By: Nanette Traband
When I was a kid, there were wonderful family vacations; I loved everything about what dad planned. I wrote an essay several years ago about how much I even loved getting lost as much as he did and the other three didn’t. We started vacationing when I was seven, the first being a trip with all six of us (eight including parents), ages six months to 19 years, to Buffalo, New York and Niagara Falls (American & Canadian Falls). Later trips were just five of us, the youngest three kids with mom and dad.
I can’t remember if I was nine or ten the first time Gatlinburg was the first destination of the two weeks. In fact, it was at the end of the first day’s drive. Dad and mom had friends who had boasted repeatedly of Gatlinburg’s charms.
As an adult, Gatlinburg is on my way to and from South Carolina, it is a long drive from here, but it seemed longer as a kid. Dad was a big believer in not making reservations. It just didn’t occur to him that all the motels in any place could be full at the same time.
It was around five in the evening when we arrived in Gatlinburg. The No Vacancy signs didn’t deter him from stopping at each motel to inquire, some twice — hoping someone had cancelled. A couple of hours after we started looking at one of the repeat stops, a clerk/owner, having turned away many tourists, gave dad a tip she was giving to a few people only. She had a friend who owned a hunting lodge just up the mountain out of town a bit. He didn’t formally open for over a month, but he had his facility ready and was willing to take a few people.
I remember falling in love with the place the minute we entered, looking like Tara (the plantation from Gone with the Wind) from the outside and pine from stem to stern inside. From the paneling on the walls to the floors to the banisters, beautifully kept pine, the rooms, at least the two we had were similar to dorms with four twin beds in one and two in the one mom and I shared.
The rooms were in the back of the lodge, looking out over a pristine glen with a pond. In the dusk, there was a menagerie around the pond – rabbits, other small animals, a doe, and a buck. Dad wanted to go back into town and find some place to eat, but I wanted to stay on the window seat and look out. Dad won. We drove down the main street of Gatlinburg. In front of the windows of shops were crowds watching pizza dough being tossed, taffy being pulled, fudge being made, chocolates rolled, glass blown, etc.Once we finished dinner in a restaurant we found, we joined the crowds.
I am still drawn to little town windows, particularly pausing before pulling taffy and glass blowers. Over the past 30 years, since moving to South Carolina for two years, I have always made a point to include Gatlinburg in my route both up and back even if I only stop for half an hour or drive the now deserted road through the mountains on either side.
The last time I drove to South Carolina, I made a point of leaving early enough to spend about half a day in Gatlinburg on the way home. I wandered down the main street, but found it lacking many of those windows of my childhood, but it is more the mountains and rustic portions of Gatlinburg that I love. Over the years, I have distressed that I never knew the name of the lodge where we stayed (dad most likely said it and as a kid it didn’t register as important). Tonight as I look at the videos of flames engulfing buildings through wooded areas, I fear it is gone.
I am praying for the people of Gatlinburg who have been displaced or, at the worst, have lost everything, and as well as those in Pigeon Forge. I am also sad for the losses that will continue for some time to come, especially for those who lost their livelihoods/businesses as well!
Eastern Tennessee towns are pledging to help their sister communities of Gatlinburg and Pigeon Forge to recover from the after the fires are out. Some places rise from the ashes even better.
nanette755 