I’m only in Alabama for two weeks, and I may never be back,
so I’ve been busy!
Huntsville seems to me untypical of most of the state, given that Alabama is in
the bottom 3 poorest states in the country (poorer only are North Carolina and
Louisiana). It’s a fairly affluent area, and, thanks largely to the significant
presence of aerospace and defense industry, boasts a concentration of high-tech
workers second only to Silicon Valley.
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| Blackbird |
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| Saturn V |
I wasn’t previously aware of Huntsville’s illustrious
history in aerospace. In the 1950s, Wernher von Braun spearheaded the effort to
develop rocket science that culminated in the Saturn family of rockets, earning
Huntsville the name “Rocket City”, which is a distinct improvement on its
earlier claim to fame as “The Watercress Capital of the World”.
The US Space & Rocket Center is here, as are various
branches of NASA. I was only able to visit the Center after hours – even so,
The Saturn V rocket proudly standing outside is impressive, and the Blackbird
(New York to London in under 2 hours) is equally as initimidating.
Alabama is definitely “the south” – in contrast, Texas
prefers to think of itself as “the south west”. So there are everyday things
here that I haven’t seen on my travels elsewhere – Sundrop and Cheerwine
(caffeinated citrus soda and cherry soda, respectively), Piggly Wiggly and
Publix supermarkets, Shoney’s restaurants, Krystal burger joints, as well as a
different style of barbecue. Of these, probably only the last two are worthy of
elaboration.
Krystal burgers (which I felt an obligation to try) would
more usually be called “sliders” – small burgers, similar to White Castle, if
you’re familiar with them. The “meal deal” I tried consisted of 3 “Krystals”, a
medium fries and a medium Coke, with 3 “poppers” (which are really just donut
holes). Not bad, as burgers go.
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| Memphis-style barbecue ribs |
The barbecue, however,
is a different story. It is mostly a dry-rub, “Memphis-style” barbecue, very
different to the Texas barbecue I’m used to. It comes with a barbecue sauce,
but usually served on the side, rather than slathered over the meat. The other
side dish is potato salad – a traditional accompaniment.
It was delicious – although I would say “different”, rather
than “better” (which is the same way I compare British and American beer).
Once a year, Huntsville hosts a weekend long “Big Spring
Jam” music Festival. The name is slightly misleading, because it’s in the fall.
It’s held in Big Spring Park – hence the name. I saw Incubus, Sister Hazel and
The Drive By Truckers perform, as well as a variety of lesser-known bands. The
US Marines were recruiting. They had a HUMV with a large speaker system in back
belting out heavy metal music at an impressive volume, and one of the Marines
wore a t-shirt that said “Pain is weakness leaving the body”. I wanted to
challenge them on whether they thought that such a supposedly elite group
should align themselves with this music, and this sentiment, but they were
sufficiently large and numerous that I chickened out. I wish I hadn’t.
Huntsville is in northern Alabama, and very close to
Tennessee. More importantly, it’s very close to both Lynchburg (home of Jack
Daniels) and Nashville (home of country music).
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| That's me - back centre |
The Jack Daniels
distillery seems a wonderfully tranquil place to work, and the tour was very
interesting. Lynchburg itself is somewhat taken over by bikers, but is still
proud of having no Walmart, no Macdonalds, and no cell phone reception – you
have to admire that. The workers all get a free pint of Jack Daniels Old No. 7
every month – they call the day they get it “Good Friday”. Curiously, the
distillery is in a “dry” county, so they don’t offer free samples at the end of
the tour, and, with the exception of some special bottles, neither can you buy
it.
From Lynchburg, I drove on back roads to Nashville. I’ve
driven through Tennessee both in the east, and now the west, and I have to say
it’s the prettiest countryside of any state I’ve traveled in. Green rolling
hills, woodland that isn’t all pine, immaculately presented horse ranches – breathtakingly
beautiful and relaxing to pass through.
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| AIDS volunteers |
Nashville was neither
more nor less than I expected. With such a brief visit, I was only able to
visit the tourist area. I was there for the music, and I wasn’t disappointed.
There was an AIDS charity event going on down by the river, and this was where
I sampled my first barbecue lunch, as well as meeting some interesting people.
A couple of girls came by with a basketful of free condoms – I declined at
first, but then went after them to pick one up. Hell, you never know when
you’re gonna get lucky …
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| Buskers |
Walking up the main
drag, I stopped for a beer in Layla’s Bluegrass Hillbilly & Country Inn
(with a live band, of course), and then on to the Cadillac Ranch. The guy next
to me at the bar tried to chat up the barmaid with a rose he’d made from a
paper napkin. A barman in Dallas showed me once how to do this, although I’ve
forgotten now – anyway, it’s unbelievably cheesy, and she just responded
politely (and dumped it in the trash as soon as he left). Out on the street, there
were numerous buskers – some of them better than the bands in the bars. All of
them, however, were musical – unlike, say, New Orleans, where there are mimes,
jugglers and magicians, as well as musicians.
I’d seen all I wanted to see after a few hours, although I’m
sure that Nashville has much more to offer if you have more time, and venture
beyond the tourist traps.
Back in Alabama, there’s a concentration of places worth a
visit about an hour west of Huntsville. The area is known as “The Shoals”, and
centers around Muscle Shoals (famous for the FAME recording studios, who have
recorded artists such as Aretha Franklin, Lynyrd Skynyrd, Eric Clapton, and
many others). I’ve tried to find out the reason for the name, and the best that
I can come up with (endorsed by locals) is that it’s related to the shoals of
freshwater shellfish found along this stretch of the Tennessee River, and
Alabamans are not very good at spelling. Helen Keller was born here, in
Tuscumbia, and W.C. Handy was born in nearby Florence (if you’re not a blues
fan, you’ll have no idea who he was).
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The
reason I came here, though, was to visit the Coon dog cemetery. Coon dogs are
dogs that are bred to hunt raccoons. They’re not just mutts, as I had thought,
but are recognized, and registered by, the Kennel Club. To be buried in the
cemetery, the dog must have won competitions, as well as having a pedigree, and
the owner must apply to the cemetery, who will decide if the dog is worthy of
being buried there.
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| The gents |
After roads that pass through endless cotton and pea fields, a
well-paved, but winding, road leads up the mountain, through the woods, to the
cemetery. Fall is approaching, and the dry, brittle leaves that are strewn
across the road scrunch underneath my wheels. It is a fitting resting place for
a faithful dog that obviously meant a lot to its owner. The graves are mostly
well-tended, and lovingly inscribed.
As I drive down the back roads of America, mostly with the windows rolled down,
without music, and usually without radio, I’ve often pondered what I’ll miss
most when I no longer return.
It will be this: mostly the south – the north-east is too
crowded, too consumerist, and too obsessed with themselves; decent hot dogs and
barbecue; country music; wide (or not-so-wide) straight, empty roads; Click and
Clack, the Tappet Brothers; family-style diners; Blue Moon beer.
I won’t miss American cheese, Walmart, or fast-food outlets.
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| Cotton field |
