I think it’s well known that I’m a party animal, so it should surprise no-one that the first thing I do in Kentucky is go to a night club. I’m also quite hip, quite fly, quite jiggy with it, so I of course heard about the underground night club. How underground?
I’m at the Lost River Cave and (former) Nite Club. The seven-mile cave has had a long history of human visitation and habitation, with artefacts found dating from 8,000 years ago. More recently it served as a camp for both Union and Confederate soldiers. It goes without saying that all those who visited came for the wicked beats.
Most of my pictures from within the cave are substantially wonky, so instead just contemplate going up the night club stairs while off your face (follow the black staircase to the left, see the section of rock that just looks like sheer rock? More stairs, good luck, drunkie):
As I return to the car, I spot a big strand of cotton wool bouncing around before me. It’s actually a white squirrel, as opposed to an albino, and is apparently a source of pride for the towns in the US that compete over having the most of these adorable little rodents.
At this point in my misadventure I’m trying to get from Bowling Green, Kentucky, to Raleigh, North Carolina, which is roughly the distance from Aberdeen to London, so I can’t haver in the Lost River Cave for too long.
But, visiting Mammoth Cave with its 392 miles of cave is, of course, fine. By way of introduction to caves, the tour guide ranger plunged us into darkness. A pure, pitch black where no light could be found, like being cast into an infinite abyss where light and joy die. But I’d been to Wales before so I was prepared.
Okay, but that’s enough. The rest of Kentucky passes in a blur of lovely countryside, caffeine and passing the first Kentucky Fried Chicken. I disappear from Kentucky into a tunnel and end up in Tennessee, but Tennessee will wait ‘til later, we’re onto North Carolina: Christmas and stuff that doesn’t normally have alcohol in it having alcohol in it.