I have traveled a lot throughout my career to many amazing locales for conferences and meetings. I would generally fly in on Wednesday, take a shuttle from the airport to the hotel, have meetings on Thursday and Friday, and head back to the airport. It often occurred to me: why not just have the meeting at the airport since I never really got to explore the amazing city?
Now that I am retired and have more time, I have looked forward to revisiting some of these cities and spending more time exploring, which is what we just did two weeks ago. We drove from home to Charleston, South Carolina, to visit family and stopped on our way to visit our daughter at college in Grand Rapids and my wife’s sorority sister in Charlotte, North Carolina.
Other than Grand Rapids and Charlotte, we made our own route, which was part of the adventure. We didn’t necessarily take the shortest path, but meandered across in a southeasterly fashion. Our favorite bit was driving through the Appalachian Mountains. For dramatic effect, we had cool mist and clouds as we passed through the mountains, but the views were spectacular.
We booked an apartment for a week in Charleston’s historic district and walked the entire peninsula. I was reading Erik Larson’s riveting book, The Demon of Unrest, which covers the lead-up to the Civil War and Charleston’s pivotal role. It was incredible to see many of the places, including Charleston Bay and the adjacent islands, which proved critical for the South to gain its foothold in the conflict.
Unlike previous visits, when I knew the Airport better than the city itself, I felt like I really got a sense of the rhythm of life there. The plane gets you there much faster, but sometimes it’s not about speed; it’s about exploring. Spending a full week in the city was enjoyable. We particularly enjoyed walking along the Battery Road and poking through the French Quarter, both teemed with history.
As we said goodbye to Charleston, we took a different route on our return trip. More adventures awaited. On the second day of travel, Joan noticed an old billboard, faded by years of weather, that announced the Museum of Appalachia. This is in Norris, Tennessee, about 20 miles north of Knoxville, in case you want to visit.
“Do you want to go?” she asked.
“You know I do,” I replied.
Within minutes, we found ourselves in the 65-acre compound, perusing over 24 outbuildings and 3 huge museum buildings (with multiple floors) filled with thousands of artifacts. It was like the Henry Ford Museum and Greenfield Village of Appalachia. We arrived around 3:30, and they closed at 5, which proved challenging for both of us. Joan will generally read every word on every placard in any museum. Fortunately, we didn’t have that luxury (otherwise, we may still be there). One of the buildings that was relocated to the campus was Mark Twain’s family cabin, which is the photo for this post.
Road trips aren’t all fun and games. That mountain pass had no bathrooms, which led to what I shall call a marital tiff. I have a bladder that would make a truck driver proud; my passenger does not. Also, my driving endurance has decreased with age. I think about 400 to 450 miles per day is my max. Gone are the days of all-nighters and caffeine-induced driving trances. I know I’ll need sleep for the next day, so no coffee in the afternoon.
Factoring in fuel costs, meals, hotel stays, and my inability to drive all through the night, it is a little more expensive to drive than to fly. But it isn’t just about speed or money; it offers new and exciting opportunities that were previously impossible to take. You can’t just swing off the interstate to visit the Museum of Appalachia when you are traveling at 32,000 feet at 500 mph.