Blame it on the love of Rock n Roll...

So, Nashville, Tennessee. A place pretty much synonymous with Country music. I soon discovered you can't go anywhere without being reminded of the fact. Not that I minded in the slightest. And it's not just country music. This is music city. The whole city hums with a love for music and the promise  of a performance in every doorway.

Walking downtown, you are surrounded by a mix of vinyl stores, instrument shops, music memorabilia emporiums, shrine-like museums, dive bars and high end musical eateries. We visited a selection of these, one of my favourites being The Johnny Cash Museum. Being immersed in his music, history and film was a real treat. I could've spent all day there listening to rare, old recordings from a whole range of eras of The Man in Black.
What a star, and who knew he was once in Columbo?

The musical pilgrimage then moved on to The House of Blues for dinner. Dad was in his element as we soaked up the live blues music as he ate meatloaf and mash. We stayed much longer than the main courses, marvelling at the skill and showmanship of the band on stage. The cocktails kept coming and the night got later.

Moving on, we crammed into a nearby bar to watch a random band made up of a plethora of instruments. As a rule, any ensemble with a giant double bass is ok in my book.

The next morning we headed off to join a musical trolley tour of the city. Before even setting foot on the trolley, we were treated to a star performance by a true southern entertainer. A tuxedoed, older gentleman styled as a 20s jazz singer was serenading passers by with old tunes. As Southampton faithful we were delighted to hear a new rendition of 'Oh when the Saints'. A little taste of home on the sidewalks of Nashville.

Guided by a cowboy hat wearing true entertainer of a raconteur (who also plays country music on the side in the evenings; who doesn't in Nashville?), we took in the key sights of the city including the dizzy heights of Taylor Swift's penthouse apartment block.

Nashville is a fantastic city with much more to explore than we had a chance to. But as they say, the show must go on.
And so we piled in the car to start the road part of the road trip. Singing along to our old friend Mr Cash we headed West.

Ishams vs Polar Vortex

What do they say about the best laid plans?

I had experienced the North American winter as I made my way across Canada and into the North Eastern US states throughout November. I stuck out the bone-achingly cold of the brutal Edmonton snowstorm that had blown in to meet my arrival. I layered up to the hilt as I braved the Brooklyn Bridge against a cutting ice wind. 

By the time I started to head to what I saw as the Southern (i.e. less chance of being up to your eyeballs in snow) states, I thought the harshest onslaught of winter weather was behind me. 

Oh what a naive Brit I was. 

The airport in Atlanta, Georgia now holds my personal record for time spent waiting for my connection. My evening flight continued to be inched backwards. No snow in Atlanta, but the crew who were due to join us on the flight were delayed from Chicago. Every half an hour the revised flight time would come and go and still I was sat in the airport watching March of the Penguins on the lounge screens. Lucky penguins, at least they had forward momentum.

Worry had also set in that I had no way to contact the rest of the travelling Isham contingent. My dad and brother were en route to meet me at our Nashville rendezvous. With no working mobile, no wifi and having given my carrier pigeon the day off I was left to fend for myself in the wilderness of pay phones.

I'm not sure if it's every pay phone, but those in Atlanta Hartsfield-Jackson Airport are trickier than an Enigma machine to utilise. Especially when you don't know the number of the hotel, the area code of Nashville and have no change.

But, being the resourceful, semi-genius that I am (I will be ever grateful to a kind gentleman who changed my dollars to quarters when the chicken kiosk refused), I eventually made connection with our hotel. Expecting to be put through to an Isham, I soon gleaned from the reception staff that they had transport trouble also. The hotel passed on a message to me that they were making an unexpected layover in Washington DC. The snow there was such that they wouldn't be moving out until at least the following day. Suddenly my three hour delay didn't seem so bad.

I eventually passed through the doors of my hotel in Nashville at around half one in the morning. The super soft, giant bed certainly helped soothe my travelling weariness, especially after a stretch in hostel bunks.

Waking up the next morning, I half expected to find the Ishams had arrived, but the Polar Vortex still had them in its grip for now. I passed the morning ensuring my nose didn't succumb to frostbite as I walked downtown. Finding a beautiful chocolate shop, I stocked up on goodies to treat the travellers with when they arrived. Then I headed back to the hotel to play the waiting game.

This big reunion wasn't all it'd cracked up to be. Scenarios ran through my head that I would be left to explore Nashville on my own.

Fortunately there was finally a knock on the hotel room door. I flung the door open and there followed the big, delayed Isham group hug.

We could now get this road trip on the road. It was just a shame that after hours of waiting and me having no will power, there were only limited treats from the chocolate shop to share. Not to worry, there would be many more sweet treats where we were going. USA, here we go!