Category: Destination Unknown

note: so titled because I remember when there was a sign that read “Population 1” as you entered this little town with a big heart

Red (the official bear bait) and the Judge, were up and ready to go at the appointed time. We were going to explore Boulder country. The plan was to hike a bit, visit the waterfalls and drive deeper into the mountains. We might even eat at the Road Kill Café if it was opened that day. Our first stop would be the Post Office so we could mail our postcards back home.

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The girls had not experienced a one hitching post town before. I don’t think they believed me when I told them the little town at one time had a population of one, not counting the dogs. The town hasn’t been included in the past few census records, but there is one teacher and seven students, probably not all residents of the town proper, that attend the little schoolhouse by the river.

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It seems the Judge was fairly concerned about the eating part of our journey. She had enough cell signal to search her phone for “eating places in McLeod.” I told her there were no other places unless we stopped at a ranch house and joined them for lunch. She finally conceded and said, “The only place listed is the Road Kill. Why are there no other restaurants?” I told her, “Just wait and you’ll understand when we get to town.” About that time, I pulled off the road into an area where there was a house, a building that read, “United States Post Office”, with a flag flying in front, another building, and a camper or two behind the buildings. “We’re here.” “Where?” “This is McLeod.”

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They giggled as we got out of the car. I think the Judge finally understood. It didn’t take long to explore the town. We chatted with the Postmaster and enjoyed the historical photos and items on the walls of the Post Office. An old wagon on tracks sat in the front of the building beside the Post Office. We walked down the lane and crossed over the bridge. A cool breeze blew through the cottonwoods that stood close to the stream. The white schoolhouse trimmed in green sat to the left of the lane. It almost made me want to be kid again, able to grow up in a one hitching post town.

“Where are we going?” “It’s a secret!” The girls were surprised when my Jeep turned south. I think they were a bit surprised, too, when I pulled into the park of a neighboring town just minutes after our departure. Lunch was already spread out on a picnic table. My daughter had gone ahead of us and had everything ready. After a nice lunch, my granddaughter, Viv, joined us for the rest of our adventure and we were off again. 

We took some back roads to get to our destination – Barnsley Gardens. Santa checked us in at the gate. He was round and jolly with rosy cheeks and a red nose. The only thing missing was his red suit. It must have been at the dry cleaners that day. He asked about our visit and we told him we were on a “destination unknown” adventure. His belly jiggled when he laughed but he must have been impressed because he told us to drive on through, find a place to park and enjoy our visit. So, we did.

After parking, we walked to the office to pay for our tour. I got to the desk to pay and the attendants asked if we had paid at the gate. “No.” They looked a bit surprised and said, “Well, I guess the tour is complimentary. Just enjoy yourselves.” So, we did. We walked around the Manor House Ruins and Gardens. Spike provided our entertainment for the day. She fell off a tree and got slung out of a hammock. Of course, we laughed.

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I had one more surprise for the girls. They followed me to the Outpost. The girls looked at one another nervously when I stepped up to the counter and said I wanted to rent kayaks. The attendant asked if we had paid at the gate. “No. Can we pay here?” “There should be someone down by the lake.” We picked out lifejackets and paddles and headed toward the trail that led to the lake. As we crossed the wooden bridge, all we saw were kayaks and canoes. There were no attendants to be seen, so we called the Outpost to find out what to do and who to pay. They said, “Well, I guess it’s complimentary. Just enjoy yourself and kayak as long as you want.” So, we did. It was fun. We raced, laughed, splashed and enjoyed the relaxing scenery and calm water. Since we were on a schedule, we couldn’t stay as long as I would have liked. We headed to shore. Spike had more entertainment for us. She had an altercation with the kayak when she slipped, fell IN the kayak and busted her nose. When I got out of the kayak, I was soaked. My britches sloshed when I walked. The girls laughed because it looked like I had an accident.

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With our kayaks secured, we headed back to the Outpost to return our equipment. We had to cross the wooden bridge that was over a narrow part of the lake. Viv was about halfway across the bridge with me right behind her. The other girls were at the edge of the bridge. My granddaughter stopped and said, “Oh my!” Just a few feet in front of her was a deer. It pawed at the wooden bridge and put its head down. The deer was scared and had a crazed look in its eyes. It took a couple of steps closer. All of a sudden, the deer was standing on its hind legs with its front legs swinging madly in the air. I just knew it was going attack my granddaughter.  In one swift movement, the deer jumped. No, it flew! The judge, who had stepped onto the bridge, held her paddle up and slung it toward her daughter to protect her from deer and almost knocked the poor kid’s teeth out! The other two girls backed up out of the way. The deer landed right beside the judge and disappeared into the woods. It all happened so fast, it seemed unreal. We all started talking at once and laughing. Any of us girls will attest that deer really can fly. We all stood in amazement. My first thought was, “Man! I missed the perfect picture.” There was no time for me to grab my camera or my phone.  When we returned the equipment, we gave the animated version of our tale to the attendant then headed to our next destination.

If you have any doubt, let me just say that deer really can fly! I know because Grandma almost got run over by a running deer before it took flight. So Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!

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Lights twinkled all around me. The mantle was elaborately decorated with purple and pink round ornaments in garland laced with silver leaves. Splashes of teal, fuchsia, green and various colored ornaments and sparkly flowers completed the arrangement. It blended in with the wreath that hung over the mantle. A tree decorated in the same colors reached to the ceiling. Mirrors and a tall cabinet that served as a home for dolls were dressed in garland with colors to match the rest of the room. Visitors walked through the room admiring the festive decorations of Christmas.

As I reached the doorway to continue the tour, a lady walked in. Another woman was holding on to her arm as they entered the room. The lady began describing the room, starting with the huge colored garland over the mantel. It immediately grabbed my attention. Then I noticed that the woman to whom the words were directed was blind. As I stepped into the hallway, I heard her words of description giving minute details of the plethora of colors, the lights and even the placement of all the decorations. 

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I was touched by the lady’s enthusiasm to share the gift of sight to someone who had none. Not only did she have the opportunity to paint a picture for someone with unseeing eyes, but her own vision was expanded to every little seemingly insignificant detail. I also thought, “What a good friend!”  Were they family?  Was the woman born blind? Had she been able to see and lost her vision due to sickness or disease? I don’t know the answers. All I know is there was a house elaborately and elegantly decorated and someone took the time to take a guest to experience all the color, glitz, lights and atmosphere of the holiday through her eyes. 

I imagine the blind woman may have seen more through the eyes of the one who guided her than many who saw all the glorious sights with their own eyes. There is more than being able to see – it is being able to share your vision with someone else.

Hang on! We’re off! I gave the girls a few days to acclimatize before we headed to the mountains. Finally! They were going to see a place I had told them about for almost 30 years that I don’t think they even believe existed.

Cousin George agreed to take us up in his truck since we didn’t know how the river crossings would be. We met at the ranch, climbed in the truck and headed up the canyon. The girls were amazed at the views and I think a bit overwhelmed. It’s different being in the heart of the mountains than seeing them at a distance. That was the most wilderness they had ever seen. We had to open gates, ford creeks, and dodge rocks along our trail. We crossed the rocky flats and pulled into the yard at the old home place. Cousin George unloaded the four-wheeler and we grabbed our picnic lunch out of the back.

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I gave the girls a tour of the buildings, many of which were collapsed, and told them the significance and history of each. They drank from the eternal spring that I call, “the fountain of youth,” which is the best water in the world. We had our picnic in the cozy bunkhouse close to the woodstove that had already warmed up the place. 

The weather had not cooperated but that didn’t dampen our spirits. After lunch we jumped on the four-wheeler. Of course, I was the driver. The girls climbed on the back. They were layered in clothes but I think they discovered they could have used a few more. Since it was raining off and on, we put on our thin ponchos. We looked quite a sight! Those girls have traveled with me a few times. We’ve ziplined, driven Segway’s, kayaked, thrown axes, flown in planes, ridden on boats, rode horses, forded creeks, ridden on buses and other fun adventures. Having done all those things, a four- wheeler ride didn’t intimidate them at all. 

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The temperature had dropped quite a bit from the time we left town. It was chilly. No, it was cold. I failed to bring my gloves, so pulled my extra long sleeves over my hands to use as gloves. Off we went up the trail peppered by mist and occasional rain. There were a few puddles along the way. I revved the motor just like I was trying to pop a wheelie. When I saw a good puddle, I just happened to speed up a bit and hit it just right to make a good splash. We jumped over rocks, dodged roots, stopped and pondered the best route around obstacles in our path, and went as far as we could before having to turn around. On the way back, I stopped above the lake. The grass in the meadow was tall and green. Though the rain and clouds shrouded the view of the mountains, the lake still shimmered. Ripples danced on the water as raindrops pelted the surface. It was still a glorious day.

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The girls gasped when I pulled off the wilderness road into the tall wet grass. They have traveled we me enough to know that whatever I’m driving has a mind of its own and always manages to go off road. We were pretty much off road anyway. I could not resist riding through the mountain grass and wildflowers to give them a closer view of the lake below. Besides, it’s a tradition to take a photo at the old hay rake. When we were sufficiently wet, we headed back to the bunkhouse to thaw out a bit before heading back to town.

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Knowing the river wasn’t too high for me to cross in our four-wheel drive, we knew we would return to the mountains in a couple of days for another adventure with a picnic and bears!

Never having been to the great Northwest, the girls soon learned that everything was an adventure. I wanted to give the girls a few days to acclimatize before going to the mountains, so our first day was spent on the prairie. We packed a lunch and extra water. Before heading out the door, I grabbed a roll of toilet paper. “What’s that for?” “You always have to be prepared.”

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We headed out. The girls gasped and ooooed and aaahhhed at the scenery as views of the mountains and streams emerged. I turned off the dirt road onto a country lane, Sourdough Road. There had been several days of dry weather. Had there been rain, the road may have been impassable. That part of the country is nearly uninhabited except for cattle, deer and antelope that play, coyotes, prairie chickens, rattlesnakes and other critters. We saw spectacular views of three mountain ranges and prairie stretching for miles. Tall green and gold prairie grasses waved in the breeze. It looked like the tides of an ocean rushing toward the hills. We topped a hill, followed the road around a curve, and there before us was evidence of an old homestead. The old house with no doors or windows left intact and a few pieces of weathered wood from old barns, sheds and corrals are all that remain. We parked outside the fence and walked toward the house.

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The stories of the those who once lived there seemed to come to life as I shared some of my family’s history. The old plaster beneath the yellow paint is riveted with bullet holes. The floor in the house is missing many of the wooden planks. Cow manure, old bed springs, bird nests, broken plaster, and bones of animals that sought refuge in the house are scattered among the years of accumulated dust and dirt. There is just something about the place that brings a somber comfort. As we left the old homestead, we all looked back until it disappeared out of sight.

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Our road was definitely the road less traveled. Four wheel drive in gear, we started up the dirt road that was eroded down to the jagged rocks. There was nothing smooth about that road. I straddled deep ruts remembering the words of my mother, “If you get in a rut you’ll stay there for miles.” If we would have gotten into some of those ruts, we wouldn’t have been seen for a month! We took our time going through the prairie, stopping in the middle of the road to look or take pictures or to point out something of interest along the skyline. We had the road to ourselves, or so we thought. All of a sudden, a truck was on my tail. Where did that come from? I pulled over so it could pass. Two guys were in the truck. They drove slowly so they could look to see who we were. I pulled out behind them. They drove a mile or two then slowed down until they saw us pull through a rough spot. I thought they had disappeared for good, but when we neared the bridge over the river, they were right in front of me. Though we never exchanged words, I knew they were waiting to see if we three girls in the middle of nowhere could get through. Just before the bridge was a stretch of mud – gumbo as my mother called it. Deep. The truck floored it and fishtailed all the way to edge of the crossing. It slowed and waited. I sure wasn’t going to be outdone. I knew if I stopped part way through, they’d have to pull me out. I floored the Suburban, and we followed right in their path. I’ll have to admit, I felt a bit smug when my tires hit dry ground. I said, “So there!” We drove on. For the next several miles there were other bad stretches in the road, and every time, the truck in front of us slowed and waited. When we neared one of the county roads, the truck went on its way leaving only a trail of dust. It wasn’t long before we made a stop at one of the places my mom had lived with her family about three miles from the little community where she attended school, having to make that walk daily.

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At lunch time, I pulled off the side of the road. We kicked caked mud off the side of the Suburban and popped open the hatch with mud and dust falling to the ground. We divvied up the sandwiches, chips and cookies, sat in the back and had our lunch. Red and I needed our second bathroom break. I found a post to lean against and peed before God and anyone else, which was nobody. (We only saw two cars on our road across the prairie.) I should add that the Judge refused to use a fence post or to “squat.” So be it!

The next stop was the site of Cavill School where my mother taught in a one-room schoolhouse in the ‘40’s. A plaque commemorates the teachers and students that attended school there. A Giant Stride is all that is left of the school grounds. Our round trip through the prairie was around 100 miles in distance, but it took about eight hours. By the time we got back to town, we were ready for our evening meal.

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Back at our cabin, we recounted our day’s adventures, complete with animation and a bit of exaggeration, to our host. The telling of tales is part of the adventure. It had been a great day of new sights for the girls, grand adventures and laughter. They even discovered why I carry toilet paper.

We were a little late leaving because we had to wait on the Judge. We loaded the back of the Jeep and started out on our first overnight adventure together – Red, the Judge and me. 

I had wanted to be at our destination before dark. The girls had no idea where we were going, and by the time we got there I wasn’t so sure myself. According to the GPS, we were at the right location. Finally, I saw the unlit sign, and we pulled into the drive and stopped at the fence. It was dark. It was quiet until we thought we heard the sound of dueling banjos drifting out of the Appalachian hills. A flashlight approached with a lady on the other end of it. She waved, so I got out of the car. “Park over there, and get your stuff.” I did.

The girls were a bit edgy as we opened the gate and started across the front yard. There were a few lights on in the house, but we walked right past it. In the dark, I could see the whites of the girls’ unblinking eyes. They asked, “Where are we going?” “Right over there.” I pointed to a barn.

The lady opened the door, and we stepped into the tack room. We were met with the smell of leather and saddle soap. It reminded me of my uncle’s tack room. Saddles were propped on stands. Bridles, reins, ropes and other items hung on the walls. Two sets of bunkbeds were pushed against the wall, and a nice bathroom complete with custom toiletries was off the other side of the room. We hauled in our luggage then headed to town several miles away for supper at Woodbridge Inn. It was worth the trip. 

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I took a top bunk, and the girls took the bottom bunks. We turned out the lights and got settled in for the night when we heard scratching noises outside the door. Red said, “What is that?” I suggested that she go open the door and see, but for some reason she declined. Whatever it was finally quit, and we dozed off. In the night I woke up. The mice above my head were having a big party. They romped and sang and danced. I think they even invited some squirrel friends or other critters. It sounded like the ceiling would fall in around me. As morning got closer, they quieted down so I could get some sleep.

I was up and ready to go early. As is my custom when on a trip, I get out the door fairly quick with camera in hand. That’s the best time to explore and see the world shake off the night and morning arise from sleep. We headed over for breakfast in the old farmhouse, and it was a feast. The house was absolutely fascinating, and the hostess gave us the history of the farm along with stories of the family. After our meal I said, “Are you girls ready for our next adventure?” Questioning eyes looked at me. They looked out the window and saw the ranch hand saddling horses. “We’re not going to ride horses, are we?” “Yep, that’s what we’re gonna do.”

There are some scenes that will be stuck in my mind forever. One is that guy trying to get Red on her horse. That little helmet was pushed down on her head with her red curls poofing out the sides. It was obvious she was nervous, and the horse knew it. That is a recipe for disaster.

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We started off at a leisurely walk. The tails of horses swished back and forth, and the saddles squeaked as leather rubbed against leather. The guide and I were up ahead. Red’s horse would stop and refuse to move. I turned my horse around and hollered, “Kick him. Kick him in the flanks.” The Judge tried to encourage her to make the horse go forward. Our guide led us down a side trail. He went down a bank and crossed the creek. I was right behind him. Red was next. She got to the top of the bank, and her horse refused to go down. The Judge was right on her tail, literally. I said, “Kick him.” Red tapped him with her heels, and he backed up. “Loosen your reins.” She pulled tighter and tighter. The tighter she pulled the more he backed up until both horses were in the bushes. The guide said something in Spanish, went back across the creek and rescued Red’s horse out of the bushes, thorns and brambles. So much for our scenic ride on the other side of the creek. We took a less restricted route back to the barn. I even got to gallop as we rode across the open pasture. 

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For a few years, our adventures had been limited to Red, the Judge and me. Spike never had the opportunity to go with us. Spike is Red’s cousin and a distant cousin of the Judge. This was her first trip with us.

Every day or two Spike asked, “Where are we going?” She had to learn the drill. “It’s a secret.”  It’s called “destination unknown” for a reason. I tell the girls when we’re leaving, an approximate time for return, their portion of the cost, and what to pack on our adventure. I also give a general itinerary laced with a few hints without divulging locations or activities. In order to expand their horizons, there is usually an activity they wouldn’t do otherwise.

This trip KaKa, Maud, and Viv went with us. We loaded up and headed east. My Jeep seems to have a homing device that goes toward the mountains. About 40 minutes into the drive, I turned onto a little road that wound through the hills and farms that dotted the countryside. It seems an unlikely place for a restaurant, but we found it as advertised on the side of the road. We ate, talked and laughed before heading off again. It wasn’t long before we arrived at our destination. The curvy driveway was up a steep hill. We got settled in before going to supper. 

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The next morning after breakfast, we started out for a day of adventure. It seems the girls have an attraction to bears. We hoped we would see a bear on our trip. Well, we were driving down the road, and I caught sight of a little bundle of fur rolling down the steep bank. I slammed on my brakes. It was a baby bear. It scrambled up the bank, but the little guy kept rolling down because it was too steep. Soon it turned and ran across the road to the other side.

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Our first stop was Tallulah Gorge State Park. We hiked down the trail a bit and decided there would be just enough time to walk to the bottom. Boy, that was a mistake! Red and Spike decided not to make the downhill hike. They knew what went down had to come back up. They sat on a bench along the path and waited. The rest of us went down, down, down. We checked the time. Uh-oh, time to go. We went up, up, up. The more we climbed, the slower we got and the more we huffed and puffed. The Judge decided to crawl up the flights of steps.  I wondered if we would have to call the rescue squad to fetch her out of the canyon. We finally made it with the help of KaKa going back to encourage the Judge along. We headed to our next adventure. 

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We had a few minutes to spare so stopped at Old Sautee Store. We had the best cheese, crackers and homemade root beer while we looked at all the old farm implements displayed on the walls and counters in the old country story. A few minutes after leaving the store, I pulled into a parking lot. The sign said, “Winery.” I drove beyond and pulled into a gravel lot, parked and got out of the car. A big sign read, “Zipline.”  The Judge grinned at me. Red and Spike got out of the vehicle they were in, and they both looked at me and shot me with daggers. Spike said, “We’re NOT going to zipline, are we?” My response was, “Yep, you are.” I thought, “She’ll never go on another adventure with us,” and I wasn’t so sure Red would either. The Judge and my other companions thought it was a great idea.

We got our harnesses and equipment on, climbed into a beat-up miniature bus and headed up a rutted red trail. At our first platform we got our instructions and climbed the ladder. There were still some evil looks at me, but no one dared to retreat. By the second zip, Red relaxed a bit and even laid out midway through the flight. Spike still wasn’t too sure about it. After the last platform, we decided we would take the Big Zip Intimidator that’s half a mile long. Red was game, and Spike only consented because she knew Red wouldn’t leave her behind. Well that was it! Spike spread eagle and flew through the air like she had done that all of her life. She was hooked! 

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I’m proud to say that Spike had a great adventure. She has even gone on other adventures with us. Now she wants to know when we’re going ziplining again and asks, “Where are we going next,” to which I respond, “It’s a secret!” 

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