# 9F - (July 21-31) Cherokee, Folkmoot Festival, Cherohala Skyway, Cherohala Mountain Trails CG nr Tellico Plains, TN, Fall Creek Falls SP - LOTS of pictures!

Hello, All,

The Southern End of the Blue Ridge Parkway deposited us in the town of Cherokee, where we found lots to hold our attention. From Mt. Pisgah,  a few days previously, we had used the van for a scouting trip, a technique we've used a couple of times. It served as a layday, giving Marvin a respite from pedaling, and allowing us to check out, or preview a route, or a road, or a campground we had some question about. We more or less stumbled onto Bradley Campground, situated on the banks of the Oconoluftee River, right in downtown Cherokee. And, it was perfect for our stay, because we could easily walk into town to explore, visit the Museum of the Cherokee, and the Qualla Crafts. The Bonfire on Friday night was added to my list of things to do in Cherokee while we waited to attend the Folkmoot Festival in Waynesville, all day Saturday.

My first impression was that Cherokee was very commercial...remember, we were coming off the Parkway, with no more than the occasional Visitor Center, so the hustle and bustle, and traffic was a real contrast.  Two different groups of costumed dancers were on opposite sides of the street, calling and gesturing for people to stop and watch.  "Bring the kids and take pictures with the costumed Cherokee" sounded like a hard-sell come-on.  But it wasn't... when half a dozen or more tourists has stopped, they gave a free performance, including a bit of history and posing for photos. The "Tip Jar" was prominently displayed, but there was no pressure. I decided it was just friendly and educational. I couldn't resist snapping the picture of the man in his full regalia, holding his cell phone to his ear--- just like all the rest of us!

We both were pleased by the fact that everybody,---tourists and locals--- enjoyed the river.  Fluorescent green tubes floated past our camp site, and kids waded and skipped stones in the river, and fishermen cast from the banks. Island Park was just what the name suggested, with a pavilion, a river walk, and a couple of bridges to take foot traffic onto and beyond the island. More than one family reunion was in progress that weekend, and the Island was the venue for the summer Bonfire nights.

Some time in the past, the town had a "Bear Project". Twenty-five larger-that-life-sized fiberglass bears had been decorated by local artists, then scattered around the area. I grabbed my camera and set off to see how many I could find and photograph. This one, titled "Sequoyah Syllabeary" honored Sequoyah, the individual who invented and developed the entire written language of the Cherokee people. His name and turbaned image appears on all manner of things in the town.

The Museum and Qualla Crafts were both excellent, and contained far more information than I could absorb or retain. I spent an enjoyable few hours in each one. (As is often the case, Marvin was busy at home, studying the Gazetteer and maps to calculate our route in coming days.) He could always "see" the museum by viewing the myriad pictures I had taken.

The Bonfire was all that was promised. There was history and philosophy, there were legends & storytelling for the youngsters, and there were marshmallows to toast in the flames. The whole presentation was very well done; it was educational as well as entertaining. I could easily imagine John, equally at home standing before a college class, Younger school children, or a group of professional businessmen.  He was serious about teaching us something, and he knew how to use humor and questions to involve his audience and hold our attention. 

 

He explained about the role of women among the Cherokee. Land and rank pass through the woman. If a man marries, he goes to her village, and their children carry her name. He told a little about his costume and tattoos. He debunked the idea of the Indian war whoop in battle. "You know, the yell and the hand patting the mouth?... that's all John Wayne stuff. Can you imagine that happening when I'm riding my horse at a dead run, and handling a bow and arrow? My hands are full; that's nonsense."  

 

But the story that will stick with me longest began with his asking "What do you call me? How do you name my people?... Cherokee? We don't have that word in our language. Indian? American Indian? Maybe Native American?" He approached a young woman from the audience to help him. When he asked where she was from, and she answered, "India", he shot a significant look at the audience, "Ah..." he said. With his leading questions, she told of immigrating to this country, getting an education, then a job, getting married, then having children. He turned to the young boy, "So", he said," you were born in this country, is that right? That makes you a native, right? Your heritage is Indian, right? So, who is the real Native American Indian here?" He had the audience smiling and nodding their heads with him in agreement.  

 

I'm afraid I was so caught up in his logic that I missed the one or two words naming what the Cherokee people called themselves; it wasn't anything I had ever heard before, and I'm sorry that I missed it.  Google filled in the gap by naming them the "Principal People."

Mary, the Storyteller, told a few short legends, and enlisted a few children from the audience to help her act out the story, "How the possum lost his beautiful tail".

Then, Sam gave a masterful presentation all about the efficiency and effect of his war club. He made it clear that if he was in a fight, his intention was to kill his enemy--- not just hurt or injure. He explained the effect of a blow to the stomach, or the windpipe, or the jaw, or the temple, or the back of the head, or the spine. Each option was outlined with almost clinical results, and each ended with the death of his opponent. Actually, quite chilling.

 

The town of Waynesville struck me as a really nice place to live. There was quite a lot of street art along the Main Street. I loved the giant musicians! And, of course the giant sunflower deserved a picture. We had driven over from Cherokee quite early in order to be sure of finding a place to park. The Festival was a really big deal, and our planning paid off. Not only did we find a convenient, shady place to park, but Marvin also picked and held onto a perfect place to watch the parade and take my pictures. It was in the shade, on the curb, and with a bench I could stand on to get above the heads of the other folks standing in front of us. Take a look at the picture of the two of us. I'm standing on my bench, so I'm actually taller than Marvin, for once!

 

 

 The parade was very well organized and executed. Other than the initial Color Guard, it was all the participants from the different countries. Each group had its own musicians, and they advanced about a block, then stopped and did a short performance for the crowd lining both sides of the street before moving on. And, colorful!,... I should say!

 

 We were tickled to spot the stilt-walkers accompanying the Dominican Republic. That is very representative of the Caribbean; in St. Thomas/St. John they are called "Mocko Jumbies" and are part of every parade and festival. The other two groups shown here---Mexico and Uganda--- were both incredibly high energy dancers---wonderful! Their faces were running with sweat; it was obvious they were melting in the heat, but it certainly didn't dampen their enthusiasm for their performance!

 

 

 

 For the afternoon performances, the Dominican Republic's pounding rhythms and bright costumes were real crowd pleasers. Then it was  the turn of the Folklorico de Mexico. The girls' skirts swirled and the cowboys postured, their thumbs caught in the pockets of their jeans. VERY high energy! I was disappointed in the results of my pictures, as the indoor lighting---and the speed and motion of the dance--- were challenging in the extreme.  I tried a bit of video that turned our fairly well. Video is a new direction for me.   

Is there anybody out there who can tell me more about the unusual instruments pictured below?

I first spotted these two in the parade, making music for the group from France, and sought them out later. The accordion was not new to me, but take a closer look at the instrument on the left. It is melon-shaped, somewhat like a mandolin, but it has both buttons, like the accordion, and frets and strings, like a guitar. Most intriguing of all, was the handle in the musician's right hand, which he turned around and around--- like some kind of hurdy-gurdy. ???

In the next picture, the instrument on the right could only be called some kind of bagpipe. But what intrigued me was that the player had two bags, one under each arm, and there were two chanters (I think that's the right word for the pipes), but he never brought the chanters to his mouth. Very interesting. 

Our next highlight was to ride the Cherohala (Che-ro-HAY-la) Skyway from near Joyce Kilmer Memorial Forest in NC to Tellico Plains, TN. This twisty mountain roller coaster was similar to the Blue Ridge Parkway in that it had plenty of sharp curves and plenty of ups and downs, along with frequent pull-offs with exhibits and views. This area of the mountains boasts a number of these challenging motorcycle rides, with names like the "Dragon's Tail" and "Devil's Triangle", but the Cherohala Skyway has become known as a "destination ride", ---a little similar to our own Talimena Drive, back home in Mena, AR.

And, there were plenty of motorcycles, traveling singly, in pairs, or in one case, in a group of 8 Ukrainians. Their speaking in a foreign language was the first thing that caught my attention. Then I took note of the flags and "Ukraine" on their jackets and vests. Naturally, I started a conversation. I asked if they had shipped their bikes over, or had rented bikes here in the U.S. They called over their "translator", with the best English, who sheepishly explained that, actually, they were all members of a Ukrainian Club, out of Chicago. We chatted, then Marvin caught up with me, and they clucked over his ride, then they roared off again.

There was a distressing number of these big trucks, all servicing the road work going on. As Marvin and I were playing leapfrog, and stopping at most of the pull-outs, pretty soon the trucks began looking for us---happy to see us at the pull-outs rather than in front of them, I reckon! They would beep as they passed us, and again on their return journey.  It felt friendly, except when they were trapped behind me, shifting down on a hill, while I hoped the next pull-out would be just around the next curve.

The end of the trail was the excellent family-run Cherohala Mountain Trails Camp Ground near Tellico Plains. With cabins and RV and tent sites, and excellent amenities, including WiFi, Wayne and Kelli, who have done extensive motorcycle touring themselves, modeled their place on the best they had encountered, and incorporated what they would have liked to find on their travels. I was particularly delighted with functional sculpture high in the peaked roof of the pavilion---the motorcycle wheels are giant industrial fans that really moved the air around.

 

 

 

Fall Creek Falls State Park was another overnight destination that persuaded us to stay an extra day to indulge ourselves in a hike. And, there was more to see and do there than our one extra day allowed us. We never got to the Nature Center, and I stumbled onto George's Hole, a fabulous swimming spot, only on my way out of the Park the next morning.

But the two waterfalls we viewed were spectacular.  Piney Falls was very tall, very thin, and shot out from the lip to fall clear, a silvery ribbon in the sun. The Suspension Bridge at the nearby location was an unexpected surprise. It must have been 100 yards long, and bounced and swayed in a most satisfactory manner. Fun!

The setting for Fall Creek Falls was magnificent. At 256', it is the highest waterfall east of the Rocky Mountains. The lip of the Falls is a huge, curved cliff, reminiscent of a volcano crater, and the water plunges into a dark green pool at the bottom. The gorge carved by the water is called a "gulf" here, and it contains one of the last stands of virgin forest in the east, with mature hemlocks and yellow poplars. All in all, it was pretty spectacular.

 

 In this summary I have tried to share highlights of 10 days' travel. It seems that almost every day has its story. We were moving steadily across Tennessee, aiming for the Natchez Trace, where we would take a sharp turn to the South for another welcome bout of what I call "buffered" driving.