lessons which she wanted to offer me herself, although as an adult I’ve grown to appreciate that place’s slopes, terrain park and everything else more and more.

As for the rest of it, as a kid, I found the weird animatronics outside of a haunted attraction back then creepy and the other ones were just weird. The whole place generally surreal and foreign to me, with its airbrushed t-shirts and samurai swords. The aquarium though, which I encountered as a teenager, was beautiful, although not as original or unified an idea as the one in Chattanooga.

As an adult, I mock everything freely there in my head and to my girlfriend as I’ve walked by, especially on my last few visits. Tiny Gatlinburg Bible Museum with Arc of the Covenant? So that’s where they took it after that warehouse. Although that’s closed now, so I can’t make that joke anymore. Oh well. The World of Illusions? People don’t seem to like it, but at least it has Doc Brown with nipple clamps visible from outside.  Though, speaking of nipples, that exterior can’t compete with the one the Batman Forever Batmobile crashed into at Hollywood Star Cars, which apparently has cars from just about every blockbuster film ever. I should probably visit some time.

And while The Village features old world charm, it also features my lame attempts at making M. Night Shyamalan jokes.

“It’s perfectly simple,” said Wednesday. “In other countries, over the years, people recognized the places of power. Sometimes it would be a natural formation, sometimes it would just be a place that was, somehow, special. They knew that something important was happening there, that there was some focusing point, some channel, some window to the Immanent. And so they would build temples or cathedrals, or erect stone circles, or…well, you get the idea.” -Neil Gaiman American Gods.

Oh, and then there’s all the places selling corn liquor in all kinds of flavors and with tasting counters like in California’s wine country, rather ingeniously called “moonshine” for the tourists, even though it’s legal. Real moonshine, of course, has no health standards and sometimes includes dead pickled squirrels. This stuff doesn’t. But it is fun to get wasted beneath the mountains and there’s plenty of sidewalk room for walking back to avoid any DUI problems.

The place lacks a certain variety even of the kind typically seen at some tourist traps. It’s low on dance clubs, for example, and most of the larger amusement parks and attractions like Dollywood and the Great Smoky Mountains themselves are beyond its borders. But it’s Gatlinburg. It’s my land of delightful craziness beneath the rolling mountains. And I wish it will continue.

“In the USA, people still get the call, or some of them, and they feel themselves being called to from the transcendent void, and they respond to it by building a model out of beer bottles of somewhere they’ve never visited, or by erecting a gigantic bat house in some part of the country that bats have traditionally declined to visit. Roadside attractions: people feel themselves pulled to places where, in other parts of the world, they would recognize that part of themselves that is truly transcendent, and buy a hot dog, and walk around, feeling satisfied on a level they cannot truly describe, and profoundly dissatisfied on a level beneath that.” -Neil Gaiman, American Gods.

To all the Asheville folks who put it down: I prefer it to Biltmore Village and its overpriced estate to be honest. Much of Gatlinburg is silly stuff for the masses. But it never pretended to be anything else. And at the end of the day, I’m one of those masses, even if I pretend to be so ironically. So have at me, elites. Let me drop the irony and say, I love Gatlinburg. With all due respect to Neil Gaiman, I don’t feel profoundly dissatisfied beneath it.

It is more than a tourist place though. It’s where people, including both natives and immigrants call home and earn a living. And I feel sad for its recent loss and the second, smaller recent fire.

On my last trip, I saw a damaged resort by a stream flowing out of the park. I stood to contemplate the wreckage, the bravery of the firefighters who led rescue efforts, and the tragedy of the 14 lives lost.

But hearing the spooky music from the nearby Gatlinburg Mysterious Mansion, I felt another thing. Hope. And pride. Keep going, mountain strong. A place of power.

“Yesterday is gone, gone, but tomorrow is forever.”—Dolly Parton, in a quote I’m sorry to say Chattanooga Times Free Press has already used, but at least I’m the first with Neil Gaiman. Probably.

“Top Girls” at Clarence Brown Review

I am, last time I checked, not a woman.

So, whatever I have to say about women or women’s issues may be wrong, I suppose. Us guys have been notoriously unreliable about that kind of thing.

What I can say is that I liked “Top Girls” at the Clarence Brown Lab Theater. It’s my kind of play: distinctive, interesting characters, interesting twists, non-realistic symbolic elements– including  a dinner party with fantasy guests, a thought provoking nature.

But what is the play trying to say? Without giving too much away, the play, set during Thatcher’s rule in the U.K., is a feminist play criticizing other feminists.

It seems designed as a critique of capitalism generally, of getting ahead at the expense of others, even if you are a woman. Apart from the present day characters, that theme is most embodied by Isabella Bird, a woman who explored the world but expressed those travels through prejudiced lectures on other cultures’ inferiority.

I won’t give too much away about the plot, which seems to exist more for the characters to have something to do than anything. It lacks the craziness of “Cloud 9,” the other play by Caryl Churchill I’ve seen. But still, I found myself amazed at a play about a subject matter which could, theoretically, leave me cold, the soap opera-ish setup of a daughter bonding with her true mother, the debates about work v.s. family, which I’ve never faced — and make it enjoyable to watch, with all of the characters feeling, as played by their actresses interesting and enjoyable to watch, without making any of them clear heroes or villains.

The play has run its course. Next up on the Clarence Brown Schedule: “Around the World in Eighty Days,” a main stage show. A little less deep or is it? I will see.

The nature of “The Beast” and Kong Skull Island while we’re at it.

So, what did I think of the 2017 “Beauty and the Beast”?

First my actual review: It was enjoyable. I recommend it to people who liked the original cartoon and want to see different actors and designers take it on, allowing people to see it in live action. It’s a bit like seeing one of Disney’s stage plays or even any stage play with a different cast than you’ve seen before: a chance to revisit old friends doing something just a little, not a lot, different.

My problem, and I’ll admit, I got over it, is what the movie represents.

I don’t hate Disney or modern mass-produced pop-culture in general. Neither shouldn’t be the only thing that’s out there but neither is. There’s always stuff for other tastes if you know where to find it.

No, I’m talking about the movie’s problem, which also its greatest strength: It’s very much like the cartoon.

Sure they add some new songs, add extra scenes including backstories for some characters, use a somewhat different design to avoid anything too cartoony, but much of the dialogue, plot, characters costumes, etc. are exactly what you’ve probably seen bef0re. For the most part, it’s not a re-adaptation of an earlier version of the fairy tale. It’s a remake of their own. Nothing is too different.

“Certain as the sun/Rising in the east,” indeed.

Now that’s what people came to see. I’ll admit that the whole nostalgically etched-in-my-mind lines, moments and songs have a certain appeal to me because by this point they have to. But shouldn’t we want something different from what we’ve already seen?

It’s rather odd that right now one of the other less-successful blockbusters out there is Kong Skull Island, which I also enjoyed, deliberately avoids this problem in favor of keeping only the title character and setting while avoiding any direct analogue to the original’s iconic Empire State Building scene. Its most interesting character, played by John C. Reiley, d0es not correspond to anyone in the Peter Jackson movie and probably not in the original either (full disclosure: never saw the original). Kong Skull Island did, however, have everything I wanted in a big monster flick, with plenty of action scenes and monsters. If you want that, Kong Skull Island is for you.

As a side note, nowadays Disney is more original than they ever were at the height of their Renaissance, as people call the 1990s era. Would Renaissance era Disney have ever made a completely original (apart from some allusions) story about a police rabbit in a city of racist animals?

Somehow, and this is rather strange: Beauty and the Beast at first when I heard about it seemed a bit too soon. Which is downright weird because of how old it actually is.

What happened was that my family owned it and my sister, being a big fan 0f it, and I liked it too as I recall, in spite of it being considered a girls’ movie kinda ran it into the ground. But I haven’t seen it in ages. So that’s the backstory here. I assumed before seeing it the movie would come off as clichéd, then, when watching the movie, realized I hadn’t seen the older movie recently enough for it to come off that way.

I should hate those semen-scented Bradford pear trees

“Although it’s difficult to describe, the most accurate description of the Callery’s budding flowers would be something like a pungent whiff of freshly excreted semen. Sure, you could euphemize and say it smells like a wet, dirty mop dipped in floury fish guts, but isn’t that much more disgusting than likening it to a natural bodily fluid?”


Among the earliest of my area’s spring flowers, the Callery pear (Pyrus calleryana), just finished its little white explosions and started opening its leaves. My house’s lawn came with a row of them, and I’ve grown to like them, even though everybody hates them and I should too. I’m working on it.

Heck, I even like their little white explosions out on the edges of fields, although, again, I shouldn’t.

Probably the best source on the subject is this scholarly paper, although I’m just summarizing it here.

It’s an ornamental tree from Asia, popularly known as the “Bradford,” although the “Bradford” is just one of many cultivars (varieties created by grafting). It wowed Americans with its ability to stand up to droughts and disease. However, Bradfords split in half easily, so they’re really not as hardy as people thought.

All the varieties of  Calleryana we have are cultivars, meaning they have to be grafted and can’t self fertilize like other trees. However, different cultivars can cross pollinate, and the trees have gone wild.

Tennessee Invasive Plant Council considers it an invasive species, meaning that it pushes out native plants. My Dad, plant ecologist Dr. Larry Pounds agrees and told me some feral varieties can get pretty thorny.

I doubt, however, we’ll ever see the Great Smoky Mountains covered in white round trees that smell of semen however. Dad told me he hasn’t seen them growing in forests and it’s easy to see why. Like many ornamental trees, they don’t exactly tower. They stay at a pretty small size.