A Tennessee Life

The Base Bathed In Sunshine - Part 2

2012-01-29T18:27:00.000-08:00

After leaving LC's favorite fishing cove I rode up and down the rolling hills of the paved road in front of me, enjoying the effort and enjoying the views of Woods Reservoir that appeared on a regular and satisfying basis.

I remember the year I began adventure racing, happily telling my triathlon training partner at one point that I was now running the same distance that only the year before I had been biking.

Now I am biking the same distance that I used to be running.

As they are apt to do far too frequently, the realizations of how much has changed for me both physically and professionally over the past couple of years again violently and unexpectedly infiltrated my brain.

I quickly fought battle with the negative speak, knowing that it was both pointless and destructive.

I was on my bike at that moment. Happily alone. On a beautiful day and in a beautiful place.

I continued along rolling hills determined that my overactive brain would not throw a dark cloud over all that was good on this day.

At the top of one hill, across from the gate leading to military personnel family quarters is one of many entrances to the mountain bike trails.

This particular entrance was a wide open, gravel, sometimes even and sometimes rutted out, jeep trail.

I headed down the trail uncertain of where I wanted to go, alternately debating the merits of picking up single track vs staying on the multitude of jeep trail and horse trail and double track arteries that tie together the complex single track system.

In the end I did neither.

While still wandering I came to an intersection.

As I approached this large water hole - left over remnants from more days than not of rain over the past few weeks - I slowed down to listen to the sound of the bullfrogs.

They were loud and singing vigorously and I smiled because I had also heard the same singing while trail running the other day.

I liked the sound. I liked them being here.

As I got to the water though the world instantly became silent.

They must have sensed that I was a danger to them.

Stupidly, and like a little kid, I unclipped from my bike, stood it up against a tree, and walked over to the water.

There was only water.

No frogs or bugs or other little critters chirping and singing.

Just water and quiet.................

Scenes from the jeep trail.................

As I continued riding I bypassed one more jeep trail on my left, knowing that it was a long road that unexpectedly climbed its way onto grassy single track that eventually dead-ended deep into long grass.

Continuing on the same wide open trail that I had started on I soon found a gravel road veering to the right.

I knew where it led and took it, eventually popping out onto paved road again close to the ramp where LC and I put in the fishing boat.............

Since I have already taken many pictures at the boat ramp before (and will take many more in the future) I bypassed the ramp and pulled off the road once again when I saw this open place.

I really did have an unnamed need to be close to water on this day, and stood straddling my bike for a few moments while I snapped this picture.

Continuing on.................

As I approached a dead-end, I had planned on turning off the paved road and stopping at a bridge for a while, before turning right onto one more paved road and slowly beginning to work my way back towards UTSI.

When I first saw him he was a couple of hundred yards away from me, across the road, across a grassy field and standing on a walkway.

I thought at first that he was a dog and was only partially interested in his unexpected appearance.

As I continued slowly riding and slowly closing the gap between us though I paid him more attention.

And then finally, at the STOP sign, I stopped riding.

He was motionless and looking intently at me, still at least 100 yards away from me.

I climbed off my bike and unceremoniously dumped my bike into the grass, never taking my eyes off this animal that I had come to realize was a fox.

I zoomed my camera in as far as it would zoom in and began taking pictures.................

Leaving my bike in the grass I crossed the road, slowly so that I would not scare my new friend away.

I intrinsically knew that if I made any sudden moves he would be gone.

On the opposite side of the road I took a few steps onto the grass, stood in the shade of a very large tree, and again snapped a picture.

Entirely focused on the fox standing at the edge of the walkway I did not even see the two others in this picture until I downloaded these pictures.

I did not see the other two until they came running down the hill to meet up with the first, and when they did I smiled and was delighted.

They were perfectly wonderful.

And I think that the "he" was actually a "she"...................

I stood looking at this trio for a long time, certain that they would run away at any moment.

But they did not.

Rather, they seemed content to simply stand, sit, scratch, look over in my direction and remain on the walkway.

I continued to snap pictures and watch them, disappointed that I could not zoom my camera in any more but afraid to move closer to them and spook them.

After a long time I slowly walked back to my bike.

They were still on the sidewalk, and after I remounted I biked beyond the Dead End sign curious to see if there was a way to get closer to the side walk.

It was my only hope to get closer pictures.

There was!

But I got to it just in time to watch the last fox look at me and then turn and quickly run into the woods.

I was disappointed to realize that I had missed closer shots, but I had unexpectedly come across them on this day and that was a very good thing...............

Still smiling at my wonderful and completely unexpected encounter I headed back towards the lake.

I was having more fun than I could possibly express and my heart was light...................

I stood on the bridge (a place which is rapidly becoming a favorite of mine) and again, as I had done so many times on this day, looked out over the water.

A fisherman with hood pulled up tightly to protect from the wind on the water.

More leafless trees and some Christmas trees.

Endless blue water and blue sky.

The Cumberland Plateau.

I thought about the three foxes that I had photographed, and the four deer that I had seen near the base gate that quickly ran across a field and were gone into the woods before I could even think about digging my camera out from my jacket pocket.

Looking down into the water close to the bridge I wondered why there were three Christmas trees standing in the water and what was the deal with the plastic bottles?................

After showing the pictures to LC later, he believes that they were deliberately placed in the lake to draw in the fish.

The plastic bottles used to mark their location.

I guess that makes sense.

But how do they keep the trees standing upright?..............

Leaning my bike against a tree I stood on the bridge and looked over at the small point on the opposite side of the cove.

The water was glistening.

It was sparkling and every color, in this predominantly colorless time of year in Tennessee, was vivid and rich................

The gate to nowhere...............

The University of Tennessee Institute.

The campus is beautiful.

Surrounded by trees and grass and water and endless Tennessee sky.

The main educational building is a smoked glass filled, horseshoe shaped building.

As I approached the campus again after a long morning of quiet adventure I took the driveway to the left, wanting to once more head down to the water before heading back to my truck...............

Close to the water on the left side of the building are many wonderful small features that make the grounds a relaxing and picturesque place...............

I made one last stop on the way home.

All of the pull offs on the drive home lead to old flat abandoned roads that are used extensively by people such as hunters and people such as this bike rider and runner................

Nature is always lovely, invincible, glad, whatever is done and suffered by her creatures. All scars she heals, whether in rocks or water or sky or hearts...........John Muir

The Base Bathed In Sunshine - Part 1

2012-01-28T19:08:00.000-08:00

The day was unbelievably, wonderfully, absolutely blue.

Warm but also cool and windy.

With LC scheduled to run errands in town I got geared up in bike clothes, grabbed my mountain bike and eagerly headed to the base.

The recreational areas of the Air Force Base are always excellent, but on days such as this they are outstanding.

As I headed down the two lane Wattendorf Highway (that extends from Tullahoma through Arnolds AFB, crosses over Interstate 24 and circles around to the very small town of Hillsboro) I debated where exactly I wanted to bike.

The mountain bike trails were muddy but rideable.

There were old roads and trails near the golf course, more old roads and trails across the highway that still hold the remnants of many old buildings from the time when this area was huge and known as Camp Forrest during WW2.

On a day that was so beautiful - so clear - and so radiant - I decided that I wanted and needed to be close to water.

I drove past the turnoff for the mountain bike trails and instead headed towards the UTSI Campus where I spent so much time many years ago, while I was in training for triathlons.

In back of the campus is student housing and then beyond that is a small paved parking lot for those using the boat dock and beach area.

After pulling into the parking lot (which was empty except for one blue sailboat that has been hibernating in the lot for the winter) I climbed out of the truck and stood looking out over the water.

Woods Reservoir was completely blue and completely quiet.

I was alone in this place, even on such an outstanding day, and I smiled to myself in that knowledge.

Heading down towards this picnic shelter I heard the crunch of my bike cleats against the pavement and cringed.

That wasn't good for my cleats and as I walked I searched for a route in the dirt.

I stood for a moment looking down at my pitiful old bike shoes.

They are very old and very worn and have holes in them.

In fact, ever since I got caught up in undergrowth while bushwhacking around old buildings on base a month or so ago the entire front half of my right shoe has separated from the soul of the shoe.

Listening to the crunch of my bike cleats on the pavement as I walked reminded me of how dead these shoes really were and as I looked down at these old friends that have served me so well for so long, I made the instant (albeit belated) decision that today was the last day I would wear them.

I have other bike shoes.

Girlie light blue ones that are in good shape.

Black ones exactly like the ones I wore today that are brand new and still black and without holes, and that have been sitting in their box for the past few years.

Yup. It was time for them to go.

Goodbye old friends.................

Cleats grinding and then digging into the grass that is very soft from all the rain we have had, I finally headed down to the shelter.................

Standing beside the shelter I looked to my right, enjoying the quiet and relaxing view of the top of the boat dock and the calm lake that was blue and glistening in the sun.

I took a deep breathe and smiled to myself, knowing already that I was going to be riding and walking and picture taking for a long time today...................

A view of the lake and boat dock - taken from underneath the picnic shelter.............

I cannot look at this little wooden boat dock without remembering all of the times I swam from this boat dock while I was training for triathlons.

Always with my training partner.

Always heading first to the right, turning back at a cove, swimming back the way we had come, passing the boat dock, and then turning back again when we reached the first cove to the left of the dock.

It was a mile in total.

And then we would sit on the dock catching our breath before getting geared up to either run or ride.

This boat dock holds a lot of memories.................

Benches surrounding three sides of the roof of the boat house.................

Standing on the roof of the boat house I again looked at the view in front of me.

A lot of sailboats and power boats use this lake in the summer, but today the water was only quiet.

I looked across three or four coves and could see the sailboats that hibernate there for the winter.

In only a few months there will be many more boats.

In a few months this water will not be so quiet.

Today I relished in endless beauty and forever quiet................

The little blue sailboat that has been parked in the corner of the lot throughout the winter..............

And two other small sailboats that have also been parked in the same place for months now..............

After spending far too much time wandering close to the parking lot behind the campus I was eager to ride.

As I slowly rode away from my truck, slowly rode along the back and then the side of the main UTSI building, and then turned left off campus I suddenly realized how windy it really was.

The wind was cold and so was I, and I really hoped that once I warmed up and headed into various coves that the wind would calm down.

First stop was a girl scout camp that predictably was quiet for the winter.

The last time I had visited this campground a base police office pulled in right behind me, smiling and friendly but curious who I was and what I was doing.

Thankfully I looked and sounded non-threatening and he encouraged me to ride down to the water to take pictures.

Thankfully no such encounters today.

I pulled off the gravel driveway and onto the brown grass and stood straddling my bike, drinking water from the bladder that was nestled in the back of my pack, and looked over the scene in front of me.

I thought briefly of the boy scout beach in Juneau, which is a place of unparalleled beauty.

Nothing will ever be able to compete with that.

But this was no slouch either, and I was content to be in this beautiful place.

A place that is welcoming of me.

I headed down towards the beach................

There is a short trail to the right of the dock and the cabins and (after parking my bike underneath one more picnic shelter) I walked it, curious to see where it led.

Eventually it leads to a rough and rugged and unkempt wide open trail, circles back towards the road and eventually dead-ends just before the road.

As I was heading back towards the campground I saw this sign.

LC and I had seen it from the water the last time we boated this way.............

Climbing down the embankment I snapped this picture.

From this sign all the way to Tims Ford Dam is closed until the end of the month so as to protect water birds..............

After retrieving my bike I road across the grass close to the water and picked up a small and easy-to-ride trail that I knew would eventually take me to LC's favorite fishing cove.

At least it was his favorite fishing cove until we got the boat a few months ago.............

After taking pictures of geese and mountains and water and trails I noticed this bobber stuck in the branches of a tree.

They are a common sight in this area and I smiled when I saw it, imaging yet one more fisherman getting his line tangled in the tree, fighting to get it out and then reluctantly cutting his line.

It was a welcome and colorful sight and I snapped a few pictures of it, trying without much luck to get the bobber centered in a picture while it happily swayed in the wind...............

I had been so focused on the bobber that I was surprised when I realized that I had completely missed the fact that the bobber was attached to a lure that was caught further up in the tree.

After snapping one more picture I made the quick decision that I would retrieve both items for LC.

The question was how.

The lure was a good 10 feet above me.

The bobber was lower down in the tree but was tied into a branch that extended out into the water................

It took a few tries and a long branch, but one partially wet foot later I had them, and happily stuffed them into a compartment of my pack.................

Today the world was an endless and beautiful place................

I had been out for 90 minutes or so and had very happily not run into even one more person.

I did not want to run into anyone.

Instead, I wanted to continue to be alone with myself and my thoughts and a day so beautiful it took my breath away.

I would be out for another couple of hours as it turns out.............

This grand show is eternal. It is always sunrise somewhere; the dew is never all dried at once; a shower is forever falling; vapor ever rising. Eternal sunrise, eternal sunset, eternal dawn and gloaming, on seas and continents and islands, each in its turn, as the round earth rolls...........John Muir

Bedford County Courthouse (Shelbyville)

2012-01-27T16:41:00.000-08:00

The Bedford County Courthouse is located in the center of the lovely Shelbyville town square.

It is huge, historic and very beautiful.

These pictures were taken today.................

I finally received an email from my youngest son who is working at a ski resort outside of Manitoba Canada right now.

A one line email telling me that he is fine and that it is -49 degrees right now.

He spent a couple of years while in the Air Force alternating between New Jersey and Iraq.

From 110 degrees in the desert to -49 degrees in the mountains.

So is the life of my youngest child..............

If I have a monument in this world, it is my son..........Maya Angelou

Fishermans Park Dam (Shelbyville)

2012-01-27T15:00:00.000-08:00

LC, Jamie and I were in the small town (population 16,000) of Shelbyville this morning.

Located only 15 minutes drive from Tullahoma, Shelbyville has never been one of my favorite towns.

It has a pretty downtown square and beautiful central courthouse, is the location of the Tennessee Walking Horse Celebration each summer, is the home of many very large horse farms, and is a way-point on the way to many other towns and cities if you don't want to drive on the interstate.

Shelbyville however, is also home to a large Tyson Chicken Factory, many Mexican immigrants. many budget restaurants, used car lots, discount chain stores, liquor stores and instant-loan joints.

A lot of the town is very run down and neither LC nor I like it very much, and yet we found ourselves there this morning.

After quickly finishing up errands we were both ready to leave and begin making the drive back towards Tullahoma.

And then we came to this place.

I looked to my right and saw that the raging Duck River was much higher than usual, and when I asked my Mountain Boy to turn into the parking lot he happily obliged.

I had never stopped here before.

Had always simply driven by this very small park many times, always eager to simply pass through Shelbyville as quickly as possible.

All three of us climbed out of the truck, and LC and James walked in one direction while I wandered in the opposite direction eager to be close to the water..............

After happily snapping pictures of the very fast moving river I looked over at this empty building that sat partially in the water and partially along the shore.

It was obviously long-ago abandoned, and it greatly intrigued me in that same way that the old abandoned Treadwell Mine buildings did in Juneau.

There was history here. I could feel it in the lines of the building...............

As I was still snapping pictures of the river and the old building I heard LC call my name.

I looked over at him and could barely hear him above the sound of water rushing over the dam, but thought I caught the word "log".

I headed that way.................

As I approached my guy and my dog, LC pointed towards the river and I saw two very huge logs continually churning in the froth of the white water.............

I alternated taking pictures of my surroundings with watching the two logs in the water.

They were caught in a perennial washing-machine and I was momentarily mesmerized by them because what was happening in front of me at that moment had been one of my biggest fears while paddling white water in the past.

The fear of getting pulled into an area of the river that contained multiple strong currents coming at you from different directions.

Having the currents violently toss you around so that you don't know which way is up.

Trying to swim out of the current only to have it violently suck you back in.

As I stood on shore watching the logs I saw them time and again get sucked back towards the falls, pushed underwater, pushed violently back to the surface.

They (for all intents and purposes) stayed in exactly the same place in the river.

Making no progress whatsoever downriver.

Pulled back. Pushed down. Pushed up.

Rinse and repeat.

Logs. Or a person. It would be exactly the same result. Only eventually a person would get too tired to fight the conflicting currents..................

As I continued to stand along the shore this elderly man pulled his fold-out metal chair close to the edge of the dam and was soon throwing in his fishing line.

I smiled as I watched him engrossed in tying either a lure or some bait to his hook ............

As we continued to wander along the shore LC and I both saw people walking their dog on a paved path on the opposite side of the river.

Wanting to take pictures from the walk way and wanting to more closely inspect the old and abandoned building, LC and James and I all loaded back into the truck and went in search of a road leading across the river.

We unexpectedly found this building - and this very wonderful and colorful artwork on the exterior of the building - in our travels..........

In the midst of a too-busy-too-tacky town, this small and pretty park was an undiscovered and quiet gem.

I was very glad that we had found it, and we all three walked along the paved trail towards the strange building, eager to see it up close................

Yes.............there is the earliest signs of growth on the trees.

I noticed it yesterday on the trees in our backyard and then really noticed it a lot on the trees at the park today.

Early growth in Tennessee is not uncommon.

Seeing buds on the trees or early blooming daffodils in late winter is something that happens often in the South, because of the continually shifting weather fronts coming through the region from either the Gulf Coast or the Rockies or from Canada.

And without fail these plants will have started blooming too early and we will get snow or ice or simply freezing temperatures again that sends these plants back into hibernation for another few weeks.

But that kind of thing typically happens in March.

Not January................

I really like this picture...................

The Old City Dam aka Fisherman's Park Dam on the Duck River. One of only three small dams that remain between Shelbyville TN and Columbia TN.

Built in approximately 1915, Shelbyville Dam on the Duck River in Shelbyville, Bedford County, TN was an early power producing plant. In 1939 TVA acquired the plant and operated it until 1948. Since that time it has been abandoned.

My very patient Mountain Boy walking with a very happy dog while I inspect the old power plant.............

It may be too early, and maybe all these budding trees will go back into winter hiding soon, but this picture reminds me that spring really is not very far away...............

We spent a long time at the park.

Happy that we had surprisingly found it.

Happy to be outside and beside the water, on a day with warm temperatures and a clearing sky.

We left the park and drove to the downtown square to take pictures of the courthouse.............

Angel At Sunset

2012-01-25T17:12:00.000-08:00

Angel at Sunset

By Yundi Aditya

I was reluctant to go, agreeing only after a lot of coaxing and convincing. Although, it is probably more accurate to say that I agreed to go out of guilt and a fear of looking terribly antisocial if I refused.

So, there I was sitting in the backseat of one of my office friend's car between two coworkers I hardly knew, though they were keen on us "all being friends".

But I could not hide my discomfort and though they talked almost nonstop throughout the journey I would respond with little more than grunts and a yes or no or the occasional "hmmm maybe". I just was not in the mood for small talk and really could not hide it.

I preferred to look out of the window and see the rice fields and hills as we glided by on a remarkably quiet road. Just the occasional bus being driven incredibly recklessly seemed to disturb the journey and so it was not long before we were in the coastal region and the massive Krakatua steel plant was looming large.

Now, I have been out to the east coast of Java numerous times before and usually I feel somewhat unhappy when getting the Krakatua steel site. After all, I am heading to the coast for some "sand, sea and surf" and so the last thing I really want to see is the destruction of that environment.

But on this particular journey the coastal, industrial landscape of the steel factory was interesting and appealing to my eyes.

The huge, endless conveyor belt that runs along the coast, it seems, for miles was now fascinating to me -- though I had seen it a dozen or more times before. The massive articulated trucks parked up along the way, presumably waiting to transport the massive steel output of the factory, no longer bothered me. In fact they added to the fascination of the area.

I was mesmerized by all this industrial paraphernalia and intensity and almost felt disappointed as it slowly faded from view and the coastal waters could finally be seen. The big factories became fewer and soon we were passing small beaches and a number of hotels and resorts.

The colorful signs inviting us to sample the "catch of the day" did not tempt us as we traveled on toward Anyer and its beach strewn with rocky outcrops.

The coastal road seemed long and was made hair-raising by the wild overtaking of the mini-buses that serve as public transportation. Finally the slender white tower of the Anyer lighthouse came into view and I knew we were close to our destination. We parked the car, checked into the hotel and I was glad to be able to take a shower and laze on the hotel bed for an hour or two; even if the mattress was sponge and uncomfortably thin.

We had agreed to go out later in the afternoon to walk on the beach at around sunset, so a siesta was all I had on my mind for the afternoon. I soon fell asleep and my sleep was deep. It turned out to be too deep. A knock at the hotel door woke me abruptly and for about a minute I was heavily disorientated and quite dizzy. I had been dreaming but I could not remember about what.

When eventually I made it to the door and opened it to see the beaming face of one of my coworkers I felt truly awful.

"Come on! Let's go, the sun is starting to go down," squealed the beaming face. I said I would take another quick shower to try to revitalize myself and then I would catch them up on the beach.

I got under the shower and turned up the water as high as it would go. It made no difference, I still felt sick to the stomach.

But again guilt and fear took the upper hand and so I made my way out to the beach to see if I could catch up with my colleagues. It was not difficult; they had hired body-boards and were running into the sea making a spectacle of themselves -- so much for a nice quiet walk at sunset on the beach.

This time I felt no guilt or fear, I was able to calmly say to them I did not feel up to messing about in the water and so would proceed up the beach for a quiet walk.

So I wandered on -- past screaming children and happy families at play in the sand and the soft surf of the sea rolling up onto the beach. Their happiness only seemed to make me feel more depressed and lonely.

Then I came to the rocky part of Anyer beach. Men and boys were fishing and busily exploring the rocks, almost like scavengers. The intensity of their searching made me curious too and so I began to look amongst the rock pools for whatever it was they were looking for. Small fish darted in and out of the rocks and this was evidently what the men and boys were after. Their small nets and plastic bags were filled with these tiny fish.

I stepped precariously amongst the rocks but then missed my step, stubbed my toe and practically twisted my ankle. I shouted out in agony but nobody seemed to look except one small girl. She was no more than 10 years old but looked at me not like a child but like a mature adult. Her hair was wet and her clothes were too but I had not seen her in the water before.

Her deep dark eyes looked at me with an intensity that almost seemed unbearable. It seemed as though she were reading my thoughts. She looked at me and frowned. There seemed, momentarily, to be a reprimand in her face as slowly she shook her head. But then she smiled at me and unhurriedly she raised her arm and opened the palm of her hand toward the sea.

Without saying a word she was telling me to look at the sea; look at the setting sun and to think. Involuntarily I moved my eyes and my head to look at the wondrous seascape before me. The sun was setting brilliantly on the horizon -- a golden orb distributing phenomenal colors all across the sky. The distant shapes of the islands were silhouetted in the vibrant glow. I literally bathed my body in this beautiful light and at the same time bathed my mind.

I was suddenly overcome with calm and a knowledge that everything was going to be alright. In this stunning scene I saw that all my worries and fears were but nothing and mere distractions from what really mattered. This little child had shown me that. I turned back to look at her again, to thank her, but she was gone.

She could not have escaped my view. Before she was standing amongst the rock pools and she could not possibly have run from them out of my sight. I asked the fishing boys and their fathers where the girl was, but they just looked at me as if I were mad and said "What girl?"

She was gone but was she really ever there? She was and she showed me something. She showed me the world and she showed me my life in it. I had been so busy living life that I was missing it. I was missing what really mattered. I turned to walk back to join my friends.

I kept looking back over my shoulder wondering if she would reappear but of course she would not. Her work had been done. In a moment she had changed me; in some ways returned me to whom I ought to be. My spirit had returned and I rejoined my friends a new person and began to appreciate them and all that I have and there is in this world. She was but a moment but she was so much.

I cannot explain her but she restored my belief and who can explain belief?

Short Springs Adventure - Part 2

2012-01-24T16:53:00.000-08:00

I spent a long time standing at the top of the waterfall, greatly enjoying the experience.

I had often wondered in the past if there was a trail overlooking the top of the falls and was excited and pleased that I had unexpectedly found it.

After taking a lot of pictures I eventually headed back up the small trail and again picked up the main trail that I had been following since setting out at Short Springs.

Not long after continuing on the main trail I looked to my left and could both see and hear the falls through the trees.

I again veered off trail and again worked my way through multiple low hanging branches and fought my way through far too many thorny briers.

Hoping to see the falls and too warm but thankful that I was wearing enough clothes to protect from the thorns.

This trip was turning into an exciting and adventurous hike and I was loving my time there.

I bushwhacked down the hill and found myself wandering close to the edge of a gorge.

Working my way through undergrowth I kept trying to get closer to the falls but did not seem to be making a whole lot of progress.

Stopping in the woods for a moment, I grabbed for my water bottle and as I took sips of plastic tasting water from a plastic bottle I looked down into the gorge wondering if there was a reasonable way to cross over to the other side.

Bushwhacking in ridiculously awful terrain was all part of adventure racing and I had done those kinds of gorge crossing, skin tearing, ankle turning, serious bushwhacking kinds of maneuvers many times in the past.

But on this day there just did not seem to be any point in it.

Still standing in the midst of dense woods I reluctantly but good naturedly decided that I would head back to the trail.

If there were places to reasonably see the falls I would find them. Or not.

This quiet adventure was something I was just taking as it came.

I had already spent time with rain-fed new creeks, bare foot creek crossings, and trails at the top of falls.

I eagerly continued on the trail to see what else I could find.................

Not long after I again picked up the trail it began to drop, and I soon found a small stream that crossed over the trail at its lowest point and that fed back into the larger creek.

At that moment I was glad to have made the decision to stop bushwhacking along the edge of the gorge, because that small stream did not only cross over the trail.

The trail dropped down with the terrain and then picked back up again on the other side of the stream, rapidly increasing in elevation up and out of the gorge on the opposite side.

I had unexpectedly found my easier route to the other side of the gorge..............

10 minutes later I pulled off the main trail and followed a smaller trail on the left.

And wonderfully found this ledge overlooking the creek.

I remembered this place.

I had been here before sometime in the past with LC, obviously coming in from the opposite direction..............

The falls in the distance and difficult to see through the bare trees.

Although this place will be magical when everything turns green again, I know that when that happens the falls will also be difficult (if not impossible) to see from the rock overlook where I took this picture.............

I remembered a very steep and root filled narrow trail leading down to tight single track, quickly found it, and (after finally pulling off my outer layer and stashing it into my pack) carefully headed down......................

The trail was very narrow, very uneven, with rock face to the left of me and a steep downhill to my right.

As I cautiously made my way along the trail I snapped these pictures of the falls through the trees...............

The cave I had seen and photographed while standing precariously at the top of the falls.............

The narrow trail was slick and filled with rock and roots, and I tried unsteadily to get better shots of the falls.

With so many trees this was the best that I could achieve, but I was still happy to have had the opportunity to see the roaring falls face on..................

A zoomed-in picture of bare trees in front of the fast moving and very loud waterfall...........

Heading back up the trail to the overlook I used both hands and feet to climb the steep hill..............

Continuing further along the main trail I felt like I was beginning to cover familiar ground.

I had been here before and remembered the steep trail and the steep down-hill drop-off to my left.

By the time I arrived in this place I felt certain that I would soon find a wooden bridge spanning the creek and if that was the case I was only 15 minutes from my truck...............

I stopped for a moment when I saw this sign because it was pointing back the way I had just walked.

No...........I was convinced that I knew where I was and that there was another route back to the parking lot.

So (as I seem to do so many times in my travels) I ignored the sign.

Only a few minutes later I came across a second Parking Area sign pointing in the direction I was traveling.

I was good to go..............

The sight of the bridge was anticipated, hoped for, and welcome............

I looked across the creek just to reassure myself that I was exactly where I thought I was and with satisfaction saw the very long, steep and uneven rock and log stairs that led up to one more trail that would eventually take me home.................

After crossing the bridge and before heading for the parking lot I on the spur of the moment veered onto one last and small trail called the Wildflower Trail.

There would be no wild flowers on the trail at this time of year but I had walked this short trail a couple of months before and knew that it led to a much larger creek.

The creek that I had been following for my entire hike would feed into this larger one and I wanted to see it.

Getting tired by this point I still eagerly headed that way................

A dormant brown crunchy fragile wild flower.

Beautiful and wild and rustic and I was glad to have found it...............

I cannot wait to see this place when the world changes from brown to green............

I really love these rugged steps made of rock and stone and lumber and tree roots.

They are beautiful, very steep and very challenging.............

About half way up the steps there is an old tree whose trunk is filled with letters and pictures and messages carefully carved into the bark by hundreds of people over many years.

I don't know why this particular tree (other than it is half way up and down the stairs so seems like a good place to stop for a moment to catch your breath) but there is something very special about it.

There is a heart carved into the tree down towards the bottom and looking at it on my way up the stairs I wondered who PG and KC were.

When was this carved? Why was it carved? Does PG still love KC??

I will never know and will always wonder.

A tree touched many times by the hand of man................

Looking up I still had a good number of steps yet to climb..............

On the last wide open and flat trail before reaching my truck I stopped for a moment at a wooden bench and looked down at it, expecting to see only more banal carvings such as those on the tree.

This caught my eye because it was such an extensive piece of work and curious, I moved closer to see what it said.

A religious passage.................

A face burned into the back of a wooden sign.

With no explanation of what or why.................

One last look at the creek.

This picture was taken close to the bridge by the steps and the last time I visited Short Springs I rock skipped down through this creek while making my way towards the waterfall.

There was too much water during this trip - a creek filled with the rain that has dominated this region for the past weeks.

I loved this trip to Short Springs.................

A link to a previous trip to Short Springs:

http://livingthejuneauadventure.blogspot.com/2011/10/short-springs-part-1.html

Short Springs Adventure - Part 1

2012-01-23T21:29:00.000-08:00

At 5am a few mornings ago Jamie (who usually sleeps at the end of the bed) woke LC and I up when she moved up to the head of the bed and promptly plopped down sideways in between us.

With her head on LC's hip and her butt pushed up against my shoulder I could feel her shaking violently.

Thunder was crashing outside and our pup was terrified and inconsolable.

The storm lasted for about 20 minutes but by that time we were up, and LC and I were drinking coffee while Jamie was sleeping happily on the couch in the living room.

The weather forecast called for a string of thunderstorms overnight last night, and by the time we went to bed there were tornado watches throughout Alabama, Georgia and Tennessee.

At 3am James again woke us up as she responded in fear to the thunder outside.

Thankfully it did not last long and when the storm had passed I kissed my dog on the forehead, talked reassuringly to her as I petted her, and then unceremoniously kicked her back down to the end of the bed.

It was a short lived storm here, but there were two deaths and many injuries down in Alabama overnight because of the storms and I keep shaking my head wondering why we are receiving such things when the calendar tells me that it is supposed to be Winter...............

With so much rain over the past few weeks this morning I drove to Short Springs Natural Area which is located close to the house, eager to see Machine Falls.

I expected the falls to be raging at this time of year and I hoped to find the trail that overlooks the falls so that I could take pictures of them.

Since arriving back in Tennessee I have been out to Short Springs twice.

Once I walked trail that led down to the falls.

The second time I ended up unexpectedly moving away from the falls and onto long and winding dirt and leaf filled trails.

Although I greatly enjoyed the hike I was never-the-less disappointed that I did not have a chance to see the falls.

Today I hit the trail entrance and wandered to the right for the first time, curious to see where I would end up.

I hiked and trail ran at Short Springs only a few times before leaving for Alaska and still do not know this area well, and today was the first time I had wandered in that direction.

A whole new adventure.

The huge water tower located across the road from the small gravel parking lot where I left my truck................

After the storms of last night the weather this morning was unsettled.

Mild. Too mild and disappointingly mild for this time of year.

Cloud and sun battled with each other for control of the sky and as I continued walking on trail I wondered which one would eventually win out.

About half a mile into my hike the trail turned sharply to the left and then equally sharply began to drop down into a gorge.

As I continued down the trail I could hear rushing water and as I found myself at the bottom of the gorge realized that I had unexpectedly found a fast flowing creek............

I stood for a moment beside the creek, surprised and delighted at my find.

After taking pictures of the creek in both directions I looked across the creek and realized that the trail continued on the opposite side.

Digging a water bottle out of the back of my pack I stood looking at the trail and water in front of me and then looking around me, considering my options.

Walking along the right side of the creek a short way I realized that there were no obvious shallow places to cross. OK - strike that option.

Walking back to the trail again I considered walking straight across in shoes and socks. My feet would get wet but it was not cold outside and they were just wet feet.

I looked more closely at the raging creek in front of me and could see the gravel on the bottom for the first half of the crossing, but could not see the bottom for the last half.

Another option was to head back the way I had come and pick up another trail. I quickly discounted that option.

The other option was too...........yeah..........that's what I would do.

I pulled shoes and socks off, rolled my pants half way up my thighs and headed across.

Rocks on the creek bottom were tough on the feet but after a minute of wobbly and careful crossing I happily found my way onto the trail on the opposite side.

Smiling to myself in satisfaction I sat down, took a picture of my bare feet and socks and shoes, wiped my feet off with the tops of my socks, got dressed again and continued further on the trail.

The ugly bare feet picture did not make it on to this blog..................

Pictures of the creek before continuing on............

I love this picture.

Very tall and dark bare trees against the backdrop of a variable sky.

It was warm and the blue sky was beginning to beat back the grey sky left over from the overnight storms............

I was on a trail that paralleled the creek and as I continued hiking I often bushwhacked down to the water to take pictures.

I was wearing two layers on top and by this point was warm enough to begin thinking about losing one of the layers.

But when I started bushwhacking I decided to continue wearing both of them for a little while longer.

Even though it is Winter and there is no real growth in the woods at this time of year I still found myself often getting caught up in thorny brier bushes and the clothing provided protection.

In another few months I will not be able to bushwhack at all without getting seriously torn up.

This time of year was my one chance to wander off trail and through the woods closer to the water.............

One of many streams running down from the hills that surrounded me, that crossed the trail and fed directly into the creek.

I was having a really wonderful and quiet and exciting hike, and again was thankful to have this place so close to the house............

Another half mile and I unexpectedly came to this sign containing an arrow pointing the way to a connector trail.

Again I reached for my water bottle and stood looking at the sign and then the trail I had been on, trying to decide which way I wanted to go.

The connector trail went downhill towards the water and I decided to head down there to at least take more pictures of the water.............

As I headed down trail I found this unexpected and sweet little bridge spanning the creek, and looked beyond the bridge and saw a long and winding trail leading smartly uphill............

Pictures taken while standing on the bridge............

While still standing on the bridge I again considered my options and finally decided that I wanted to stay on the trail I had started on.

Even though the trail across the bridge was all new territory to me so was the trail I had been on.

I decided to stick with the trail I had begun this journey on, curious to learn where it led and eager to know what else I would find.

I walked off the bridge and began the trek back uphill...........

Stopping for a moment as I trekked back up the hill to pick up my trail, I looked up at the sky and saw a long white jet stream playing out against the white and blue sky.

The trees around me were huge - probably 30 feet or more.

Ancient tall thin bare trees.................

As I walked further I could hear the sound of the water getting louder, and then louder still.

It sounded as though it was crashing and roaring and moving very fast.

I had no idea where I was.

Had never been on these trails before but knew the area well enough to know that Short Springs is a fairly contained area and that eventually all the trails hook up with each other.

I found a small and completely leaf covered and underutilized trail to my left and took it, wanting to find the source of the noise.

I was following the sound of the water.

Growth on the side of a long-downed tree on the side of the trail.............

The trail worked its way down hill and quickly opened up.

I stood along the shore and took in the scene in front of me and around me and smiled in barely contained excitement.

I had found my way to the very top of the falls.

Directly in front of me...............

And directly to my right.................

When I first arrived down at the bottom of the trail I found myself standing along the shore right up against the top of the falls.

After absorbing that fact and taking a few quick pictures, I slowly and carefully began to wander along the shore that paralleled the water until it dropped in a waterfall down into the ravine far below.

The shore then curved around to the right with nothing but air and drop off to my left.

I had never been to the top of a waterfall before.

Had never seen water rush over a cliff into nothingness, and it was incredibly beautiful and powerful and exciting.

I was excited and pleased and as I stood close to the shore and close to the nothingness stretching as far as I safely dared in attempts to look down below I thought of LC.

He would remind me to be careful. Remind me that dirt and rock along the edges of the cliffs could give way at any moment.

OK. OK. I hear you LC. I'll be careful.

And so went the conversation in my head.

The waterfall fed creek continuing its raging journey far below me...................

One section of the waterfall............

One of many rock faces across the gorge from where I was standing................

A cave below the rock face across the gorge from me.

I did not know at the time I took this picture that later in my hike I would find a trail that leads down close to this cave and the rock face in the picture above................

In the world of grey and brown that is Tennessee in the Winter, this lush and bright green moss was growing on the ground in all directions close to the waterfall..............

This small stream running down from the hills dropped quickly in a smaller version of the waterfall.

Dropped down between two rocks and quickly fed into the creek far below..............

One last picture of the raging creek crashing over the break of the falls.................

The End Of The Stories

2012-01-21T14:48:00.000-08:00

I had been floundering for a short while in a funk of unknown origin and earlier this week (after skipping runs for four or five days) woke up determined to head to the trails on base.

As it had been for much of the past few weeks, the weather was unsettled.

Temperatures were unusually mild for mid-January even in the South, and the forecast promised rain and possibly thunderstorms, and I really wanted to get a run in before the weather fell apart.

There is a common (only partially-joking) saying in adventure racing - start slow and taper off.

As my still funked-up mood prevailed I headed onto the trails and my body was slow to respond.

Stubbornly reluctant to get into a running groove.

As I continued to heavily trudge along the trails, and as my heart-rate continued to fly all over the map and refused to even out, I at some point decided that I would not look at my watch and would not push too hard.

I was running and I was on trail, and I figured that on a weatherly uneven day and temperamentally uneven day I would accept that as being good enough................

I was less than 3 miles into what was supposed to have been a seven mile run, and I still felt heavy, out of breath and out of sorts.

I stopped running-trudging for a few minutes and breathlessly looked around me.

I sucked on the tube of my water bladder, tried to slow my heart rate down and for the first time that day really looked around me.

The tree tops were swaying in the strong wind, and I could hear many of them creaking.

There are many downed trees in the woods that make up the extensive trail system at the base, and looking closely at one of them I was again surprised at just how shallow their root systems are.

I have been on these trails during all weather and in all seasons.

I have seen them filled with rain, with ice and with snow.

I have seen these trails when everything was green and lush and full of life.

When I was watchful for poison ivy and poison oak and snakes and tics.

When the mosquitoes were a pain and I was regretful that I forgot to spray down with both sunscreen and bug spray.

On this day there was only brown.

Against a seemingly endless grey sky, the woods looked bleak.

Bare trees standing in watchful and silent acknowledgement of my lone presence in their woods.

And a carpet of brown fallen leaves covering the ground in all directions................

I began running-trudging again and already knew that this run was not going to last for seven miles.

The single track trail I was on cuts across a wide grassy power line trail about 10 minutes into the run, and then cuts across a jeep trail around the 3 mile mark.

As I slowly continued I decided that I would veer off the trail at the jeep trail and pick up single track again at the far end of the jeep trail, effectively cutting about two miles from my run.

Mossy bright green growing out and up through a bed of fallen leaves..............

I stopped again at the jeep trail, again drank water and caught my breath, again realized that I had had better runs.

Pleased to be outside though, I wandered around this intersection while listening to the wind sometimes whistle and sometimes roar through the trees.

Warily I looked up into the sky and (although it is often difficult to tell while in the woods) the weather did not seem to be closing in..............

A quiet and unmaintained pine needle filled open trail located close to single track and jeep trail.

I looked down this trail and resolved to check it out again one day soon, since I had not traveled it since arriving back in Tennessee.

From previous trips I knew that it was a horseshoe shaped trail that eventually circled back onto the jeep trail...........

And one more pine needle filled quiet trail in this same area.

Another trail that I have not been down in a long while............

Feeling guilty for cutting miles off my run I never-the-less knew that it was the right choice.

The weather was increasingly unsettled and I wanted to get off the trails before the rain hit, but in truth some runs just go well and some are tough and that day was just tough.

As I headed slowly down the jeep road, working my way towards a trail entrance at the far end I snapped this picture deep into one of many pine tree sections of woods.............

I stopped one more time when I got to this place.

An increasingly grey sky and a large unkempt field adjacent to yet one more mowed power line trail.

One day a few years ago I was running single track, popped out of the trail and stood looking at this area stunned at what I was seeing.

The usually green and brown field filled with young pine trees, some hard woods and endless types of tall weeds had surprisingly turned into a world of yellow.

It was late Summer I think - maybe sometime in the Fall - an endless sea of tall and wonderful and very beautiful goldenrod.

I regret now that I did not have a camera with me because it caught me so off guard and because it was so stunning.................

Heading back into the woods and again running on single track.............

Holly is not abundant on these trails but it was a welcome sight the other day, and I happily stopped at the top of a very steep and long hill to take this picture............

I had approached this downed tree from the other end of the trail, and as I approached the obstacle had planned on turning right and simply running the last 1/4 mile to the trail head where my truck was parked.

On the spur of the moment I crawled underneath the log and continued running on the wide open and leaf filled double track.

I thought that I remembered it opening up to a large and wide open space that contained a structure used mostly by horse riders who also share these trails.

I had been to the structure after turning off single track and picking up a connecting trail a few months ago.

If this trail went where I thought that it did I was only a couple of minutes away from it..............

The structure where I have spent time in the past sitting and eating and relaxing after both runs and bikes.

I was happy to see it and happy to be able to wander down a dirt and gravel trail only a short way to my truck.

A tough run physically and psychologically.

But I also had the chance to be alone on these trails in a place that is a second home to me.

I ran again a couple of days later, still in the grey of the sky and the brown of the woods

Running better and stronger and faster this time but without taking time to stop or look around me or take pictures of where I had traveled.

The tough slogging run and the faster stronger run turned out, at the end of the stories, to both be good runs ................

Spoken about Roger Bannister, the first man to break the 4-minute mile.

One late afternoon, after swimming in a lake, he began to jog around to ease his chill. Soon enough he found himself running for the sheer exhilaration of it, across the moor and toward the coast. The sky filled with crimson clouds, and as he ran a light rain started to fall. With the sun warming his back, a rainbow appeared in front of him, and he seemed to run toward it. Along the coast the rhythm of the water breaking against the rocks eased him, and he circled back to where he had begun. Cool, wet air filled his lungs. Running into the sun now, he had trouble seeing the ground underneath his feet, but still he rushed forward, alive with the movement. Finally spent as the sun disappeared from the horizon, he tumbled down a light hill and rested on his back, his feet bleeding, but feeling rejuvenated. He needed to reconnect to the joy of running, to get away from the tyranny of the track.............

Cowan

2012-01-19T19:37:00.000-08:00

On the way back from Sewanee yesterday morning I drove down the mountain on winding and steep two lane road and headed into the flatter farm land near the very small town of Cowan.

Just on the outskirts of town I pulled off the highway and headed down a narrow side road until I quickly dead-ended at a cemetery.

Pulling the truck over onto the shoulder of the road I climbed out, walked over to the entrance of the cemetery and looked out over miles and miles of farm land that was surrounded by the hills and mountains that make up the Cumberland Plateau.

It was a raw, cold, windy and damp morning but I spent a long time standing there anyway.

Looking deep into the mountains I could see the back side of Templeton Library, and as I looked up at it I smiled because after many years I now knew what that strange looking building surrounded by trees on both sides actually was.

Looking up at it on a cold and cloudy day it looked ominous.

LC and I had solved the mystery of the mysterious building during a sunny day of exploration and discovery back in November.

And on that sunny day, looking at it closely while standing in front of it, it is a beautiful place.

I watched the large herd of black cattle standing and grazing and running in a field close to where I was standing,

Looking all around me, surrounding the brief hints of civilization, were the mountains and trees and open farm land that are all common sights in this part of Tennessee.

It was a beautiful scene and for a while I disregarded the cold, loving every minute of standing outside and alone............

From where I was standing down at the bottom of the mountain it looked very small, but knowing what this structure was I snapped this very zoomed-in picture.

A link to our visit in November when we unexpectedly found the Templeton Library:

http://livingthejuneauadventure.blogspot.com/2011/11/templeton-library-at-sewanee.html

I spent a couple of minutes smiling and focused on this cow who loudly and inexplicably decided to run back towards the rest of the herd after having grazed happily alone for a long time...............

By the time I climbed back into my truck I was freezing, and I dug around until I found a fleece hat and thankfully put it on.

Further digging was unsuccessful in finding a pair of gloves.

Turning the heat on full blast I drove only a couple more miles until I reached Cowan and pulled the truck into a parking space at a gas station slash convenience store.

The gas station (slash convenience store) was across the road from a series of structures and interesting features that I wanted to see, and that were all clustered close to the railroad tracks.

The tracks in Cowan run directly through the center of town (as they do in so many other small towns in this region) and effectively split the town down the middle.

And as with so many other towns in this region, I have driven through Cowan more times than I can remember yet have never stopped at it.

In fact I HAVE actually stopped in Cowan twice over the years.

Both times while riding a road bike.

Both times in the middle of a century road ride and both times stopping with groups of other riders outside another small convenience store to be fed home-made cookies that were baked by members of a local Boy Scout troop that was supporting the ride.

But hungrily scarfing down home-made chocolate chip cookies before remounting and heading out of town with many more miles still yet to ride, is not the same as taking time to actually see and enjoy the town.

And so yesterday morning, with a warmer head and still cold hands, I walked parts of Cowan.

A sign for the railroad museum.

I snapped this picture and then happily followed the arrow.............

Heading towards the museum..............

After stopping frequently to take pictures of sights I found around the huge grassy area the makes up this railroad-centric downtown square, I finally made my way to the museum.

It was a lovely, well kept, colorful, small town facility that I quickly realized was closed.

The sign outside the museum told me that the building was closed until May.

Information about the engine that was silently parked in back of the museum:

The Town of Cowan, located east-southeast of Winchester, the county seat of Franklin County, developed around the N&C railroad station in the early 1850's when this little Tennessee village was a passenger stop on the main line between Nashville and Chattanooga. It also was a spur line for rail service to Tracy City, Sewanee and Monteagle, and a base for the Cowan-Sherwood Pusher District. A pusher engine was a helper engine that gave assistance to the overburdened locomotives as they ascended the Cumberland Mountain to reach the tunnel. Cowan was the last stop before approaching this tunnel. It is 2,228 feet in length and one of the earliest and the longest in the state. This tunnel is indispensable to rail transportation and serves the CSX Railroad today.

A quiet residential side street close to the museum.............

After taking pictures close to the museum I walked behind the closed facility and worked my way across to the other side of the tracks..............

One more bright red caboose.

That makes four so far (Cowan, Tullahoma, Wartrace, Bell Buckle).

Four and counting..............

Crossing over the track, with Cumberland Mountain in the background.

I was freezing cold but there was little traffic and few people wandering outside, and I was really having a great time exploring alone and in my own time, and spending time with my own thoughts.

I don't remember Cowan as being a very nice town, but as with Winchester that I visited recently as well, this small town seems to be slightly on the upswing.

This square was hugely and quietly interesting................

As I approached this area in the grass on the opposite side of the tracks I assumed that I was approaching a series of stones acknowledging and honoring local residents who had served in war time.

I was surprised to realize that this entire area was simply dedicated to the employees of a huge cement company that was located in the area between 1926 and 1981................

WHY A LOG CABIN?

(This article was written by Evamaria Krischell and published in the May 24, 1975 issue of the Cowan Bell.)

When the first rumors of a Cowan sponsored Bicentennial Celebration floated in the air and the staff of the COWAN BELL was asked to help, it seemed quite clear to us that any large project would be too much for us to handle. Just bringing our publication out bi-weekly is a full time job.

However, when Jenny Lou Brock of the Cowan Beautification Commission approached us with the idea of building a log cabin representing Franklin County’s first court house some of the old fever and confidence returned to our small group, and in our minds the impossible was possible. Our husbands saw a new adventure in this project and enthusiastically supported the idea. Juergen Krischel was selected as chairman and Dot Davidson as co-chairman for the construction of the cabin.

Very quickly a mock-up slab construction idea was replaced with the real thing, thanks to Jim Brock who knew of every generous log cabin owner in Franklin County. By the real thing we mean the 150 year old logs used from two different cabins, the clay, lime and straw mixture between the logs and all the other woodwork used in the building.

The Bank of Cowan was generous in giving us the use of their lot, and for the whole month of February and March material was piled onto it. There were many shaking heads and doubtful looks from passersby, and only the constant referral to the book, “Foxfire”, kept our confidence up. It became our companion as the first foundations were laid and the walls began to materialize in April. As one of our most avid workers commented: “I’d sure hate to sit on the back of a covered wagon with seven babies waitin’ to move in that log cabin!”

The children of Cowan were the first to believe in the completion and came daily to help.

Towards the end of April, when the cabin actually acquired an authentic look, the interest and support of all Cowaners grew – more and more people stopped their work to help for a day.

With our energy at low ebb tide and our resources depleted, there seemed no hope of building a chimney. Now, Cowan’s support reached its peak; within a few days of our devastating realization an excellent stone mason, money and material were presented to us. Two weeks later a beautiful chimney and hearth gave the cabin its finishing touch.

We hope you enjoy visiting Major William Russell’s home as much as we enjoyed building it. (E.K.)

Over the past couple of years, since I was given my first digital camera and since I began this blog, I have really come to realize just how much I have blown right by time and again without ever really seeing it.

In the span of 30 cold minutes walking around the square in an extremely quiet downtown Cowan, I had seen sweet touches such as hibernating water fountains and old style street lamps, and an unbelievable amount of history that provides the foundation for this community.

I was very cold but having so much fun wandering that I did not want to leave yet.

After arriving back at the main street that runs through this town and continues to Winchester in one direction and Sewanee and Monteagle in the other direction I turned right, planning to walk for only a little longer...........

Some of the store fronts were empty.

The remainder in this section of town contained an easy going collection of antique stores, art stores, business offices and restaurants.

Old, historic, architecturally wonderful buildings.

I liked it here.

Much more than I expected or knew that I would..................

A colorful and eclectic old furniture store.

The couch caught my attention and I walked closer to it to check it out...........

The couch was a metal and concrete construction and the color was provided by glass beads that had been imbedded while the concrete was still wet .

I smiled in delight when I saw it, curious who would buy such a thing, curious who would make such a thing, and surprised to see such an unexpected item standing outside a store in a small country town..............

I found many colorful things in Cowan yesterday.

This scene painted on the exterior of a Mexican restaurant was one more...............

One more concrete trinket sitting outside another store front on the opposite side of the street............

Gas pumps from a bygone era..............

Directly across the street from the railroad-dominant green space I had spent so much time at when I first arrived in town, is yet one more green space.

Still very close to the railroad tracks I found this monument.

A thank you to a long standing citizen of, and long standing physician in, the town of Cowan............

I am not certain what this building is - or used to be.

There was a mailbox located beside the walkway, but the building is located only 10 feet from the tracks.

Did it used to be a building related to the railway? Is it now a home? Or a small converted set of apartments?

I don't know..................

I kept this picture simply because I liked the view of multiple dark poles against the backdrop of the cold and grey sky.

As I looked at the electrical pole covered with dormant vines I knew that the pole would be covered with greenery in just a few months..............

Looking back towards the old gas station.

When I saw the lighted sign below the Texaco star and realized that the temperature was 29 degrees it reminded me of just how cold I now was.

I was wearing thin pants, two layers of sweaters, a jacket and a hat but as I looked down at my freezing cold and bright red hands I knew that it was time to go.

I liked this town.

At best I assumed that I would be indifferent to it. But I liked it very much.

It was time to head back to my truck.

More information about Cowan:

http://www.visitcowan.com/index.html

I love nature, I love the landscape, because it is so sincere. It never cheats me. It never jests. It is cheerfully, musically earnest. I lie and relie on the earth..............Henry David Thoreau

Country Drive

2012-01-18T16:02:00.000-08:00

After we left the small, sweet, antique-y town of Bell Buckle the other day we slowly headed back towards home on narrow winding country roads.

We had seen two things on the way to Bell Buckle that I wanted to stop and look more closely at on the way home.

The first was a small herd of buffalo grazing in a field adjacent to a farmhouse in the middle of rolling hills and nowhere.

The second was a very old looking cemetery.

First stop was Old Salem cemetery only a couple of miles outside of Bell Buckle.

There is a cemetery almost immediately across the road from Old Salem that appears to be much newer, but this one, even as we were driving by it on our way to town looked to be much older and I was curious to stop and see what was there.

I was correct.

All of the grave sites were old, with almost all of those resting there having lived and died in the 1800's.

The winding and hilly two-lane road that we were on had no shoulders so LC pulled the truck into a driveway.

He and Jamie stayed with the truck and I quickly climbed up the hill towards Old Salem and then quickly wandered through the cemetery looking at the markers and names and dates inscribed on them..............

One interesting site that caught my attention while quickly wandering was this one.

Inscribed on the grave marker on the left was that the person was the "consort" of the person buried to the right.

It was a totally unexpected word in the context of the time period in this very southern rural setting............

As we had made our way towards Bell Buckle earlier in the day both LC and I were surprised to see a handful of buffalo grazing in a field, and we resolved to stop on the way home to take pictures of these huge and prehistoric looking beasts.

Wonderful beasts that we had not seen since leaving Wyoming.

By the time we drove back that way the buffalo had moved into an adjoining smaller field.

There were no driveways close to them to pull in to and still no shoulder along the side of the narrow two-laner to pull on to.

LC stopped the truck in the middle of the road and watched for oncoming traffic while I quickly snapped these pictures from inside the vehicle.

Not great pictures unfortunately and snapped in a hurry through the tall grass, but it was still wonderful and completely unexpected to run into these animals.

Both LC and I miss the elk and buffalo and wild horses and big horn sheep that were so abundant in and around Cody, and we smiled to each other at our completely unexpected find in rural Tennessee.............

Not long after leaving the buffalo our GPS began surprisingly to direct us onto even more winding and narrow and off-the-beaten-path country roads.

We ignore our GPS often but on that day, and in no hurry to get home, we followed "his" directions and were increasingly curious to see where our electronic gadget would take us.

We had no idea where we were headed and I don't think I could replicate the route again without help, but (confident that we would eventually find our way home) on this day we did not really care.

We were completely surrounded by increasing warmth, uninterrupted blue sky, farmland and hills and the far away plateau.

We stopped (again in the middle of a very quiet winding country road) so that I could take pictures of cattle and pond.

It was a lovely place.

It was a very quiet place, and it was easy at that very moment to forget that we were now living in a too-populated state.

There are many places to find quiet and for that I am grateful............

After crossing over a bridge we immediately pulled into a driveway that led down to the river.

These steps at the end of the driveway led right down to the water.

After visiting Bell Buckle and cemeteries and buffalo and cattle and ponds and rivers, we did eventually find our way home.................

Everybody should have his personal sounds to listen for - sounds that will make him exhilarated and alive or quite and calm.... One of the greatest sounds of them all - and to me it is a sound - is utter, complete silence...........Andre Kostelanetz

Bell Buckle

2012-01-16T13:37:00.000-08:00

The origin of the town's unusual name is not known. According to the local chamber of commerce, one story says that one of the first white men to travel through the area found a tree with carvings of a cow bell and a buckle, possibly carved by Indians to warn white settlers away, or possibly carved by surveyors to mark the area as good pasture. Another form of the legend holds that a bell and buckle were tied around a tree. In any case, the nearby creek was named Bell Buckle Creek, and the town later took the name of the creek.

The Bell Buckle area was settled in the early 19th century. A bustling town grew up after the Nashville and Chattanooga Railroad came through the area in 1852. A railroad depot was built in 1853 and the town was incorporated in 1856. Bell Buckle had its period of greatest prosperity after about 1870, becoming the major stockyard between Nashville and Chattanooga and growing to a population of more than 1,000.

So says a site that I looked up after visiting the small and very quaint town of Bell Buckle yesterday.

The sun finally and unabashedly shone and the temperature finally climbed back into the upper 40's and low 50's after a busy week of clouds and sun and rain and freezing rain and even some snow.

It was a day too beautiful to be Winter.

Certainly a day too beautiful to stay indoors.

Before yesterday I had only been to Bell Buckle once before.

During the Summer Bell Buckle holds a special event called the RC Cola and Moon Pie Festival.

It is a very southern festival designed to celebrate the two barely-digestible sweet concoctions for which it is named.

But it is much more than that.

It is a festival that includes all the simultaneously wonderful and ridiculous trappings of a Summer-time and small town event.

Wacky costumes, silly competitions, country entertainment, loads of calorie-laden and sugar filled and deep fried food, music and color and layed-back visitors who wander and look and enjoy and laugh and buy.

It is a wonderful event that embraces both the tacky and the fun, and which thankfully does not take itself too seriously.

Or seriously at all.

More information on the event:

http://nashvilleforfree.com/2011/06/17/rc-cola-and-moonpie-festival/

And a photo gallery:

http://www.bellbucklechamber.com/rcmoonpie-gallery.html

Many years ago (and long before I met LC) I visited Bell Buckle early the morning of the festival.

I did not have a gps at that time and did not bother Mapquesting directions because I had seen a sign for the turnoff to Bell Buckle many times.

So on my first and only trip to Bell Buckle I ended up taking probably the longest route possible by going through Shelbyville, heading up towards Murfreesboro on the four lane highway and then circling back towards the tiny town (less than 500 people now).

It was a lengthy drive at the time and after that one visit I never made it back.

On that day I arrived very early, signed in at the registration table for those who were doing the 10 mile road run, walked around the small town with the still closed doors, ran the race and got horribly overheated in the process, and then drove home.

Too drained from the overwhelming heat of the day and the run, I had no desire to dive into the crowds of people who were milling throughout the town by the time I was done.

Yesterday we drove back to Bell Buckle.

Scenes from an historical site we unexpectedly came across on the way...........

One temperature gauge in Tullahoma read 39 degrees and another read 52 degrees as we headed out of town, so somewhere between those two lay the truth.

But with a sky as blue as it was yesterday the truth-in-temperatures did not really mean anything of consequence.

It was simply a beautiful day.

I was a little stunned when we reached Bell Buckle because the drive had passed by so quickly and it was at that moment that I realized that my last trip had taken me WAY out of the way.

Now I know.

Just on the outskirts of town I saw two buildings that I wanted to photograph and asked LC to pull into a gas station close by.

One colorful building was for sale, but the other one (which I assumed to be a free-standing small art studio) had a couple of interesting characters standing outside...............

A view of the downtown business district taken while standing in front of the two buildings...........

After climbing back into the truck we drove across the tracks and pulled into a parking space near the businesses.

The town looked exactly as I remembered it even after all these years.

A long series of old, colorful, and wonderfully decorated stores primarily of the restaurant, antique, country craft variety, surrounded by very beautiful and old historic homes.............

For the next 30 minutes we wandered around the downtown area.

Surprisingly, in this down-time Winter-time of year, there were many vehicles parked outside the stores.

Many visitors were eating (or waiting to eat) at one of the restaurants, while others were simply and casually wandering around the eclectic stores..............

Tornado warning sirens are a common sight in Tennessee............

We walked briefly along a side street and unexpectedly found this beautiful church.

There are churches on almost every street corner of this town, but this one stood out to me.

Primarily because it was very old, with rich architectural detail and beautiful stained glass windows.

I do not know if it is still a functioning church but I somehow think that it is not.

On a Sunday morning there were no vehicles parked in or around the building, and the roof appeared to be badly in need of repair.

I would be willing to guess that it is one of the towns' oldest churches and I hope that it gets the repairs that it needs.............

There were sweet, cute, country touches throughout the business section of town.

A wooden blue bird attached to the old, brick wall advertising Blue Bird Ice-cream...........

Another wooden decorative touch..............

This very sweet hound dog came from in back of the building to greet us but only stayed for a moment, before turning around and heading back the way he had come.

A short visit..............

Christmas lights still decorate all of the store fronts and we wandered leisurely into one store after another trying to get a feel for the place.

Store owners smilingly greeted us and it was a quiet and nice and relaxing way to spend a short while..............

Painted into the concrete walkway...........

And one more painted sign in concrete, found along the walkway in front of stores............

Wooden lady bugs climbing the entire length of one post in front of a store called (appropriately enough) The Doodle Bug.............

After we had wandered and looked we walked back to the truck, grabbed Jamie and walked over to the bright red locomotive.

Researching the history of Bell Buckle it became obvious that this town sprung up in the same way that so many other small towns seem to have sprung up in this region.

The importance of the railroad to this community and this region cannot be overstated.

And consequently I am learning that these red cars are frequent sights in towns.

In the short time that we have been back in Tennessee I have now seen identical bright red rail cars in Bell Buckle, Wartrace and Tullahoma, and am certain that we will continue to find more of them in towns that we visit in our travels.

As I walked with Jamie, LC grabbed the camera and took pictures both inside and out of the rail car.................

Bell Buckle is a town filled with color, simplicity, friendliness and country charm.

A short visit but a good visit.

A good way to spend time on a sunny and warm Sunday in mid-January.............

Savage Gulf - Part 2

2012-01-15T13:53:00.000-08:00

By the time we hit the waterfall we came to a complete standstill for a long time as members of the group took turns snapping pictures of the falls and the frozen tree and the tiny rainbow.

At the same time more and more hikers were beginning to reach into their packs for a snack that would tie them over until we stopped for lunch.

As hikers took their pictures they continued further down the trail, and at this point hikers were now scattered over a 1/4 mile distance or more.

I spent a long time at the falls engrossed in all of the beautiful scenes around me and was suddenly very glad that I was standing there.

But eventually I turned back from the river, climbed up the short dirt and root filled hill and continued hiking further down the trail..............

And soon I came to a very long set of wooden steps that led down to more huge boulders close to the water.

I could hear the water crashing below the trail and headed down the steps eager to see what sounded like a roaring waterfall.............

And it was very beautiful...........

After spending much time taking pictures of the falls (and before heading back up the stairs) I stood for a moment looking around me.

We were deep in the woods surrounded by the continual roar of crashing water............

Unlike the region closer to the house which is dominated by now leafless hardwoods, this trail was a world of green.

Pine trees, mountain laurel, even many holly bushes............

Hikers were strewn out over the length of the trail from the first waterfall to the second............

Eventually we regrouped and continued hiking further.

Over the course of a couple of hours we had transitioned from race-pace to no-pace to comfort-pace.

Between such changes in pace, the rock filled and root filled uneven trail and our stops at both sets of falls, our forward progress had slowed down significantly.

I was having a great time and was very glad that I had decided to make this trip.

Continuing further.

An endless combination of bridges, trails, water crossings, and the beginning of overlooks.

The pictures tell the story..............

Everyone regrouping again at a rocky creek crossing just before finally stopping for lunch...........

Five minutes later a group of hungry hikers were pulling off packs and digging out food, and eating lunch at a rocky outcropping overlooking hill after hill filled with "Christmas trees".

Aside from a little laughter and a little quiet and easy going conversation the place was absolutely silent.

Through the trees I could see a fast moving stream in the gorge far below, a rocky and ice covered outcropping to my left and another to my right.

We were deep in forest and far from civilization and it was very good............

After a quick 20 minute lunch, one of the hike leaders told the group that we were not going to have time to complete the 8-9 mile loop we had planned on walking, when we had set out a few hours earlier.

Some in the group wanted to be back in Nashville in time for the Broncos football game.

Between the football game, the still short number of daylight hours at this time of year, the lengthy stops we had taken at both sets of falls, and the hikers who wanted to eat dinner at a restaurant on the mountain before heading home, I was not surprised at the news.

Some wanted to head back to their vehicles and stop at Stone Door before heading home, which is a really outstanding place that I want to go to only with LC.

It had been a nice hike, and we still had another 90 minutes or so to go out on trail, even after taking a shorter connector trail back to the Ranger Station.

On the way back I enjoyed an easy-going and friendly conversation for a short while, with a lady whose daughter lives in Anchorage.................

If adventure has a final and all-embracing motive, it is surely this: we go out because it is our nature to go out, to climb mountains, and to paddle rivers, to fly to the planets and plunge into the depths of the oceans... When man ceases to do these things, he is no longer man..............Wilfrid Noyce

Savage Gulf - Part 1

2012-01-14T21:03:00.000-08:00

One day last week I plugged "Middle Tennessee hiking groups" into a search engine and found an organization based in Nashville.

After surfing through their site it sounded like a busy and energized organization that conducts group hikes of varying difficulty for all levels of hikers at natural areas, state parks and national forests primarily throughout Middle and Eastern Tennessee as well as occasionally other states.

There was a group hike scheduled for today at Savage Gulf and I signed up for it with a lot of excitement but also some trepidation since there were already over 40 people committed.

Within another day there were 49 people signed up and I second guessed myself for a couple of days, evaluating whether or not I really wanted to hike on a new trail with 50 people I didn't know.

Eventually the desire to see a new trail in the mountains won out and on a very cold morning that was supposed to both clear out and slightly warm up, I headed up onto the plateau.

It was a quiet drive on an early Saturday morning and 70 minutes after I left the house I was one of the first of the group to arrive.

As I pulled into the parking lot of the Ranger Station I realized that I had been to this place at sometime in the past.

I had not walked the Savage Gulf trails before so why had I been there?

I could not then, and still cannot now, remember why I had been to Savage Gulf.

For the next 15 minutes one vehicle at a time straggled into the lot behind me, and then all of a sudden five or six vehicles pulled in at the same time.

A convoy of vehicles from Nashville.

Everyone converged on the Ranger Station and as I scanned this similarly dressed group of soon-to-be hiking buddies who were all strangers to me, I realized that the 50 had been whittled down to 31.

It was a very cold morning and I had images of alarm clocks going off all around Nashville.

One look at the temperature gauge and the darkness and the icy windshield and the early hour and the two hour drive and I envisioned many Nashvillians hitting the alarm button, pulling the covers up even higher around their shoulders, rolling over and going back to sleep.

I wouldn't have blamed them.

Corralling 31 people through last minute rest room breaks and necessary paperwork meant that we left the Ranger Station 20 minutes later than scheduled.

The unofficial club photographer pulled everyone together to take this picture before we left, and as he was playing around with his "delay" button I jumped out of formation to snap the picture above.

The small Ranger Station............

When I think back to all the long races I did over the years one of the things that always amused me was how fast we would go out.

With adrenalin flowing wildly, all teams would head out at the start of one day, two day, even five days races at a pace that looked like we were all starting a 5K run.

It took hours, but eventually everyone would settle into the race and find their own realistic pace.

The hike this morning was billed as an 8 mile beginner hike so I was surprised that we headed out so fast.

It was serious trekking pace.

No time to stop and take pictures or to really have a good look around pace.

Put your head down and pound it out pace.

I was surprised but thought "OK........we'll pound it out".

I wondered if the pace would continue or whether it would slow down over the next hour..............

I look at this picture and it screams "Juneau" to me.

The snow, the evergreens, the wooden boardwalks that are so abundant in Juneau...........

Even though the hike was billed as a beginners hike the group was made up of a combination of both experienced and new hikers.

There were four or five friendly and easy-going group leaders who took turns leading the front of the pack, hanging back with others as the group began to predictably (and thankfully) spread out, and running sweep at the back of the pack.

One of many swing bridges we passed over today............

A combination of root and rock filled trail, greenery, multiple creek and river crossings, wooden walkways and wooden bridges, overlooks.

I loved this trail............

And yes.

Eventually the 5k pace slowed down a little.

Just a little.........but enough to finally be able to really take in my surroundings.

My pictures were strictly point and shoot on the move, but that was OK...........

After crossing a swing bridge and continuing on trail that paralleled the river, I began to realize that the river was moving fast.

And then faster, and then faster still.

The quiet that we had enjoyed to that point was interrupted by the familiar sound of rapids and then falls.

The trail was lined with both pine trees and thick and beautiful mountain laurel.

Mountain laurel dominates the mountains of Tennessee.

While racing all I knew was that it was a pain to bushwhack through.

Now that I am not racing, mountain laurel is simply a wonderful, dark green and beautiful plant.

I could see the rapids through the growth and I hoped for a break in the vegetation so that I could see it unobscured...............

Click on the pictures to enlarge.............

Beautiful crystal-like ice among the freezing cold rapids.............

Walking a little further the trail, happily and wonderfully, did open up.

I headed down to the falls, eager to both see them and photograph them.

They were wonderful. Powerful. Very beautiful............

Icicles from all the overhangs along the side of the freezing cold and very fast moving river.............

As the freezing river raged in front of me it threw a frozen mist over this one tree.

This completely white tree stood out brilliantly against the backdrop of other bright green trees.

At that exact moment, while standing on large flat boulders alongside the river I felt like I was suddenly in a magical place.

There was much more here than simply technical trail and evergreens and increasingly blue sky.

Along this river there was both an extremely complex and deceptively simple combination of water and beauty and power and Winter.............

And a surprising rainbow - sunlight captured in the almost freezing spray from the waterfall............

One amazing section of the frozen tree..............

There is no wondering about what the waterfalls were like yesterday, no way to know what they'll look like tomorrow.

There will always be a shade of difference, a nuance noticed or not, but to see them right now, in this moment in their powerful splendor - that is the way to celebrate the present...........From the blog Waterfalls Uplift

Wartrace - Part 2

2012-01-13T19:57:00.000-08:00

The weather vane was sitting on top of a very beautiful, historic and very typically southern old home.........

After leaving my Mountain Boy to continue to talk trains, planes and music, I took this picture of the main shopping/business area of this small community before wandering further along the top of the "T"...............

There are many sweet things situated in different spaces throughout town, that show the promise of what this small village must look like during the other seasons of the year.

Outdoor tables, flower pots on tables and chairs (containing only silk flowers right now), multiple large brick concrete planters on the sidewalks, the water fountain.

There are apparently music festivals and art festivals and many other special events scheduled throughout the year to draw in visitors.

I would very much like to come back again during one of those times.

Now that I have discovered this hidden treasure.............

Hillybilly Willys.

Of course.

Why not?

And finally I walked down the very quiet "main street" of the place.

One or two store fronts were closed.

One was being used for the Town Hall.

A couple were restaurants.

And one or two were antique shops.

I walked into one of the shops, enticed by the Little Rascals characters in the window and curious to see what else the store contained.

As I walked in and quickly realized that the store did not contain a whole lot of items, I looked over at the two ladies by the mirror.

One was cutting hair and the other was having her hair cut, and I immediately realized that the two women knew each other well because they were carrying on an animated and friendly conversation while the work was being done.

Looking further I saw three people sitting in chairs close to each other, also casually visiting with each other.

One of the ladies nodded to me and smiled and I did the same thing in return and said hello.

It was the opening she needed because the woman had noticed me wandering around town taking pictures and was curious who I was.

I told her of just moving back to Tennessee and of having never been to Wartrace before and of having a blog.

And of how much I liked this little town.

More pleasantries and I walked out of the store and ran headlong into LC.

I could tell by his face that he was having as good a time as I was...............

As someone who grew up in a musical family, who performed a good deal as a young person and who has a brother who was deeply involved in music as an adult, LC recognized the name of this place instantly.

I had never heard of it.

But after learning about the company I walked out of the small guitar store that was so renowned, and looked again in bemusement at the outside of the simple old building.

A very humble store in the middle of one long row of adjoining stores in town, but also a store which is apparently known world wide.

The link to their website can describe their history and their story much better than I ever could.

http://www.gallagherguitar.com/

A few pictures I took today in the main entrance, of both the guitars and pictures of famous musicians who have played Gallagher guitars.

And one picture taken of the back shop.............

Gallaghers Guitar Company is a very small family owned operation.

The grandmother was holding down the fort when we walked in, and she immediately jumped up to show us the guitars that were on display and to tell us the stories behind some of the pictures.

A very down-to-earth and friendly lady and we enjoyed yet one more surprise during our visit to this village...............

The home belonging to the weather vane, located just up the hill from the business section................

One more quick walk for Jamie and it was finally time to leave the tiny-town of Wartrace.

A really wonderful small town containing a world of history and friendly people.

LC and I were surprised and pleased with what we had found.

It was a great visit.

Not yet quite ready to return to the house we took the scenic route home - heading along long, winding, country roads filled with rolling hills, views of the plateau, and endless farmland.

It was all new territory for us and it was a beautiful place.

A very beautiful place.

We had a longer trip than we had expected, but today we found an unexpected treasure in a town called Wartace.............

The really happy person is the one who can enjoy the scenery when they have to take a detour............Author Unknown

Wartrace - Part 1

2012-01-13T16:47:00.000-08:00

When I woke up yesterday morning it was about 54 degrees and raining.

By early afternoon the temperature was dropping rapidly and the freezing rain had begun.

By late afternoon yesterday the temperature had dropped close to freezing and it began to snow.

I had high hopes that we would actually get some measurable snow but that did not happen.

When I woke up this morning the temperature outside was a cold 20 degrees but the thin layer of snow that we received overnight only partially covered the ground.

Tennessee uses weather words and phrases that I had never heard while living in Canada.

Tornadic activity.

Flurries.

Dusting.

Overnight we had a dusting of snow.

I wandered restlessly around the house all morning unsure of exactly what to do with myself.

As I passed through the kitchen on my 20th aimless trip through the house I looked through the doorway into the living room and saw my pup laying on the couch.

Oh jeez..........she looked exactly how I felt.

She looked pitifully bored and after talking to her from the doorway while she continued to lay sullenly on the couch I made the decision to take her for a walk at Short Springs.

I told LC that James and I were headed for the trails, and he asked me if I wanted to go for a drive instead.

Sure. On a cold, damp and bleak day I was up for a drive.

And apparently so was Jamie.

By the time LC and I had decided on a destination Jamie had wandered into the office and was alternately looking at both LC and me with unbridled anticipation on her face.

We had used all the correct and canine-recognized words.

And Jamie excitedly let us know that she was ready for a drive-walk-go.

Because drive-walk-go's are her favorite things.

Our destination was the small community of Wartrace (est. 1853).

Truthfully I knew absolutely nothing about Wartrace until today.

But today seemed like a fine day to see what I could find out.

Wartrace is a village of about 550 people and is located slightly off the beaten path, which does not adequately negate or excuse the fact that neither LC nor I had ever visited this place.

A place that is located only 25 minutes drive from Tullahoma.

As we slowly made our way to the outskirts of Wartrace this old clock was the first thing that we both saw.

Adjacent to the stand alone clock is a sign giving a brief history of the village. and the tiny Wartrace Visitors Center.............

We pulled the truck into a large and empty gravel parking lot at the far end of the square (that was actually shaped more like a "T" than a square), climbed out and immediately walked in different directions.

LC and James headed for the grass and then the "T" section of the downtown area.

After telling LC that I would meet him and James in just a few minutes, I immediately headed back the way we had come, crossing back over the tracks to take pictures of the two very old brick buildings we had seen as we headed into town.

Without looking too closely at the buildings I quickly snapped these pictures downtown as I headed for the tracks...........

This building was hugely interesting to me.

It was empty and unmarked, and as I took pictures of the building that was abandoned, very old and built of beautiful old brick I was enthralled with it.

Based on its appearance and proximity to the tracks I assumed that it was once a commercial building, and I found out later while talking to a store owner that it was indeed a flour mill at one time.

I loved the building.

The lines of it. The alone-ness of it. The aura and patina and feel of it.

Of everything I saw today in this small, quaint and very historic village, this building was the most compelling to me............

Moving away from the mill I continued on, heading for an empty-for-the-Winter fountain at a park across the road.

I looked briefly at the water fountain, snapped a picture of it and then finally focused all of my attention on this place.

A sign told me that the building was the Walking Horse Hotel.

My first reaction was pleasure at finding one more old and beautiful brick building.

My second reaction was confusion.

I thought that Shelbyville was the Walking Horse capital - not Wartrace.

Why was the Walking Horse Hotel here?

I still do not know what the full story is, but I do know that after we left Wartrace we explored winding and hilly two-lane country roads and it is obvious that there are many horse farms in the area.

In the meantime, I looked closely at this historic hotel and decided that I liked it very much.

A picture of the hotel taken from across the street, and a link to more information on the hotel:

http://walkinghorsehotel.com/

The water fountain............

As I read this sign I realized that there WAS one thing I knew about Wartrace.

Strolling Jim may have been the name of the first Tennessee Walking Horse but it is also the name of a notoriously difficult to race (and difficult to get into) 40 mile ultra run.

I have never tried it:

http://ultrasignup.com/register.aspx?did=14734

By this time I realized three things.

I was taking more time that I had planned and thought briefly about (and then quickly discounted) calling LC before turning my attention back to the hotel in front of me again.

That this was a very interesting and very pretty village.

That I felt the excitement of unexpected finds and unexpected adventure.

A bright red decorative feature on the wall of the hotel.

One of a few horse-related decorative touches..........

After looking over the exterior of the hotel I turned my attention back to the small community park located directly across the road.

A red caboose.

Very similar to the one on display in Tullahoma............

While looking at the monuments at the park LC called me to let me know he had put Jamie back in the truck and was now in a train model store.

I could tell by his voice that he was excited by what he had found and I told him that I was heading back that way and would meet him at the store.

As I bypassed the hotel one last time I snapped these pictures.

If you click on the link about the hotel above there is an additional link to the "ghostly past" of the hotel.

I also found this story online:

Patrick, Wartrace, Tennessee, Early 1980s, info@ghostvillage.com

I grew up in Nashville, Tennessee and went to school with lots of the country music stars' kids. This afforded me some rather unique experiences and one of those is how I came to encounter a ghost. There is a hotel in Wartrace, Tennessee called the Walking Horse Hotel. I know it is still there because I visited it yesterday with my wife and kids on the way back to Atlanta from visiting family in Nashville. The property has changed dramatically on the inside, but as soon as I saw the outline of the building I knew that was it -- even after 20 years since my experience.

It was in the early 1980s and I was invited to go with some of my friends and one adult, the wife of a very prominent country music star, to stay New Year's Eve as the guests of the manager of unique hotel located in Tennessee -- Walking Horse country. We were to be the only people in the hotel as it was closed that evening. My friends had stayed there in the recent past and had some interesting experiences. This particular hotel was the resting place of “Strutting Jim,” one of the most famous Tennessee walking horses of all time. His trainer “Floyd” had lived in the hotel and sometime after the horses passing had died himself in his room on the 3rd floor of the 3-story hotel. Floyd was said to still be wandering the grounds and the halls of the hotel but our host George, the manager of the property, assured us that he was always friendly and had not harmed anyone.

We arrived mid evening after stopping for dinner on the way and enjoyed a nice quiet evening. We spent most of the evening looking at the amazing Walking Horse artwork that hung on almost every square inch of the lobby and main staircase. It was shortly after midnight, we had been listening to George’s tales of encounters from other guests when everyone started settling down to sleep. I was feeling a bit brave and still wasn’t as sold as the others on the authenticity of “Floyd the Ghost,” so I decided to go up and sit in his room on the third floor to see if anything would happen. I sat on the bed in the almost total darkness and waited for “Floyd.”

When I opened my eyes I was laying on the bed, still fully dressed in clothes and shoes and day was just breaking. I knew that I had fallen asleep and that there had been no visit from “Floyd.” I went downstairs to find George starting to put together breakfast and the others were just starting to mill about. George suggested we go out and see “Strutting Jim’s” grave marker and stretch our legs before breakfast. As we headed out to the back pasture to visit the stables and grave it all seemed strangely familiar. As we approached a fenced in area on the side of the pasture I stopped George and asked how long the English sheep dogs had lived there. He looked rather surprised as we had not been out here the night before and there had been no mention of the dogs, but sure enough they came running up to the fence and started barking and looking directly at me.

We then proceeded to the stables where the grave marker was and there were a few horses kept. As we approached one of the stales George told us all to stay clear of the big black one as he bit anyone he didn’t know. The black horse immediately came to me and started nuzzling my head with his and stamping his feet in excitement. We then walked over to the Grave marker and I lead the way as if I had been going there for years. By now even George was blown away with all of this and when asked, I responded that I slept in “Floyd’s” room but didn’t remember leaving the bed all night.

We all walked back to the hotel talking about the strange events and without asking I walked directly in the rear kitchen door like I owned the place. We had not been anywhere near this area of the hotel for our visit but I knew exactly where to go. We all sat down in the dining room and George asked who would like biscuits with honey to start. I jumped up and stated that these were the best biscuits in the world and everyone should have some. George asked how I knew this since this was my first visit and we had arrived after dinner the night before. I walked straight into the kitchen – opened a pantry – reached up to a tin on the third shelf and opened it up to reveal a tin full of the very biscuits.

That pretty much sealed the deal. It is my assumption that “Floyd” took me for a little spin the night before, using my body as a vehicle to get to his favorite places and get some of his favorite food. I am still not quite sure what to make of this incredible event, but I know that I now believe that there are some people who just aren’t ready to go on to heaven or whatever awaits them and they are still here on earth with us.

On my visit yesterday it was so disappointing to learn that the new proprietor had gutted the hotel, changed the entire layout -- losing the lobby and grand staircase, and didn’t believe that any of the tales about “Floyd” were anything more than poppycock. The entire feel of the place was different and I hope “Floyd” has moved on to his eternal resting place. I know the memory of that incredible day will always be with me.

Almost all buildings in the center of the village (including the hotel) displayed these signs.............

Heading back towards the center of the village to meet my Mountain Boy at the train model store.............

All of the buildings in the downtown of the village were very old, very historic, and contained wonderful architectural detail.

Most of them were still full of the old brick of the original construction, and it was easy to imagine these buildings that were located so close to the all-important railroad system being some of the first structures built in the community.................

The small green building is known as The Dixie Flyer and that is where I found LC, talking to the friendly owner and wandering around the small store smiling like a little kid.............

Once I had a good look around the store I could see why LC was so excited.

With throw-back 1920s, 30s and 40s music playing in the background, I walked around the small and colorful and friendly store taking in all railroad collectibles (as well as other toys and items from a bygone era) around me.

Toys, models, newspapers, fliers, banners, static and moving displays, paintings and posters.

It was a colorful, educational, friendly place to wander.

LC's interest rather than mine, but still a hugely interesting place to visit............

A very wonderful painting...........

Model planes hanging from the sky-colored ceiling.............

A sweet, friendly, easy-going visit to a store that celebrated a mode of travel that has (almost) gone by the wayside.

After we had taken a long look at everything the store had to offer, LC and the store owner continued their friendly conversation about trains that eventually led into conversation about music and ties to country and gospel singers.

I told LC to take his time and I was going to continue my wanderings around town.

More information on The Dixie Flyer:

http://thedixieflyer.net/Home_Page.html