The day started early - to the continued consternation of girlchild who believes that any wake up before 3 PM is too early. The day was cool and crisp - probably the result of the very heavy thunderstorms the day earlier.
We set out west on Highway 40, along the eight-lane stretch between Durham and Greensboro where it is coincident with Highway 85. This route we have travelled many times before, having relatives in Charlotte.
In Greensboro, we bore right at the split where the two Interstates divide, taking Highway 40 toward Asheville - and headed right into a very massive construction effort on the part of the NC DOT that is supposed to make our driving lives better. (HA!). Posted at 55, drivers were lucky to make 40 with the twists and turns and two lanes deliniated only by jersey barriers on both sides.
Well, we got through that and headed on in the direction of Statesville. This highway was new to me, having never travelled this particular stretch before. It turned out to be as boring as Highway 95 - basically farm after farm with a few pine forests sprinkled in. The only difference with the coastal Interstate was there were some hills spinkled in.
After the speed trap that is Statesville (North Carolina revenue enhancement is the only explanation I have why the Interstates are all posted at 55 through here), things began to improve, scenery wise. The climb into the Black Mountains begins at this point, with Highway 40 hanging onto the south side of an escarpment that divides the mountain from the piedmont plain below. Many excellent vistas looking over the piedmont were afforded off of the left hand side of the SUV - which the kids loved.
The trees also changed flavor, migrating from the white pines common along the coastal plain and piedmont to deciduous types - mostly birch with some maples and an occassional dogwood - that appear to be happy in the 1000-3000 foot altitude range.
Once beyond Ashville (about 30 or so miles further after starting to climb up big hills), the main range of the Appalachians begins to appear. The Great Smokey Moutains to the front of the car and passing off to the left, while the Black Mountains go off to the right. Between them is a tiny river - the Pigeon - that creates a small gap through which the highway departments of North Carolina and Tennessee decided to plop down an Interstate caliber highway.
As the mountains loom on either side and the valley through which the Pigeon River flows narrows to a tight canyon, the NC DOT thought wise to lower the speed limit to 55. This is a well posted limit - it really isn't possible to go faster with all of the switchbacks and tight curves that Highway 40 describes as it goes north through the gap. As we had increased in altitude some more, the forests changed back to mostly pine - mostly blue spruce (a fuller pine that looks much better than the scraggly white pines along the coast).
We crossed over the Tennessee border without much fanfare - a large sign marks the crossing but is hard to see as one is paying attention to keeping the car in lane through all of the switchbacks. It was a Saturday, so there were less large trucks on the road making the matter somewhat simpler.
Eventually, Highway 40 emerges from the north end of Pigeon River Gap and straightens out. At this point, we stopped for lunch in a tiny burg and refueled the Starship Enterprise (this has long been my nickname for the SUV - it has a whole host of green LEDs which at night look like something out of a sci-fi movie).
As we headed toward Knoxville, Highway 40 again becomes boring - relatively flat with increasing commercialism. But after Knoxville, it splits off from Highway 75 to continue its westward march across the Volunteer State. Scenery begins to take on a cross between Pigeon River Gap and the views from the south escarpment of the Black Mountains. Many nice vistas off to the left of the SUV as we were going through those hills.
That is, many nice views until we drove through a moderate thunderstorm (these were beginning to become part of the trip by this point). That spoiled the views and slowed us down for awhile.
After the passage of time (including the gaining of one hour as we entered Central Time), we arrive in Nashville. Nashville kind of just shows up along Highway 40, as you are still going through hills with some "bobbing and weaving" by that point. But, gee wiz, who designed the highway net inside that city and were they sober at the time?
You enter the city from the east on Highway 40, then you have to exit right, then exit left (dosey do and turn yourself around too, it seemed like) to stay on the correct Interstate. One wrong move and you're either headed to Kentucky or Alabama. That's got to be a doozey during rush hour.
Western Tennessee is a story of increasing blandness the more one heads toward the Mississippi River valley. The hills slowly get smaller until you are about 60 miles east of Memphis, when they pretty much dissappear altogether. I would suspect an ant hill out there would receive the monikor "mountain." Highway 40 also becomes a pencil straight ribbon of tarmac heading WSW toward the corner of Tennessee.
Memphis is kind of an interesting town to drive through. On the Tennessee side of the river, there is a bustling city with an interesting glass building - the Pyramid - that you see just before crossing the Mississippi River.
The kids got a thrill about crossing the Mississippi, which as Memphis is fairly wide (unlike New Orleans, where it is constrained between levies and isn't all that broad - relatively speaking). They were impressed.
Then we arrived in that portion of Memphis that, on the map anyway, has spilled over into Arkansas. It is called "West Memphis" on that side of the Mississippi. The tale of the two Memphises is stark. The Tennessee side is bustling and thriving. The Arkansas side looks like scenes out of VietNam or some other southeast Asian country (no kidding) - rice paddies, small homes, terrible roads (they hadn't even bothered to paint lines on the interstate recently - the only reference for the middle was the tarmac seam lines and, where they hadn't been knocked loose from the passage of time, an occassional center reflector), signs in various states of disrepair, and shabby looking business establishments. Ugly was not a sufficient adjective to describe the scenery. And it made me think about what a certain ex-President promised: that he would do for America what he had done for Arkansas.
I now began to realize why the hotel we were going to stay in cost less than half as much as a comparable just on the other side of the river in Memphis, TN. Well, we rolled up to the Motel 6 just off of Highway 40, about three miles into Arkansas. Remember I said the business establishments looked dumpy? So did the motel - I almost decided to eat what I had paid for the room already (guaranteed late arrival and all) and go back to the other side of the river, but we stayed.
The room was tiny and cramped for four folks, but otherwise it was nicely apportioned - a place to throw our heads. Which is what we did, but not after searching out some dinner - no small feat in this third-world town. We came across a Cracker Barrel about two miles west on Highway 40. Excellent service and outstanding food, at a great price. Can't beat that.
We would recommend that Cracker Barrel to anyone passing through - though I will most definitely not be staying at the Motel 6 in West Memphis again anytime soon.
Once we arrived in a hotel in Cincy, got to the room....only to find the sheets on the beds hadn't been changed. Ugh! The rest of the room wasn't in too great a shape either!