I spent the night in Clarksville, IN. Just across the river from Louisville, KY. I am not sure which river it is. Traffic was so dense I couldn’t risk taking my eyes off the road long enough to read the sign.
I only went to Clarksville, to “clip the toenails” of that state, as it were – to be able to say the EM-50 Phantom Rambler rambled through Indiana. In the morning I returned to Kentucky. They have a fast food joint in Louisville called Dizzy Whizz (pic related)
where they sell something called a “Whizz Burger”. Well, maybe “sell” is too stong of a word. I certainly didn’t buy one. I didn’t even stop. Hell, I didn’t even take that pic — I found it on the internet. But, I did see a billboard advertising their signature sandwich.
It kind of reminded me of that time in the 70s, when the first “eat healthy” craze began. The industry giants wanted to get in on the fad so, one of them marketed a new line of diet TV Dinners called, “Fresh & Light” then promptly went out of business because it sounded more like the name you would give a feminine hygiene product than a meal.
Hey, I love people with a whimsical side but, come on, this is your livelihood, buddy. “Whizz Burger” is like a social experiment to see where the general population will draw the line. And, you just KNOW that at some point, one of the cooks just thought it would be hilarious to somehow work his urine into one of the burgers — insisting he is just giving the people what they want. So, yeah…No.
Appetite successfully spoiled, I got on with my BIG plans for the day. Mammoth Cave National Park! The longest cave in the known galaxy! 240 feet below the ground. To put it in perspective for you Baltimorons out there – that is the same distance that the Ravens drive down a football field to get to the Red Zone, whereupon they turn the ball over. That’s pretty deep.
I was so geeked about Mammoth Cave that I intentionally avoided looking up pictures of the park. I wanted to be wowwed when I got there. I had visions of Castle Greyskull dancing through my mind (pic related)
by the power of Greyskull…
And, (fingers crossed) if we should be lucky enough to have a massive earthquake while I was in there, this would be my big chance to go all Indiana Jones in there, just to survive (pic related)
I seriously considered putting a bullwhip in my backpack
I went to the Visitor’s Center, bought my ticket (15 bucks. They took all the caves, put ’em in a cave museum…) for the “Drips & Domes Tour” and reported to Shelter B where the shuttle bus would transport us to the entrance to …MAMMOTH CAVE.
I thought I might faint from anticipation.
Somewhere in the back of my mind a small voice cautioned me to be prepared for the entrance to not live up to my expectations. But, I have to admit, the reality of my disappointment exceeded anything I could possibly dream up (pic related)
Seriously.
Ranger Jeff explained two things
- The Department of the Interior doesn’t do refunds.
- We will be exiting from a different opening than we enter. That way “we get to see twice as much cave.”
Haha. OK, you got me! But, heck, at least I get to see another opening to the cave. Haha. It couldn’t possibly be lamer than this stupid doorway. Haha. (You feel it coming, don’t you?)
I was about to spelunk! I had wanted to do that ever since I heard The Professor on Gilligan’s Island explain that it wasn’t a dirty word. Nothing could dampen my mood!
Well, except maybe that that doorway opened to a metal staircase that ran down and through the entire length of the tour. Complete with handrails.
MAMMOTH CAVE was as dimly lit as a movie theater during the coming attractions and had only one real rule: NO FLASH PHOTOGRAPHY! So, no (pics related).
Haha! I’m just kidding! There was a second rule – we were’t allowed to have bring a flashlight with us either. I guess this was to make sure we would panic and trample each other in the unlikely event there was a power failure.
Ranger Jeff explained a bunch of stuff as we went. For instance, prior to July 1, 1941, which is when the Parks Service took over, the folks who conducted the tours encouraged visitors to write or scratch their names onto the cave walls. As of July 1941, it is a federal offense and he will happily write you a citation for doing it 🙂
The cave path wasn’t always this passable. The govt brought in the CCC to bore it out and smoothe the floor, install staircases — stuff like that.
We got to the showpiece of the park — Frozen Niagara. Meh. It looked like the stucco walls of my first apartment
Frankly, it was like taking $15 and throwing it into a hole in the ground. Heh. I mean, I got to walk through a tunnel in the ground but it lacked adventure. It was assisted nature.
There was a little bit of a workout to it, what with all that up and down, and as we approached our point of egress, all things considered, I was glad it was coming to an end.
So, the cave exit was a sweet sight for sore legs (pic related)
And, scratching my name on the wall will spoil the natural beauty? They installed a goddamn revolving door!
I left the park and drove to Cave City. I wanted to find WigWam Village — the coolest motel in the country. But, it got dark, I got hungry and I couldn’t find it. I pulled into an awful little eatery that had an All-U-Can-Eat buffet. But, without Trixie there to assist me I got confused. Nothing was labeled. I ended up having mashed potatoes and fish. That’s an awful combination. In my defense, I thought it was chicken. And, you know how they say everything tastes like chicken? Fish does not. Imagine the look on one’s face when he takes a bite of fish that he is expecting to be chicken. Probably the same expression as when he bites into a Whizz Burger.
One week ’til turkey with Trixie!