Hear that whistle blowing?

Remember yesterday in Lynchburg?  Well, we started our day up the road a piece in Cascade Hollow, where one finds the George Dickel distillery.  After all, if one distillery tour is good, two must be fabulous, says Don. Now George Dickel’s Tennessee Sipping Whisky (sic) may not be as well-known as Jack Daniel’s, and they may not merchandise themselves quite so cleverly.  However, they do strongly feel that “if you only know Jack, you don’t know Dickel.”  They share this sentiment in the men’s room, and on t-shirts.  Yes, we now have one, along with some of their premium whisky, so I guess they’re doing something right. 

The absence of the “e” in Dickel whisky is because George felt his could easily compete with any Scottish whisky, and evidently they forsake the e.  They want to make it very clear that they do know how to spell in Cascade Hollow, and that it was an intentional omission.

Remarkable similar process to JD’s place, except for the fact that they do not make their own barrels.  Other than that, I guess that Tennessee spring water has something special in it.  The fish must be very happy here.

Then it was off to Chattanooga, on an absolutely gorgeous day.  More of a late summer than fall feeling here, and the sky is incredibly blue.  We walked around the center of the action, which in this town is the Aquarium.  Must confess we did not go in to compete with all the families out for the day, but you’ll get the idea of how they have energized the city center.

And now, the moment that surely some of you have been waiting for.  Yes, we found the Chattanooga Choo-Choo!  The old terminal is now a hotel, but out back are the tracks and one of the trains.  Despite the lyrics of the song that having this train leave from Penn Station in New York, it actually travelled between Cincinnati and Chattanooga, and never saw the East Coast.

Oh well, still a great song.

One thought on “Hear that whistle blowing?

  1. I was going to ask about the choo-choo, but then you knew that. Happy to see Rita’s–although I am really sure that nobody outside of Philly actively pursues water ice. (Ice, custard and happiness? For sure.)

    Like

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