Being a Shameless Tourist is FUN!!

Let me start by saying that I love a tourist trap – in the off-season (crowds make me a little homicidal). So, when I saw there were not just one, but three of them on Chattanooga’s Lookout Mountain, how could I resist? I booked my tickets (overpriced, each one) and looked forward to my day with glee.

I was going to try out my new scooter for the day’s adventure, so I carefully unloaded her, (only sorta losing complete control on the way out) doing no damage myself, my scooter, or my RV’s ramp. I put on the break, pressed the starter, and . . . nothing.

As in nothing. No sound.

I almost melted down.

I did it again, this time adding a little gas with the throttle.

Nothing.

I Googled it. That was no help unless I wanted to go buy some electrical reader and/or take things apart. (While I do like to know how things work, this was neither the time nor place to take apart a brand new scooter!). I then watched a video on “how to start a scooter.”

Yeah, so I’d been flipping the kill switch, not pushing the starter. Armed with this information, I tried again. To my excitement it made noise!

But . . . still didn’t start.

At this point I sent an SOS text to the dealership and loaded her back in, with only a little (okay, a lot) of struggle, and resigned myself to drive the RV for the day.

One source I read during my research said you had to do the Incline Railway first. Since I didn’t have a preference, I figured it was as good a place to start as any. With plenty of time to spare, I pulled into the almost empty parking lot at the bottom of the mountain and waited for my day’s first touristy event. I guess during peak season the rail cars are full, but on this day (a Tuesday, in November) I basically had the rail car to myself.

According to themselves, Lookout Mountain Incline Railway is the “world’s steepest passenger railway.” I held my tongue and didn’t ask if there were any funiculars that were steeper. Now that you -- and my editor -- are back from looking up what a “funicular” is, we can move on.

Side note: my editor did look up the actual steepest and it's not this one (are you shocked?)! He has apparently ridden it and it's in Australia.

The rail ride was worth the price of admission, I will admit. I sat up front (um, because why wouldn’t you?). Walking down stairs that somehow went down and up at the same time was mentally befuddling. Slowly, as the train car ascended the mile up the mountainside, I gradually went from sitting with my knees awkwardly high, to needing to find perchance so I didn’t slide forward off my seat.

Once at the top, the view was nice. The sky was mostly clear and I could see the surrounding mountains, shrouded in a blue haze. While at the upper station I also took the opportunity to look at the engine room as well as the pictorial history that showed images of the incline rail during its 100 plus years of existence.

But, as with anything where the main draw is a view (lovely as it might be), I was ready to descend when the conductor announced the return trip 30 minutes later. You would think I would be prepared for the trip down, but I found it just as much fun (or more) this time around.

My next stop was Ruby Falls and as I navigated the steep, winding roads, I thanked my bad luck that I wasn’t attempting the drive on my little 49cc scooter. There is no way it would have had the power to make it up some of those hills - at very least, I was glad I wasn’t testing it out!

The best way to describe the setting of Ruby Falls is grand. The building in which the entrance is located looks like a castle! No idea why, but it was very impressive, so there’s that going for them!

Our tour guide’s name was Christian (or Shawn if we didn’t enjoy the tour). He had mastered the Dad Joke and flexed those muscles throughout the walk through the caves leading to and from the falls, making the trip somewhat more entertaining.

I say walk, but it was more like a trot, we moved so quickly. I get that they have a timeline, and at the end of the tour we had been down there for almost an hour, but I could barely keep up and look at the rock formations. Though I’m probably not the best judge on how much time is needed to get the full cave experience considering that I spent at least two hours in the Carlsbad Caverns.

Overall, Ruby Falls was a very commercial experience. After descending, we watched a video reenacting the discovery of the falls, a very romantic story that helped explain that the falls were named after a woman. There even were hot spots where you could connect to the internet down in the caves!

The falls were a show unto themselves. We arrive at a dead end, the room dark but we could hear the roar of a mighty waterfall. Suddenly! Bam! Colored lights illuminated the falls and dramatic music began to play. The lightshow continued as people took pretty terrible pictures of themselves and the water (I assume they were bad because they were backlit way too much, but maybe they turned out fine). It was cool, but so artificial. Why couldn’t we just enjoy the stunning falls with a gentle light that stayed the same color, instead of switching constantly? Maybe it’s just me, as everyone else gasped, and “ooh”ed, and “aww”ed. It was a spectacular sight, but the bells and whistles tarnished it for me.

While at Ruby Falls, I received a call from the scooter dealer with some suggestions on what to do to get my two-wheeled terror to start (I wonder if it’s in league with my GPS . . . which is still evil . . .). Because my third adventure of the day wasn’t scheduled until after dark, I returned “home” to try them out. One suggestion included a screwdriver, which made me rather nervous. Before I started taking things apart, I decided to try and start her one more time.

She started without a hitch.

While relieved, my annoyance level was high. The only thing I can think is that the engine was too cold when I tried to start it earlier that morning. (or God was telling me I shouldn’t ride a scooter up Lookout Mountain, that’s always an option!).

Normally, I’m a bit of a tightwad. One time, when I was in New York, my mom and our friend wanted to take one of those pedi-cabs the two miles to The Met, because they were tired of walking. I talked them out of it because it “wasn’t that far, and it really wasn’t worth the cost.” However, I’ve gained wisdom with age, and accepted the fact that none of my modes of transportation would be the wisest choice to drive up curving, dark, steep mountain roads. So I sucked it up and called a Lyft.

I had splurged on my final event of the day. Instead of going to “see Rock City” (that’s what all the signs said, never “visit,” always “see”) during the day, I bought a ticket to the “Enchanted Garden of Lights,” the special Christmas event.

It was spectacular and worth every penny (for both the ticket and my two Lyft rides).

If your inner child doesn’t come out when surrounding by a world of twinkling lights and holiday music, you might not have an inner child and you should go see a doctor about that.

The entire place was magical. It reminded me of going to Dayton’s 8th Floor as a child (It’s a Minnesota thing, you’d have to have been there. Sorry, not sorry?), down to the weird statues that depicted fairy tale stories.

Everywhere I turned there were lights, and joy, and Christmas. It was perfect.

Lookout Mountain surprised me, disappointed me, and enthralled me – exactly what a successful tourist trap should do, if you go in with an open mind. The truly fun thing about my day in Chattanooga was, good or bad, I’ve never had a day like it before, and that is what made it amazing.