The Worst Travel Day Ever!

Woke up to horrible cold and rain. Had wanted to go to Emmitsburg to a shrine there that I haven't seen for 30 years but it is outdoors and the weather was not conducive to a visit! So instead of heading to Hagerstown and fried oysters for lunch we opted to go to Hancock and pick up I 70 north to Breezewood Pa and pick up I 76 and the same path we'd taken through Pa when we left home. Breezewood had been our second stop because of Snow back in February so a rather funny shaped circle was complete with the path home from there serving as a string on our odd balloon. Pennsylvania is an interesting state--where Interstates interchange traffic is taken through the downtown and so it is in Breezewood. We recognized the intersection immediately since we had almost been flattened by a non-stopping tractor trailer there when we were returning from dinner to our motel back in Feb. Very shortly East of Breezewood you pass through Tuscarora Mtn and then through Kittatinny and Blue Mtns. In this stretch of road Bill and I were discussing his driving, my navigational skills and the interaction of the two. I had to take a shot of him as he lectured me on the importance of being able to tell a left turn from a right turn no matter the orientation of the map in regards to our direction of travel and the dangers of confusing the pilot while trying to align the map with the actual car alignment. I think my considered response to this pontification was bullshit!That was most likely our last bantering moment as Pa once more set us into city streets to get between I 76 I 81 in Carlisle! What genius decided the only way the businesses in these burgs would thrive if all traffic, trucks included, was funneled through their streets???? At least, I 81 is a straight shot to Binghamton, NY and as you can see we had torrential rains, and fog and traffic the whole way. I was almost crying at times--my throat even hurt the way it does when you are overwhelmed and want to cry but cannot and you just feel you will die of the pain. I cannot understand why anyone would choose to drive through that and not stop and wait for a better day. When we got to Binghamton I told Bill I wanted to stop in Applebees. I don't usually go out in Binghamtom but rather just veg while Bill goes to some little local pub I've never even seen. This time I needed food AND a huge dessert. There were three college girls at the bar with us--so cute--eating appetizers which were half price for happy hour for dinner because they are broke college girls. I told them their parents would be proud--one girl said well, maybe but probably not the cocktails. I said--you are adults now and I'm sure they'd understand--told them about Bets and the Hauf--a hangout that she didn't take us into while we were in Bozeman. It was fun to hear their conversations--make-up, boyfriends, signing up for classes, deciding whether to go on to a 4 year school, pregnancy and human sexuality class. Just fun--the gamut of topics. Our bartender was a gay young man named Daniel--he pretty much told us he was gay, as he was talking about hearing conversations at this bar and at the gay bar downtown where he worked and the kareoke there and the mixture of locals--rural--and gay urbanites. It was fun--then we talked about Cher and Steisand and their appeal to gay men----I'm still not sure what it is, although he did allow as how Cher was one of the first celebrities to embrace gays. Reba is a big fav, too. His mother on the other hand, like me, loves George Strait! Went back to the room and watched Dancing with the Stars--think I'll wait a few weeks to go back--by then perhaps that mother of a hundred kids and Pamela Anderson and sadly the Astronaut will be gone. It was painful to watch the three of them --for different reasons but painful nonetheless. Bill went out to his pub for old times sake for about an hour. Should have gone with him but I ate my triple chocolate suicide instead!

Oh My Aching Leg!

For the first time a bird shit on our car--right there in Huntington, WV! Told Bill--good luck or not--my pictures were going to be severely damaged by the avian gift. So within a short time we stopped at a rest area and the window was cleaned with some of Odes' ( you remember him, my hardware store man in Oklahoma) superduper cleaner and paper towels that are like chamois clothe! We could tell we were back in the East--piled up highways forming abstract designs against the sky--who was the guy who did mobiles? Calder? I think he got the idea from these structures. I had wanted to go to the Blenko Glass factory in Milton but being Sunday the first tour started at noon and being close to Huntington we would have had nothing to do. So we moved on along I 64 across the Kanawa River, almost bursting with snow melt water and running fast. At Charleston we picked up I 79 North. Eventually, since we'd skipped breakfast we began to get hungry and saw a sign for the Antique Cafe in Big Otter. With a name like that we had no clue what to expect. What we got was a fellow in a WV baseball cap cheerfully greeting us with " Welcome, Boys and Girls! Are you here to Browse or to Eat? We have a great little meal today--homemade turkey with yams and dressing or stuffing or whatever YOOU call it, a fresh baked bisquit and deviled egg all for 6.99!" Well, what would you do?? We ordered up two--me with dark meat, Bill with light. We browsed a bit while it was being plated up and then enjoyed the meal. The yams were canned but not candied but I'm used to Prince yams with the purple label, on occasion. The dressing was Stove Top doctored up nicely although not seasoned enough--but I liked the way they cooked it in little servings like oatmeal cookies. The deviled egg was made with Miracle Whip--too sweet. Now those were not bad things --just sort of run of the mill food. The bisquit on the other hand was delicious and the turkey was great. All in all worth more than the price. There was an older couple enjoying their Sunday meal and when we said we were from Vt the man said I know a lady from Vt--she's here in the nursing home. Don't know where she's from in Vt and don't know her maiden name--she married a fellow from here. Her brother in law in Vt takes rides and stuff from fair and festival to fairs and festivals. I said, well, now, we are a small state but that doesn't give me enough to go on to say whether we know her or not. He laughed. After we ate they stopped us for conversation and the man started to pull out the chair for me to sit at their table. Said I couldn't stay but thank you--nonetheless we chatted a bit. Seems when he retired they sold everything and bought a mobile home. They were gone for three years, stopping by once or twice to visit but each time they came north they traveled with the dogwood. I must have looked perplexed though I thought I knew what he meant and I did. They'd head north and if the dogwood wasn't in bloom yet they'd go back south to where it was in bloom, stay a few days or so and try again. They did this all the way back to WV so they were not home before the Dogwood was in bloom. I like that approach! Well, after three years they came back looking for a small place to store some stuff and head out again but his wife and her sister bought his old family farm of 100+ acres and their wandering days were over. Besides, he said, we had some relatives getting into their 80's so it was time to stay around.
During the course of our chat I mentioned that I'd been in the area in 2006 and had taken 19 through the hollers and Ireland, WV. With that another couple piped up that they were from Ireland and that the big festival was going on. So I suggested to Bill that we pick up 19 and follow it to Weston so he could see the hollers since he'd never been so far into the State before. It is an experience--those hills are so close and the valleys so deep--it is no wonder that whatever incest took place there or may be taking place there ever happened. Particularly before cars--you couldn't get out of your own holler with any ease--eventually it had to be your own family you were marrying and having children with.,.....Especially, in winter, with ice and snow--that holler is where you stayed! Unbelieveable terrain which is somewhat evident in the rolling twists and turns of the Interstates but not completely since there has been a widening not present in the old two laners with no guardrails and barely wider than the dirt trails they replaced. Another world! At Weston, where I wanted to go to Lambert Winery, one of my favorite places but closed on Sunday until April, we resumed travel on I 79 til just outside Morgantown where we picked up I68 east toward Cumberland. Maryland welcomes you, the counties in Maryland welcome you and you are warned about wildlife etc within feet of the border! And here, though the roads were clear ( explain that accident?) , we encountered our first snow--in the woods, on the mountains and in the shadowed gullies of Western Maryland. E.KY, WV and W. Md are all definitely part of Appalachia with these shadowed vallies and mountains. Natural Roller Coasters! On one decline we saw this group of houses facing the road squarely--it looked like a toy village. On another decline at the foot there was this cordoray arrangement of little trees separated by snowy rows--looked like green and white striped awning material! At last we came to LaVale, Md and possibly the loveliest of the suites we had on this trip. It was an upgrade. It is interesting, our best upgrades in general, were given us when the room was a free stay room and I asked if an upgrade was available..When we were paying for the room, we rarely got an upgrade--it is as though if we are paying an upgrade is getting something for nothing but if it is a free stay--a suite takes the same number of points so they give us one. Odd! But in this instance we were paying--$77 plus tax. I was limping a bit because all the walking and climbing and probably stiff kneed action had set my right leg into impossible pain. I bought Aleve in Guthrie Ok for the leg but still had not taken any pain medication--I just HATE popping pills and if I can handle it without crying I just don't take it. I was however quite tired and limping just slightly. I asked Dave if there was an upgrade available and without hesitation he said absolutely. We were on the third floor and when you got off the elevator and turned to the right there was a small foyer in which our door was located. Bill said --oh,oh,something tells me this is good. And we opened the door--a half bath immediately to the right, off a huge living room,dining room,kitchen with a flat screen TV and views of the woods and a little stream. Walk to your right past the TV and kitchen through a door into the huge bedroom with a full bath to the immediate right and a whirlpool tub past the bath. And another flat screen TV. OMG, for $77????? We dropped everything and headed out to dinner--as we passed the desk I thanked Dave profusely and he just grinned and said " I thought you'd like that!" We went next door to the Texas Grillhouse--none of which I saw anywhere in Texas ( no Texas Roadhouses in Texas, either!). Bets called just as we sat down so I ordered dinner and went outside and called her back. She just wanted to know where we were--told her in Rutland and that we were stopping at 7 Barrel for dinner and would be home in about three hours. Dead silence and then, firmly, " That's NOT funny!!!" Then a little more quietly ' You aren't, are you?" I assured her no, she probably had another day to clean up the house! After dinner it was back for some TV and once the meal had settled the whirlpool. Who needs Aleve????? A good day, but too close to home!

Traumatic, Exhilirating Tour with Freddie

Arrived at Buffalo Trace at 1025, the first tours began at 10, on yet another beautiful day. As we pulled into the driveway several tours were at various places on the grounds but Freddie was standing with a group of three men and two women in front of the gift shop. I walked up and greeted him laughingly chiding him for not remembering me--after all this is my fourth visit! I don't want to think how many people he has given tours to over the years. Freddie is the third direct generation to work here and a cousin of his grandfather's was the first family member to work for the distillery. I asked if he were about to embark on a tour and, if so, if we might join them. He regretfully told me that his was the hard hat tour and that we needed to call ahead for it. But he graciously escorted us into the gift shop and informed the lady organizer that I was a repeat visitor and to get us set up for the next tour, which would start at 11. Bill and I decided to look around the gift shop and were checking out some really smart fleece vests for him when Freddie returned and said his group had invited us to join them. We were thrilled and off we went by 1030. Little did I know what lay in store but I am happy I did not, for I surely would have passed up a really wonderful experience, frightening though it was. For those of you who don't know, I am terrified of height and it never occured to me that it would be a factor. The tour started innocuously enough--walking along spoke of the history of the oldest distillery in the country and how it was one of a very few allowed to function during prohibition--both as a wareouse for the products of other distilleries which had been put in a concentration camp--Buffalo Trace--by the government and as a manufacturer of medicinal spirits! One could, with a prescription, obtain bourbon and other distilled products during prohibition and, with the cooperation of one's physician, even select one's favorite brand of libation--this one works best for me,Doctor! One could obtain a pint every few weeks for one's condition and naturally anyone else in the family with a condition of one type or another would need a prescription,too. Amazing how many sick relations people had! He also spoke of the taxation process and free houses. As we passed several old buildings he explained what they were used for and what the plans are for them now. The big white building is to be revamped and I believe will once more be part of the processing. The building at the end of the alley which is half brick, half stone was where Dickel was distilled after prohibition before they returned to Tennessee. It is also the building in which Freddie played as a child as his grandfather worked. I did not take a picture of the clubhouse this time but adjacent to the plant is a lovely landscaped park. It is open to the public and this Saturday there will be an Easter Egg Roll there. It is also a site where weddings etc take place and where the family who owns the plant throws various company events. Two years ago, Freddie's father at age 92 was honored by having one of the main gathering rooms in the clubhouse dedicated to him with a plaque and all. The occasion was the rolling out of the 5millionith barrel of whiskey--they put a single barrel into a special rick house--the world's smallest--which is large enough for one barrel. Ten years later, and 999,999 barrels later, it is rolled out and tapped for a big party. I was there four years ago and had hoped to be there for the 5 millionith but didn't get back in time. I would have loved to see his Dad. He said it was the only time, other than when his Mother died, that he saw his father cry--at the dedication of the room to him. Freddie said the family is so good, they honor employees and past employees while they are still alive and able to enjoy the honor along with friends and family. His Dad is still going strong and has at least one shot of bourbon a day! We continued among the old buildings and saw where the power for the plant is generated. Since I was last there the honchos have decided to reuse their byproducts ,both solid and gaseous ,to generate power. They were selling the materials to cosmetic firms etc but now they redirect them through a souped up fuel injected big engine into the boiler and reclaim almost all the material --saves them a boatload in fuel costs and is cleaner. They still sell the solids to pet food manufacturers among other places. We came to the grain elevators where he spoke of the type of corn used for the distillation process and said that the new genetically engineered corn is not doing the trick so they have hired farmers to grow the old white corn that works best. He also spoke of the grinding of the corn and said there are two ways of grinding--the old grist mill grinding wheels which some of the distilleries in the area use and a flat flaying process which does cause sparking and is used here. He had heard the process criticized by other distillers as charring the corn and ruining the flavor so at one of the company gatherings, where there were several master distillers from several distilleries he asked what the difference was and which was better. He said a knowing grin passed over their faces but they admitted that the process was not the issue--both were just fine--it was the size of the particle produced that was important. 7/64's of an inch is the magic number, I think. Anyway, too large and the material would not break down sufficiently by the end of the fermentation process and too small and the particles would clump like flour in lumpy gravy. Can you imagine the trial and error that has been gone through over the years to figure some of these things out? We then entered the building next to the elevator--there were several large steam vats there where the corn was undergoing pressure cooking and then he turned and went up five stairs, through which I could see, then five more and then five more and onto the floor above which was a grating like a fire escape. I started to shake and became frozen in place as he showed us the moving contraption which could be moved along tracks to various apertures in the ceiling through which corn or barley or wheat could be accessed. Then the contraption is moved back over the pressure cooker below and the grain is released to it. Shortly thereafter we walked across the room to an innocuous looking door above three steps which led out onto the roof--to look at the Kentucky River --and the story of how the kegs were taken by flatboat down to New Orleans. There was a very large barge grounded across the way and one of the fellows said that's been there for years--make an offer--it is quite rotted but not as old as one would imagine but new to Bill, since barges were not prevalent on the Ct River. The Hudson River has always had barges so I recognized it from my vantage point holding onto the building for dear life and looking over my shoulder. I needed Bill to reenter the building before me since as one went in the door--to the right was a low railing that didn't look able to prevent me from falling to the floor below and in front was open space and to the left that flimsy grating floor! He stood so he blocked the front and right and I turned toward the wall looking straight ahead and not downward. Was relieved when Freddie led us across the floor toward the stairs we'd ascended but almost died when he continued up two more flights. Once more we were on grating but here the room was filled with huge vats placed rather closely together and though they descended the full three stories below us I was able more or less to keep my eyes firmly on the fermenting brew and my hands on the edges of the vats. The smell was redolent of grain fermenting but because carbon dioxide is the chief gaseous product the room is very well ventilated--with fans and suction air ducts carrying away the gas. Each vat had bourbon at various stages of fermentation from violently " boiling" highly active yeast to quiet lactic acid covered and therefore fatty looking brew. When the materials are ready to be removed it is done by a fractional division process--the fatty top layers drawn off into one set of pipes, the product drained into other pipes and the dregs removed from the bottom when all the rest is gone. Then the stainless steel vats--and there were several empty, which I was warned by two of the men on the tour NOT to look into--are cleaned from the top using hoses at very high pressure. Then the process begins once more. From this room, we moved up a few stairs into a really nice small room with a cement floor containing smaller fermentation vats for other products.This room was dedicated to one of the old timer heads of the company but I was so happy to be on solid ground, even 3 and 1/2 stories up that I must admit I didn't pay too much attention. Although in this room was the beautiful copper still and testing overflow barrel. We then walked through a small hallway which was obviously on the side of the building but since the brick wall was on the right and the passageway was covered on the left and overhead and I knew I was on a roof I was fine. Momentarily! All of a sudden we had another flight of stairs and though covered I could tell they were out in space and then a long passageway through which I just about ran and started hyperventilating. Bill was behind me and one of the ladies in front--she kept up a rapid pace and when the passage terminated in another flight of stairs she urged me to look forward only. I got to the top and there was a quick left turn onto a grating landing--I almost died but she said no--you're on the roof now just a couple of steps up into this room. By the time I got into the room--I'm breathing hard now, just remembering--I could not catch my breath, I could not move from the spot I arrived in and I could not look down for now we were in another building five stories up on a grating floor. I felt dizzy and grasped but lightly the buffalo head spigot at my side. There was the beer vat in front of me and Freddie was speaking of the fact that what now existed really was a beer--just a fermented highly alcoholic white beverage. White Lightening! Which they now sell in the gift shop. He spoke of how this is where the master distiller comes to test the product for clarity, uses his hygrometer to test for density and also tastes as well as feels the product to determine whether it is fit for barreling. At last I was able to focus and am grateful that Freddie and the others just simply ignored my situation and carried on without fuss. Now, Freddie pointed out the camera that is a video cam and that one can access on the web. He said that this is why the tour members must be over 18, since if the feds saw underaged people now tasting and feeling the beer the onus would be on the tour guide as well as the distillery. At this point he put the whiskey into our hands and said we could do as we wished with it. I said I wasn't sure it was a good idea for me to imbibe and they laughed and said maybe it would help me get down easier! I did put a touch on my tongue--evaporation was almost instant and the little bit burned going down quite a lot. He then had us rub our hands together and smell--corn! Again--yeast! And as the last of the liquid evaporated a slightly oily feel which I rubbed into my hands making them smooth and soft--the residual oils of the lactic acid --a fatty acid--formation. Such a simple process of anaerobic oxidation of a mash of grains and distilled water containing high concentrations of limestone produces such a complex substance! At last I thought we must go down now--the product is produced--but no, Freddie had one more stop--another open roof--but this time the guys warned me to stay put at the door and I did. Then Freddie, with me standing right behind him at the top of the stairs, stopped to discuss something else but by now I was totally shot--I could absorb no more and as we stood there I once more was getting agitated. After what seemed forever he headed DOWN the stairs. I let everyone go before me and with Bill blocking the view of the huge factory windows at each landing and the drop off over the railing I managed to get to the ground floor fairly rapidly and without stumbling. As we walked into the alley way I realized we had covered at least four buildings and the connecting tunnel I'd seen at the beginning of the tour high over my head was the one through which we had passed. One of the fellows said take a picture --that is where you've been--aren't you proud of yourself. And to tell the truth--yes indeedy--but I'm not taking that tour again. Nevertheless, I am so happy I did--other than the irrational fear it was sooo interesting and unlike anything I've ever seen. Especially, since I taught this process for years in physical science and chemistry and now, for the first time, I saw it in use on a very large scale. Wow! We returned to the gift shop and were astounded to find that it was 1:30!!!!! Three hours--incredible. Another tour awaited Freddie--when does he eat?? And so we were turned over to another fellow for tasting. I tasted one of their expensive bourbons--don't ask which--I don't know--but it was only ten years old and not as smooth as the Evan. They don't let you taste Blanton's, nor do they sell it in the gift shop but that is one I'm going to treat myself to this year. I purchased a bottle of Buffalo Trace, their signature brand as well as that fleece for Bill. In my fatigue and relief I forgot to buy any of the Rebecca Ruth candies made with BT but I'm going to call today or tomorrow and have them sent to me. They are the best! After a quick lunch at Applebee's we hit the road taking I 64 to avoid Lexington. I know that 60 goes right through the center of town and I knew that Bill would have a tough time with that. Once past the city we got off the Interstate and took 60 through the lovely town of Mount Sterling and on into Owingsville, where General Hood's home had been for sale in 2006. It is occupied now and looks as nice as ever--across from the Post Office. 60 is a beautiful road and the landscape is wonderful it is however in Eastern Kentucky and the lay of the land is more than rolling and the road is twisty, narrow and has no guard rails. After the stress of the tour I told Bill I couldn't handle any more fear and to please return to the Interstate. You KNOW I had to be really strained to ask for that--I HATE Interstates, the traffic and the trucks but it was less stressful for my frayed nerves!On we continued Northeasterly to Catlettsburg,Ky where the 26th largest refinery in the country is found. It covers 650 acres on the Western bank of the Big Sandy River and has the capacity of 212,000 barrels per calendar day! Once across the Big Sandy we were in West Virginia in Huntington and the worst Chinese take-out I've ever had in my life! Where's the bourbon when you need it?




s

The Battle of Perryville, Kentucky

We began our day by returning to Heaven Hill where I splurged and bought Evan Williams 18 year old! It is just too wonderful to pass up and I do like to sip bourbon on really cold nights when the cabin here has drafts sending chills through my body. It is far from air tight, this place! LOL Abe had nothing on me--well, maybe I do have a few more luxuries--like electricity when the power doesn't go out! From Bardstown we took a sort of Southeasterly swing to Perryville and then a semi circular Northwesterly swoop to Frankfurt, the capital of Kentucky and home of Buffalo Trace. Again the day was splendid though windy and cooler so that at the Battlefield in Perryville my lightweight blouse did not serve me well and I had to don a jacket. I'd long ago gone back into shoes rather than sandals. Arriving at Perryville the welcome sign had another next to it welcoming us to his home town, Eddie Montgomery of Montgomery Gentry, which meant absolutely nothing to me, but sounded like county and western music group types. Sure enough I googled Montgomery Gentry and that's what they are--a pair of male singers whom I may or may not have heard--none of their songs' names meant anything to me. However, Mr Gentry is a real country bumpkin jerk and none of their stuff will ever mean anything to me. He bought a bear on a game preserve for $4000 + and then while it was caged he shot it to death with a bow and arrow. He then had the video, which he had shot, of the murder doctored to look like he'd taken the bear in the wild, tagged it and reported it. A real big game hunter he is and a man's man---Ech, Ugh, and Gag. Just an a-hole with a pea brain in my opinion. Wouldn't spend one penny to help him make a living! But none of this was known to me as we enjoyed the wonderful day and a tour of a little known but vitally important Civil War battle. Bill joked that the Rebs were attempting to take Ky's bourbon stores for their own, but in actuallity they truly hoped to control some really major waterways that would have caused great problems for the Union. The Confederates were very demoralized after their defeat in Shiloh and decided to take a more offensive approach. They had reports of plentiful supplies and a sympathetic population in Ky and so they decided to invade. Starting in August of 1862 the Southern armies marched into Ky and took Lexington, Frankfort, Louisville and were within miles of Cincinatti within a month. On Oct 8 the armies met in Perryville and basically engaged because there had been a severe draught and water was at a premium. Perryville sits along Doctor's Creek and the Chaplin River into which it feeds. Needless to say both sides needed what water was available. Although members of both armies met in pre-dawn hours the battle didn't truly begin to rage until about 2 pm. The Union commander, Major General Don Carlos Buell, who was headquartered only two miles west of the battlefield did not know about the engagement until 4 pm when he received a message from the field! This area is so convoluted and contorted with intertwining hills that a phenomenon known as an acoustic shadow is formed and he could not hear the sounds of battle--it is an eerie situation --but though the valleys are not deep like the hollers of West Virginia they are situated in such a way that sound waves must show interference rather than reinforcement. It is sort of like a mirage in the case of light waves and was a factor in several Civil War battles--resulting in the lack of reinforcements being sent to support troops at the front lines! There is even a book written about it : Civil War: Acoustic Shadows by Charles D. Ross. Don't think that will be high on my reading list but one never knows! At any rate, this battle raged for 5 hours and of the 20,000 Union troops, 890 died, 2,893 were wounded and 437 were captured or missing. Of the 16,000 Southerners, 532 died, 2,641 were wounded and 228 were captured or missing. The Union dead were eventually taken to a National Cemetary but the Confederate dead were left where they fell. The townspeople and the students from a local school came to the battlefield and buried the Southerners in a mass grave which now has a monument and a nice stone fence but only two headstones. Without the use of dogtags most of the soldiers from either side are unknown. Those that died later of disease or wounds are those most often identified.The average age of the men was 25, although one fellow was 70 and a Union Medal of Honor winner was 16. General Douglas MacArthur's father, Lt Arthur MacArthur fought in this battle as did Sam Watkins, the author of Company Haitch, which I read last year. And that shorty, who became quite famous later in the war, especially at Gettysburg, Phil Sheridan was here. Three things about this site which fascinated me: first the battlefield is pretty much intact with few changes such as some power lines and a few homes and barns that post date the battle, second that this is a STATE site and not National and thirdly, that it is the only site where I have seen documentation about the soldiers' reaction to the Emancipation Proclamation. It is interesting to note that men from BOTH sides found it to be an overstepping of authority for the government to decide the issue of slavery. My history classes have always led me to believe that Northerners were adamantly against the institution to a man! Even as the mill owners made their fortunes using the cotton picked in the South by slaves. In the book I'm reading Kate also says that Northern men resented the change in their mission--that they now saw themselves fighting for the black man's freedom when they had volunteered to preserve the Union. It gives a whole new perspective, for me, of the attitudes of the times in both parts of the country. But at any rate,though the Rebs won a tactical victory at Perryville, they were outnumbered and retreated by way of Harrodsburg toward Tennessee where Buell eventually drove them. They did not hold Ky nor did they try to reclaim it, though there were a few calvary incursions from time to time. As a result the battle is considered to be a Union strategic victory. In Union army records this is the Battle of Chaplin Hills, since the Union used geographic features to name battles while the South used nearby towns to name battles. This can be a touch confusing at times! After taking the auto tour around the site we followed Braxton Bragg's route to Harrodsburg and where he turned southerly toward Tennessee we continued Northwest to Frankfort but arrived at Buffalo Trace at just 3 pm and the last tour time as well as quitting time for the employees. We recrossed the Kentucky River and ate at Johnny Carinos--my favorite Italian restaurant of all time and stayed at a Days Inn, don't do it!!, since there were no Choice properties in Frankfort. And so another beautiful Kentucky day ended.

A Beautiful Day with Abe!

Spent another beautiful day in Kentucky, this one exploring the earliest haunts of Abraham Lincoln. Met a really nice couple from Ithaca, New York--around our age, they both grew up on dairy farms in that area. They were happy to tell us that they only buy Cabot cheese, which they find to be so creamy. Bill told them Jersey's provide the milk with its high butter fat for the cheese. He also admitted that we buy Price Chopper cheese and sometimes Helluva Good, both of which come from New York State!! We met several times as we toured the grounds of the birthplace and wound up walking to our cars together. As we did we began to discuss books for some reason and found ourselves comparing notes on McCullough, Michener, recent autobiographies we've read, are reading or are planning to read. I must get the one on Joe Biden. She's having trouble getting through Obama's but says she will finish it. I love when we get to talk to people about stuff like that! One of the really great perks of these trips--the people we meet! When my sister and I went to Texas in 2006 we arrived at the birthplace just about 4:30 and the site was closing for the day. Since then I have read articles about the log cabin that is enshrined in the Grecian temple-like structure. Apparently, the temple is located at the site of his birth cabin but the log cabin within the temple, while, at first blush, thought to be the actual structure has since been carbon dated and is too " young"! Still, I had hoped to stand in the place where it all began. It was not to be--the temple has sprung a leak in the roof and is undergoing repairs, as is its interior and whatever may have been damaged on the cabin. Oh, well, the spring is still there which gives the place its name--Spring Hill Farm. Thomas Lincoln settled here with his considerably younger wife, Nancy Hanks, about whom almost nothing seems to be known--there is not even a painting or photo of her. The painting at the museum is one that was created by the artist from written descriptions of her and he has made her in such a way that her son resembles her and shows nothing of his father in his visage. At any rate, Thomas and Nancy had a daughter Sarah and then Abe. As a result of property ownership di sputes the Lincolns relocated to Knob Creek when Abe was two and he attended school down the road in Athertonville,where there is a historical sign at a most inconvenient stopping site! There are all modern houses there so nothing remains of his time.He spoke of his time at Knob Creek and the blab school he attended. In a blab school students repeated their lessons aloud to learn them--I did that, too! For the rest of his life he read the newspaper aloud, claiming he learned better when using two senses. I don't do that--we had to read silently in school and I still like complete quiet when I am reading. While at Knob Creek, Abe fell into the creek but could not swim--I would imagine it was deeper and wilder than on the day I took these shots! At any rate, his buddy,Austin Gollaher, held out a branch to him and he latched on and was saved. When the court case on the Spring Hill Farm was lost the family packed up and moved to Indiana. The Lincoln home was torn down and the cabin that sits on the 250 acre farm is believed to be Austin's, moved there in the '30's. So no Lincoln log cabins to be seen-- not even where his grandfather, Abraham Linkholn, lost his life in an Indian raid! I must say that a lot of work has been done on Austin's cabin and the ranger at the Birthplace told me that the site is staffed in summer now and there are plans to cultivate and plant that beautiful field between the knob-like hills and along the creek with plants that Abe and his father would have tended. I think that will be really nice--especially since this road was, during his time there, the main road between Louisville and Nashville and many a group of slaves was marched along it. Lincoln claimed that one of the reasons his father chose to leave Kentucky was because of the use of slaves there. After that small does of history we continued on our way to Bardstown and stopped at Heaven Hill Distillery to taste their wares and have Bill see their beautiful tasting room. We did not take a tour for I wanted very much to do that at Buffalo Trace with my favorite tour guide, Freddie. We were given two bourbons to taste--one a single barrel ten year old and the other Evan Williams single barrel 18 year old. What an incredible difference! The ten year old burns but with only four drops of water the burn is significantly reduced. Our leader said he pours it over two ice cubes and lets the ice melt as he drinks. That is how I drink it as well--I cannot imagine mixing a good bourbon with anything--just bourbon and branch. But, oh, the Evan Williams! Smooth as silk alone--a true sipping bourbon. And its price is indicative of its fineness! So we bought some honey, mustard, marinade and sorghum all fortified with bourbon and went on our way to the Quality Inn. Our plan was to eat at Dagwood's, an elegant restaurant on the main street of Bardstown where Barb and I enjoyed Elijah Craig marinated rib eye served on a barrel stave, a wonderful soup and salad bar, and a delightful character waiter who was a McCoy of the Hatfield and McCoy feud. I could not find it in the phone book or on-line and so I called the Chamber of Commerce--the lady who owned it has died and though the family tried to keep it going for about a year without her cooking the place just withered and they closed. OHHHHH! She suggested several other places and we drove up and down looking for another I'd seen in the phone book only to discover it empty and shuttered, too. So off we went to Applebee's where the food is good and the place usually friendly!

If I Show You, You'll Have to Die!!!

Got up in Bowling Green and headed, not to the Corvette Museum, but to the Assembly Plant to see Henry Ford's innovation in action. ALL Corvettes are assembled in Bowling Green but one cannot bring anything--purses, cameras, cell phones etc--into the plant--so I'll have to try to tell you, briefly, what it was like! I have never seen such a thing before, nor has Bill, and may I say, the organization makes me happy--this is the way I like to function. You can reach blindfolded for a bolt and it is right where it is supposed to be---yes, yes, yes! I am sure the jobs are as numbingly boring as being a Customs' Inspector but is also as financially rewarding. The synchronization of conveyor belts is awe inspiring--and the timing of their movement is wonderful. Each auto moves so that there is six minutes for the job to be done and then the car is gone and another is there in its place. Six minutes doesn't sound like much to attach two doors and all the inside lining of them but no one on the line was racing--they were not lazing about but they also were not rushed--sometimes, I suppose you could chase your car down but sometimes it was lifted above you and moving onto an entirely different addition, such as tires. The best part though, two belts at angles to each other--like two railroad lines coming together--one has the car and chassis and the other has the engine attached to the transmission etc --the engine one is lower and the car is coming in above --the engine assembly is moving upward and the car downward--so slowly it was almost impossible to see them coming together--but then they were "married" --each bolt hole and projection lined up exactly right for the worker to torque and tighten etc. It was the most impressive part for me although several people with us --most memorably the couple who looked like back-up country musicians from the 60's---liked the first starting of the engine---one lady actually did a windmill " dance" for the workman and then gave him numerous ' thumbs -up' when he just revved the thing to deafness. Then into a small garage like thing to REALLY rev that baby and test who knows what--green lines and numbers etc,etc, etc. Squealing of tires led to a couple of bumpy type pads to set the suspension system and then into a car wash sort of deal to make sure there were no leaks and then out the garage door to the test drive road, which we didn't see to listen for strange noises etc. Now, if there were noises that could not be identified the car comes back into another garage like room where it is twisted and bounced obscenely to try to find what the noises are. I laughed to myself when I saw one lady, dressed in office garb, using a feeler gauge type thingie to make sure the hood and body and doors and body have some esoteric space and no more between them. The tour guide waxed euphoric about the keyless entry and keyless start up --I commented to Bill--just one more thing to go wrong and require hundreds of dollars to repair--that is when helmut-coiffed artificial leather cum fur jacketed multijeweled country girl in front of us turned to say how wonderful these features are--since she and helmut-coiffed tweed jacket with leather elbows and tasseled loafer male escort own one. I said, as she looked me up and down, I'm sure! Well, we all choose how to spend our money--the cheapest Corvette is $57,000---which is fine, since I've never cared to own a sportscar and only was there to see what an assembly line is like. It could have been tractors or trucks that were being assembled--I just wanted to see Henry's idea in action! Being curious about the origin of the components being assembled here I emailed the lady in charge of customer relations--it would seem that the large components such as doors and hood and glass is manufactured in Ohio. She told me that the number of components is so great that a complete list of parts and origin is not available but that each Corvette has a sticker which shows the percentage of parts of US origin, Mexican origin and Canadian origin. I cannot remember what Customs required for a product to be called US made!I LOVED the signs in the parking lots on the plants property--for GM vehicles only--all others will be towed. Don't know how serious they are but offhand I didn't see anything but GMs! Anyway, not being lover of hot cars Bill and I skipped the Corvette museum and instead headed to the rib shop. OMG--the best ribs I've ever eaten in my life--I am ruined. The gentleman who ran the place sounded like the warden from Cool Hand Luke--'" What we have here is a failure to communicate." Can you hear him???? But he looked nothing like that weasely man and was actually quite nice.And then we moved on to Glasgow, Ky taking pix of lovely houses and strange pruning of some Southern trees and the way they sprout shoots from each pruning site to form beautiful canopies. I remember trees in France pruned that way! In Glasgow we met Kristy a really sweet young lady--who asked me if I thought Kentucky is Southern. I said yes, I consider Ky in the South--she said no, she thinks of it as Appalachia. Well, I had to agree but Appalacia is not one of the normal divisions of our country! I gave her and her brother, Ryan, the last of my 1000 pt vouchers. They with Kristy's twin sister are headed to Nashville tonight ( Thurs) and will fly to Mexico tomorrow for six days. I urged them to have a great time but to be careful. The next day we headed up to Mammoth Caves--where Bill took a three hour tour. At first, I don't think he was going because I really wasn't interested at all. I've been to Howe Caverns and Russell Cave and the magnificent Carlsbad Caverns and am fine on Caves. I knew he wanted to go and am glad that, once he realized I was sincere that I could entertain myself just fine, he took the Snowball tour. As he left the bookstore lady who heard our conversation took me under her wing to tell me that there were less strenuous tours but I assured her that I didn't want to go caving. So then she told me there was her bookstore, a typical souvenir shop and a Ky made craft gift shop in the complex. Also there is a cafe and a restaurant and if I didn't want to read in the car that the hotel lobby was cozy with couches and deep seated chairs and even a TV. Armed with all the possibilities I returned to the car to retrieve my book, Kate, a memoir of a Confederate nurse. While there I called my sister to check on her recuperation, which is going well, and read USA today. then I headed for the bookstore but since I wasn't a getting into spelunking I wasn't interested in any of the titles. So I moved on to the souvenir shop--where I had a lovely chat with the clerk who worked as a secretary at the University in Louisville for 20 years. When their son moved to Europe this summer she and her husband sold their Louisville home and she left a job she loved to move to their vacation home. She thought she'd be able to get a job at the University in Glasgow only to find they only hire alumni, of which she is not one. She's really sad and says hindsight is 20/20 and she is living in the backwoods and misses Louisville. I just bet she does--almost in Ohio and Indiana. Sad! From there I moved on to the Crafts store where there were many lovely things--baskets, pottery, jewelry and odd metallic sculptures made of scrap metal--all outrageously expensive. The lady there and I agreed that it is time to clear out our homes not add more stuff! By this time I was starving so I moved to the cafe where I had the Jack sandwich and enjoyed watching the old lady who only made one club sandwich at a time, painstakingly choosing just the right one leaf of lettuce that went on each layer, examining it thoroughly and cutting off any blemishes, imagined or real!The little blonde waitress was quite solicitous--almost think she was making a move on me--but not really sure. Wasn't uncomfortable or alarmed just perplexed and amused. And then I took myself to the lobby and ensconced myself on a couch to read--but looking at the clock realized that it was 1245 and Bill would be back at 1:15. At 1 he appeared in the door looking for me. So we walked back to the car and for the ride to Elizabethtown we had the stories of our day to share, including the fact that you could not take bags, backpacks, knapsacks, cameras etc in the caves. Because of National Security!!! WHAT??? Now, for the contest! I was taking a picture of a billboard when a tractor trailer obscured the bottom of the message. So the first one who emails me what Hell is_______ ( that is, fill in the blank correctly) I shall send a luscious pistachio cookie right from Eagle Ranch in New Mexico! Who says my emails aren't fun???? Didn't take many pix today though we went to Heaven Hill distillery today and explored several Abe Lincoln sites as well as chatted at length with a couple from Utica, but my fingers are tired so that will wait for another day! For now, a good night!

Winter Returns

And so this morning our two weeks vacation from winter has officially ended! I'm back into shoes and warm tops--49 degrees, windy, bitterly cold and gray. After we leave Ky I'll just sleep the trip back home away. I'm furious and depressed. But today was somewhat interesting--we went to Dover Tn to Fort Donelson. The pictures are pretty self explanatory but there are some other interesting notes to be made. About two years earlier, Grant and Buckner had gotten together in NYC as old friends and classmates from West Point. Grant was broke and depressed and Buckner lent him some money until his brothers could wire him funds from Galena, Ill. After the war, while Grant was ill and writing his memoirs, Buckner visited him to thank him for his treatment of the Confederates in every instance of their defeat at his hands. ( I wonder if he visited at Gansevoort, NY?) And when Grant died, Buckner was one of his pallbearers. Also Smith, who was under Grant's command at Donelson, had been an instructor of Grant's and Buckner's at the Point. Just two more examples of the strange entanglements that occured during this strange War. This battle was the precursor to Pittsburg Landing (Shiloh) and Gulfport which we explored two years ago. I purchased Kate--a memoir written by a Confederate nurse--to go with Company Haitch which I'd read after our Shiloh experience. It is a memoir of a Union infantry soldier, which was fascinating. Then we followed back roads once more into Kentucky and started moving Northeastward to Bowling Green. Along the way we came to a monument to rival the Washington monument--well, more like the Bennington monument!--marking the birthplace of Jefferson Davis. So now I've seen his birthplace, his home in Mississippi and his final residence on the Gulf. All without any planning at all! LOL Arrived at Bowling Green and met the desk clerk, an obnoxious hulk from New Berlin, New York with a very poor opinion of the City--just a rustic--what can I say? So now I'm going to read the end of my book and try to keep warm. I dread returning to Vermont--still cold, drab and miserable with just t mud season to look forward to. I've decided I don't like the East anymore. Well, good night