We drove up to a green gate that opened before us, into a jungle of trees, ala Jurassic Park. We even played the theme song to get us in the mood. We drove through beautiful trees and grass, listening to John Williams lively chords, and then saw a herd of antelope grazing. We stopped for a few minutes on the road, photographing them (of course). Then we continued on, straining our necks for site of the shaggy, humped beasts, fearing they would be hiding out of site. The anticipation mounted, and then, around one of the last curves, the herd appeared. They grazed, ignoring us, only twenty feet away, as we photographed and recorded them, oohing and awing at their size and sight. We both felt awed by the site, and Derek exclaimed how he had never seen a buffalo in the wild before, though I guess a reserve is about as wild as the buffalo will ever get these days. It’s funny that we were so taken by them, when in reality it’s not much different than seeing a herd of cows, except that we’re used to cows. I suppose if cows ever were reduced in population, and only in a few areas, sighting them would invoke the same feeling of awe. Nonetheless, we felt very satisfied leaving the park, the sight of both the buffalo and the sound of John Williams fading behind us.
Derek drove as fast as he could, but as I calculated and recalculated our mileage as we went along, it was becoming clearer we weren’t going to make our 3pm deadline. We both felt disappointed, though Derek, of course, more optimistic. Our luck had finally broke, though we tried to psych ourselves up with the fact that we’d made our choice. We finally gave the race up completely and pulled into a Wendy’s for a drive through lunch, since we were both starving (as I mentioned, our diet has gone to hell). I juggled fries and nuggets on my lap as we discussed our options. We decided we would camp in Mammoth and do the earliest hike available the next morning. It would give us a break from driving, and with the time we were making, we could still be home Friday if we drove long hours the next day.
We arrived at the park at 3:30pm, and walked up to the Visitor Center desk, asking about tours. He mentioned that the ‘History Tour’ and the ‘New Entrance Tour’ were equally popular. Our book hadn’t mentioned the latter. I studied the menu screen behind the clerk, and saw that there was one given at 3:45pm. Derek and I looked at each other. “Let’s do it!” I cried happily. We bought tickets and ran back to our car to fill up the water bottle and stuff our feet into our hiking boots. We had made it in the nick of time – our uncanny luck had held! We’d also arrived in the park at the perfect time of year. We overheard someone saying how they’d had over 3000 people the Tuesday before, and only 300 people today. There were only five other people on the tour, nice and intimate.
The ‘New Entrance’ was the second part of Mammoth Cave that was discovered in the 1920’s, (the ‘History Tour’ that we missed took people through the other side of the cave, that was originally discovered in the late 1700’s). The park ranger walked us down, down underground, past white spiderlike crickets, even bigger spiders, and roosting bats. We squeezed through narrow spaces in the rock walls of the cave, which wound around, so that we were stooping, scooting sideways, and taking many stairs up and down, which would then lead to impressive open spaces, domes and pits, much of this carved with 1930’s graffiti from tourists before the caves became a National Park. Derek and I both liked how we had to edge through narrow passageways in places – it made us feel really ‘in it.’ The tourguide gave us a detailed, interesting history of each part of the ‘New Entrance’ of Mammoth cave and how it was discovered, involving a rich guy, George Morrison who bought up a lot of the land around the existing Mammoth Cave, knowing there was probably more to the cave and he could make the very same cave a competing attraction against the people who owned other parts of it. He found some of the more scenic attractions, including the Frozen Niagara (which is a large row of melded stalactites dripping from the cave ceiling, looking like a frozen waterfall) and the Rainbow room nearby with most of the caves fantastical stalactite and stalagmite formations, caused by the ever shaping nature of water. We also did the obligatory 'turn off all the lights so we can all appreciate total darkness' gig that all caves do. I always like that part, because your mind goes through a period of making up shapes it thinks its seeing, in revolt of the absolute blackness. It was a satisfying tour, a nice taste of the caves. We decided to continue on our drive through Kentucky, to make it easier on ourselves tomorrow.
Kentucky is visually idyllic, rolling hills and farmland, with horses and cows dotting the slopes. I know it has one of the highest poverty levels in its rural areas, which seems like a tragedy that such beauty is also associated with such hardship. I wish there were a way that wealth, beauty and nature could all happily coexist. How have we structured our civilization that the smog of cities and the toxins of industry are where all the profits lay? I wish I could offer a solution but all I can do is be a hypocrite of the fast-paced world I live in, yearning for something simpler when passing through the countryside.
As if we hadn’t eaten enough fat and sugar already that day, we stopped at the only open place we saw for dinner – A Pizza Hut. Derek was giggling and bouncing in his seat he was so happy. He’d been craving pizza the whole trip. I could feel my arteries clogging before we even began to eat.
Once again we were driving at night, practically the only ones on the road. We passed a van on the side of the road with a tall, thin man standing outside. My first thought was he might need help. We were in the middle of nowhere, maybe he was stranded. But he watched us as we passed and didn’t wave or beckon us. In fact, our second thought was maybe he was hiding something. “Probably dumping a body,” Derek guessed. He changed his tone to the low, disturbed draw of Buffalo Bill, the bad guy in Silence of the Lambs, quoting him. “Are you about a size 14? Put the f*cking lotion in the basket!”
“Stop that! You’re disturbing me!” I protested, laughing. I craned my neck, trying to see the van in the distance. “Should we go back?” I wondered. “In case she’s still alive?”
“What, and be the next victim?!” Derek asked. He was probably right. If we turned around and went back, we’d probably both get clobbered and skinned for a chest suit. So we continued our drive instead, ending the night in a generic hotel a safe distance later.
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