'My cousin and I were both Dolly Parton fans - but the type who'd belt out 9 to 5 on the dance floor at Coppers - that all changed when we visited the poverty-ridden Appalachian region she once called home...'

It's been almost exactly 11 years since I found myself sitting in a traffic jam of antique cars on a busy Appalachian road in the foothills of Tennessee’s Smoky Mountains.

My cousin Sheila was writing a travel story for the Irish Mail on Sunday about the state, and we’d just left a riotous time in Nashville. 

Next up was Dollywood, the flagship theme park Dolly Parton turned into one of America’s favourite national attractions.

We were booked into Dollywood’s newly opened luxury hotel, DreamMore, but Sheila called ahead to say we’d be checking in late, thanks to the unexpected parade of old cars holding up traffic – and a reservation we had that evening at a tourist attraction called the Dixie Stampede (more on that later.)

When she got the hotel on the phone, however, we panicked; it turned out there’d been a mix–up with the reservation dates, and the place was totally full.

Sheila hung up and, unsure what to do, we sat worried in the traffic, but only for a few minutes; the hotel called back quickly with a solution that would turn out to be a once–in–a–lifetime experience. 

They’d put us, they said, in the Dolly Parton Suite, the penthouse where the singer stayed when visiting the resort. She personally oversaw its decoration – and, when we arrived and opened the door, that couldn’t have been more evident.

The suite was decorated in bright shades of pink and purple, lined with rhinestone wallpaper, shag carpets – and even a life–sized portrait of Dolly herself.

If you stood next to it to take a picture at the right angle, it almost looked like the 9 to 5 songstress was actually there.

It included a kitchenette and dining area, living room and 1.5 bathrooms – with the main one featuring glittering mirrors, a bathtub and shower, along with a vanity reminiscent of showbusiness dressing rooms.

The bedroom was outfitted in similar camp Dolly style, with a bed so high I laughed as I showed Sheila how you’d need to take a running jump to get onto it.

The hotel itself – and the theme park and entire surrounding area – were filled with touches of Dolly’s personality and style.

Sheila and I were both Dolly Parton fans at the time, but more the type who’d belt out 9 to 5 on the dance floor at Coppers; we weren’t intimately familiar with her back story. 

When we saw how much she’d done for the Appalachian region, however – and as we witnessed how locals spoke about her almost reverentially – her impact beyond music and pop culture made us lifelong, diehard fans.

We realised how far she’d come when we visited the theme park. Dollywood features a replica of the tiny cabin Dolly and her 11 siblings grew up in. 

It had begun as one room but was later expanded to two, and the replica – built by her brother, Bobby, and decorated by her mother, Avie – offered a sharp insight into the poverty of 1940s Appalachia. 

The walls were decorated with newspaper to keep out the bitter winter air; plaques on the walls told family stories by her sister, Willadeene, which bolstered the understanding of the family’s hardships.

It was hard to believe, and truly humbling, that the superstar had created a music and business empire from such humble beginnings. But what she’d done with that empire floored us even more.

At the time, many of her relatives were still working at Dollywood or its eponymous company in various capacities. 

The theme park already existed under a different name when Dolly bought an ownership stake in it in 1986; it expanded and diversified to become the largest employer in the region, with up to 4,500 people working at it during the busiest seasons.

And Dolly wasn’t only giving back to her home town but also helping a national American icon: the bald eagle. 

Dollywood partnered with the American Eagle Sanctuary 35 years ago to house the largest presentation of the birds in North America. 

The species was still endangered at the time but has since been taken off that list.

Dolly’s sanctuary helped educate visitors, including us, about the birds; we were gobsmacked by the size of the majestic bald eagles as we viewed them up close through glass. They were intimidating, their gazes shrewd and steady, and nothing short of regal.

It was clear, too, how much the region had grown up around Dollywood and Dolly’s efforts. Pigeon Forge, where Dollywood is situated, features reams of other attractions – go–karts, novelty museums, restaurants, souvenir shops and other tourist mainstays that bring money and jobs.

That includes the aforementioned Dixie Stampede, which turned out to be an Appalachian spectacle featuring pig races, horses, country–style dinners provided with no utensils and even a playful division of the audience into North and South (a bit flippant about the Civil War, we thought, but the experience was all in good fun.) 

And it likely wouldn’t exist – nor would the jobs for its performers – without Dollywood minutes away. It’s no wonder locals often refer to her as ‘Saint Dolly’ or the ‘patron saint of Tennessee’; she clearly loved those mountains and their people, and they loved her right back.

Sheila messaged me immediately on Tuesday on hearing of her death – and sent this photo of me kissing Dolly’s portrait.

We have great memories of that trip; neither of us has been back to the park yet, but we’d love to take our families. 

The entire experience was infused with fun, heart and an overwhelming sense of down–home friendliness and kindness – and it certainly ensured that Dolly would always have a special place in our hearts.

We were both devastated to learn of her death, as we’d seen first–hand the good Dolly had achieved throughout her life.

We’re mourning along with the rest of the world, thinking back to the precious moments we spent in the same suite where a legend had also relaxed.