On The Back Roads Again This Past Saturday

We were back on the road again this past Saturday, and as usual, no particular destination in mind.  We just head out and when we come to side road, we turn.  We don't like the main roads...too much traffic, and no scenery at all!

The direction we turn is determined by asking if anyone has been down that road.  So, we go down the one that no one has been down, or at least has forgotten!

Sometimes we begin to pass things we remember, but coming from a different direction, so we begin looking for an unknown road.  Often Dr. Ahler will tell Gary to do down a road because it's either heading to or away from "the river or mountains", or better yet, "follow the creek", and here we go.

Somehow, Saturday we ended up in Loudon and Monore County, TN, in the towns of Philadelphia and Madisonville.  Soon we saw a sign directing us to Hiwassee College, and we all remembered there was a "balloon festival" going on there.  

So we follow the signs, missing one due to construction midtown Madisonville, and somehow make a circle and come back to the same intersection we missed, only from a different direction.  This time we see the sign, and finally make it to the campus.

Neither of us had any idea about the timing of the event, but had we just thought about balloon festivals, we would have known that most of the colorful action occurs after dark.  The burners then light up the inside of the balloons.  However, we get there long before dark-thirty and there was only one balloon in action; giving short tethered rides up and down.   There was a second one, but the basket was still in a pickup, and the balloon itself was barely unfolded on the ground.

Now, this would not have been too bad, except that we had already paid (rather Dr. Ahler paid) $5 a head for us to get up the hill to the parking area.  Over about a quarter of a mile, on what seemed like the main campus, were festival vendor tents, and blow up bounce-houses, etc., but it would a long hike for aging hips and knees.  Besides, neither of us wanted to bounce!  Food and drink would have been nice, but we had to park too far away to make it worth the hike.

So, we stood beneath the single colorful balloon, that frequently rose with a blow torch sound, and descended to the shouts of the ground crew.

I snapped away, knowing that this was all the action I was going to get, and I got a few good shots.  It was rather colorful against the bright blue September sky, but we soon grew tired of starring up.

 We passed a couple of barns, an old mill, and a large orchard of "crab apples".  Neither of us had seen so many in years, and so I hopped out and hiked back down the road to the fence line just feet from the trees.  Not the greatest find in the world, but hey, I didn't have an "Osage orange" tree in my wildflower database.  Now I do!

You may know this ugly fruit by one of these other names: Maclura pomifera, commonly called hedge apple, horse apple, monkey ball, bois d'arc, bodark, or bodock!

I remember chucking, and having them thrown back at me many times when I was young!  They are heavy and hurt like the devil when they hit you right in the middle of the back!

We made two other stops of interest; one was a Eve Mill near Philadelphia, TN.  The old mill structure was painted a bright red and trimmed out in white.  The actual mill building is overgrown and hidden beside the mill dam; which you can see from further down the road.  The waterfall was pretty, but it would have been much more scenic with a big water wheel.

The other stop was at a little general store, where three young girls were just about to close.  However, they let us come on in to get a drink and something to snack on.  It was great to see young folks actually working, and being very sociable.  We left them a good tip for staying open an extra 10 minutes.

So that was our Saturday...not much to young folks these days, but when old buddies are cruising down the backroads of East Tennessee, these old men think there is no where else in the world like it!

More Saturday Road Trips In East Tennessee

I've done several "road trip" post in the past, but this is about a couple of recent excursions into the East Tennessee countryside.  Search "road trip" to see past postings.

Sometimes it's more than the three of us, but normally the central occupants of Gary's "bow-tie" pickup are Gary, the driver, Dr. Ahler, the navigator and historian, and me, the historical photographer.  

The three of us rarely know where we're going until we finally leave Dr. Ahler's house and turn onto the main road.  He then almost instantly knows where he'd like to go, which way he wants to get there, and what he is looking to obtain!  Having traveled the main roads, the back roads, and even the deeper less-traveled gravel roads of East Tennessee during his "circuit riding" doctoring days, he pretty much knows his way around the area.  At about 81, he still has a sharp vivid memory of the directions, farms and houses along the way, and even names of families, and acquaintances, he encountered in his travels to and from various hospitals in the area.

He directs Gary along the route he wants to go, and sometimes argues with the female GPS voice coming from the dash!  He is often right too, but he has not yet given in to trusting all the "newfangled" technology.  He relies instead, on directions from the rising or setting sun, mountain escarpments, big oak trees, property lines, ponds, lakes, and gut feelings.

I sit quietly in the back, listening to his tales and yarns from yesteryear, knowing that this elderly gentlemen has had a colorful life, and isn't giving up easily to his aches and pains.  He has and will live his life as aggressively as possible.  While he's doing this, Gary and I are reaping the benefits of what he's seen and what he wants to see before his time is finished.  Therefore, our lives will also be blessed by his knowledge, conservative views, and friendship!

A couple of Saturdays ago, which is generally the day we travel, four of us, that day we included Benny, a childhood friend, and ended up at the Mayfield Dairy Visitor Center near Englewood, TN.  Our primary goal had been to reach a new Mennonite store near that community.  After picking up some vegetables and a watermelon apiece, the Visitor Center was just an added surprise for me.  

I had no idea where I was, and they weren't really sure, but all of a sudden we turned onto the blacktop and there was "Maggie" the cow!  I knew then I was about to sample some great ice cream!

Supermarkets in East Tennessee are full of numerous varieties of their ice cream, but at the visitor center you can sample experimental flavors that are either not yet in stores, or may never be in stores.  It's always a treat!

Dr. Ahler and Benny enjoyed a quiet moment sitting in the shade finishing off their dip choices.

This past Saturday, even Dr. Ahler was not sure where we were.  We had made so many twists and turns that he was confused, but only for a few minutes.  We are never lost, but we do, on occasion get turned around.  

This trip we were on an apple hunt!  There are several stores, fruit markets, and stands all up and down most all roads in Tennessee, and East Tennessee roads are no exception.

Finally, we turned down one last road and there was one of the biggest in the area.  Wooden's Apple House, in Bledsoe County, has many varieties of apples and their orchards stretch right up to the parking lot.  Picking your own is prohibited, but who cares when the store provides all you could ever eat or even carry!

They also have a bakery inside where you can sample apple turnovers and other treats made on premise, with their own apples.

On down the road, we find other stands, wholesale/retail warehouses, and fruit markets to tempt us into buying more than we need.  

All along these back roads we are slowed by the trucks carrying empty baskets and Mexican field laborers.  Some of the people in the area are transit workers, but many came long ago and set up a good life in the American economy.  They own most of the wholesale warehouses, and while stopped at one, I watched workers in the hot fields working on their Saturday.

These fields stretch for acres, with more tomato plants than one could ever count accurately.  I wondered how many of us would work these fields today, especially on a "football" Saturday.  Us "white folks", and even some of us "black folks", have just become too soft; not willing to work for minimum wage at such menial tasks, in hot dirty conditions.  Sounds like Roman history to me!

Anyway, we came away with plastic bags of corn, peaches, Mutsu apples (even a one peck box), and huge tomatoes; one of which I just had with cottage cheese!  One of the peaches was my breakfast, and it was so juicy and sweet.

We wind our way back home, down different roads, hoping to surprise our wives with the bounty that we've piled into the backseat.  Of course, sometimes we buy too much and have to give some away, but that's the way it is, and always has been, in the South. 

It won't be long before we eat our way through our produce and plan another trip to somewhere, yet to be determined; but rest assured Gary and Dr. Ahler will get us there by an interesting circuitous route! 

ALONG THE WAY TO VISIT THE "PLAIN PEOPLE"

Finally, Gary, Doc Ahler, and I got out for another adventure this past Saturday!  It has been some time, due mostly to Gary's hectic work schedule, and Doc's various political commitments and his love for "fine glass"!  Me...well, I can go out and play most anytime, providing there's not some new aliment afflicting this ever aging adventurer!

Gary had an idea where to go, but Ahler soon diverted our interest toward the rich farming valley of Delano, Tennessee (that's right, named for the President), where the "plain people" live and work.  This group of Mennonites is new to the area near Calhoun, in Polk County, Tennessee, having only started the community in December of 2002.  The good soil proved good enough to warrant a "farm market" that very spring (2003), and folks are beginning to learn of it's location and fine produce.

The Delano Community Farm Market is open mid-April thru October.  It's the center of activity for the Christian community of 18 families working 400 acres (a triangle of land formed by Hwy. 411 and Bowater Road in Polk County, TN), growing a wide range of vegetables from asparagus to zucchini, picked and brought to the on-farm market daily.

The market also sells homemade breads, cookies, jams, jellies, honey, soaps, etc.  Every September sorghum molasses are cooked the old fashioned way.   All farming is done with horse-drawn equipment and lots of hand labor.

It's a great little drive, from anywhere in East Tennessee, and you can count on getting the finest vegetables and canned goods, like the wonderful peach/pineapple preserves I happened upon there Saturday!  It was so good on my Monday morning biscuit!  

The tomato I brought home made a great bacon and tomato sandwich Sunday morning, and it was gone quickly, almost too fast to remember, while watching CBS's Sunday Morning.

Anyway, it seems everything these folks grow taste like it used to, and should!  I've read that it's because they "plow deeper" than us common people.  Seems it keeps the soil "mellow", which to them is far better than us "despised Yankees" that only scratch the surface!

The fellow, and his son, at the market were very congenial, offering comment about the various produce and canned goods, as well as telling us about the on-site sorghum making there in September.  

I was telling him how I used to work my uncle's "sorghum mill", stirring the sticking mixture down the steaming troughs, or drawing off the finished "molasses" into jars or buckets, and applying labels.  He seemed pleased I knew a little something about the old, good ol', ways, and I told him I would be back in September.  He told me the smells would bring back all the good memories of those days, and I believe it to be true.

We stuffed Gary's truck with corn, tomatoes, watermelons, cantaloupes, and the preserves and made the loop around the 400 acres.  There is a sign saying it's all private, but Dr. Ahler insisted, so around the dusty road we went.

They don't really like photos being made of them, but I couldn't resist a quick, through the back glass, shot of a buggy with a little coverall clad, dusty seat an all, boy, wearing his straw hat, while clinging to the back of his dad's buggy!  It was precious and I just had to have it, even if it wasn't the best shot I ever took.  I even gave it a "painting" effect, just to help hide anything identifying them.

On down the road, we were taken aback by a young woman standing by a mailbox.  Wow! I wanted to jump out and capture that for prosperity, but I knew it would have been disrespectful.  However, she did look up, cracked a shy smile, and waved briefly as we slowly passed.  

I have to assume she was married since her prayer cap was white.  They never cut their hair, which they wear in a bun on the back of the head. On their heads they wear a white prayer covering if they are married and a black one if they are single.

Just past there was another young girl wading in a creek, still wearing her long dress with apron, and her traditional black hat!  All shots of a lifetime, but not to be taken by me!  I still wonder what was in that handwritten letter (plain to see as we passed), and who it might have been from.  Another young girl from another community perhaps?  A secret friend?

It's a small community with "plain" ways, where everyone knows everyone's business, but if you think about it, it would be nice to again know your neighbors, and work the land with your father and brothers.  We left so much behind.

It's plain to see that the barn is an important part of the farm life.  They are the largest structure, built not just for livestock, but often for meeting places.

Water for the farm is pumped up by windmills that dot the landscape, and no electrical lines touch the homes.  When it gets dark in this area, they go to bed!  There is no TV or Facebook out there, nothing to distract you from making a living from the earth, and the next morning, soon as the sun is up, they are back at...probably happy as larks!

Along the way to and from Delano, we passed old houses and barns, some still being lived in and functioning.  I love to just ride the country roads and snap photos of these structures.  They won't be there long, and since I was privileged to have had the pleasure of living and working on a farm in my formative years, I certainly appreciate what they mean, and am saddened by the realization that they will all be gone someday soon.  Not even my son will ever know the simple pleasures of that life.

One of the other beautiful places we passed was the "Twin Eagle Ranch" in Ten Mile, Tennessee.  According to what I couldn't find on the Internet, it seems the place is not open right now.  We noticed some roof damage on the barn, from recent storms, but that's not why it isn't open.  Must be changing hands, or it's for sale, or something.  However, it's quite a beautiful "white fenced" piece of property, with it's barn like resort building, lake, and out buildings.

Across the road is a great looking old home, we assumed the owners, with a concrete silo sticking up along the side of the road to identify the ranch.  Behind the iron fence, and the "lawn jockey", was a beautiful white, remodeled old home, with giant "southern style" columns, a well manicured yard, all behind a plantation style rock wall.  

 

I would have loved to have stayed for supper, but there was no one around to invite us!

Later on, we passed the Ten Mile Missionary Baptist Church.  It seemed to be a thriving place, with many out buildings for class rooms and socials.  

If you get off Highway 58, down in that area of Meigs County, Tennessee, you'll see lots of things that remind you of the "good ol' days", provided you even remember those days.  I loved the farms, fields, livestock, white board fences, and chicken houses (lots of them), barns, especially the one almost completely covered in Trumpet Creeper!  

Oh yeah...do you remember the old "creek rock" filling stations that used to be sparsely sprinkled along country roads?  Well, this one reminded me of my roots in rural Alabama and lower Middle Tennessee, complete with the Sinclair gas pump!  

Someone had added a "Good Gulf" sign to it at some point, and that addition made me wonder if  some local history buff hadn't built it just to remind him of the "olden days"!  Who knows, it was too hot for anyone to be out, so we drove on.  It could simply be it was just recycled when gas distributors were changed by the store owner!

And then there was the 100 year-old M. E. Trew General Merchandise store. 

Trew 's Store was established in 1890 by John Wesley Trew near Calhoun, TN, the site of the first county seat of McMinn County Tennessee.

It is properly located as being half way between Highway 11 and 411 on Highway 163 where County Road 783 enters. Dentville was a one time postoffice in the store and the community still retains its name. (To the ole timers, anyway.)

John Wesley Trew's grandparents, Dr. Thomas Trew and wife Nancy James purchased 463 acres in the Calhoun area in 1836. They came here from Jamestown, Kentucky. They stayed in the area, known as Dentville, and raised their family of ten children.

It's a bygone era, but you can still see evidence of things like this and more that bring back memories of your experiences from yesteryear!  Even the occasional dead of dying old oak tree in a field, like the one I used to play under in the back of Grandmother Williams' old "tar paper" house.  Alas, nothing last forever, not even the old oaks, hickory's, and poplars.

Safely back in Roane County, we said goodbye to the doc, after carrying in his watermelons and corn, and seeing his giant geode!  He was so proud of it, and not wonder...look at the size of it!  He says 350 pounds!

I love these "road trip" Saturdays, with these two guys.  It will be hard to give them up one of these days.  We aren't getting any younger, but man, do we ever have a great time.  We never know where we're going to do or where we'll end up...maybe at your house next week!

A ROAD TRIP BACK INTO THE PAST!

Saturday morning found me meeting up with Gary Baker in front of Fairmont Headstart school building, which is located on Fairmont Ave., on the west side of Pine Hills in Harriman, Tennessee.  The school sets on property that also takes in about 10 to 15 acres of land that was once a nursery farm for Bob's Flower Place, a local nursery where I once worked along side Woody Adkisson, the adopted son of Bob Adkisson, the owner.  The neighborhood kids all called him "Uncle Bob" and you'd have to look hard to find a better person.

Uncle Bob raised his children, Betty Anne and Woody, in the church, and every time the doors were open, he expected them to be there!  I can't say he was a strict man, but he did expect his kids to perform chores around the home, and Woody worked for him just like any other hired hand.  He got the same wage and performed the same jobs, and I think it was all an attempt by his father to teach him the business.  However, Woody never had the desire to be in the "flower" business.

Woody learned to work hard in the heat of the East Tennessee summer sun and humidity, and I often had trouble keeping up.  However, that work ethic rubbed off on me back in the summers of '62 and '63, and dripped off my brow down in a little hidden valley behind Pine Hills Subdivision; down next to Bumgardner Creek.  If you follow that creek, and the railroad bed on the south side of the creek, west, you will eventually come out by McDonald's near Exit 347 of I-40.

Woody and I toiled with pick and shovel, wrestled tillers, sowed burlap bags that formed giant balls around bundled roots and earth, and pushed mowers back and forth for 75 cents an hour.  We worked hard, trying to get to the next break under the shade of a line of slender saplings that grew straight and tall in the best bottom soil around.  That soil was irrigated with Bumgardner Creek water that pooled up behind two concrete and 2X6 board dams that Bob had constructed years earlier.  The water level was determined by the number of boards inserted into the concrete slots on each side of the dam.

The water was cool in those pools and we often sat on the dam walls, dangling our bare feet in the water, while sharing a Winston, and a cup of cool thermos water off the back of the ol' "Green Bomb", Bob's '48 Chevy pickup.  We shared many a conversation, about which is lost in time, but needless to say they involved the coming weekend, girls, and an occasional heated discussion about the differences between calling a church South Harriman Baptist verses the Church of Christ!  Never of us ever won these exchanges, but we forged a bond over those years.  

Woody and I ended up joining the Air Force in August of '64, along with Tom Hall, and after that, well, I only saw him a half dozen times.  Where he is today...even his family don't seem to know for sure?!

Anyway, I said all this just to point out that the land below Fairmont School holds a special place in my heart.  So, Saturday, Gary, who now owns the property, and I walked down the hill and into the past.

The dams are almost too overgrown to see anymore, and their purpose is lost on anyone who does not remember "Uncle Bob" or the nursery he owned.  Gary remembered it though, having roamed Pine Hills as a young boy, along with our mutual friend Bennie Lowery.

Besides the dam walls, little is left that would indicate the area was ever used as a nursery farm.  However, if you look real close, you can still see trees that are in perfect alignment, and a huge juniper bush or two that would seem strangely located to an uneducated eye.

We crossed the creek and walked the fence line that separates the land from the railroad right-of-way and into the heart of the property.  We each took turns pointing out trees and shrubs that were obviously remnants of the past.  We stood by the creek and marveled at the tranquility, which was only broken by the distant traffic on I-40.  Over those muffled sounds, you could almost hear the ol' Green Bomb sloshing across the creek!

We left Pine Hills and drove to Clifty Creek.  Gary had called Dr. Ahler and asked him to join us.

Together we walked back into another past, a past where young boys (me, Woody, and Barry, among others) used to come, again in the ol' Green Bomb, and do boyish things.  We shot cans lined up in rows, and regrettably bottles, that we had tossed in upstream, ambushing them as they passed.  I like to think that after fifty years of so, that the water had ground off all the sharp edges, or tuned them back into sand, but I'm sure that's wishful thinking.

Each of us told personal stories of the "Pepper Box" area, as we sat on a big sandstone rock and looked up Clifty Creek, remembering the past.  

Dr. Ahler spoke of leading Boy Scouts across the creek, and the time he slipped and fell in.  

Me, well, all those cans and bottles were rolled into one event, just like the camping trips.  They all turn into one great adventure, in the dark, around a camp fire, listening to the "peppering" sound the water made after falling a couple of hundred feet and splattering on the rocks below.

Today you can enjoy a variety of wildflowers, waterfalls, and old growth forests along the valley.  One day, I plan to take a pilgrimage to the back most regions of this area.  They say there is a second canyon area, with steep sandstone walls, that makes the first canyon envious!  I want to find that wall!

The area, at least on the Morgan County side of the creek, is now part of the Nature Conservancy, and that makes me very happy.  The area, its flora and wildlife, is now protected and should be available to future generations for many years to come.  There should be no more "bad boys", who had no sense of legacy back then, shooting bottles in the creek.  And yes, as the years go by, the chances of those bottle being turned back into sand increases!