Chattanooga Holiday

Sun dogs flanking the setting sun in downtown Chattanooga

Has Chattanooga become a safety valve for life in Nashville? I cannot say. I only know my favorite city in Tennessee provides a respite hard to find anywhere.

After leaving my parents’ house on a Thanksgiving Friday (I deny its better-known, retail-bestowed name), we followed some strange roads through mountainous northwest Georgia, winding our way over Missionary Ridge, passed downtown and around Lookout Mountain to reach an Airbnb rental Nancy found online. The garage converted into a large apartment suited us perfectly.

Despite our joy at the accommodations, we decided to wait till evening to spend substantial time in the rental. We immediately returned to the highway to hit downtown Chattanooga. The parking lots were mostly empty, and a quick walk brought us to the state’s best pedestrian bridge.

Two sun dogs flanked the descending sun. From the Walnut Street Bridge the trio offered a spectacular view of the afternoon atmospheric phenomenon. I have only seem them in winter, and never before Nancy began pointing them out.

Nancy and her cat

When the sun is in short supply, sun dogs evened the playing field. A warmer-than-expected Thanksgiving Friday led to crowds in Chattanooga’s North Shore neighborhood and its centerpiece, Coolidge Park. Formerly home to a shipyard during Chattanooga’s industrial heyday, the park drew tourists and residents alike.

One of the park pavilions houses a carousel built in 1894, its wooden animals carefully restored and repainted. For $1 a ride, the carousel was a bargain we could not skip. With so many colorful options, we had to pick our animals carefully. Nancy picked a cat carrying a kitten in its mouth; I couldn't skip the giant rabbit next to the cat.

The chosen rabbit

After a spin, we needed to sate our hunger. The easy option was Terra Nostra, a tapas bar we enjoyed back in June. Our second visit suffered no drop off in anticipation, quality or execution. A bottle of Spanish white accompanied a few small, flavorful plates.

We emerged after dark. Outside Terra Nostra, the sidewalk grew thick with families. Children ran for the bridge in swarms. Only when looking down from the bridge did we realize what drove them.

Below us a line of boats queued up, their decks illuminated in Christmas lights, inflatable Santas, snowmen and other decorations. They waved, we waved in return. Several dozen boats processed down the Tennessee River. I had to wonder why Nashville did not use its riverfront in similar fashion. I had no answer and could only laud Chattanooga for its unique spin on the Christmas parade.

Across the bridge, cars clogged downtown roads and the empty parking lot was now full of lurking drivers. One guy noticed us about to leave and asked if he could have the spot. We gave him not only that, but the parking pass good for another 12 hours, to his shock and elation.

We adjourned to our guest residence, sharing a bottle of wine on the placid porch. Minutes from downtown and its Christmas festivities, we couldn’t have been deeper in the country.

Aside from a distant roar of interstate, we faced almost no noise - except for one notable burst. From arboretum at the road’s end came an explosion of yips followed by the low authoritative howls of wolves. Reflection Riding Arboretum houses a beautiful expanse of green space along Lookout Creek, plus a small nature center with local and endangered animals, chief among them red wolves. Bigger than a coyote but smaller than a gray wolf, the red wolves let loose a wide range of vocalizations in a few minutes, then quieted for the rest of the evening. We only heard them again when descending from Lookout Mountain the next morning.

 After our hike, we were sore and looking for a trip into central Chattanooga that didn’t involve long walks. On a lark, we ended up at the Terminal Brewhouse, a microbrewery across the street from the Chattanooga Choo Choo Hotel and in a bustling new corridor. I had a dark wheat bock while Nancy tried Terminal’s tasty beer-based cocktails. Instead of a second beer, I joined her for another. Having earned a hearty meal, we both went with burgers. As for the beer-based cocktails, go for The Local, a mix of Terminal’s Belgian white, Chattanooga Whiskey’s 1816 Reserve and lemon juice.

We weren’t done with Chattanooga Whiskey – their tasting room sat across the street from the Terminal Brewhouse. For $12, they ran us through small pours of three whiskeys and three cocktails made with their whiskeys and local mixers. It was enough to provide a good cross-section of the distillery’s offerings.

Hot Chocolatier provide the evening’s desserts. Nancy went with Pistachio Rose hot chocolate and I picked lavender. Nobody was disappointed. We picked up some macaroons to pair with the drinks.

Later that night the rain started. By morning it poured. Facing a drive home with no break from precipitation, we skipped another trip into downtown. Even in the rain, we knew it would not be long before Chattanooga again brightened our days.

The view from Coolidge Park