I was way up in the air, in the front seat of a two-person glider, being towed toward the heavens by a small single passenger plane – until I pulled a little round red knob in front of me, detached a cable connecting the two, and soared free and engineless, high on the thermals. IT was a glorious feeling and I looked over the Tennessee countryside, knowing I was probably seeing Georgia and Alabama, too, depending upon the direction I faced. I turned to the pilot seated behind me, the person who would ensure my safe landing, and yelled, “I’m a turkey vulture!” For like any small or large raptor, sailing on thermals is part and parcel of being a bird – and with the wingspan I had going, the turkey vulture was about as large a bird as I could compare myself to.
As if on cue, its cousin, the black vulture (the white wingtips a definite giveaway), loomed ahead of me, as silent and engineless as I. I raised my phone to quickly text my husband and shoot a few photos, then almost as suddenly realized my mistake. I am so prone to motion sickness, it’s kind of ridiculous. I felt myself overheating, little beads of sweat beginning to form on my forehead, and I turned to the pilot. “Ugh,” I said.
“Look at the horizon line!” he offered, handing me a bag, “It’ll help.”
It was spring, and the green-tinged countryside of the Appalachian region burst with fresh green and blue tones, patchwork almost, like a quilt. As we turned, the glider leaning at a 15-degree angle at most, the Hiwassee River came into view, cutting a swath through the land below, dark and swollen from downpours that had plagued the area in the past few days.
I tried to shoot a few more photos but it became evident that it was better for me to just keep my breakfast intact.
“Wow, we’d better put her down,” I gasped.
Thankfully, we touched down shortly afterward, coming to rest in a small field in Benton, about an hour outside of Chattanooga. So much for freedom flight and my introduction to southern Tennessee. I’d do this again in a heartbeat, of course—but not without the aid of motion sickness meds.
State of the state
In this far area of Tennessee, the borders of other states are close, and there is no better place to see them than at Rock City Gardens in…Georgia. I know it’s confusing – man, I was confused too. Mostly because the countryside waggles and wobbles back and forth, and time zones change without warning. My iPhone was having conniptions trying to keep up. Anyway, this beautiful area is just six miles from downtown Chattanooga and is billed as a Tennessee vacation spot, despite that its official address is Lookout Mountain, Georgia. Try to stay with me here.
Opened in 1932, Rock City Gardens is a must-see slice of American tourism history. Park kitsch (that’s really all I can say to describe the gnome-inhabited Fairyland Caverns…yes, I said “gnome-inhabited”) and part stunning beauty with pathways through massive ancient rock formations, gardens teeming with native plant species, incredible picturesque vantages, plus the big reveal: the ability to see seven states, all from one point. Rock City Gardens is a lovely place to spend the afternoon and there’s plenty of other things to do there as well.
Another means to see Tennessee is underground – 1,120 feet underground, that is. It’s Ruby Falls, an underground waterfall located deep within the caverns of Lookout Mountain, this time on the Tennessee side. Take a quick elevator ride down, down, down, and then stroll underground and see various really cool rock formations and crystal clear water pools. Finally – another big reveal: Ruby Falls, named for Ruby Lambert, the wife of a local spelunker. What’s interesting is that the 145-foot high waterfall was not initially discovered in any traditional manner, as there are no natural openings to the area. But in the 1920s, after a bit of drilling had occurred, Leo Lambert discovered a small passageway about 18 inches high and four feet wide. A shelf, as it were. He pretty much pulled himself along on his belly for about 10 hours, and then discovered the falls. He brought his wife next time, telling her he would name the place after her. The underground walk to the falls is fairly easy, with railings all the way.
Zip-it
One other means to view this beautiful area: zipline! Honestly, it’s not as difficult or as scary as purported to be. I chose the Wildwater Zipline Canopy Tour and received a birds eye view of the Ocoee River basin, zipping about 50 feet off the ground above mountain streams, through deep woods canopy, and over ravines from treetop to treetop. The instructors were excellent and very focused on group safety, but also made sure we had a lot of fun. I was concerned it would hurt my already injured shoulder, but with a few adjustments was able to brake on the line and stop easily. I have no fear of heights, but there were a few who did – and they were just fine, as we were harnessed and clipped in the entire time. We also had a woman in our group who was legally blind, and we’d shout commands for her to stop when necessary. It wasn’t ideal, but it worked for her!
This area of the U.S. is quite pretty and delightfully full of history from the Civil War era as well. So much to see in too short of a time for me. When I return, perhaps instead of above the land or below it, I’ll to stick to level plain.
Kathleen Stoehr. This article first appeared in the August 2013 issue of Minnesota Good Age.