Day 5 - The Volunteer State

15:45
Tough going on the road today. But first things, first. Can you guess what time I woke up? Can you? Correct - 05:00, on the button. Today’s my longest journey of the trip - topping out at just over 350 miles. It’s not raining though, which is a blessing. I’m on the road by 07:15, heading for a diner in the middle of nowhere which is broadly on my way to my first main stop of the day. As I join the main road headed South West, the heavens open - just utterly torrential rain. I can barely see 15m in front of the car, no matter how fast my wind-screen wipers are going, or how carefully I look for the lights of other cars. I briefly consider stopping until the worst of it passes, and then suddenly it does. Bright sunshine, with just a bit of spray from the road. I sigh. If this is anything to go by, it’s fixing to be a long day.

The diner is all kinds of awesome. It’s only a couple of miles drive away from the highway down which I’m driving, but feels like it’s in another century. I understand one word in about seven that the waitress utters. The diner is the size of a barn, but I’m the only customer. They’ve only been open for 10 minutes, so I hope they have a rush of customers a little later. I order a breakfast bowl, which transpires to be a biscuit (savoury scone) topped with scrambled egg, country sausage (think the patty from a Maccy D’s breakfast sausage muffin, but broken up into pieces), gravy (not gravy at all), and cheese. It’s actually pretty good, but a bit of a melange. When ordering, it took the waitress and I quite a while to figure out she was asking if I wanted potatoes, because I wasn’t quite understanding ‘taders.’ Still, it’s cheap, nourishing and tasty enough.

The next 2 hours of my drive are wonderful. I’m deep into Kentucky now, and set off on a meandering drive through farming country. I go almost 40 minutes without seeing another vehicle on the road. The farms are a mixture of dairy properties, and horse farms - this being just about the horsiest part of the US. There are a few light showers, but the rain largely keeps away.

After a shade over 2 hours, and just after 11, I arrive at the Buffalo Trace distillery. I’ve had their Bourbon before, but they have a range of other spirits to try. There’s a really good vodka, which tastes unlike any other I’ve tried before (good way, not bad way). There’s a 12 year old Bourbon which is sensational - prominent flavours of caramel, vanilla. There’s a rye whisky which is a pokey, fiery mouthful, but with smooth and smoke in equal parts.

I move on to my next pit-stop, which just happens to be another whisky distillery. This one’s on a much smaller scale with just a couple of copper stills. They offer me 5 whiskies to taste. I point out that I’m driving so need small measures. No problem, I’m told - they’ll pour light for me. I don’t know if they instantly forget this, or whether the ‘usual’ tasting pour is just monstrous, but I barely drink a quarter of what they pour me. It’s a crying shame, as the whiskies are fabulous. I have a lovely conversation with one of the folks that works at the distillery. We compare experiences of drinking whisky in the Highlands, she tells me that Kentucky is close to Scotland in terms of scenery (true) and climate (bullshit, but I don’t say so…) which is why a great many Scots and Irish people settled in Kentucky when they emigrated from Europe. I’d love to buy a bottle for the rest of my journey, but:

1) there’s no way I’d ever get through it all in the next 10 days, and
2) it’s pretty pricey stuff at $150 a bottle.

I’ve done way less than half my driving for today, so decide to get on the highway for a while to cut into the remaining distance. The heavens immediately open - it’s a barrage of water. Now, I’m not suggesting that I normally don’t concentrate when I’m driving, but there’s a sort of super-concentration level required in these sorts of conditions. It’s just knackering to be on edge the whole time. This time, it feels like the rain is setting in for an extended visit. After an hour, I need to take a break. Happily, this coincides with my passing by Kentucky Stonehenge. After being cruelly denied Foamhenge over the weekend, it’s gratifying to see this really rather shoddy tribute to the Salisbury version in all its soggy glory.

The rain lets up. I’ve got 140 miles to go to Nashville. Backroads will take me upwards of 3 hours, but the Interstate promises more like 2. I decide fast and boring today is better than slow and steady. The weather is squally - several torrential downpours, followed by periods of bright sunshine. I miss the State line between Kentucky and Tennessee, presumably during one of the many rain storms. Tennessee is the so-called ‘Volunteer State’ - and I’m a little disappointed to find this is because the state was renowned for its population volunteering for the USA’s 1812 war against the UK, rather than some tradition of selfless philanthropy…

As I arrive into Nashville, the rain buggers off completely, and I’m left with a beautifully warm, sunny afternoon. I stop in at the Grand Ole Opry House, perhaps the most famous of all of Nashville’s live music venues. I looked at whether there was a show on while I’m in town, but decided against it. I’m reliably informed that the downtown bars are where the best (and cheapest) music is most nights. I pull into my hotel at a little past 15:00. It’s really nice to get out of the car, and know that I’m not going to see it for 16 hours…

21:00
I head out from my hotel for a wander. The helpful person behind the reception desk tells me that there are bars galore, just a few minutes walk from us - most of which will have some kind of live music going on this evening. I set off, not with any particular destination in mind, and end up in a thoroughly cool little bar called The Row. They have about 15 different draft options, one of which is a locally brewed cider, that is awesome. Dry but fruity, light but punchy, bizarrely applely (not a real word). There’s a brief moment of confusion, when I realise that I’ve travelled far enough West to move into Central Time, gaining an hour. I stupidly haven’t left my phone on automatic time updates, so where I think it’s 18:00, it’s actually 17:00. I'll be ok tomorrow as Alabama is also on Central Time, but Wednesday could be fun, as I'll be playing jump rope with the time difference throughout the day.

The music is good. The first artist is a young (early 20s?) lady from Texas. She does decent covers of all sorts of genres, as well as a smattering of her own songs. Everything’s going REALLY well until her last song. It’s called, “Will you be my friend,” which sounds innocuous enough. She tells a story about when she first moved to Nashville, and she felt very lonely, that Jesus was her friend, and that if we all try really hard, he can perhaps be our friend too. Look - I know it’s some people’s thing, but it’s just so not mine that it jars a little.

5 ciders deep, I decide that some food is probably in order. I ask the barman what the most typically Nashville dish on the menu would be, and he points me towards a crumbed catfish plate, with okra. It’s better than I think it’s going to be. The okra is…. interesting? Lots of people object to the texture of it, citing it as slimy. No such problem here - it just tastes a little bland. The fish though, is awesome. Super crispy, very moist and flaky, and served with a piquant tartare sauce. YUM.

At least some of the rain has followed me down to Nashville. There’s a powerful rain storm while the music plays. The bar is open on two sides, and I find it really rather enchanting listening to ultra talented musicians while the rain hammers down.

The clock hits 20:00, and I realise that:

1) I’ve been up since before dawn, and
2) I’ve had no afternoon nap today

I’m pretty jaded. I brave the walk back to my hotel, and ready myself for what I hope will be a splendid sleep.Læs mere