As a teen, Sandburg rode the rails in boxcars, like a hobo, to see the country, from Illinois to Colorado. ”I’m an Idealist.” He once wrote. ”I don’t know where I’m going, but I’m on my way.”
The prize winning poet & author enjoyed solitude in nature, and he bragged that his home up in the foothills here included “millions of acres of sky”. It’s a beautiful and peaceful spot with a fish pond and goats.
It is necessary now and again
for a man to go away and experience loneliness;
to sit on a rock in the forest and as himself,
”Who am I, where have I been, and where am I going?”
A couple of elk were crossing the parkway, and I managed to take a quick photo. As I slowly started to pass, trying not to scare them, the complete idiot behind me decided that would be a good time to pass me on the right, inches from the elk, practically pushing them away into the woods. Who hates mega fauna that much? So I decided to demonstrate what instant acceleration looks like in a Tesla, and I never saw him again.
The parkway isn’t the fastest way to get anywhere. My navigation kept telling me to get off and take a straighter road, so I turned it off. Anybody who is in too much of a hurry should take another route. It winds along the ridge line from Great Smoky through North Carolina and Virginia to Shenandoah, and it is delightful. I saw some kind of light pink rhododendrons blooming along the wet ridge rocks above 5000 feet. I think Catawba, named after a local Native American tribe, or maybe Vaseyi, named after the famous botanist who discovered them 150 years ago. The former would be early, but it’s unseasonably warm now, due to the climate crisis.
The parkway is best enjoyed at leisure or in segments, and people who don’t care about nature should avoid it.
The view from the gap includes Kentucky, Tennessee and Virginia, plus the small historic town of Cumberland Gap itself, which has a surprisingly good restaurant, Nineteen19. It’s difficult to think of a more historic spot in the country than this gap, where Native Americans, trappers, traders, frontier families, soldiers and slaves passed through over centuries. While most traffic zooms through the modern tunnel below, it’s an easy drive up near the top, where the ”object lesson” trail offers a short hike to the “saddle” of the gap or to the tri-state meeting point. In order to encourage more modern road construction techniques, the government improved the road here as an object lesson or proof of concept, that transportation can be improved even in challenging terrain. This blog is an object lesson that EV travel is possible, even over long distances cross country.
I think this is the first park, alphabetically. The cabin is ”symbolic”, meaning a replica, and it’s inside a grand monumental building. Lincoln’s family moved up the creek due to a property dispute which they lost, and he must have grown up listening to his parents complain about it. I suspect that childhood experience helped him choose law and government as his vocation.
The other memory he had from here would have been seeing slaves in chains, marching in vocal cadence to market. His parents and minister definitely complained about that. That formative experience helped him change the course of our nation.
Their home is currently closed to the public. It’s in a residential neighborhood, and the park service is figuring out how to reopen it. The normal setting underscores the shocking assassination of civil rights leader Medgar Evers in June of 1963. They had prepared for a drive by attack (note the door is on the side), but not for a waiting sniper. Two all white juries failed to convict his assassin who sat on the local ”White Citizens Council”, but in 1994 a conviction was won. Myrlie continues to fight for civil rights, and Medgar, a Normandy veteran, is buried at Arlington National Cemetery.
The “trace” or trail from Natchez to Nashville is now a parkway, under strict protection of the park service which limits development. The National Scenic Trail, also a park unit, has miles of hiking & equestrian trails along the way. I’ve more or less driven the length now, with lots of side trips to nearby sights, and the dense spring foliage is beautiful, soothing and seems endless. The first stop traditionally is at Mount Locust pictured above, and the route was typically used northbound, returning by boat. The trail is far older than our country, as French fur traders followed Native American trading routes that had been used for thousands of years. After the steamship was invented, most people stopped walking, which put an end to the proprietor’s lucrative business of selling whiskey, food and basic shelter at the ”stand” or simple roadside inn.
We tend to see history as inevitable, and don’t often think about what might or should have been different. But the people back then were constantly trying to learn, make changes and adapt. The land in the photo belonged to Native Americans, then was claimed by England, then by America, then worked by slaves who turned sharecroppers, and is now run by the park service. At each transition there was loss and opportunity. Only fortunate and adaptable people made it through turbulent changes. Injustice was resolved by war. No success or failure was inevitable. In hindsight, better choices could and should have been made.
I need to believe that we’re capable of learning, making changes and adapting. Dramatic change is inevitable, common behaviors suddenly become unthinkable, and those who can’t change usually suffer most. The extent of damage from the climate crisis has not yet been determined. Not all the coming extinctions are inevitable. The actions we take today make a difference to our future. We must stop burning carbon now, no matter how inconvenient, and we must prepare for the coming challenges.
Natchez was the second largest slave market in the US (after New Orleans), but almost nothing remains. From here, many were walked to plantations up the Natchez Trace. The park service recently acquired part of the ”Forks of the Road” slave market for an interpretive site, which includes the actual slave chains pictured above. The hand in the photo is of a woman who is planting flowers to beautify the site. She explained to me that she feels compelled to do something due to the profoundly disturbing history of tens of thousands of humans sold into bondage for generations. When she first arrived here, she had trouble sleeping, and she imagines the voices of the enslaved calling out for help. She asked me if I thought that strange, and I said it was by far the best perspective I had heard today.
I had just finished touring the Melrose mansion in the park, and all the glamour of the place left me feeling quite ill. The home of a Pennsylvanian lawyer turned plantation owner, it has all the ostentatious luxury that money could buy, with slaves next to the barn, above the laundry and dairy, and in the basement, all trained to come running at the sound of a bell. And 350 slaves working on plantations out of sight. I had to ask about those 350 slaves who actually brought in the cotton, since the placards only described a few house slaves, “laughing” and enjoying their “leisure”. The other visitors had seen the TV shows and movies filmed in the well-preserved mansion, and they seemed impressed by the lifestyles of the rich and morally reprehensible.
I could only hear the bells ringing years ago, and later, I too heard the voices.
This is a large, multi-purpose, multi-unit park. On a previous visit I visited one of the Acadian (Cajun) cultural centers and the 1815 Chalmette Battlefield (read the pirate Lafitte’s story here), so this time I figured I should see the swamp at the Barataria Preserve. I didn’t see any alligators, but the ranger said they were probably under the boardwalk. He also said I might find one if I went on a more remote trail, explaining logically that no tourists had returned from that section today.
Folks around here are under a lot fewer illusions about the Climate Crisis than other places, out of direct experiences. The signs were more blunt than in other parks, explaining that the beautiful ecosystem above is being killed by rising oceans. If we had time to adapt, then we could learn techniques for dealing with storm surge, flooding, etc. But it doesn’t seem like enough people care.
On a New Years dare, a young Louis Armstrong fired a pistol in the air here and changed both his own fate and the world. He was taken from his home here with the Karovskys (recently reduced by hurricane to a brick pile above) and sent to reform school, where he joined the band. The Karovskys lent him money for a trumpet, and he joined King Oliver’s band playing the Eagle Saloon in the foreground and the Iroquois Theater next door. Remembered by many for the “Wonderful World” end of his career, it was his astounding trumpet skills that made him a breakthrough star. He recorded both the first Jazz solo (multi-bar & improvisational) and the first use of scatting. Despite racial barriers, he played all over and converted many into Jazz lovers. Of all his accolades, he was proudest of being Mardi Gras Zulu King in his hometown.
The block is eventually going to be restored. Sorry for not giving NOLA a longer entry, but I’m posting sporadically from the road. Lessez les bons temps rouler.
They’re not exactly sure which river valley Coronado walked up with his plumed helmet, shining cuirass, retinue, soldiers and slaves on his way to find the seven cities of gold, but from the bluff here, you can see both. Apparently, a couple natives convinced him to walk as far as Kansas, before he realized it was a ruse and executed them.
The park is near the Mexican border, and someday there’s hope that there will be a sister park on the other side. Of course these days, some people are paranoid about migrants crossing illegally, so there were plenty of warnings and border patrol operations nearby. I can’t see anybody climbing all the way up here without a vehicle. The road up is unpaved and there’s parking a short hike from where I took the photo. Although the road is rough, it presented a scenic shortcut to my next destination.
Zero Carbon Travel 