On the way back from Oshkosh, I stopped (early August) at the idiot-proof Cedar Rapids, Iowa airport (KCID) and spent 20 minutes driving through beautiful rolling hills covered in corn to the Amana Colonies, home to German-Americans who lived communally here from 1856 through 1932. (If you feel lucky, there is a 2600′ “fair condition” grass runway in Amana, C11.) They purchased the world’s most productive agricultural land for $1.25 per acre.
At the museum, I learned that, although the members of the colony were immigrants to the U.S., they were quite selective about who could immigrate into the commune, which would then be responsible for housing, clothing, feeding, and caring for the immigrant. One reason that the museum provides for the break-up of the communal lifestyle is that “some pretended to be sick or refused to work because they knew they would still receive room and board, resulting in the society hiring more outside laborers.”
The communalists followed Christianity, attending 9 church services per week. Once Americans lose their faith in Jesus, what religion do they follow?
Families shared a house, as in Soviet Russia or present-day New York City. However, there was no kitchen in the house. Everyone ate together in a communal kitchen, which typically fed 30-40 people at each meal. They loved coffee (served to children as well) and horseradish:
Today:
For those who buy dollhouses at Amazon or Costco:
The success of the Amana Colonies was used as an argument by those who thought that a Communist form of government might work for the United States:
(Let me stress that the current American system, sometimes described by critics as “Communist” or “Socialist”, is the opposite of how things worked in the Amana Colonies and Soviet Russia. In Amana and Russia, every able-bodied adult was required to work.)
In church (9 times per week!), men and women were segregated into left and right sides of the room.
Equal in death, members of the Amana Colony are buried with same-size headstones in chronological order. There are no family plots nor any sculpture.
Don’t miss the Barn Museum in South Amana, in which Henry L. Moore’s replicas of rural American are displayed. See if you can spot Elizabeth Warren’s hometown…
I’m not sure that the proprietor, the craftsman’s son, will be voting for Elizabeth Warren:
Where to eat? There are three restaurants in town and you have your choice of German, German, and German.
Where to stay? An old mill has been turned into a boutique hotel:
The Amana Radarange, the first home-use microwave oven, may not be your preferred souvenir. But you can buy blankets and beautiful furniture. Here’s the pavement-melting SUV that a wag at Hertz decided to drop at the FBO for me after I reserved a “car”:
Ready for departure at KCID:
As noted in The flying-to-Oshkosh part of flying to Oshkosh, the fuel/breakfast stop on the way to Chattanooga was KMWA in Illinois, which features an on-field recreational marijuana store, open every day that the public schools in Chicago were closed.
If you’re looking for something to do southwest of Oshkosh… Prairie du Chien, Wisconsin (KPDC). This is a quick crew car ride away from Effigy Mounds National Monument, a collection of massive earthen sculptures made by Elizabeth Warren’s ancestors during Joe Biden’s youth. Read up on the approaches and departure procedures due to the challenging terrain surrounding the airport. Terrain? On the Wisconsin/Iowa border? This is the Driftless Area that was not scraped flat by the most recent glaciers. Note that the airport is at 660′ above sea level and towers near the airport are on ground that is as high as 1150′ above sea level (1449-299).
Here’s an explanation for the evolution of these sculptures in the Effigy Mounds visitor’s center:
You’re on the banks of the Mississippi River when at the visitor’s center and must ascend 350′ to the top of the bluffs before reaching the mounds.
Consider packing some bug spray because this is the not the artificially-bug-free paradise that Florida somehow manages to achieve for most natural areas. The mounds themselves are tough to photograph, but if you love history you’ll enjoy them. The views over the river:
Once you’re down from the walk, you can celebrate all things 2SLGBTQQIA+ and BLM in Marquette, Iowa:
Back on the Wisconsin side, you can enjoy some food from Pete’s, started in 1909. Two choices: with onions; without onions.
The flight out is beautiful, but note the bluffs rising steeply from the river banks.
I met some city-dwellers who have vacation cabins in this area so there is apparently a fair amount of exploring that could be done with an overnight stay.
Norwegians follow the American news at a high level. When I was there, for example, several mentioned the current administration’s raid of the former President’s home and asked me what I thought of the current U.S. leader seeking to imprison the former U.S. leader. They also had heard about the Supreme Court’s ruling in Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Organization, in which a Mississippi law limiting on-demand abortion care to 15 weeks was found not to be in conflict with any Federal law or the U.S. Constitution.
What was interesting is how they perceived the ruling. All of the Norwegians who asked about this topic were under the impression that the Supreme Court had outlawed abortion care throughout the United States. I explained that the the law in Democrat-ruled states provided on-demand abortion at 24 weeks or beyond (e.g., Colorado).”You mean that there is all of this fuss when someone can just drive or fly to another state?” they asked, incredulously.
From reading CNN and other American media, they were under the impression that abortion care in the U.S. was less available than in Norway when, in fact, there are far more reproductive health care options for pregnant people in the U.S. than in Norway. Wikipedia:
Current Norwegian legislation and public health policy provides for abortion on request in the first 12 weeks of gestation, by application up to the 18th week, and thereafter only under special circumstances until the fetus is viable, which is usually presumed at 21 weeks and 6 days.
Abortions after the end of the 12th week up to 18 weeks of pregnancy may be granted, by application, under special circumstances, such as the mother’s health or her social situation; if the fetus is in great danger of severe medical complications; or if the woman has become pregnant while under-age, or after sexual abuse. After the 18th week, the reasons for terminating a pregnancy must be extremely weighty. An abortion will not be granted after viability. Minor girls under 16 years of age need parental consent, although in some circumstances, this may be overridden.
In other words, the Mississippi law (15 weeks) that was recently considered by the Supreme Court was actually less restrictive than Norwegian law (12 weeks), but those who had learned about the events from the media were under the impression that abortion care had been outlawed throughout the U.S.
Since we are informed that abortion care is health care, let’s look at the public health situation in Norway, a Science-following Land of Shutdown to some extent (they didn’t do the 1.5-year school closure that Science imposed on NYC, Chicago, San Francisco, and Los Angeles). Here’s the hand-drying technology at the gleaming modern airport terminal in Oslo:
Should this machine be called “the Coronaspreader” or the “Monkeypoxer”?
How can Norway get away with this kind of public health hazard? If we consider “population-weighted density” (i.e., how dense is the average person’s neighborhood), the lived experience of Norwegians is almost the least crowded in Europe (source):
(And they want to keep it uncrowded. I didn’t find anyone who supported increased low-skill immigration. Norwegians said specifically that they valued open space and freedom to move around without bumping into hundreds of other humans. Even if someone could prove to them that they could get somewhat wealthier by growing the population they would reject the option.)
This was supposed to be the big year for Rainbow Flagism in Norway. Tourists are promised Queer Culture Year 2022:
My 2SLGBTQQIA+ celebration experience got off to a reasonable start. Although I did not notice any rainbow flags in the airport, the underground train station carried an “Oslo PRIDE” backlit billboard:
Once above ground, however, I discovered that the entire city has fewer rainbow flags than a typical white heterosexual suburban town in the Northeast USA. Private initiative in the direction of the 2SLGBTQQIA+ community is apparently rare. In fact, I never saw a single private home or automobile displaying the rainbow flag. Here are the only businesses that I observed conforming to the U.S. norm (a restaurant, a bar, and a bookstore with a balloon and umbrella):
As in the U.S., the progression from Christianity to Rainbow Flagism is a short and easy journey. At the downtown cathedral:
The city government itself has painted some benches in a rainbow pattern. King Christian IV of Denmark, the founder of modern Oslo, loved music and dance. Here he is with a bench commemorating his love of Broadway shows:
The Munch museum did not have any rainbow flags, but the bookstore featured the standard Holy Trinity of Victimhood:
If the neighbors aren’t displaying the proper flag, one can wear it:
The Oslo City Museum has an exhibit devoted to Queer Culture Year 2022. A school class for 9th and 10th graders was required to create artistic “queer products”:
A “Gay Kid” is defined as “a boy or a girl who will fall in love with a person of the same sex later on in life.” This statement contains quite a bit of heresy against 2SLGBTQQIA+ dogma. There are only two genders for children? Gender ID and sexual orientation are not fluid?
For completeness, from the adult-oriented content of the exhibit:
The Scandinavian Leather Men sign fails to note the CDC’s Scientific monkeypox-at-the-bathhouse advice: “Leather or latex gear also provides a barrier to skin-to-skin contact; just be sure to change or clean clothes/gear between partners and after use.”
Compared to the Scandinavian Leather Men, how much fun can a heterosexual cisgender man have? Here’s Gustav Vigeland’s example of inner peace achieved via fatherhood:
The Nobel Peace Center bookshop offers some Pride-themed material:
The history museum had an outdoor PRIDE exhibit, but it had been taken down and the only remnants were posters and some books:
(I am confused as to why Frida Kahlo, who became famous after marrying an old guy who was already super famous in her chosen field, is a “hero”. Is her method of getting to the top of the art world something that we think the typical young artist can replicate?)
Where Norway seems most deficient is in restroom labeling. The implication, even in buildings that were completed in 2022, the country’s Queer Culture Year, is that there are only two genders. From the Munch museum (opened 2021):
From the National Museum (opened 2022):
I never saw an “all-gender” or “gender-neutral” restroom.
That’s the report from the world of jet lag. I feel that I am almost accustomed to the time zone here and, naturally, it will be time to get on the Norse Atlantic 787 back to FLL tomorrow.
Oslo might not be the best place for building tourist self-esteem. After two days in the city, here are a couple of signs:
Here’s something else bizarre… an important symbol for this city is the tiger:
I also learned that when a counter-serve restaurant offers you “potato with shrimp” that’s exactly what they deliver (for about $20):
I also learned about life in Sweden from the 40ish lady sitting next to me at the opera house (one act of Parsifal, which is more than enough for anyone). She was working as a “priest” (what we would call a “minister”) at a church outside of Stockholm during coronapanic. Her life and church continued without interruption. What about the Swedish limit of 50 for indoor gatherings that was imposed? “It did not apply to churches,” she responded. How many times had she put on a mask during two years of coronapanic in Sweden? “Zero.” Had she purchased a mask? “No.” What about on the Stockholm metro? Wasn’t it suggested? “You could wear a mask if you wanted to,” she replied, “and some people did, but I never did.”
One thing that I hadn’t appreciated about Europe is that China’s continued lockdown has substantially decluttered the demi-continent. 1.4 billion people have been removed from the international tourism pool because a resident of China who comes to Europe to look around would have to endure an onerous 14-day quarantine on returning (not a Massachusetts-style quarantine with daily trips to the “essential” marijuana store!).
Speaking of the opera house, here it is:
Note the ramp for walking up to the roof.
My first impression of Norway is that it is a great argument for the European welfare state form of government… so long as a country has a gushing fountain of oil cash and only a small number of low-skill immigrants so that the per-capita oil money remains significant. It seems as though there are dozens of neighborhoods that are great for hanging out with friends and family. Norwegians are out in pairs and larger groups enjoying the summer weather. Norway is not part of the EU and the country has retained a distinctive culture more so than France, Germany, or the UK. Despite the distinctively Norwegian-ness of everything, a higher percentage of people here speak good English than in a lot of U.S. cities. That means it is perfect for an American tourist wanting to see a European nation.
Oslo, Norway is the only nonstop European destination reachable from FLL (not too far from Jupiter, Florida where we moved). I’ll be on the ground Monday through Thursday next week (August 29-Sept 1) and would be delighted to meet any readers (just email philg@mit.edu).
Our 7-year-old suggested to a COVID-concerned friend that he “dress up like Dr. Fauci” and hand out N95 masks to fellow passengers on commercial airline flights. I may try this if it seems that there are diseased deplorables on the Norse Atlantic 787.
After Great Smoky Mountain National Park, our family’s next stop on the way to Oshkosh was Indianapolis. We parked at Signature IND and Ubered into town for lunch in a sacred space:
Despite the sanctified-by-2SLGBTQQIA+ nature of the restaurant, it was tough not to notice that workers were unenthusiastic about being there, a sharp contrast to Gatlinburg in which genuine warmth is the usual attitude of a server.
First sightseeing stop, July 22, 2022, the children’s museum:
The museum has an epic dinosaur section with real fossils that visitors can touch. Real paleontology is going on in this museum and visitors can arrange to take part.
The museum reminds children that they can make a difference, but only if they can first be classified as victims (of the Nazis (including Donald Trump), of prejudice against Blacks, of prejudice against those with AIDS, or of the Taliban).
Comic books are available to flip through via touch screen, but only those featuring female superheroes.
Note the two guys wearing surgical masks in their lonely fight against an aerosol virus:
They’re concerned enough about COVID-19 to wear masks, but not concerned enough to refrain from sharing the museum’s indoor air with 100+ other folks nor to refrain from taking a bus ride around the track (I can’t remember if they actually kissed the bricks or not, a seemingly less-than-ideal way to #StopTheSpread).
Next stop was the Eiteljorg Museum, which specializes in Native American and Western art. The museum acknowledges that it is on land that rightfully belongs to others, but it refuses to give the land back:
And then there is the posted DEI “commitment”:
Just a few steps beyond the righteous floor sign, we get the Native American perspective on white say-gooders and their land acknowledgments:
A couple of cloth-masked visitors again raise the question for me… why are they in an indoor public place?
Native-created masks for horses and humans:
Prevent COVID-19 from spreading by shutting down the water fountains:
Will Florida ultimately be the only state left with working water fountains?
If you’ve got kids, don’t miss the basement of this museum, which has a lot of hands-on activities. Back on the main floor, the scale of the Western paintings is literally awesome:
Another museum (Newfields), another pair of masked visitors:
They’re enjoying “THE LUME”, an animated version of the Impressionists set to music. But if they’re worried enough about COVID-19 to wear a mask, why aren’t they worried enough to stay home?
Our kids loved this production (see below; #LoveIsLove) and were reluctant to leave even after two hours. “This is the best place ever,” was the explanation. There is a bar/coffee shop within the exhibit and also bathrooms, so it would actually be possible to stay the whole day.
One idea had been to leave for Oshkosh on Saturday night. The “shelter in place & stay safe” text message was not promising, especially given that it was being sent to people whose shelter options were a 10 lb. tent and a 1500 lb. (empty) airplane.
The next morning was not a lot better for getting to our actual destination of Appleton, Wisconsin:
Southwest Airlines was delayed 3.5 hours getting into Chicago, according to a friend coming into Oshkosh the easy/smart way, so we didn’t feel bad trying to wait out the weather at the Indiana State Museum.
What’s interesting about the U.S.S. Indianapolis? Not that the U.S. Navy failed to heed a distress call from the torpedoed cruiser. Not that the U.S. Navy failed to notice when the massive ship did not show up in port as scheduled. Not that nearly 900 men died, 600 of them unnecessarily (left to float in the water and be attacked by sharks until a PBY crew accidentally discovered them). Not that the tragedy figured prominently in the movie Jaws. See the sign below for what visitors can learn next to the model.
Suppose that a visitor wonders about the merits of low-skill immigration. He/she/ze/they will learn that “Securing the rights of all Hoosiers has been fought by many. Individuals and communities rally together to fight against hate and social injustices.” A migrant who shows up on a Monday morning is a “Hoosier” by lunchtime and, certainly, it would be “hate” and “injustice” if anyone were to regard the migrant as illegal somehow.
There’s a hands-on cardboard engineering lab on the top floor. Here a 2-year-old learns to build a park that is welcoming to the 2SLGBTQQIA+ community:
Is there room in Indianapolis for every American who identifies as 2SLGBTQQIA+ and for the entire populations of Haiti (11 million) and Honduras (10 million) to become Hoosiers? It sure feels as though there is! Downtown, at least on the weekend, feels empty.
To escape the crowds of Great Smoky Mountains National Park during our five-night visit to Gatlinburg, we went to Dollywood in Pigeon Forge. Is a jammed theme park actually less crowded than a national park? It feels less crowded because it is properly engineered for crowds. Unlike in the national park, it is possible to find a parking space at Dollywood (pay up for premium parking; there is a separate entrance from the premium lot and no waiting in line for security or ticket scanning). Unlike in Gatlinburg or Pigeon Forge, it is fairly easy to get a counter-serve or table-serve meal (plan ahead for dinner, perhaps, but overall the food-to-customer situation is vastly better than at Disney World’s Magic Kingdom). Here’s the health food shack (pork rinds):
In addition to long lines and hassles to get basic food, the Orlando theme parks suffer from a lack of local feeling. Few of the park workers are from Orlando and, except perhaps for Legoland (in Winter Haven, FL) with its botanical gardens and water ski show, there isn’t much that relates to Florida. Disney is reasonably successful at finding people who are happy to be working at Disney, but the other parks are often staffed with people who seem disappointed that they couldn’t get a job at Disney and/or that they have to work at all. Dollywood is the opposite, being centered in eastern TN culture and staffed with people who grew up in the area, love the area, and are happy to be working at Dollywood.
Dollywood is built into a hillside and retains the mountain steam train ride from which it was seeded. In addition to the expected terrifying rollercoasters there are a lot of music shows. One artist that you won’t hear too much, not even covers of her songs, is… Dolly Parton. She uses the park to showcase lesser-known musicians. There are some craft demonstrations. Our boys (7 and 8) were fascinated by the blacksmith shop in which visitors can participate (makes sure to wear closed-toe shoes and stop by early in the day to book a slot).
The associated water park is underwhelming by Florida standards and there weren’t enough slides to handle the crowds of a hot weekday afternoon. Definitely invest in the line-skipping pass if you’re going to hit the water park.
The evening fireworks were worth staying up for, though the Oshkosh blow-out puts them to shame! There is a creative pre-fireworks drone show. Traffic into and out of the park is well-organized so you won’t be stuck trying to get out.
Budget $1,000 for a family of four if you want to hit the main park, the water park, and pay for line-skipping and premium parking. (If $1,000 seems like a lot, remember that you don’t have to take the day off work so long as you’re a member of the laptop class. Just answer the occasional email from your phone while in line for a ride.) The day after you can return to Great Smoky Mountain National Park with a renewed appreciation for the woods:
For a former New Englander, the big shock of being in the Great Smoky Mountains in July was the bug situation. Following standard practice from the Appalachians in MA, NH, VT, and ME, we had brought enough DEET and picaridin to cover a herd of elephants and yet found ourselves in the woods without being bothered by any flying insects, even in wetter lower-lying areas.
We spent our first day driving to Kuwahi, known to the white invaders as “Clingmans Dome,” the highest point on the Appalachian Trail and, at 6,643′, the third highest mountain in the land that we stole east of the Mississippi. We left the cabin before 7 am because we had been warned that parking lots within the park tend to fill up.
Our reward for the drive was getting progressively deeper into a cloud until, at last, nothing was visible.
On the way, official government scientists reminded us that, while diversity is our strength and non-native humans are hugely beneficial for any ecosystem, non-native insects are a disaster:
Cars feature a lot more religious and political expression than in Florida. We can be grateful to Jesus for the dinosaur blood that saved us from walking up 4,000′ from the Gatlinburg airport (KGKT):
On the back of a small SUV, a reminder not to follow the examples of Al Franken and Harvey Weinstein when visiting the Knoxville Zoo:
How about the bears? We spent a day driving to Cades Cove to see the bears. The approach to Cades Cove from Gatlinburg follows a winding river and features more curves than all of the roads in South Florida combined. The kids loved it and asked if we could go back the same way.
Upon reaching Cades Cove the National Park Service warned us, via a big electronic sign, that it would take 2-3 hours to drive the 11-mile loop. This was, if anything, an underestimate. Traffic moves slower than in midtown Manhattan. We were grateful to take a break in the middle and walk to Abrams Falls:
How about those bears? We did see a few during the Cades Cove day, usually at least 100′ away and often obscured by trees. After a long day of attempted bear-viewing in the National Park we found that the street right in front of our cabin was blocked by four bear cubs and a bear parent of unknown gender ID. After 20 minutes, one cub hadn’t moved at all and we began researching wildlife rescue options, thinking that perhaps the cub had been hit by a car. Eventually, though, all of the bears got up and moved up the hill and we were able to get to our cabin (that’s actually our rental, in the photo).
Apparently, even the bears can’t handle the epic crowds within the National Park and prefer to hang out in Gatlinburg and even inside our rental:
After a day off at Dollywood (maybe I’ll do that as a separate post), we returned to the park for a walk to Grotto Falls. We didn’t get out quite as early and found that we needed to park roughly 1/2 mile downhill from the trailhead. The parking areas within the Park would need to be 3-4X bigger to handle even the weekday demand for the more popular trails. Most of the photographs taken in the Park are lies. Most visitors, even those willing to go on a 2-3-hour hike, will have an essentially urban experience inside the National Park. The trail to Grotto Falls is more crowded than a typical American city sidewalk, but it is possible, even in the middle of the day, to make it look like you’re in the woods by yourself:
Where to stay? We liked our cabin, which had a great view from the desk and enabled us to see bears up close and personal. But it was 10 minutes of driving down some scary mountain roads to get to a supermarket, restaurant, or the main roads into the Park. Remarkably, there were delivery services that would, at a reasonable price, bring groceries (the Publix app works!) or meals up to the cabin, and it was also possible to get an Uber either to or from the cabin. If you want to go back to your lodging in between activities it probably makes more sense to stay closer to one of the towns.
Pigeon Forge, home to Dollywood, is a serious challenge to those who believe that markets will result in reasonable outcomes. It is a strip of hideous commercial development, fronted by massive parking lots, jammed with 6 lanes of traffic, and inaccessible to pedestrians. Every urban planning major should be sent here so that if he/she/ze/they is ever experience self-doubt or doubt in his/her/zir/their chosen profession, he/she/ze/they can think back to the Pigeon Forge experience.
The only thing that can be said in favor of Pigeon Forge is that people are friendly and seem happy to be working. Well, and that it is possible to purchase socks celebrating Rainbow Flagism:
And maybe the Titanic Museum, which gets great reviews, but was rejected by our 8-year-old: “Titanic hit an iceberg and sunk. What’s the problem with you?” The kids were irresistibly drawn to the medieval castle containing MagiQuest (not to be confused with MAGAQuest, in which the task is helping non-partisan FBI agents find documents) and it was actually a lot of fun (buy the unlimited time option because there is no way you’ll get out of the Magi section in less than 2.5 hours) and a smart air-conditioned choice on a hot afternoon or evening.
Gatlinburg is just as traffic-clogged, but at least it is walkable and it is closer to the Park:
Maybe the best compromise between a mountain experience, access to the Park, and access to services and attractions: the DoubleTree Park Vista hotel. It is right next to a road leading into the Park and high enough above the town that you get some mountain views and mountain air. We drove by it on our way to Grotto Falls. The reviews suggest that the place needs renovation, but once it does get a make-over it should be nice.
Travel tip: bring some mini bottles of maple syrup. The local mania seems to be for making pancakes (not obviously better than those McDonald’s serves as part of the Big Breakfast), but corn syrup with a touch of artificial flavor is the only topping that is reliably available. Our kids got a surprise after we asked a waitress “Do you have real maple syrup?” and she responded “Yes,” then returned with what used to be called Aunt Jemima. We explained that this was “real” to her.
Overall: Great Smoky Mountains National Park is, in fact, great. But unless you’re a serious backcountry hiker, it is also mostly ruined by the crowds. Everything was designed for the U.S. circa 1960 (population 180 million and most people had to work on most days), not for the U.S. circa 2022 (population 333 million and the entire laptop class can pretend to work from Gatlinburg just as easily as pretending to work from home). If you don’t love crowds you probably won’t find the Park relaxing.
At the same time that we were in Great Smoky Mountains National Park, a friend was in a $7,000/night dude ranch in Montana. The elites were paying $7,000/night for, essentially, the same experience that our family had in the National Parks circa 1980. An elite family could go for a walk without bumping into a lot of other people. They could park wherever they wanted to. They could get into a restaurant and eat without waiting 45 minutes or an hour. They could ride horses without making reservations in advance. But we could do and actually did all of those things as an upper-middle-class family (my dad worked for the Federal Trade Commission) in the early 1980s in Yellowstone, Bryce Canyon, Zion, Grand Canyon, etc.
For Floridians hoping to cool off, the nearest mountains are the Appalachians in TN/NC, i.e., the Great Smoky Mountains. It’s an 11-hour drive from Palm Beach County to Cherokee, NC, the southern gateway to Great Smoky Mountains National Park and a 12-hour drive to Gatlinburg/Pigeon Forge, TN, the northern gateway and home to Dollywood. In a small airplane, however, the trip can be done in approximately 3.5 hours to KGKT (550 nm). A 3.5-hour flight in a vibrating noisy bathroom-free piston-powered airplane is too much for most pilots and nearly all passengers. Where to stop, then?
The simplest route from flat Florida to mostly-flat eastern Tennessee bends around the west of the Appalachian Mountains via Chattanooga. Why go over these mountains, which generate all kinds of clouds and bumps, when you can instead relax on windward side, entirely free of turbulence and with a much wider range of altitudes to choose from? (as shown below, the FAA considers any altitude lower than 6,600′ to be risky with respect to terrain)
On our way to Oshkosh, however, we enjoyed a rare day on which thunderstorms were not forecast, except on both coasts of Florida (see Garmin Pilot app screen shot from halfway through our first leg). The winds aloft were forecast to be light and therefore there was no risk of powerful downdrafts on the lee side of the mountains. So we planned a scenic crossing of the Appalachians with a first stop in Lake City, Florida (KLCQ). The kids learned to appreciate our pool table by playing on a table with trashed felt using cues with no tips.
Our next stop was KDNL, the “downtown” airport for Augusta, Georgia. There is a flight school on the field and the learning continues even in the men’s room, however Ketanji’s panel of biologists might define the term “men”:
We hopped in the courtesy car and headed downtown to the Morris Museum of Art, “the oldest museum in the country that is specifically devoted to the art and artists of the American South.” It is situated on an attractive river walk and right next to a good restaurant, Augustino’s, within the Marriott hotel.
The final leg required a climb to 10,500′ and weaving to stay out of the clouds and bumps. The forecast was accurate regarding the lack of thunderstorms, but there was still some pop-up convection that made an indirect route seem wiser.
A Cirrus about 15 miles north of us apparently went into one of the above small rain showers and reported “severe turbulence” to Air Traffic Control (“large and abrupt changes in altitude and/or attitude and, usually, large variations in indicated airspeed. The airplane may momentarily be out of control. Occupants of the airplane will be forced violently against their seat belts.”). A combination of NEXRAD and ATC kept us out of anything upsetting. Upon landing, we found that our Enterprise Cadillac(!) sedan had been pulled up next to our airplane by the alert line staff at KGKT.
