I began planning in earnest for retirement in 2016. I have been thinking about it for much longer than that, but I finally sat down with Excel and began laying out discrete year-by-year plans starting in 2016. There are several things I want to do in retirement, principally coalescing around travel, photography, writing, and continuing education. All of this requires financial wherewithal, of course, and that requires the accumulation and prudent savings of income for many years. I have heard it said that one should retire from one’s career when two conditions are met: 1) You have enough, and 2) You’ve had enough. It seems to me that this is an exceptionally concise and accurate perspective.
When I finally “got down to cases” to plan this next chapter of my life, here is what I developed for a kind of mission statement:
My top 5 objectives for retirement are to:
1. Travel, photograph, and write about the places and people I encounter. I’ll probably continue to write spy novels and/or murder mysteries, and I may also do some travel magazine writing.
2. Attend classes and workshops to educate myself about things that interest me (Shakespearean Literature, Comparative Religion, and Art / Photography.)
3. Stay as healthy as possible by remaining active through membership at a fitness facility and activities like hiking and bowling. (I recently substituted gym memberships with my own in-home equipment.)
4. Remain involved in the lives of my family members by attending family sporting events, social occasions, and holidays.
5. Deepen my spiritual life through improved dedication to worship and prayer, and by volunteering for community service.
I retired from Emerson on December 31, 2019. I was at Emerson for eight-and-a-half years, but my career has been both long (43+ years full-time) and varied (private enterprise, public companies, and government service.) A more extensive review of my career is available at www.billduncanscareer.com. My end-of-career exit interview is available at https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=CEj4X4IRRwQ
The purpose of this website and this blog is to document my adventures in retirement related to Objective #1 (travel). I’m hoping that what I capture will be useful to others, and perhaps entertaining to my grandchildren one day. If done properly, it may offer evidence of a life well lived, or – at least – a life fully lived.
Travel
I’m excited about this next chapter of life, but I can now see that it will take me a while to get my bearings. My trip planning for retirement includes discrete plans for 67 domestic road trips, 11 domestic rail trips, 3 international cruises, 6 international road trips, 13 international destination trips, and 9 international guided tours. I’m sure I won’t get through them all, and I may well do others that are not on my list if they are opportunistic. But this list seems like a great starting place. My first travel initiative was a short excursion to the Natchez Mississippi area, and it was very instructive. It taught me a little about what my personal limitations are, and some important lessons about the information I need to collect in order to effectively and usefully document my adventures. That trip was “Pre-COVID” – which I am pretty sure is going to be the next major division of life, after BC and AD.
My research for the planning retirement travel came primarily from these sources:
The Most Scenic Drives in America (hardback book published by Readers Digest)
Drives of a Lifetime (Hardback book published by National Geographic)
Off the Beaten Path (Hardback book published by Readers Digest)
Sacred Places of a Lifetime (Hardback book published by National Geographic)
Secrets of the National Parks (Hardback book published by National Geographic)
National Geographic Guide to Scenic Highways & Byways (Paperback book)
National Geographic Guide to State Parks of the United States (Hardback book)
Ghost Towns of the Old West (Paperback book published by Varney Hinkley)
United States on the Road (Paperback book published by Insight Guides)
The Road Trip Book: 1001 Drives of a Lifetime (Hardback book published by Universe)
Conde Nast Traveler (Magazine)
American Road (Magazine)
Travel & Leisure (Magazine)
National Geographic Traveler (Magazine)
Special Magazine Publications (Especially issues from Life Magazine like “Places of a Lifetime”)
My advice: If you can afford to invest in only one of these, make it the first one. The Most Scenic Drives in America is excellent. My second choice – if you can afford to invest in only two – would be Off the Beaten Path. The United States on the Road is also quite good in its own way, rich in descriptive detail, but basically limited to text and photos. You won’t find the kind of detailed route planning, maps, and ratings that Most Scenic Drives and Off the Beaten Path provide. It does earn the purchaser of the book access to a “Walking Eye” app for your phone that offers tips and advice about accommodations, entertainment, food, etc. by destination. The app, like the book, is quirky and pretty limited. Its orientation suggests to me that paid advertisers are the core of the information presented. Also, if your travel interests are outside the United States, you would benefit most (in this collection) from “Drives of a Lifetime,” in which I have placed more than 40 bookmarks, and “The Road Trip Book”. “Road Trip” is a tome, but to be fair, it is international in scope. Like “United States on the Road,” is much more limited in materials presented, relying almost entirely on brief write-ups accompanied by one or two photos each. Over the last few years, I have built and maintained a Facebook page called Burgundy Lane Photography. It serves as an on-line gallery of photos I took on various short excursions, mostly in and around Missouri – although there is the occasional from adjacent states when an excursion splashes over the border.
From the many hundreds of comments I have received about my photos there and on Facebook group sites such as Forgotten Missouri, Amazing Missouri Photographer, and so on, I’ve come to realize there are a good many of us baby boomers who have reached the point in our lives where we’d like to travel but many of us just can’t. Financial constraints, health issues, family responsibilities, and other factors simply won’t permit it any longer. Many times, I have been blessed with unsolicited assistance from my viewers who help me get straight on the name of an old grist mill or the location of an old barn and fill in the blanks about the history of a place I’ve photographed. I am truly grateful. But there is a recurring theme that has become increasingly common in the comments lately. It is manifested in words like: “Do you ever permit people to ride along when you go out to take photos of these places?”, and “I wish I could attach myself to you coat tail and visit these places with you.”, “This reminds me so much of the farm where I grew up. I wish I could still get out, so I could go back and see the old place again.” Now that I’m on the back side of my sixties, I know that time is coming for me, too. So I’d like very much to provide this blog as a window for those who’d like to use my photos and my descriptions as a way to step back in time, or reach visually into places they would otherwise never be able to see for themselves. I hope it works out that way.
I departed St Louis around 7am on Thursday, January 30, 2020 with 8.000 miles on my Honda Ridgeline. I headed south on I-55 toward Natchez, Mississippi. I completed the trip with 9,500 miles on my odometer around 7pm on Sunday February 2nd . The point of this short excursion was to test several things, including my personal stamina, my ability to basically live out of my little pickup truck, the validity of my planning, and the adequacy of my gear. I also wanted to discover what kinds of unanticipated events and circumstances for which I should prepare myself.
I selected the Natchez area for three reasons: 1) It was on my list, 2) It was a relatively short excursion; I was able to drive there in one (very long) day and return in one (very long) day, and 3) It was comparatively warm. The day I left St Louis we still had a light dusting of snow, and I strongly dislike cold weather. I’d had enough of winter, and just needed to thoroughly defrost myself. I planned my route using a combination of the maps & descriptions in the Most Scenic Drives in America book listed above, Google Earth, and a 2019 Rand McNally Road Atlas (the large print edition). In the end, though, I found that virtually all my navigation was done through a combination of Google Maps and the navigation system in my Honda. I did refer about a dozen times to the information from the Most Scenic Drives book, which I had photocopied using my iPhone before departure; a very smart thing to do, as it turned out.
On January 30, I drove relatively straight through to Natchez. I stopped about a half-dozen times, as the trip was about 500 miles. I came off my planned route inadvertently in Jackson, Mississippi on the way down by following the Natchez Trace Parkway along the Pearl River.
Along Pearl River
By the time I realized with enough clarity what I had done, it made more sense to follow that on to Natchez than to backtrack and take the main highway again, so I forged ahead. It added more than an hour to my trip. But looking back, I’m glad I did it because it afforded me a preview of the beautiful shoreline along the river between Jackson and Natchez that I’d almost certainly have missed otherwise. I was so struck by it that I deliberately returned along this same route when I headed back to St. Louis, and invested most of a morning in photographing that stretch. It’s quite beautiful and – on that day, at least – it was virtually deserted.
My entire day on Thursday was devoted to travel, and briefly arranging for my lodging in Natchez. I spent 80% of the trip listening to old time Radio Classics on Sirius XM. Love the old radio shows; especially the mysteries, crime dramas, and westerns from the 1950s and early 1960s.
There were some stretches where I just turned the radio off, too, and listened to the quiet whoosh of the truck knifing its way through the wind along the highway. I love that sound, and the opportunity for quiet contemplation it offers. The combination of freedom from the noise of televisions, conversational chatter, and the other extraneous hubbub of normal daily life and the lure of the unfettered open road is a heady brew. It made me feel younger somehow, as though life was a blank canvas stretched out before me, at least for a few days. No schedule, no meetings, no one expecting me at a certain place or a certain time.
Yet I was as connected as I needed to be. My iPhone is wirelessly connected through my Honda and so anyone I know is just one button away by phone, and only a tiny bit further by Facetime, if I needed to see them, and if they needed to see me. From time to time throughout my excursion I would share photos and videos via text message too, and so I was still as “connected” as if I were in my office at work or my living room at home. In so many ways, staying connected while distant is so much easier than it has ever been before; it’s both wonderful and unsettling, I guess. It worked out very well for me on this trip. Weather improved as I skated southward, traffic was light, and my spirits improved with every mile.
I determined that I would get a lay of the land, so to speak, on Friday morning. The weather was cool and drizzly, with the high temperature forecasted to be in the mid-50s. My first stop following the fitness club was the Natchez Visitor’s Center, which was a very good decision. (Incidentally, a $10/day visitor’s pass provided me access to all of the fitness center equipment as well as their shower facilities, which was a great deal for me since I was experimenting with sleeping in my truck on this trip.)
The folks at the Visitor Center were incredibly hospitable and helpful. I paid a nominal fee to watch a brief film about the history and important cultural aspects of Natchez, and then explored the impressive photographic overview of the area tastefully displayed in their lobby. It was well done, and I picked some important clues about the culture and values of the people there. Still more useful, though, was their guidance on getting a tour of the area. Several different tours are available. However, on a cold, drizzly day in January there are few takers, and so selection was down to a choice of one. I don’t know how good the other tours are, but I was very pleased with mine. It was Rev’s Country Tours. The service is so named because my tour guide, the Reverend Tracy Collins is the proprietor and operator of the business. Aside from the Natchez Visitor’s Center, the Rev can be contacted at PO Box 308, Lorman, MS 39096.
I was the only person on the tour, so I had ample time to ask questions and get to know my guide. Among the highlights of my tour were: The Grand Village of the Natchez Indians, a drive-by-with-description of several historic homes and neighborhoods, the “Forks of the Road” Slave Market site, King’s Tavern (the oldest and reputedly most haunted building in Natchez), the home of Mississippi Madame Nellie Jackson, Natchez Cemetery, and old Natchez Under the Hill. A lot of information was packed into a couple of hours, and – even with a generous tip – the tour cost less than $50. It informed the rest of my visit to the area, and it was worth every penny.
Natchez is the county seat and the only city of Adams County, Mississippi. It is located about 90 miles southwest of Jackson, the capital of Mississippi has a total population of about 18,000 people. It’s across the Mississippi River from Vidalia in Concordia Parish, Louisiana. The city of Natchez was a prominent city in the antebellum (post-Civil-War) years, a center of cotton planters and Mississippi River trade. Today, the city contains about 8,000 households and the average household size is 2.4 people. The median income for a household in the city was $25,117, as of the 2000 census, and the median income for a family was $29,723, leaving 28.6% of the population and 25.1% of families below the poverty line. 41.6% of those under the age of 18 and 23.3% of those 65 and older were living below the poverty line as of that census year.
Colorful and charming – though often in decay – Natchez is brimming over with history and legend.
I invested the bulk of the afternoon on Friday in photographing the Natchez Cemetery. Since it was dark and cloudy well into the afternoon, the weather seemed about right for that subject, and I had a lot of fun. I am no expert on cemeteries, but this one is incredible. Tons and tons of graves with ornate, intricate tombstones and family plots. Beautiful deteriorating stones and brickwork as well as gorgeous wrought iron fencing and gates are everywhere. Hundreds of pieces of statuary, and live oaks with Spanish moss. Sections for everyone – an Irish-Catholic section, a Jewish section, a Confederate soldier section; it just goes on and on.
Some very unusual graves too, including that of Florence Irene Ford. This grave contains the casket of a 10-year-old girl whose mother insisted that a stairway be included, so that she could descend those stairs and see the casket each day through a window built into the side of the grave. The window has been walled off, so it’s no longer possible to view the casket. But the stairway remains, now littered with Barbie dolls and other memorabilia dropped off there by well-meaning visitors. If ever there was a haunted cemetery, I’m pretty sure this one would qualify as a top candidate.
Setting aside the incredible graves and statuary, though, the sheer landscape is worth the trip. If you ever visit Natchez, the cemetery is a must-see!
Friday evening, I had dinner at one of the restaurants along Natchez-Under-the-Hill, called Magnolia Grill . I had two excellent meals in Natchez, and the best one was here. I had a filet (the most expensive item on the menu, as I recall) – and it was excellent. It was a generous cut, and the chef knew how to get a very thick cut of meat perfectly done without butterflying it. Absolutely mouth-watering! The visit also provided me with an opportunity to grab a couple of shots of Natchez-Under-the-Hill as I departed in the evening. The Magnolia Grill is located at 49 Silver Street, Natchez, MS 39120.
Natchez Under the Hill (of particular interest to me because of the key role it plays in a John Wayne movie called El Dorado.)
Natchez-Under-the-Hill was a raucous boat landing beneath the bluff on the bank of the Mississippi. Described by nineteenth-century travelers as one of the rowdiest ports on the Mississippi River, this port hosted keelboats, flatboats, and – beginning in 1811 – steamboats. Taverns, gambling halls, and brothels lined the streets. Slaves were sold at the landing on Natchez-Under-the-Hill, as well as on the city streets and at the Forks of the Road, the second largest slave market in the South. When the steamboat began to be replaced by the railroad, Natchez Under-the-Hill became a sleepy river port whose primary commerce was the ferry that provided transportation to and from Louisiana. Finally, in 1940, the construction of a bridge across the Mississippi River made Natchez Under-the-Hill a veritable ghost town. The remaining half-dozen businesses there serve primarily as a historic landmark.
All weekend, beginning Friday evening, I paused along the road when I saw a building (commercial or residential) that I felt displayed the kind of character that revealed a story through its own dereliction. They also tell a broader story in aggregate, a story about the once fantastically wealthy city of Natchez that fell disastrously from grace as the cotton industry imploded, and left an entire swath of America in decay and ruin.
On Saturday morning my first target was Natchez State Park. The park is located at 40 Wickcliff Road on Hwy. 61 North, just 10 miles north historic Natchez. It’ a standard park with amenities that include cabins, boat launching, fishing, hiking/nature trail, picnic area/shelter, and so on. Natchez State Park is also famous in its own right. Apparently, the largest bass in Mississippi history, a largemouth weighing 18.15 pounds, was caught in Natchez lake at this park in 1992. It’s an understated sort of place. But the park is well-kept, clean, and a perfect spot for being alone with nature. I was the only human at the park – except for the park ranger, who I envied at that moment – in the office there. The buildings and other structures looked practically new, and everything – including the restrooms – was absolutely pristine.
Natchez State Park
The morning started out pretty cloudy and cool, which is reflected in my images from the park – but the place was still quite beautiful and had a pastoral quality that made me want to linger. The backroads leading into and out of the park were dotted with several old, derelict buildings – just the kind of thing I can’t resist photographing – and so photograph them I did.
One of several derelict buildings along the road entering Natchez State Park
One other rather odd element about this place. That morning the place was almost over-run by huge, black birds. I’d guess their wingspans reached 4 feet in many cases, and I estimate there were over a hundred of them along the shoreline around park headquarters. When I asked the park ranger what they were, he said: “Oh, those are just buzzards. They come and they go, but I guess there are more of ‘em out there than usual today.” The way he said it clearly implied that everybody should know what buzzards are, and he was surprised that I’d be surprised. But I was. Beautiful as the park was, the water was the color of mud, reminding me of the Mississippi River; “Big Muddy.” It certainly would have been prettier with nice, clear water, but such is the turgid nature of rivers in flood-prone areas.
Leaving Natchez State Park, the sky was clearing as I headed north toward Emerald Mound. Designated a National Historic Landmark, Emerald is one of the largest Indian burial mounds in North America. It covers eight acres, measuring 770 by 435 feet at the base and it is 35 feet high. Two smaller mounds sit on top of the summit of the primary mound. Several additional smaller mounds that were once located along the edges of the primary mound summit were destroyed by plowing and erosion back in the 19th century.
Emerald Mound Indian Burial Ground
Anthropologists believe this site was built by ancestors of the Natchez Indians and used between 1250 and 1600 A.D. as a ceremonial center for the local population, which resided in outlying villages. Like the state park, I found Emerald Mound devoid of people even at my 10am arrival. A couple of others showed up by the time I left about an hour later. It was warming up nicely in the newly emerged sunshine as I headed out again, continuing north up toward Mount Locust.
Mount Locust Inn & Plantation is one of the oldest structures in the area. Built in 1780 the original structure is now the only remaining example of the inns constructed every 1-day-walk’s distance along the Trace heading northeast out of Natchez. By 1785 a steady stream of “Kaintucks” (rustic natives / residents of Kentucky in the 18th century) were shipping goods down the Mississippi River to markets in Natchez and New Orleans. (Fulton’s steam powered watercraft hadn’t been invented yet; that happened in 1807. So, unable to return their powerless flatboats back up the river, they sold their boats for lumber. As a result, a lot of the buildings still standing from that period are constructed of barge wood.) The stevedores then walked back to their homes hundreds of miles to the north. This return route became known as the Natchez Trace. With the growing foot traffic on the Trace, William and Paulina Ferguson, who had picked up the property after the original owner was jailed, turned their farmhouse into an inn.
According to National Park Service publications: “for 25 cents travelers could have a meal of corn mush and milk, and a cozy place to spend the night. Despite losing both husbands, Paulina was able to raise her eleven children plus run a successful inn. As the stream of “Kaintucks” quickened, a four-room two story annex was built for more accommodations. Known as Sleepy Hollow, the Mount Locust Inn was one of more than 40 inns along the 500 mile Trace. About a day’s journey on foot from Natchez, the inn is one of the oldest remaining structures on the Trace. Marrying James Chamberlain in the early 1800s, Paulina Chamberlain’s descendants maintained the farm until 1944. In 1954 the National Park Service returned the home to its 1810s appearance.”
Mount Locust Inn & Plantation
When I visited, I found a very nice couple in charge of the site. They welcomed my visit, gave me permission to shoot photos anywhere on the property, and provided me with answers to all my questions. Like the State Park, the site was very clean and well maintained. It’s a beautiful rolling area covered with mature trees and set well back from the highway. The buildings are appointed with period-authentic furnishings ranging from normal furniture in the bedrooms and kitchen to grape arbors and soap making equipment on the grounds.
A short walk from the house leads to a slave cemetery, a brick kiln site, and the Ferguson-Chamberlain Cemetery. And – like the State Park – it proved to be a great place to be alone with nature. The rocking chair on the front porch of the Inn looked mighty inviting to me. Only the Natchez Cemetery tops this site on my list of must-see attractions in the Natchez area.
After wandering around, enjoying nature and the period displays at Mount Locust, I pushed on again toward Windsor Ruins. Windsor Ruins are in Claiborn County about 10 miles southwest of Port Gibson near Alcorn State University. Originally, Windsor mansion was located on a 2,600-acre plantation. It was built for Smith Coffee Daniell, a wealthy cotton planter. Once the American Civil War began in 1861, Confederate forces used the Windsor mansion cupola as an observation platform and signal station. Windsor mansion survived the war and continued to be used as a home and for social events. In 1974, the 2.1 acres containing the mansion ruins was donated to the state of Mississippi. It is administered by the Mississippi Department of Archives and History. Today the ruins are comprised of 23 erect Corinthian columns; the remains of the largest antebellum Greek Revival mansion ever built in the state. The mansion was built in 1861 and was destroyed by fire in 1890. The site was added to the National Register of Historic Places in 1971 and was designated a Mississippi Landmark in 1985. The Windsor ruins have reportedly appeared in two motion pictures—Raintree County (1957) and Ghosts of Mississippi (1996). It’s an interesting place. These days it is surrounded by a nice, new-looking chain-link fence about 5 feet high – no doubt in place to reduce any potential liability from injuries sustained from the crumbling structures. But there was a large opening in the fence at the rear of the property that permitted easy ingress.
Windsor Ruins
While I was at Windsor Ruins, another tourist told me he was on his way home from Vicksburg when he stopped at the site. He recommended it to me, and reported on a couple of the most prominent features of the city. At that point, the skies had cleared, and the sun had turned it into a gorgeous day. So as soon as I finished up at Windsor Ruins, I jumped back in the truck, switched over to one of my favorite music stations (The Bridge) on Sirius XM, and headed for Vicksburg.
Entering the Vicksburg area, I came across a beautiful new visitors’ welcome center (52 Old Highway 27) on a high bluff overlooking the impressive bridges that cross the mighty Mississippi. It was a bright sunny afternoon at that point, with gorgeous cumulus clouds dancing like beach balls bobbing in a shallow blue surf. The view from the visitor’s center was stunning. And as I watched the bridges, it became clear to me that both automobiles and trains used them as a locomotive edged out from beneath the bluff, and began to cross the river below me. My 3-year-old grandson is a huge fan of all things train related, and I was able to get about 20 seconds of video for him, which I immediately forwarded by text message to his mom. It made me smile when my daughter responded: “Liam’s going to love this!”
The Bridge at Vicksburg
The folks inside the center provided me with a map of the local area, and showed me how to get into town. Approaching the city, I stopped at a gas station to refuel. I think it was a Shell station – one of those stations with a minimart attached, and I went in to buy a couple of fresh bananas for lunch. While I was paying for them, I asked the young woman behind the counter if she could tell me where to find the battlefield. (Vicksburg battlefield is huge – one of the largest combination battlefield and cemeteries in the country, and quite well known.) She had clearly never heard of it. “Do you mean the beauty store?” she asked. “No,” I replied. “The Civil War battlefield. “Oh,” she said, “you’re looking for the jewelry store.” She was quite serious – she had no idea what the battlefield was, and I’m not sure, based on her vacuous expression, that she even knew what the Civil War was. I politely thanked her and returned to the truck with my lunch. It was a pretty amazing encounter.
To say that Vicksburg is a historic American city would be to understate the matter considerably. It was described by Abraham Lincoln as the “key to the South,” and when this key riverport finally fell to Grant’s Union forces after a long and bloody siege on July 4, 1863, the Confederacy lost their last chance to control the Mississippi River. Originally built by French colonists in 1719, it was incorporated as Vicksburg in 1825 after Methodist missionary Newitt Vick. It stands on a high bluff along the east bank of the Mississippi River across from Louisiana, but it’s actually at the confluence of the Mississippi and Yazoo Rivers. In the American Civil War, it was a key Confederate river-port, and its surrender to Ulysses S. Grant in July 1863 marked the turning-point of the war. Vicksburg has a troubled history of racial conflict, which stretched well into the 20th century.
Vicksburg is home to three large installations of the US Army Corps of Engineers, which remain a long-standing bulwark against ravenous flooding in that area of the country. It’s been reported that the city has a total area of 35.3 square miles, of which 32.9 square miles are land and 2.4 square miles (6.78%) are covered by water. Vicksburg is home to the McRaven House, said to be “one of the most haunted houses in Mississippi,” the Old Courthouse (a truly marvelous museum dedicated to the Civil War), and of course the Vicksburg National Military Park and Vicksburg National Cemetery.
Downtown Vicksburg
The city itself seems heavily reliant these days on tourism. It contains dozens of museums (including the Biedenharn Coca-Cola Museum), historical military exhibits, and – of course – riverboat / riverside casinos. Perhaps one of the most unique elements of the city is the set of 32 life-like pictorial murals by Robert Dafford depicting local history along the flood wall on Levee Street.
The Old Courthouse in Vicksburg
I walked the streets of Vicksburg a while, and ended up at the Old Courthouse where I had a very nice conversation with the caretaker who handles admission at the door, and tells the story of the museum. I also met Ashley, one of the two cats who lives at the courthouse, and likes to greet visitors.
Ashley – one of the two cats residing in the Old Courthouse
For Civil War buffs (you know who you are), the Old Courthouse would keep you enthralled for hours. For me, it was a bit overwhelming. But going to Vicksburg without seeing this place would be a real shame.
From the Old Courthouse I pressed on, driving along a small portion of the Vicksburg National Cemetery until I arrived at the Vicksburg National Military Park. It took my breath away. The park is a perfectly manicured display of the exact positions and events that comprised the siege of Vicksburg. Every significant military emplacement and event in the 47-day siege is marked by signage and statuary, with more than 1,300 monuments in place today across nearly 3 square miles.
Vicksburg National Military Park
The tallest of these, the Navy Memorial, is over 200 feet tall. Each battle point is marked with a monument reflecting who fought there, and what the casualties were. How many killed, how many wounded, and how many missing. Mile after mile after mile of them, winding through the park. The cumulative numbers were staggering. I drove around the self-guided tour route and – with frequent stops for photos – it took me nearly two hours. An absolutely amazing place. How in the world they keep it so pristine is beyond me – it must require a veritable army of maintenance folks – but somehow they manage, because it is spectacular.
Winding up my time at the military park, I needed a rest. So, I stopped into the local burger joint for a sandwich and ate as I drove, heading out of Vicksburg and back in the direction of Natchez. On the way back, though, I stopped off at Port Gibson.
It was about 4:30pm when I arrived at Port Gibson. I had heard from my fellow traveler at Windsor Ruins that the old courthouse there was an interesting structure which might lend itself to a photograph or two, so that’s where I focused my attention.
Port Gibson is a comparatively small city these days, with a population of 1,600 people. It’s the county seat of Claiborne County, which is bordered on the west by the Mississippi River. The Claiborne County Courthouse in Port Gibson was my photographic target.
Port Gibson was chartered as a town in 1803 after the United States acquired the territory in the Louisiana Purchase from France. To develop cotton plantations in the area after Indian Removal of the 1830s, planters in the state imported thousands of African-American slaves from the Upper South. The county had a black majority established well before the Civil War, and they were overwhelmingly slaves. The town also saw action during the Civil War, and has several historical sites listed on the National Register of Historic Places.
In the 20th century, Port Gibson played a substantial role in the development of blues music in Mississippi, including taverns and juke joints now included on the Mississippi Blues Trail. With the decline in agriculture and lack of other jobs, the city and rural county have suffered from reduced population and poverty. (See my photos of miscellaneous buildings.) The peak of population in the city was in 1950. The courthouse was interesting, but like so much of this part of the country, it’s engulfed in the sense of a place whose best days are far behind, and disappearing from view. Looking at it today, it’s hard to imagine that even the heydays of the 1950s were all that great.
When I arrived back in Natchez, I found that I had some time remaining before the “ghost tour” I had scheduled for myself downtown. I decided to return to one of the stops from my earlier tour of the city, to photograph the home and neighborhood of one of the area’s most notable – and notorious – figures: Nellie Jackson.
Natchez is a town known for its antebellum splendor, with numerous mansions serving as reminders of the days when cotton was king and wealthy plantation owners built homes that reflect their status.
Dunleith Mansion
But the river town also had another side. Founded in 1716 and pre-dating New Orleans, the settlement had a rough and tumble element that included gambling, whiskey, and women. According to the Clarion Ledger, a “part of that history continued until 1990 in a little brothel known as Nellie’s. ‘Everyone knew about it.’ Nellie’s was not a secret in Natchez. “Natchez has always been a wide-open town,” said Tony Byrne. “It’s a river town. “We had whiskey when Mississippi was dry. It was very liberal. It’s still very liberal.” An African-American born in 1902, it is said Nellie Jackson moved from Possum Corner to Natchez in 1930. There she established a brothel that became known as Nellie’s. The business thrived and operated in plain sight for the next 60 years. “Everybody knew about it,” said Byrne, a life-long Natchez resident who served as mayor from 1968 until 1988. Byrne said he was friends with Jackson. “We talked about it. She was in operation before I was born. We just kind of grew up with it.” Byrne’s family owned a store called H. F. Byrne, a place where Jackson shopped and where she took women working for her to shop. “It was the largest department store during its day,” Byrne said. “When some of the girls came in, she would take them shopping at three or four places to let (people) know she had new girls in. She had a steady stream of professionals. Jackson was very free with her money when it came to charities.” (Natchez, Mississippi: Nellie Jackson ran a brothel until 1990 (clarionledger.com)
She also acted as an informant for the FBI on civil rights cases against the Ku Klux Klan. Nellie, one of her girls, and her assailant were all killed on July 5, 1990 when Nellie was 87 years old.
While I was photographing the Natchez Cemetery the previous day, I was greeted by a woman who was tidying up there in preparation for a couple of upcoming funerals. The lady was very kind, and our conversation turned at one point to the legend of Nellie Jackson. She alerted me that there are film documentaries available about Nellie, and they’ve been aired on Netflix. There are also trailers and excerpts available on YouTube. “I knew Nellie,” the woman confided. Evidently, this lady – now a retired social worker – called Jackson or one of her compatriots when she came across a special needs case; a woman who was down on her luck, end – especially when it was no fault of the victim – Nellie would assist (always anonymously) with food, medicine, or whatever was required. Not exactly a typical story, I think, and quite fascinating. The woman was murdered at the age of 87 in 1990. Her story can be viewed on the Ledger’s site at https://www.clarionledger.com/story/magnolia/2019/11/13/natchez-mississippi-brothel-owner-nellie-jackson-mississippi-madam/4164682002/. The house, and the boarding house behind it where her employees lived, still remain on Ranken street. They’re unoccupied now, and although it’s quiet, that part of Natchez has seen much better days.
The Infamous Nellie Jackson HouseThe dormitory where working girls resided why in Nellie Jackson’s employ
From Nellie’s it was time to head downtown. I wasn’t sure where exactly I was going to meet my Ghost Tour guide, and wanted to give myself time for one decent meal before taking on the haunted city.
As it turned out, I found a nice little spot on Pearl Street downtown just a block or so from our starting point on the ghost tour. The food was good, though I undoubtedly had the worst table in the place (I was solo, and had no reservation so I didn’t complain) right outside the door of the kitchen. And I emerged just in time to relocate my Honda and meet my guide. The young man who met me was nice enough. Not a local, though, and so not as conversant in local lore as I’d hoped. He seemed to me to be a fan of the Ghostbuster movie franchise, and came replete with his own hand-held electro-magnetic field (EMF) detector. Oh boy. Yes, the whole thing was pretty cheesy, but harmless enough, and I did get to see the inside of the cell block in the old jail – including the mechanism and trap door used to hang condemned prisoners back in the day. The trap door is welded shut now, but still… that was the most unsettling part of the tour.
The most interesting part of the ghost tour, I thought, was King’s Tavern. It’s not surprising that the oldest building in the Natchez area is reputed to be haunted. It’s been standing, since the 1760s, when its walls were constructed from the beams of scrapped sailing ships and barge wood from flat river boats. Originally, it was a block house for nearby Fort Panmure. Then in 1789, a man by the name of Richard King opened a tavern and an inn in the building. It operated as a stage stop, a mail station, and a tavern for many years. King sold the building around 1817, and it became a private residence. As the story was related to me during both my city tour and ghost tour, Mr. King had an affair with a young waitress at the tavern, who later disappeared without a trace. Nothing more was heard from – or about – her for decades. Then, in the 1970s, the building was purchased and restored by the Natchez Pilgrimage Garden Club. It later became a restaurant. And in 2013, chef Regina Charboneau and her husband, Doug, bought the building, added a wood-burning oven, and created a menu of small-batch liquors, craft cocktails, and wood-fired flatbreads. Both of my tour guides insist that when the original masonry from the fireplace was removed, the waitress’ skeleton was found with a King family dagger embedded in the rib cage. As the story goes, King’s wife stabbed Madeline to death after learning of their affair. And now, centuries later, among the original architectural elements and antique furniture decorating King’s Tavern, the ghost of a tavern waitress and Richard King’s mistress, Madeline, is said to still walk the halls. Other ghostly events have been reported in the building throughout the years: sounds of a baby crying in an empty room, mysterious images appearing in mirrors, customers reporting an unseen force pushing them or pulling their hair.
King’s Tavern – Reputedly the most haunted building in Natchez
All in all, great fodder for a Halloween movie! When the ghost tour ended, it was approaching 10pm and I decided to call it a day.
The next morning found me waiting sunrise across the street from King’s Tavern standing in the bed of my truck, taking photos of the building. (One thing I discovered doing this is that the Dark Sky weather app on my phone is amazingly accurate when predicting the exact time of sunrise. It’s a bit less accurate with the actual weather, but still the best app for that purpose I’ve come across.) As soon as I finished up at that location, I headed north out of Natchez for the last time, determined to accomplish two things that day: 1) Photograph some of the beauty I observed along the Natchez Trace Parkway when I first left the major highway outside of Jackson the previous Friday, and 2) See how far I could make it back toward home in St Louis.
The Natchez Trace Parkway was constructed by the US National Park Service. It has limited entry/exit points, cypress swamps, and important archeological sites. It has more than 90 specified stop-off points along the way, with lots of woodlands and waterway scenery. It closely follows a forest walking trail blazed by ancient Indian tribes for a trade route between the Mississippi River and central Tennessee. The entire Trace stretches from Natchez, Mississippi to Nashville, Tennessee – about 450 miles.
It’s difficult to describe how beautiful the Pearl River stretch of the Natchez Trace Parkway is, and my photos don’t do it justice. I was on the wrong side of the river for that time of day, with the sun facing right down into my camera lens. (You’ll see some sun flare in a few of the images I captured.) So you’ll just have to take my word for it; this area justifies its inclusion in books like “The Most Scenic Drives in America” and “1001 Drives of a Lifetime.” If you’re looking for solitude and beauty in a woodland river setting, this would be hard to beat. It reminded me of the times I have stood among redwoods and sequoias in the great northwest, but it was cheerier, and less solemn. The shoreline was rocky and sprinkled with chunks of colorful driftwood. The bright sun sparkled on the surface of the water, the air was crisp and fresh, and traffic on the road was rare. I don’t think I encountered more than one vehicle per 10 minutes of travel.
Pearl RiverMy little blue Ridgeline posing along the Pearl River
I pulled off the roadway several times – and immediately found myself very grateful for my 4-wheel drive. The ground was saturated with recent rain, resulting in a grassy bog that ran all the way down to the rocky shoreline. But what splendor! I’d make the trip again just for that drive. My only disappointment was finding that – like just about every waterway in the United States these days – the shores are littered with plastic bottles, aluminum cans, and other detritus. I’ve photoshopped most of these elements from my photos, but – yuk! I just hate to see how we’ve spoiled so much of our landscape. I captured my last image on this excursion at 10:39am, and then headed northwest – back toward St Louis.
My journey home was accompanied most of the time by music. I started out singing along with my favorite gospel tunes (it was Sunday, after all, and I dearly love the old gospel hymns) and then followed up with other playlists from my iPhone. It was long drive back, and I ended up having to rest my eyes for a few minutes around Sikeston, Missouri before making the final leg home. My eyes were burning, and I found myself starting to drift. So, I just found a parking lot and caught a short nap there. Seemed to work just fine, and I finally rolled into my driveway between 7:30 and 8pm.
LESSONS LEARNED FROM EXCURSION #1
I can sleep in my truck for a couple of consecutive nights, but really need to use a hotel room on the third night to stay alert and rested through the excursion.
I have a little more work to do on the configuration of my truck for sleeping. Nothing major, just a couple of adjustments. But they should make a big difference. Love the truck, though. It drives extremely well, provides the platform I need for my tripod in the bed, has 4WD, and a good stereo system.
I made a great decision on the sleeping bag. I purchased a Meridian sleeping bag rated for ten degrees F, and it is phenomenal. Would make that choice again!
I need to work on the exact balance between freewheeling my schedule and a structured agenda. I loved the freedom of very few scheduled events (in this case, it was actually only 1 – the ghost tour I found online.) But as I move into periods of the year that are tourist seasons and more popular destinations, I’m going to have to commit to critical elements like scheduled tours and hotels or camping spots in advance in order to make everything happen. Guided tours and visitors’ centers turned out to be invaluable ways to orient myself, prioritize the things I want to see/do, and get questions answered.
Take my time. I am still fighting the “need” to see more, do more, and keep moving. I don’t need to pack every attraction / event / location into every excursion. To a substantial degree, less is more. I want to make these excursions about the experience; including the people and the culture and the character of the places I visit. The gestalt.
It’s a bit disorienting to have no “home base.” When I am traveling and staying in my vehicle, there is nowhere to go back to at night to power down and stretch out. No bedroom, no living room, no kitchen. No bathroom. Just my truck. It takes some getting used to. Even in Iraq and Afghanistan, when I was out with the Army or the Marines there was a forward operating base (FOB) where I could throw my gear down, find an open cot – usually in a tent – feel like it was my home (albeit temporarily.) This voluntary homelessness is at the same time liberating and unsettling. I’m confident that I’ll get more comfortable with it as I do it more, and establish a kind of rhythm for myself. But it’s a great adventure, and I love it!
My camera will run for two-to-three days solid – taking still images – on the combination of two batteries that I’m using; then I’m going to have to have 110 AC access for about 8 hours to get everything recharged. My iPhone can be recharged from the truck as I drive – no problem.
My laptop can be recharged and used at the same time – at any coffee shop or McDonalds. (This trip was “Pre-COVID. ” Finding a McDonalds or other facility with 24-hour electrical outlet availability is now more of a challenge!) On this trip, it was the best way I found to keep up with emails, surf for information, and so on.
Official retirement is not as “freeing” as I expected on some level. Between my class schedule, family commitments, and so on there is still a constant balancing act involved. But – hey – it sure beats commuting to a regular commercial workplace every day – especially on frigid winter mornings!
I need to be more disciplined about collecting and cataloging information during my excursion. I think I need to set aside at least 30 minutes – probably more like a full hour – each day to capture and organize my notes in preparation for blogging about the travels. For the information to be useful to others, I need some consistency and structure. I also need to be able to depend on a more reliable tool than my memory about the people and places I encounter along the way.
I departed from Moline Illinois around 7am on Sunday, May 31, 2020 with a little over 12,000 miles on my Honda Ridgeline. I headed north through Iowa and just across the state line into Minnesota to take care of a brief errand, then dropped back down to I-90 westward. I made two brief stops along the way – primarily to satisfy family members who insisted that I see the Corn Palace in Mitchell, South Dakota and the Wall Drug Store in Wall, South Dakota on my way. I completed the trip with just under 16,000 miles on my odometer around 11pm on Saturday June 6th.
The point of this excursion was to retrace the trail run by stagecoaches that travelled between Deadwood, South Dakota and Cheyenne Wyoming during the wild west days, especially around the days of prospecting and gold mining in that area. I was following up on an article from the American Road magazine (Volume XV Number 2, specifically) called: “Last Stagecoach to Deadwood.” It chronicled the towns and events along the way between Cheyenne and Deadwood including Fort Laramie, Lusk, Hat Creek, Newcastle, Lead, and of course both Cheyenne and Deadwood. That path, referred to in the article as the “Cheyenne – Black Hills Stage road”, is about 300 miles. But I added several points of interest to the trip like Mount Rushmore, which stretched out the time required quite a bit. At the last minute, an errand needed to be run that actually caused me to reverse course. But it all worked out fine, and this little jaunt turned out to be one of my fondest trips ever. I’m a big fan of the old westerns – especially the movies (John Wayne, Clint Eastwood, Roy Rogers, Gene Autry, etc.) and so this was like manna from heaven for my natural wanderlust and love for all things west.
My principle planning references for the trip were that back issue of American Road and one of my favorite traveling buddies, the hardcover version of “Off the Beaten Path” by Readers Digest. If you travel and don’t have a copy of that book, buy it; just trust me on this. Refer to it before every road trip; you’ll thank me later.
I headed west on I-80 then I-380, I-218, and I-35 toward Mitchell. The weather was good, I had a fresh oil change before leaving home, and my Honda hummed happily along the interstate with only one minor incident. It seems the speed limit plummets to 55mph for a short stretch around Cedar Rapids. Apparently I missed that, and was photographed by one of the 3 hidden traffic cameras set up for that very purpose, still doing the typical interstate speed limit. Cruise control strikes again. A very nice photograph embedded in a form letter arrived by mail not long after I returned home demanding payment of $75, including a promise that the matter would not be reported and therefore would not be deleterious to my automobile insurance rates; they just wanted my money. A word to the wise about Cedar Rapids, Iowa folks.
My first stop was at Palisades State Park in Garretson, South Dakota. Approaching the park entrance, I happened across a private display of old (circa 1920s or 1930s, I think) farm equipment. I paused there long enough to have a chat with the owner, who happened to be departing as I was pulling over to take a few photos. The owner is a genuinely nice man who congratulated me on my retirement and told me as he left to “take all the pictures you like.” The piece of primary interest to me was a very old tractor that he rescued from his late father-in-law’s property out in the Badlands, and he had a half dozen similar era farm implements there.
Old tractor near the entrance to Palisades State Park
Palisades Park is an amazingly beautiful place. It looks like the calendar pictures that used to grace the walls of every Midwestern American home. Gorgeous bluffs and pinnacles (some stretching 80 feet or more skyward) and the sound of rushing water. Over 100 acres provide lots of places for younger folks to climb and get a view of the surrounding landscape. The park borders Split Rock creek with paved and unpaved footpaths, well-maintained bridges and parking areas, and a crisply organized park management presence who provide maps and information at the entrance. An absolutely delightful respite from travel, and the first glimpse of just how beautiful a journey into this part of the country can be. If you have time, plan to spend at least a few hours at this park. There are places for picnics and a lot of hiking or just sitting on rounded boulders along the waters edge and communing with nature. They accommodate camping there as well. This is one of the spots on my journey that I discovered as a result of “Off the Beaten Path,” mentioned earlier.
Palisades State Park
After Palisades State Park, I drove on west to Mitchell South Dakota and visited “The World’s Only Corn Palace.” If you’re a lover of gift shops, which I am not, this is a great place for you! I had seen the Palace once before, but it was more than 50 years ago, so this was a pretty new experience for me – again – and I have a better sense now of why I forgot about it the first time. It is clean, well maintained, huge (think full size basketball court with adjoining bleachers, also connected to a stage for live performances,) and seems to function most of the time to house an enormous gift shop doing business on the floor of the basketball court. The real claim to fame for this edifice appears to be the fact that the exterior of the building is encased in a gigantic façade of corn cobs depicting a kind of mural of the countryside, and apparently it is completely redone each year. I know it must impress the pants off of people generally, because it’s been there for a very long time (1921) and popular accounts state that it receives half a million visitors a year. Performances at the Palace have included Johnny Cash, The Beach Boys, and Willie Nelson so they are clearly doing something right. I just didn’t get it. But I kept my promise to family members by returning there for a visit, and then moved on. The Corn Palace is located at 604 Main Street in Mitchell; knock yourself out.
The Corn Palace
With the first day’s excitement over, I ate dinner and called it a night.
On Monday morning, I headed south along I-90 and encountered the Dignity Statue near Chamberlain, South Dakota. The Dignity Statue is located at a rest area off the interstate, situated on a bluff overlooking the Missouri River. It is a gorgeous work of art formed of stainless steel and standing more than 50 feet high. It presents a native American woman in plains-style clothing receiving a quilt of stars. The designer is Dale Claude Lamphere. This is a remarkable artwork, standing in the middle of nowhere in a beautifully manicured setting alongside the interstate. When you first see it, you’re almost certain to blurt out something like: “Wow! Look at that!” It’s just such a beautiful thing and so unexpected in that place. Well worth the pause in any journey along I-90 in my opinion.
The Dignity Statue
Traveling further along I-90, I began to see old barns, ranches, and farm buildings that had been abandoned over the years. Those who know me well understand that this is a kind of magnet for me personally. Photographing old buildings -especially barns – and vintage farm equipment is what one of my photography instructors last year referred to as my “schtick.” I just love it. Anyway, I began to see several of these, and so I did what I love to do. As a result of my propensity to focus on the journey rather than the destination, this particular trip probably just about doubled in duration from what it absolutely required, and what most folks would take to complete it. That’s OK with me; it’s the reason so many of my sojourns are solo. The upshot is that I am including a couple of photos at this point of old buildings I discovered near Philip, South Dakota. (Much more like this comes later, I’m afraid, so brace yourself!)
Abandoned ranch house near Phillips, SD. I love the colors in the roof.
The next stop I made was completely unplanned, at the Prairie Homestead at 21070 SD Highway 240 in Philip, South Dakota. It was added to the National Register of Historic Places in 1974. The place is a fascinating depiction of homesteader life in the late 1800s and early 1900s. The land was surveyed and settled by homesteaders between 1900 and 1913. It had previously been part of an Indian reservation, but became available as a result of a treaty in 1890 and the subsequent Homesteader Act. Edgar Irwin Brown, after arriving from Iowa, staked a claim and then lived on his claim there for 18 months and plowed at least 5 acres for crops during that time. As a result, he was entitled to pay 50 cents per acre (totaling $80). He did so and lived there until his death on April 2, 1920. Today the place is an outdoor museum of sorts, and I found it fascinating. The house is made of sod, dug into a shallow hillside in the back. The farm implements in the out-buildings are almost all wooden and many are hand hewn. There is also a root cellar, an old horse-drawn buggy, a hay wagon, some early farm implements, and of course an old out-house. The furnishings, clothing, and other household items are directly out of the time period and entirely authentic. In the out-buildings, you’ll see grinding wheels, a tack shop, animal stalls, hand tools, gardening equipment, and a block-and-tackle or two. An amazing place if a bit spooky. Truly a walk back in time. There is a visitor center, the requisite gift shop, and plenty of parking. I got a kick out of the prairie dogs that infest the ground around the buildings; they are quite communicative! If you get out that way and observe these little creatures, watch their tails as they chirp. It could be just my imagination, but it sure seemed to me as though they were almost beating the rhythm of their “conversation” with their tails! This takes a couple of hours to explore the site thoroughly, and I recommend it; they have done a very credible job here.
Prairie Homestead
My next stop on Monday was Badlands National Park, another suggestion from “Off the Beaten Path.” Like a few of the other stops on this trip, I was here once before – over 50 years ago. I recall marveling in those days at the endless miles of striped mountains, barren and sweltering in the summer heat, and wondering how – and why – anyone would live out there. I’m awfully glad I returned as an adult. It’s a somewhat different place than the one I recall. The roads are better, the facilities and walkways in the park are much improved, and it was less desolate than I recalled. Some of that is perspective, of course. I was 13 years old the last time I visited, and since then I have lived in places like Phoenix, Iraq and Afghanistan. So, words like “desolate” exist in a much broader context for me these days. Badlands National Park strikes me as a smaller version of the Grand Canyon. The park itself is very well maintained now, and signage is helpful. For those of us who want to see it without committing a full week to it, the primary 30-mile scenic loop is perfect. With 64,000 acres, the park has far more badland than I have lifetime remaining to explore it! If you are more focused on this area though, the park offers guided nature walks, lectures, and stargazing events. I strongly recommend the park to those who have never seen it. It is a great and classic example of the stark beauty of our American west. It’s located on Highway 240, and the White River Visitor’s Center is at the southern end of the park. The park supports camping.
Badlands National Park
From Badlands National Park, I resumed the westward trek toward Wall, South Dakota, and the famous Wall Drug Store. It’s almost adjacent to the Badlands National Park, so it was a short haul. The Wall Drug Store has always been most memorable to me not for its own merits, but because of the incredible number of billboards announcing its existence along more than 600 miles of interstate highway. It was purchased by Ted Hustead in 1931, and became famous when Hustead’s wife Dorothy conceived of the idea to offer free ice water to parched travelers. Since Wall is only about 60 miles east of Mount Rushmore, and since there were few airconditioned automobiles in those days, it was a hit. Since then, it has grown into a wild west themed shopping center which, at its peak, boasted over 2 million visitors annually. It is a tourist trap of gift shops and gimmicks of massive proportions. I am no connoisseur, but based on my experience, it also serves some barely acceptable food at exorbitant prices. The best thing about the dining rooms, in my opinion, is the vast collection of more than 300 original western-themed oil paintings there.
Wall Drug Store
I continued along I-90 toward Rapid City, and encountered another string of irresistible abandoned ranch and farm buildings. Honestly, if I had an unlimited amount of time to explore, I’d still be out there! Anyway, I’m including photos of a few of the ones I saw here. One place in particular, visible in the distance on the north side of I-90, must have been a beautiful spread in its prime.
Abandoned Ranch along I-90. Must have been beautiful in its prime!
Arriving in Rapid City, I checked into a hotel for the night and headed for Mount Rushmore. I had hoped to see an impressive presentation that evening. It’s a long, winding drive up into the mountains to get to the park. There are a few restaurants at the park entrance, mostly bar-and-grill affairs with limited menus. So, I recommend eating in Rapid City before heading up toward the park. I’d heard from family members about a light show and ceremony presented each evening, and so I arrived early to get a good position for photos. I have to admit, though, I was disappointed. First of all, no one could reach the main viewing area because of construction (turns out they were building out the area for the upcoming 4th of July event featuring President Trump and other dignitaries.) The lights illuminating the faces of the presidents were surprisingly dim. Then the program began. Ranger Rick (can’t recall the gentleman’s surname) announced that we would all sing the national anthem (an event in which I am always happy to participate.) Then he played a 10-minute recording of his own voice, speaking in (somewhat melodramatic tones) about the historical importance of the park, the monument, and the individuals depicted. It was all pretty underwhelming, and it lasted something like 30 minutes end-to-end. I’m sure the entire Rushmore-at-night experience is a little better when the main viewing area isn’t closed off, but I’d still have trouble recommending it. The drive back down from the park to Rapid City is also extremely dark and somewhat treacherous at night. So, if you’re doing that drive please be very cautious.
On Tuesday morning my first stop was the Chapel in the Hills (another recommendation from “Off the Beaten Path.”) This is a delightful little place, tucked away at the edge of a residential area at 3788 Chapel Lane. The word for this place is charming. (It is also a word I rarely use – just seems girly to me – but there it is.) It is small, Norwegian, and absolutely beautiful. It gets a little kitschy at the gift shop, but otherwise it is really absolutely (here it comes again) charming. The place serves as a venue for worship, meditation, and weddings (assuming you have a small wedding party.) The setting is gorgeous, and includes a well-maintained meditation path through beautiful pine trees. Very much worth the time to see. When I say it is Norwegian, I’m not kidding. It is a stavkirke (stave church) that replicates the Borgund Stavkirke in Norway. The gift shop is in a stabbur (a wooden cabin with a sod roof.) If you allow two hours you can see the highlights; three or four hours will permit you spend some time in the meditation garden and take some nice photos.
Chapel in the Hills
When I finished up at the Chapel in the Hills, I headed back toward Mount Rushmore. (Mount Rushmore is located at 13000 SD-244 in Keystone, South Dakota.) I really wanted to see the monument and grounds in daylight, and get as close as I could for photos. I had to pay for parking this time (it was free the previous evening, and the lot was less than 15% filled.) On this Tuesday, it was paid admission and – even amid the COVID-19 craziness – looked as though it was about 50% filled. One of the park rangers on duty that day told me there weren’t really any guided tours, but there is a well-marked trail and signage along the way up to the base of the sculpture where the tailings from the sculpting have come to rest. There is, indeed! I and about a hundred other tourists walked along that trail and ascended the 258 steps to the spot he described. The scenery along the climb was quite beautiful, with overlooks and benches for us older and less robust folks at generous intervals. Park rangers ascended and descended the trail regularly as well, making sure everything was, as the Brits would say, “tickety-boo.” Photos really do not do justice to marvels like this. The figures of Presidents Washington, Jefferson, Lincoln, and Roosevelt are more than 60 feet high and carved in the granite face of the mountain. Places like Mount Rushmore, the Badlands, and the Grand Canyon simply cannot reveal their depth and grandeur in photographs. But I do think a couple of my photos – as well as many, many others done by much more skilled photographers – reflect some of the incredible craftsmanship and artistry of the master sculptor Gutzon Borglum and his son Lincoln. It is simply awe-inspiring. The memorial park is comprised of 1,278 acres and the sculpture was done between 1927 and 1941.
Mount RushmoreJefferson’s Likeness on Mount RushmoreClimbing to the base of the Carvings at Mount RushmoreOne view along the climb to the base of the Mount Rushmore carvings
Another monument I had visited briefly on that trip over 50 years before was the developing sculpture of Crazy Horse, at the Crazy Horse Memorial situated in the Black Hills on privately held land. It is located in Custer County, and its address is merely Crazy Horse, South Dakota. You really can’t miss it. Envisioned to be even grander than the figures on Rushmore, the face of Crazy Horse is 83 feet tall. In fact, the entire sculpture is designed to be 641 feet in length and 563 feet high. The Crazy Horse Memorial is still under construction, and honestly doesn’t seem to me to have progressed much over the last 50 years. This is no doubt owing to the funding model, since it is operated by the Crazy Horse Memorial Foundation, a nonprofit organization, and relies entirely on donations. When completed, it is to depict the Oglala Lakota warrior, Crazy Horse, riding a horse and pointing into the distance. The memorial was commissioned by Lakota elder Henry Standing Bear to be sculpted by Korczak Ziolkowski. Although Ziolkowski has passed on in 1982, his children and grandchildren continue the project – albeit at a pace that leads me to conclude that it will never be finished. I was quite impressed by the Native American museum at the site, and very pleased by the solicitousness of the staff there. There is a short movie available that explains the purpose and the history of the memorial and describes the work that has been done by the Ziolkowski family to bring it along. There are opportunities to observe the work “up close,” too. The day I visited there were van rides available for tourists to ascend to the ongoing work site. But at $120 per passenger, I decided to pass. I opted instead to shoot photos from the main plaza with my longest lens. There is the requisite gift / souvenir shop, of course. I stopped for lunch at the café there, and found both the food and service excellent, actually the best part of my visit!
The Crazy Horse Statue – still under construction after more than half a century
From the Crazy Horse Memorial, I pushed on to one of my favorite spots in all of South Dakota; the Needles Highway. But between these two intended destinations, I discovered – yes, I imagine you’ve guessed it by now – backroads dotted by more abandoned ranch and farm buildings. This stretch also included a Conestoga style wagon, several old automobiles, and some vintage tractors.
Along the road to Needles Highway
The Needles Highway is part of an incredibly beautiful 38-mile drive through the Black Hills on South Dakota Highway 87. The vistas are absolutely stunning, the primary roads are paved, and the park rangers at the Custer State Park end of the drive are exceptionally helpful and accommodating. The needles Highway, along with US 16A, are part of what is called the Peter Norbeck Scenic Byway. If you enjoy the beauty of nature, particularly stark and rocky landscapes, DO NOT miss the Needles Highway. The Needles Highway part of the drive is 14 miles long. It was named after the huge granite “needle” formations that the highway darts through, and includes two very narrow tunnels (the Needles Eye and the Iron Creek tunnels) in the route. My little pickup truck fit through the Needles Eye with only 18 inches or so to spare on each side. The drive includes plentiful turnouts for shutterbugs and gawkers, and my advice is to take advantage of every single one. The vistas will take your breath away. If you just want to drive it to say that you’ve seen it, allow yourself about 90 minutes. If you like this kind of thing as much as I do, allow yourself half a day. If you expect to clamber around in the rocks (as I frequently do), take plenty of water to drink and a first aid kit. Some folks also recommend a snake bite kit, though I have never needed one (yet.) Also, make sure you have sturdy shoes. These large, jagged rocks are unforgiving and their surfaces – especially during or after any rain as well as along waterfalls – can be treacherous.
Entering the spectacular, vista-filled Needles HighwayThe Needles Eye Tunnel
Emerging from the Needles Highway, the road sort of poured me out into a grassy plain where I encountered a large and truly mangy bison. I stopped and chatted with him a bit, attempting to get him to raise his head so that I could photograph him from the comfort and relative personal safety of my truck. It was as though I’d awakened a grumpy old man from his sleep. An stringy assortment of weeds hung from one side of his head as he glared at me, and I’m pretty sure the message he was sending me was something like: “I have these big horns here, and I am more than willing to use them. Move along, buster!” So as soon as I got my photo, that’s exactly what I did.
On Wednesday morning I drove first up to Spearfish Canyon. One of my favorite natural features to discover, experience, and photograph is waterfalls. Spearfish Canyon is (of course) located in Spearfish, South Dakota; about 10 miles from Deadwood. It is graced by several exceptionally beautiful waterfalls, many of which can be observed from the Spearfish Canyon Scenic Byway. Three of the most extraordinary are Bridal Veil Falls, Spearfish Falls, and Roughlock Falls.
Bridal Veil FallsSpearfish FallsRoughlock Falls
Most everything I saw was accessible to hikers. I have been known to climb around a bit to get the base of waterfalls, which requires a little bit of physical agility and risk tolerance. But most of these falls are very accessible from paved or graveled walkways. The sound of a waterfall is as soothing as the falls are beautiful; they remind me of the crashing of ocean waves in that way. These falls will not disappoint you. And in several cases there are opportunities to get out of your vehicle and stroll along well maintained pathways to enjoy them up close, with safety rails and benches along the way. If you don’t stop (which would be almost criminal,) you can do the Spearfish Canyon scenic drive in around 90 minutes. Seriously, plan at least 3 – probably 4 – hours so that you’ll have time to get out of your vehicle and truly enjoy some of the most beautiful and relaxing country you’ll ever see.
One other recommendation here: If you’re hungry, stop in at the Cheyenne Crossing Store in Lead (just outside Spearfish Canyon, where US 85 intersects with Alt US 14, across the road from Icebox Gulch. Best breakfasts and lunches you’ll find in South Dakota. The place looks like a log cabin painted red with a couple of porches built into the sides, but – Wow! – the food is outstanding!
After Spearfish Canyon, I began at last to attack the objective of my excursion: the stagecoach trail between Deadwood, South Dakota and Cheyenne, Wyoming as described in American Road. Between me and Deadwood stood Lead, South Dakota and so this is where I began my exploration. First of all, Lead is pronounced “Leed.” If you want to keep locals from correcting you, just get used to that before you hit town. Lead was founded in 1876 after gold was discovered in the area. It is the site of the Homestake Mine, reputed to be the biggest, deepest, and most productive gold mine in the West. As a result, there are a number of local attractions ranging from mine tours to gift shops all based around the mining theme in Lead.
Mining is the primary claim to historical fame in Lead, South Dakota
It is a small place, though. The city’s footprint is about 2 square miles. Lead was added to the National Register of Historic places in 1974. It makes sense that Lead would be on the stagecoach line between Deadwood and Cheyenne, but when the gold played out it seems to me that Lead’s prospects played out as well. Lead had around 3,000 in its 2000 census report. There’s just not much left there these days. I did come across a few interesting features, including static displays of mining equipment, a mining mural painted by a local artist, the Homestake Opera House, and my favorite thing about the town; The Stampmill Restaurant & Saloon.
I had a nice chat with the proprietor of that business after stopping in for lunch. The place was established in 1897, and still retains a lot of its historic romance. The interior is strictly old western bar; it has that look and feel with the dark, shiny, heavy wooden surfaces that seem to echo the sound of tinny pianos and raucous laughter, punctuated by the occasional sound of gunfire somewhere outside on Main Street. It has actual character, not the manufactured and superficial stuff of theme parks, but the blood-and-sweat soaked history of real men and women who fought and dug and scraped for every dollar and, in many cases, every last breath. I loved it. These days, the owner is also the chef at the Stampmill, and he makes some of the best soup I have ever eaten. All his own recipes, his wife assured me, and I believe her. It was delicious! She served my lunch, and sometime later found me again as I was wandering Main Street taking pictures. She was kind enough to point out the Coca-Cola advertisement painted on the exterior brick of one wall of the Stampmill. It is the second oldest such sign in the country. Because the building is overshadowed by the Opera House, the painted bricks have been sheltered from the sun all these years, and the advertisement – though badly faded – is still legible there. And the Stampmill still rents rooms above the bar. I can only imagine the stories those walls could tell! When I visited Lead – as well as the other cities and towns along this route – the COVID-19 craziness had closed many of the places I had initially planned to visit. Lead was no exception; most of the museums, shops, and the mine tour itself were not operating, so I cannot report on them here. But when it all opens back up, Lead would be a solid all-day kind of attraction. As it was, I only needed about 3 hours including lunch to see the highlights.
I rolled into Deadwood about 4pm that day, and checked into a hotel at the edge of town whose primary claim to fame is that it adjoins a substantial casino. In fact, based on my experience, gambling remains the primary attraction of downtown Deadwood these days, with slot machines in about half of the establishments along Main Street. The night I stayed with them there wasn’t much business – either in the hotel or in the adjacent Casino called The Tin Lizzy – but as I mentioned, it was in the middle of the COVID-19 craziness. I spent some time wandering the streets and snapping photos that evening, primarily fixed on historic buildings like the Wild Bill Bar, Oyster Bay, the Celebrity Hotel. And Mineral Palace.
Deadwood, South Dakota
Honestly, I found Deadwood to be sort of a sad place. I think some of that was the gambling; Las Vegas strikes me the same way. It’s as though this is a place where a lot of people are down on their luck, and living out a disappointing existence. In the daytime there are stagecoach-based tours, fake gunfights in the street, and – for a fee, of course -you can always get a tour of the spot where Wild Bill Hickock was murdered in the basement of the saloon. But the most authentic gestalt seems to me to be the biker culture underpinning the night-time activity, perhaps most aptly reflected in the window of a shop called Sick Boy. Check it out among my photos, (It’s the shop with the front end of an old automobile in their display window,) and I think you will see what I mean. I felt like some of the outlaw personality of so many of Deadwood’s original population has remained, and morphed into this part of the current culture there.
One thing that didn’t help was the middle-of-the-night fire alarm, which caused the entire hotel (including yours truly) to empty onto the streets for about an hour until the local first responders could determine the problem had been someone smoking in one of the casino bathrooms. If you want to ride the stagecoach, see all the “gunfights”, tour the Hickock murder scene, and so on, then set aside an entire day.
On Thursday morning, after poking around downtown Deadwood again briefly, I loaded up my truck and followed the hotel clerk’s directions out to Mount Moriah Cemetery, up on a hillside overlooking the town. First time I can recall paying for admission to a cemetery, but – yes – there is an admission fee. Part of the commercialization of a town whose major claim to fame is a murder that occurred nearly 150 years ago. Mount Moriah was the highlight of my Deadwood experience (which made it the highlight of one of the lowest points of the trip for me.) It’s a well maintained and appropriately peaceful final resting place, with a very nice overlook revealing an entire plain with the Town of Deadwood stretched out immediately below.
Of course, the selling point and most popular element of the cemetery is the small area where the bodies of Wild Bill Hickock and Calamity Jane lay in adjacent plots. If you’re going to make the journey to Deadwood and decide to visit the cemetery, be prepared for a bit of a hike over hilly and – at times – uneven ground. I spent about 2 hours there, but I take a lot of photos; I expect most will see all they want in 60 to 90 minutes. I like the way the article in American Road summarizes Deadwood at their conclusion: “Gold made Deadwood’s fortune, and gold has kept it alive. Born screaming during the Black Hills gold rush, it never crawled far from its brassy yellow crib.”
I left Deadwood late Thursday morning on a mission to find Four Corners – the site of the last major stagecoach robbery in the old west – along the stagecoach trail as I followed it down into Wyoming. But on the way, my faith in road trips was restored again by many miles of wonderful backroad photography opportunities. Barns, ranches, cemeteries, and more than a few wild antelope running around were great therapy for me after my time in Deadwood.
Back Roads between Deadwood SD and Four Corners, WY
Finding Four Corners, Wyoming, was fun. There’s almost nothing left of the place now – even the meager attempts at commercialization to scare up a few last pennies from tourism seem to have taken their last gasps. The place is about 17 miles north of Newcastle, Wyoming, and you’ll know it because of the signage – until the last of that goes the way of the tumbleweeds out there. There’s an old cinder block building originally painted turquoise which loudly proclaims itself the Four Corners Post Office in bright yellow letters. It’s boarded up but still has an old satellite dish attached to the edge of its roof. Not sure what’s going on there, but the place was abandoned at high noon on that Thursday.
A formerly proud sign still remains describing the spot as “Canyon Springs Station: Site of the Treasure Run Stage Robbery.” On September 26, 1878, the robbery successfully liberated what would today be almost $2 million in gold bullion (in those days it was about $27,000), and it is reported that about 40% of that is still buried somewhere nearby. Reminds me of the legend of the Superstition Gold Mine in Arizona. I was having trouble understanding where in the world robbers could have hidden in that area in 1878 – it’s flat as the proverbial pancake for miles in all directions. But then, when I read the account on the sign, it all made sense. Sounds like there was an “inside man” to me. If you decide to take a look too, you won’t have to set aside much time to linger there. It’s one of those places where you pause for a few minutes to consider what happened on that very spot 150 years ago, look around to see whether you can envision it all, maybe take a photo or two, and move on. An hour is a generous allotment for the purpose.
The highways and backroads (aside from the highways it’s all backroads in this neck of the woods) are filled with buttes, abandoned ranch buildings, and some pretty nice overlook spots. I paused along the way to capture images of several, but given unlimited time, I’d have spent another full day out there happily clicking away. What a beautiful part of the world….
Backroads between Four Corners and New Castle WY
I stopped in at Newcastle, Wyoming headed south, as it was listed in American Road as a significant waypoint on the stagecoach run. There are a few points of interest in Newcastle including the Anna Miller Museum and the Jenney Stockade (circa 1875), but the COVID-19 craziness meant they were all locked up tight as a drum. Newcastle became significant as a result of coal mining, and was founded in 1889. These days it is the Weston County seat, and a nice quiet little town without much else to speak of. However, in search of Hat Creek, I stopped in at the County Seat and – once I found the County Assessor and showed her my copy of page 73 of American Road – received detailed directions to the spot I was looking for. She turned out to be gracious, respectful, and helpful – in spite of the suspicious looks I kept getting from the young county sheriff’s deputy out in the corridor. I love it when I run into a competent public servant!
While I was in Newcastle, the storm I’d observed coming my way out on the highway caught up with me. Although there were no gullies to be seen, this would have been described by my grandfather as a “real gulley-washer,” and at its worst, was a pretty serious hailstorm. Fortunately, I had just emerged from the county courthouse and was able to get my truck under the awning at the gas station across the street, avoiding any hail damage. There’s not a lot of cover out on the open Wyoming roads, so I was fortunate to find this spot; timing is everything! If you visit Newcastle, and the museums are open, allow yourself a few hours (2 to 3 hours would suffice.) Honestly, if they are still closed, the gas station and fast food there is about the only reason you might want to stop.
Approaching Storms around New Castle WY
The next stop – for both the bygone stagecoach and my current-day Honda Ridgeline – was Hat Creek, Wyoming. Hat Creek was particularly intriguing to me because the American Road article was deliberately obscure about its actual location – as they were with one other attraction, which I’ll mention later. Hat Creek has an interesting history in the sense that its location is an accident of misguidance on the part of a US Cavalry troop back in 1875. It all worked out eventually though, as Hat Creek was designated an official stop on the Cheyenne-Black Hills Stage Road in 1876. A 2-story log building from the 1880s remains from the stagecoach stop’s legacy, now on private land owned by the Wade family, and left largely to itself. At various times, the building is reported to have housed a telegraph office, a blacksmith shop, and a brewery.
Along the old stage coach route in Hat Creek, WYFormer blacksmith shop, telegraph office, and brewery from the 1880s.
There have to be some stories there, although by now I’m sure almost none of them remain in the minds of the living. When you find the place, there is some signage describing its place in history – I’ve provided a photo of it for you. The entire stage station road, though just about as far from the beaten path as you can imagine, was really interesting to me. One such example is an old abandoned building that appeared to be a one-room schoolhouse (which had the remains of a swing set, an old hand-pump well, and a hitching post for horses on the site.) This is a drive-by-and-read-the-sign event, much like the Four Corners experience. And it is no less richly populated with the ghosts of history. You might just feel some of that; hear voices from the past whispering – or screaming – faintly in the relentless wind. The sun there at Hat Creek bakes the prairie as the wind rips forever along, sandblasting everything in sight – just as it did 150 years before.
Just as Deadwood, South Dakota was one of the low points for me on this sojourn, one of the unexpected highlights was Lusk, Wyoming. Like Lead and Newcastle, Lusk too was impacted by the COVID-19 scare, closing its Stagecoach Museum to my great disappointment. However, some well-known landmarks such as the Covered Wagon Motel as well as other lesser-known – and much more difficult to find – landmarks such as the Mother Featherlegs monument remain. And my search for Mother Featherlegs turned out to be the pinnacle of my adventure.
Mother Featherlegs was a ‘lady of the evening” named Charlotte Shephard who acquired her nickname from a cowboy that described her downy pantalets as comparable to the legs and feet of a chicken. The unfortunate woman was murdered in 1879 near the roadhouse she and her partner operated. Her partner, known as “Dangerous Dick Davis” (a.k.a. “The Terrapin”) later confessed to the crime. The monument is, in my experience, notoriously difficult to find – particularly after sunset – and locating it should only be attempted with a full tank of gas. I tried to find it for an hour or so on the evening of Thursday the 4th, but ultimately turned back when it became obvious that I wasn’t going to find anything while there was sufficient daylight to photograph it. Nonetheless, the drive during that search was pure magic. The sun set over working ranches, and then pastures occupied by cows and horses, giving way eventually to a brilliant yellow moon that washed across rocky moonscape-like terrain. The night was cool and absolutely still, and I drove – slowly – for well over an hour in each direction. I watched a glorious red-to-gold sunset as it burned itself out behind the mountains. I rolled the windows down, started one of my favorite playlists softly playing, and slowly moved down the gravel road, darting from shadow to shadow and just marveling at the beauty of the prairie in the moonlight. Occasionally a small herd of black cows would appear, sometimes right in the middle of the road. They didn’t move even as I approached, so I slowly picked my way around them – thankful for my 4-wheel drive, and grateful that they weren’t Brahma bulls. I spoke softly to them as I passed, but they just stared back dumbly, wondering – I imagine – what in the world I was doing invading their grazing in the middle of the night. It was just me, the cows, and the moon, and it was glorious. I guess you’d have to be there to understand.
Not long after daylight I was back on Silver Springs Road resuming my search for Mother Featherlegs. I did finally find her after retracing my route, discovering that I had turned back only a mile or so from her final resting place. The monument is prominently displayed among the stones in one of the tiniest cemeteries I can imagine, and it’s just sitting there next to the gravel road in the middle of nowhere. I suspect the isolated and uncelebrated location is the major factor that has enabled it to survive without graffiti or vandalism over the years, since the current monument was erected in 1964.
Mother Featherlegs’ headstone
A small achievement in the minds of others, I’m sure. But I mentally congratulated myself all the way back home, and still smile when I remember it. In particular that moonlight drive on my solo quest Thursday night. Wish I could do it again. Lusk itself, though pretty ordinary as little towns go in the part of Wyoming, is the Niobara County seat. It’s one other feature I found interesting is – of all things – a quilt shop. Lickety Stitch Quilts is the name of the place, and it is a nationally renowned retailer for all things quilt related. From its modest exterior, I’d never have guessed how spacious, colorful, and inviting the place is. The interior of this store shocked me with a vast array of everything imaginable having to do with quilts from fabric to patterns to books, kits and classes. The proprietor, Karen Wisseman, is a delightful woman who runs a very professional operation there, including a gracious staff. I know nothing about quilting, but heard about this place from one of my travel magazines and thought I’d check it out while in Lusk. Amazing place! If you or someone you love is into quilting, you should hop online and take a look for yourself. www.licketystitchquilts.com. It’s located at 206 South Main Street in Lusk. If you visit in person, a non-quilt person like me can spend a very pleasant half hour poking around. A quilting enthusiast would be there for hours!
Next, I headed out of Lusk and on toward yet another stagecoach stop, Fort Laramie. But once again, I was exhilarated to find some great opportunities to photograph old, abandoned ranch buildings and vehicles along the way.
Approaching Fort Laramie, I also came across the old US Army bridge over the Platte River which was erected in 1875. A remarkable architectural feat of utilitarian beauty and durability that also marks the location of Fort Platte, a trading post built in 1851, which has since been claimed by time and the elements. This little diversion is worth a look, and won’t take more than 20 minutes to examine.
As they merge, the Laramie and the North Platte rivers made an ideal spot for the kind of encampment which grew into Fort Laramie. The historic site is located 3 miles southwest of the town of Fort Laramie, Wyoming along US Highway 26. Fort Laramie was first established as a private fur trading post in 1834, and that same year an initial log cabin style stockade was erected there, under the name Fort William. The “William” came from a pair of fur trappers, William Sublette and William Anderson, who established a burgeoning trade with the Sioux and Cheyenne tribes who travelled there to trade buffalo hides. That property was purchased by the American Fur Company in 1841, and then in 1849, when President Polk decided to establish military outposts along the Oregon Trail, the US Army purchased the property now known as Fort Laramie for $4,000. Described as a “crossroads of American expansion,” Fort Laramie watched an overland emigration of settlers along the Oregon trail that peaked at about 50,000 annually in the early 1850s, including the Reed-Donner Wagon Train and the Mormon flight led by Brigham Young. The bulk of buildings there have been replaced again and again over the years. In 1876, President Grant issued an ultimatum to Indians straying from reservations, and set the stage for the Great Sioux War.
Historical figures like Sitting Bull and Red Cloud were contemporaries – sometimes visitors, and sometimes targets of military campaigns launched from the fort. Today, Fort Laramie is a US National Park, purchased and restored beginning in 1938. The Park Service has done a really nice job of placing signage for self-guided tours around the grounds and through the buildings. There are still remnants of many of the old structures comprised of a limestone grout, since limestone was much more plentiful than timber in the area, and they make for an eerie testament to the lives of the men who were posted at Fort Laramie as it evolved. Alongside those ruins, forming a perimeter around the parade ground, are the Commissary Storehouse from 1884, the Old Bakery ruins (1876) and New Bakery (1883), Infantry Barracks ruins (1867), the New Guardhouse (1876), the General Sink ruins (1886), the Two-Company Infantry Barracks ruins (1866), the Old Guardhouse (1866), the Administration Building ruins (1885), the Captain’s Quarters (1870), the Officers’ Quarters ruins (1881), “Old Bedlam” (1849) which was built to hold bachelor officers, and is Wyoming’s oldest documented building, the Officers’ Quarters ruins (1882), the Magazine (1850), the Post Surgeon’s Quarters (1875), The Lt. Colonel’s Quarters (1884), the Post Trader’s Store (1849), the Post Trader’s House foundation (1863), the Cavalry Barracks (1874), and the Hospital ruins (1873). 11 structures are completely restored and refurnished today.
Part of the many ruins on the property at Fort Laramie
It is 536 acres, and during the summer months the sun is merciless. So, make sure you hydrate and wear appropriate sunny-weather clothing if you plan to see much of the grounds. Imagine, as you walk around, what it must have been like for US Cavalry troopers in wool uniforms and field packs in the open all day and night, day after day. It’s a big slice of American history, and it takes a while to experience and absorb. If you’re a history buff, allow at least half a day to explore the many builds with historic furnishings and static displays. If your interest is less academic and more touristy, a couple of hours in the Wyoming sun will probably sate your appetite for this dry and dusty place, history notwithstanding.
From Fort Laramie, I made the short 20-minute (15 mile) drive to Register Cliff and the Oregon Trail Ruts. I suppose that for many, it seems a little crazy to travel even that distance to see some ruts in the surface of the ground. But for those of us still caught up in the romance of the American West, this is yet another place of legendary importance. More evidence of the sacrifice and endurance – the sheer grit – of the American people. The Oregon Trail Ruts National Monument, also known as “The Guernsey Ruts”, are said to be the best-preserved set of wagon train ruts remaining along the historic Oregon Trail. They are located one half mile south of Guernsey, Wyoming off Highway 26 near the North Platte River. As the US National Park Service reports on their website, the landmark is “a fascinating display of the precise location where pioneers from the 1843 to 1869 crossed the Great American West on their way to Oregon and California.” After the Louisiana Purchase in 1803, the land mass of the United States was effectively doubled, and adventurers of all types headed west to explore and settle to new territory between the Mississippi River and the Pacific Ocean. The first settlers to use what eventually became the “Oregon Trail” was a group known today as “The Astorians” led by fur trader Robert Stewart, who led the first group of white people on a 2,000 mile journey to establish Fort Astoria along the Columbia River near the west coast of Oregon. That journey was 10 months in duration. It was 26 years later, though, in 1836 when the first pioneers opened the flood gates that really began the systematic flow of settlers along the Oregon Trail. Hundreds of thousands of pioneers followed – literally – in their tracks, until those tracks were cut into the face of the earth – into solid limestone – over 6 feet deep in places. In this location, the ruts stretch about a half mile. The Oregon Trail was used almost continuously until it was made obsolete by the completion of the Union Pacific railroad in 1869. The place is quite remarkable. Register Cliff is just 2.5 miles from the Oregon Trail Ruts. It is also a National Historic site, and in this case it’s still evolving.
Oregon Trail Ruts – worn by Conestoga wagons, and every other form of human conveyance headed west
Register Cliff is chalky 100-foot-tall outcropping of sandstone along the Oregon Trail when people – beginning with the western migration travelers – have been recording their names and dates by scratching them into the surface of the cliff. Thousands engraved their names between 1843 and 1869, but of course most of those are lost now to the erosion of time. Some were making their mark – literally, others were leaving evidence for friends and family following behind, and still others were added as memorials to friends who lost their lives on the journey before they had reached this point. It’s another place where you can actually reach out and touch a piece of history, and if you are as close as Fort Laramie, you owe yourself the experience of seeing Register Cliff and the Oregon Trail Ruts. A visitor can easily see them both in an hour or so, and they are both easy walks.
Register Cliff
From the Fort Laramie area, Cheyenne was the last stop for me – and the stagecoach – along the 300-mile Cheyenne-Black Hills Stage & Express Line. The city is more than 32 square miles in size, and its claim to fame these days is that it’s “cowboy central.” Its annual Frontier Days celebration – replete with rodeo, parades, Indian villages, and the like – is famous. The city is the state capital of Wyoming, and has done a beautiful job on monuments to all things cowboy including the Cheyenne Depot and Depot Museum, the Old West Museum, and the Terry Bison ranch. There is a Cheyenne Street Railway Trolley, the Big Boy Steam Engine, the National Museum of the West, an Historic Governor’s mansion, and even a Cowgirls of the West Museum. It seems a little ironic to me that such a big and modern city is themed so heavily on the Old West, but there it is.
Cheyenne, WyomingOld West Museum in Cheyenne, Wyoming
Cheyenne strikes me as a clean and friendly place for the most part; still cow town rail yard meets shiny new metropolis. I got the impression that city fathers like it that way. Even their tourism brochures say things like: “Cheyenne beckoned settlers who moved into the flourishing town full of rowdy bars alongside elegant opera houses and theatres.” Honestly, it’s a little too citified for me. A nice place, and a beautiful city. But for me, the real character of the old west and the soul of America are out there on the backroads. I found them in the waterfalls of Spearfish Canyon, the craggy ridges of Needles Highway, and – more than anywhere else – under the glorious burning sunsets along the dusty gravel of Silver Springs Road in Lusk and the Cheyenne-Black Hills Stage Road at Hat Creek.
The first successful trip for the Cheyenne-Black Hills Stage & Express Line was completed on September 25, 1876, and I made it on June 6, 2020. 144 years later, people like me are still examining the evidence of lives filled with adventure and risk and world-changing achievements across the American frontier. I absolutely love it.
On Friday night I started toward home, staying the night in Sidney, Nebraska.
On Saturday morning, I departed Sidney in no particular hurry and got back into Moline, Illinois around 11pm. It was a long, boring, and uneventful drive. But it gave me a lot of time to think about what I’d seen and let it all just sink in. The people, the places, the feeling of being out there in the middle of nowhere with nowhere particular I had to be, and no particular time I had to be there. Just exploring, and eager to see what lay ahead. Dodging hailstorms, baking in the sun and wind, standing at the foot of a gorgeous, roaring waterfall, undertaking the treasure hunt for Mother Featherlegs and Hat Creek.
It was different in many ways from what I imagined, and that turned out to be OK. Looking back, I don’t think I’d change much about it. There were a lot of places I intended to see that were closed due to the COVID-19 craziness: mining museums, stagecoach museums, old west museums, and the like. But along the way I found much more joy, I think, photographing abandoned ranches, barns, and vehicles along the backroads of South Dakota and Wyoming. If I were able to go back now and add a couple more days, I would devote them to doing more of that. Just driving slowly down the gravel backroads, and pausing along the way to make photographs of these relics before they fade forever into the past. Seeing the relics of the past for myself brings me much more joy than reading about artifacts in a museum.
I will offer this piece of advice: If, like me, you love just wandering down the back roads, I advise you to keep a cooler full of water and perhaps an extra can of fuel on board. This kind of adventure, something we call “dirt road therapy” here around my home in Missouri, will take you through some desolate country when you get out west. You could be stranded miles from anything and anyone for a while. Prepare accordingly.
Trip Highlights and Lowlights
Highlights:
Palisades State Park, South Dakota
Prairie Homestead, Philip, South Dakota
Badlands National Park, South Dakota
Chapel in the Hills, Rapid City, South Dakota
Mount Rushmore, South Dakota
Needles Highway, South Dakota
Spearfish Canyon, South Dakota
Stampmill Restaurant & Inn, Lead, South Dakota
Backroads – especially Silver Creek Road in Lusk and Stagecoach Road in Hat Creek, South Dakota
Lowlights:
The Corn Palace in Mitchell, South Dakota
Wall Drug Store in Wall, South Dakota
Deadwood, South Dakota
Lessons Learned
Plan the trip as thoroughly as you can, and be prepared to deviate substantially from the plan as circumstances dictate.
An ice chest filled with bottled water and fruit can go a very long way toward keeping me hydrated and energized when there are not restaurants around; it’s worth the trouble to keep the ice fresh and the cooler stocked – especially in the summer months.
Good, high-top hiking shoes that provide ankle support. I like the ones that are waterproof as well – I found that they are exceptionally good for fording shallow streams to get to waterfalls.
The local county seat (the Assessor’s office in particular) is a great place to get help to find things when their exact locations are a bit murky.
People should be more cautious than I typically am when travelling solo. Climbing around in the rocks and wandering around in the woods alone is risky business. Far safer to bring a companion and walkie-talkies if you can stand the company.
Keep the gas tank full when wandering – stop whenever you have less than half a tank to refuel. Pack and maintain a first aid kit in the vehicle.
If you are serious about taking photos, plan twice as much time as you estimate that you will need.
Don’t take advice from friends and family when they things like: “Oh, you just have to try the hot roast beef sandwich at Wall Drug Store!”
When something has a name like: “The World’s Only Corn Palace,” there’s probably a reason there is just one.
I departed from Moline, Illinois around 7am on Monday, September 21, 2020 with 20,600 miles on my Honda Ridgeline, headed north on I-39 / US51 toward Sturgeon Bay in Door County, Wisconsin. I completed the trip with 22,500 miles on my odometer around 4pm on Sunday September 26th. The drive was inspired by the book: Most Scenic Drives in America (pages 204-205,) where it is described as “Door County Byways.” The route is most recommended for Autumn (which is true of about 80% of the trips I hope to take in retirement) and I was a few weeks early to get the absolute peak of foliage color. I understood that going in, but knew that my opportunity to see things and take pictures without constantly fighting crowds was much better, and frankly it worked best with the rest of my family activity schedule, so I sacrificed some color for convenience. I’ve heard people raving about the Door County area for years, so this excursion was pretty high on my list. And since I was in the Moline area for family matters anyway, I had the excuse I needed for another solo foray. My objective was to see and photograph some of the many lighthouses in the area as well as some of the extraordinary scenery I have been hearing so much about.
My first stop (aside from the normal refueling and comfort breaks) was Sturgeon Bay, Wisconsin. The Bay is comprised of about 100 miles of shoreline, with some areas covered by sandy beaches and a others dotted by waterfront shopping and restaurants. The weather when I arrived was beautiful, and I found my self mesmerized initially by the stunning yachts and pleasure boats tied up in the harbor. Some looked to be 100 feet in length, and they all gleamed in the sun. Many were sporting large “TRUMP 2020” flags along with American flags, and the harbor was alive with color and activity as people traversed the piers and a strong breeze snapped the flags suspended above each gently rocking boat.
The harbor at Sturgeon Bay
After admiring the boats, I picked up a couple of brochures describing the features of the bay area, and headed off to my next stop – the observation tower at Potawatomi State Park. I did find the tower, and I’m sure the view from its 75-foot-high platform is impressive. However, the tower has fallen into disrepair over the years, and – although you won’t see this in any of the official website information – they have boarded up the lowest 15 feet or so, prohibiting anyone from ascending the tower. It’s a real shame. Still the forest surrounding the tower, and the scenic overlook, even from ground level, are quite beautiful. It just felt like a bit of a “bait-and-switch.”
Potawatomi State Park Observation Tower – CLOSED. Even without access to the tower, the park is a beautiful site
The third stop I had planned for that day was the North Pierhead Lighthouse, which is located just offshore from the taller and much more modern Sturgeon Bay Canal Station Lighthouse at 2501 Canal Road.
The Pier running out to the North Pierhead LighthouseLooking back at the Sturgeon Bay Canal Station Lighthouse from the end of the pier
The route to that location is well documented in Sturgeon Bay / Door Country literature, and less than 5 miles in length. By the time I arrived, a couple of things had changed. The first was that it was approaching dusk, and the other was the weather. The beautiful sunny day was giving way to a stiff, cold breeze of Lake Michigan that churned up some beautiful – if threatening whitecaps. The long walkway out to the old North Pierhead lighthouse is elevated about 20 feet above a concrete pier, with access prohibited to the public. However, members of the public are able to walk out onto the pier, which I did. As the little squall blew up, the skies yielded some beautiful color. I braced myself against the girders and shot the incoming storm. As I stood there, I learned a little about the Lake Michigan water temperature as waves washed over my feet and well up my shins, filling my hiking shoes. It was a good lesson in what one needs to prepare for when one goes out to photograph nature. After that little jaunt, I spent a few minutes back in the truck changing into dry shoes and socks.
The cold, tempestuous waters of Lake Michigan
The pier was an interesting compromise between private residential property, public access to the water, and US Coast Guard property. Lest one wander onto either residential or US Coast Guard property, there are yellow lines painted on the asphalt walkway down to the water that clearly announce which 3-foot-wide section you’re permitted to traverse. Many, many taxpayer dollars have been spent on signage in the area to make sure you understand that if you wander a yard or two off the path, the US Department of Homeland Security will whisk you away. I didn’t realize it at the time, but the folks occupying these lighthouse installations are quite certain they are protecting the United States from spies and invaders. They are very serious about their little domains, and really, REALLY don’t want the public walking around outside, even to take photographs or just enjoy the view. Of course, it is the US Government who collects the money to build and maintain these edifices to alert ships and other watercraft of their positions relative to the coastline. The government that collects that money takes it from us in the form of taxes. So we fund these places, yet are prohibited from even walking around on the grounds to see them clearly. As far as I know, there is no Top Secret or even confidential work being done there. But none the less, no expense has been spared on the signage, fencing, and other security measures established to make sure we all understand how important they are. Legends, it would seem, in their own minds. This was reinforced a couple more times during my little excursion. Still, I’m glad I had the opportunity to walk out there, and equally glad I didn’t fall off the narrow pier!
On my drive back through the woods toward the city, I came across the most interesting little treasure out in the middle of nowhere; an astronomical observatory. It sits several hundred feet back off of the narrow blacktop winding its way through the forest, and if you’re not paying close attention (because you’re looking for barns to photograph or deer about to dash out in front of you), you’ll certainly miss it. It’s one of those “two gravel tracks running back into the woods” things. But I did spot this one, and – even though I was a little eager to get out of the woods before I was swallowed up in the pitch blackness – it intrigued me enough to pull me off to explore. What I found was a tiny compound containing the Leif Everson Observatory. The demure bronze plaque adorning its wall says: God created the firmament, Earth, sun, moon, and stars, and it was good. Dedicated to learning, 1997. (I surmise this is a loose reference to the biblical account of creation in Genesis Chapter 1.) It turns out this place actually has an official street address – something that seems surprising given its environs – which is 2200 Utah Street in Sturgeon Bay.
The Leif Everson Observatory
According to a Sturgeon Bay marketing website, the building was a cooperative venture between the Sturgeon Bay School District and the Sturgeon Bay Education Foundation. The Sturgeon Bay Education Foundation was a nonprofit organization founded to raise funds for the school district and consisted of teachers and community-minded members. One of these members, Jim Maki, 8th grade teacher at T.J. Walker Middle School, was the impetus behind the building of the Observatory. He was an avid astronomer and thought having an observatory for his students to use to study stars and planets was a great idea. He contacted Ray Stonecipher, retired professor from the University of Wisconsin – Whitewater, and together they worked to make the Observatory a reality. The Observatory houses a 14-inch Schmidt Cassegrain telescope operated by a tracking mount controlled by computer. If a building can be cute, this little observatory is cute, and worth a stop if you’re ever wandering through the woods up that way!
While at the North Pierhead Lighthouse, before (literally) getting my feet wet for the first time on the trip, I chatted briefly with a nice gentleman who resides in the neighborhood. People who observe me wandering around with a big camera looking lost, which is my standard demeanor, often take pity and try to help; this was one such occasion. The kind local told me about another lighthouse in the area which he considers a picturesque location known as the Sherwood Point Lighthouse. I decided to see whether I could find it on my way back toward civilization later that night, but I was unsuccessful. The gentleman was kind, but his directions, or – more likely – my comprehension of his directions – were faulty. (In all fairness, as darkness approaches one should not wander through unfamiliar woods with only sketchy verbal directions.) In any case, before giving up my search for the night, I stumbled across a very nice little boat launch just as dusk overcame me, in an area called Idlewild. It seemed a likely spot for quiet contemplation, and I did a little contemplating there before I moved on. The sound of gently lapping water in a quiet cove is nature’s sedative. It was one of those times when I paused to recognize that I would likely never be in that particular spot again (I probably couldn’t even find it again if I tried) and should appreciate the providence of God as He directed my path along that deserted corner of the woods.
Idlewild
Lights are another feature of this trip that I want to point out. While I was wandering around between the cattle ranches of Wyoming late one night in search of Mother Featherlegs (see my description of the Deadwood excursion earlier this year) I discovered that even when set on bright, the headlights of my little Honda Ridgeline simply are not bright enough for safety. Deer, cows, and other creatures that come out at dusk to feed tend to spring out of the brush with little warning, and if one is not exceedingly careful, he can find himself participating in a close encounter of the destructive kind. So, when I returned from the Deadwood excursion, I put a pair of Hella driving lights on my Amazon wish list.
Hella Driving Lights
Family members were kind enough to make a birthday gift of them in September and I had them mounted behind the grill of the Ridgeline. The installer over at Rogue Lighting suggested that we wire them into the electrical system in such a way that they engage whenever I switch my headlights to their bright setting. These things are AMAZING. I feel a great deal safer in situations like the Door County excursion after dark. In deep woods, in pitch darkness, and following winding roads through unfamiliar territory, these lights are the bomb.
The second day of my Door County adventure began with a lakeside breakfast at Dairy Dean’s Family Restaurant (824 4th Street in Algoma, Wisconsin). I recommend it for breakfast, not only because the food and service are good and the prices are very reasonable, but also because it’s walking distance from the beach. That beach leads you to the Algoma Pierhead Lighthouse, one of the photographic targets of my excursion.
Algoma Pierhead Lighthouse
The server at Dairy Dean’s noticed me studying the map I had splayed out across my little table as she approached to deliver my tea, and called out: “Oh, it looks like we’re going on an adventure!” (I have never understood how some folks are so cheerful early in the morning.) Anyway, one thing led to another, conversationally speaking, and pretty soon I had quite a bit of help identifying the best things to see and photograph from the locals among patrons at Dairy Deans. Honestly, I find that small local restaurants with friendly serving staffs are the single best place to identify great – and often otherwise unknown – targets for photography. I just love places like Dairy Deans. After breakfast, I followed the beach down to photograph the Algoma Pierhead Lighthouse – a rather ordinary one, as it turned out, with an elevated walkway over a concrete pier similar to the North Pierhead Lighthouse. It was a bright, comparatively calm morning and the bright red cylinder of a lighthouse seemed a bit garish sitting placidly out there. Somehow it brought to mind a stark white tourist sitting on a Florida beach, hoping to get some color before returning home to Minnesota.
My next official stop (I made many “unofficial” stops to photograph old barns along the way) was a recommendation of the locals, and it turned out to be one of the highlights of the trip. It was Cave Point County Park just north of Whitefish Bay. I visited Cave Point twice, as it turns out, because once I saw it I realized I had to return the following day for sunrise. The park is located at 5360 Schauer Road, Sturgeon Bay, Wisconsin. It’s a spectacular overlook area along Lake Michigan and very popular with both local and tourist traffic. Tall, scraggly Birch trees reach out over cliffs above the lake, where rolling waves crash against them in a constant, thundering chorus. The endless wash has worn deep caves in some of the cliff walls, from which I surmise the park’s name was drawn. Even at the height of a sunny day, and even in the weeks before Autumn has really lit the flaming colors of the leaves, the place is strikingly beautiful. Sandy paths give way to white, stone-covered shorelines that the lake had scrubbed mercilessly over hundreds of years, leaving this incredible palette of textures and colors for us to experience today. Well worth the trip, even at mid-day when the tourists are as thick as flies.
Cave Point Cave Point County Park
After Cave Point, my next target was the 19th century Cana Island Lighthouse. Cana Island lighthouse (located at 8800 Cana Island Road, Baileys Harbor, Wisconsin) was built and lit for the first time in 1870. The lighthouse itself and the grounds of the compound are well kept. The structure itself has been turned into a museum of sorts, and is staffed with someone to answer questions about the history of the place and about the exhibits there. But access to the place is quirky. Although it is intended to be accessible to the public between May and October, it’s only open sometimes – especially during the craziness of 2020 and the COVID misadventure. Adding to those factors, though, is the fact that Cana Island is an island. One gets there either by wading through the water or riding in a wagon drawn by a John Deere tractor through that water over a submerged stone causeway. (You’ll need to buy a ticket for that ride at the nearby gift shop.)
Transportation from shore to Cana Island, and the Cana Island Lighthouse
It is said that the highlight of the place is climbing the 97 steps in the lighthouse’s spiral staircase to look out over Bailey’s Harbor. But alas, the spiral stairs are closed off these days due to COVID concerns, so the best I could do was photograph the spiral staircase. The lighthouse itself is a real beauty, and it was worth the quirky journey for me. But for those who don’t want to do a lot of walking and clambering around tractor-pulled wagons, it might not be worth the trouble and expense.
Cana Island LighthouseInside the lighthouseInside the lighthouseSpiral staircase inside the lighthouse towerView from the second story of the Keepers house.
The combined drive time, wait time for the tractor, and actual exploration took most of the afternoon and it was early evening as I moved on to my next stop.
My next stop was the Eagle Bluff Lighthouse (10249 Shore Road, Fish Creek, Wisconsin) in the Peninsula State Park. This historic lighthouse-and-museum is a gorgeous edifice. It was constructed in 1868, and sits on a stretch of scenic overlook that is just beautiful.
Unlike the roaring waves that crash against the shore at Cana Island, though, the setting here is almost bucolic. It’s a wonderful backdrop for photographers, and I noticed someone having senior pictures taken on the grounds as I approached.
Eagle Bluff Lighthouse
I had a nice conversation with some of the locals who – like me – had planned their visit to coincide with sunset over the lake. They not only told me about the history of Eagle Bluff, but also provided much more cogent directions to the elusive Sherwood Point Lighthouse. Eagle Bluff is perched about 75 feet above the lake. It’s a brick structure surrounded by well-manicured grounds and a low stone wall that practically begs you to sit for a while and watch the ships in the distance. It was manned between 1868 and 1926, at which point it was automated. These days it is still appointed with some of the lighthouse keeper’s original furniture and authentic period antiques, and – should the COVID craziness ever subside – it will likely be staffed once again by knowledgeable tour guides. I did, indeed, watch the sunset before moving on.
Sunset over the low brick wall in front of the lighthouse
For the second time, I began my search for Sherwood Point Lighthouse. Since the sun had set, my journey – which took me back, deep into the woods, became darker with each turn down the narrow, winding roads. Sherwood Point Lighthouse was officially established in 1883, after a two-year battle over title to the site. Situated on the west side of the north entrance to Sturgeon Bay, the point is named for Peter Sherwood, who settled there in 1836. The Lighthouse Board installed a fog signal at Sherwood Point in 1892, since the red and white lights were barely visible in thick weather. Sherwood Point Lighthouse was the last manned lighthouse on the Great Lakes, not becoming automated until 1983, one hundred years after its initial construction. Today, a light still shines from the lighthouse. The coastguard continues to maintain the lighthouse and grounds, and – as I first discovered at the North Pierhead Lighthouse, they aren’t particularly interested in visitors. By the time I located the place (which appears to have no street address, but has GPS coordinates of 44_53_34N by 87_26.36W) it was full dark and my new driving lights were once again demonstrating their value.
When I swung onto the property at last it was probably about 9pm. A big, beautiful sign adorned the property proclaiming that it is a Homeland Security installation. Wow; we spend a LOT of money on signage for these places! Anyway, the intrepid little Ridgeline climbed along the road until I could see the building itself, and I swung in behind it to see the light clearly. I discovered that the Coast Guard members manning the facility and some of their friends were sitting around a fire pit and enjoying what looked to be a marshmallow roast. After a very brief conversation where I was informed that this is private property, I was granted permission to photograph the building – as long as I did it quickly – and moved on. Clearly, these folks take their marshmallow roasts almost as seriously as their lighthouses, and I guess I must look more like a Russian spy than I realize. So, I took a few photos and once again turned back toward civilization where I could retire for the evening.
Sherwood Point LighthouseStarscape over the Sherwood Point Lighthouse
The sunrise at Cave Point County Park is nothing less than spectacular. Even though I had to get up that morning MUCH earlier than I wanted to in order to be in position for the sunrise, I will never regret it. Wow. I got a few photos that I think are pretty good, but honestly I have to say I can’t do the place justice. I’m not really sure anyone could. Just before sunrise, I picked my way carefully along a cliff top where enormous root systems from the overhanging trees have been exposed, feeling as though I was walking through some medieval forest overlooking a tempestuous sea.
The woods at Cave point – dawn
It was almost ethereal. All of the overlooks are amazing, and there are a few places where the bluff itself had been knifed through in huge gashes, allowing me to look down though them to the roiling waters of the lake a hundred feet below.
Looking down at Lake Michigan through a gash at Cave Point
I moved around some to get different photographic perspectives, but not that much. Mostly I just wanted to drink it all in. The chill of the wind, the sound of the waves, the changes in the emerging sunlight as it illuminated the cliffs and finally the water, the freshness of the air washing in over Lake Michigan. There were very few people at daybreak; I was greeted by one other hardy photographer, schlepping his tripod and camera equipment through the trees behind me to scout a location of his own. Otherwise it was deserted; a perfect morning that once again made me grateful to God for the opportunity to just be there. I arrived about 5:30, I think, and finally left around 8am.
Sunrise at Cave PointSunrise at Cave PointSunrise at Cave PointJust after sunrise at Cave PointThe caves at Cave Point
Along the way, although it wasn’t a particular target, I stopped off at the Ellison Point Overlook. It’s just a spot along Ellison Bluff Road, but it was a pretty landscape and worth the investment of 10 minutes to see if you find yourself in the vicinity of the Ellison Bluff Natural Area.
Ellison Point Overlook
One of the primary targets for me on this excursion was the photographing of Potawatomi Lighthouse, the oldest lighthouse on Lake Michigan. I never made it. Potawatomi Lighthouse, also known as the Rock Island Light, is located in Rock Island State Park, on Rock Island in Door County, Wisconsin. Lit in 1836, it is the oldest light station in Wisconsin and on Lake Michigan. It was served by civilian light keepers from 1836 to the 1940s, at which point it was taken over by the US Coast Guard. In order to get to Potawatomi Lighthouse, one must take a ferry to Washington Island (typically that ferry carries you in your vehicle) and then another ferry (which only carries pedestrians) from Washington Island to Rock Island, the home of the Potawatomi Lighthouse. Unfortunately for me, no ferry is running to Rock Island and the Potawatomi Lighthouse at all during 2020 due to concerns about COVID. I was able to make it to Washington Island, and as a result, had the opportunity to explore and photograph several interesting farms. I also saw and photographed a Stavkirke Chapel on the Island, the second one I have seen in my lifetime, both of which I have seen on excursions in 2020. Quite a coincidence!
Stavkirke ChapelStavkirke Chapel interior
I also had the opportunity to study a number of interesting maritime exhibits at Jackson Harbor.
Jackson Harbor on Washington IslandOne of the maritime exhibits displayed at Jackson Harbor
On the ferry ride returning from Washington Island, I was able to photograph the Plum Island Rear Range Lighthouse, first lit in 1897.
Plum Island Rear Range Lighthouse (Taken from the Washington Island ferry.)
According to historical records, the tower contains a center tube that houses the spiral staircase. Atop the tube lies a cylindrical watch room topped off by an octagonal lantern room. Four iron legs, braced between each other, support the watch and lantern rooms. The lantern room, filled with a fourth order Fresnel lens, displayed a fixed red light. To make sure the light was only visible to ships either down range or already in the passage, it was restricted to an arc of 231 degrees. The station also had a fog signal building that was made of brick, which was located a quarter mile westward from the residence. Both the keeper’s dwelling and the fog signal building are still located on-site; however, they are in terrible condition. The roof on the keeper’s dwelling has reportedly fallen through. The station was automated in 1969, and the fog signal was discontinued six years later. The U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service are now in possession of the island. The lighthouse sits on Plum Island which is also owned by the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service. Access is prohibited.
On my way back into town, I stopped at several more interesting buildings and barns to photograph them. I eventually made it to my next photography target, the Kewaunee Pierhead Lighthouse (again, no street address is available, but the GPS coordinates are 44_27_26.67N by 87_29_34.4W).
Now owned by the city of Kewaunee and assisted by the Kewaunee County Historical Society. The lighthouse is described as one that personifies early twentieth century lighthouse architecture and engineering. It exemplifies design and construction methods used in building lighthouses and fog signal buildings on piers during that time period. The lighthouse was constructed to replace range lights constructed in 1891, and is located on the same pier. The fifth order Fresnel lens used in this facility came from the original front range light, and is one of less than 80 remaining in service. There is public access along the pier – which I followed to its end – but walking out there will likely mean dodging a few fishermen along the way. It was pretty brisk out there the evening I went out to take photographs, but I still enjoyed it a lot. This pier is much wider than most, and affords a lot of safety and confidence to those who stroll out to see the lighthouse.
The lighthouse end of the pier also offers a nice view of the evening skyline of downtown Kewaunee, and small city that I found charming. My favorite hotel on this trip was the Karsten Nest Hotel, which is walking distance from the pier and a great value. It’s located at 122 Ellis Street in Kewaunee, Wisconsin.
I have to admit it; I spent a lot of Thursday taking photographs of old barns, farms and other structures I found along the roads. So, it was noon on Thursday before I arrived at my next official target – the lighthouse at Rawley Point, in Point Beach State Forest.
The lighthouse at Rawley Point
The facility is located near Two Rivers, Wisconsin. At 111 feet tall, it is the tallest lighthouse on the Wisconsin Shore. It’s located northeast of Two Rivers, Wisconsin and it’s visually impressive. Historians report that Peter Rowley established a trading post at Twin River Point in 1835, and in 1841 surveyors named the area Rowley Point in his honor. This name was later changed to Rawley Point, a name that endures to this day. The tower’s third-order Fresnel lens was removed in 1952, after one of its prisms was damaged, and twin DCB-36 aerobeacons were installed. A New Year’s Eve fire in 1962 caused substantial damage to the newer portion of the keeper’s dwelling. One Coast Guardsman was severely burned, and the three families living there were forced to evacuate. Rawley Point Lighthouse was staffed until 1979, when the station became fully automated. The present optic was installed in 1987. The keepers’ dwelling at Rawley Point is currently used as a rental cottage for Coast Guard personnel. These Coast Guard people in lighthouses seem to be as serious about partying as they are about the prohibitions against civilians on their property! Hmmm…
The North Pier Lighthouse in Two Rivers Wisconsin proved to be a bit of an Easter egg hunt. I cruised along the lakefront in Two Rivers for quite a while, thinking “How can I be missing the lighthouse?” before I finally did the inevitable. I stopped to ask someone at a local hotel. This historic 1886 lighthouse is no longer on the lake. It has been lopped off and the top part of the lighthouse is now an exhibit at the Rogers Street Fishing Village and Great Lakes Coast Guard Museum. That’s honestly probably enough said about this one. The address of the Rogers Street Fishing Village is 2102 Jackson Street, Two Rivers, Wisconsin. Knock yourself out!
What remains of the North Pier lighthouse at Rogers Fishing Village
My next official stop was the Manitowoc Breakwater Lighthouse. This facility is located at the end of the North Pier defining Manitowoc, Wisconsin’s harbor. It sits and the end of a 400-foot-long breakwater, and the surroundings are a beautiful place to stroll on a warm summer day. There’s public access as far as the lighthouse itself, but – although it is no longer operational and is now privately owned – you can’t get inside to see any of the interior.
In 2009, Manitowoc Breakwater Lighthouse, deemed excess by the Coast Guard, was offered at no cost to eligible entities. It had been automated since 1971. Philip Carlucci of Melville, New York won the auction, and spent over $300,000 on restoration, which was completed in 2018. As nearly as I can determine, it’s just been sitting there ever since.
If you decide to visit this one, you should know that the parking lot is long way from the actual lighthouse – I’d estimate it’s a half mile minimum. But, unlike most of the other lighthouses I visited on this excursion, it’s nice, level, clean walkways all the way out with only a few stairs at one point if memory serves. There are also some other exhibits as well as local restaurants within walking distance.
In one of the parking lots near the edge of the breakwater.The picturesque breakwater area
On Friday morning, I began to work my way – slowly – back toward my departure point in Moline, Illinois. I knew from my trip up that there were a lot of farms and barns that I wanted to stop and photograph along the way, and I wanted to take my time. My stops included some unique locations, such as an impromptu vehicle graveyard just off Route 151 at Route 26 in Wisconsin, where dump trucks, construction and roadwork equipment, farming equipment, pickup trucks, and even school buses sit abandoned and falling into rusty heaps. It was pretty astonishing. In that same area was a very nice old barn, and a “tree” made of reinforcement rod with colorful bottles adorning its “branches.”
Route 151 at Route 26 in Wisconsin
Another farm along Oakwood Road off Highway 151 holds an array of defunct equipment including an old gleaner combine, two or three old sedans, tractors, indistinguishable farm implements, and at least one apparently operational pickup truck nestled around the base of a couple of silos. The same property contains a really interesting collapsing barn that looks for all the world as though some alien giant took a huge bite out of the roof.
Oakwood Road off Highway 151 in Wisconsin
Perhaps the most fascinating property to me was one located at Bristol Road at Highway 73. It was jammed with buildings crammed to the rafters with a menagerie of junk, and fields filled with rusting vehicles of almost every stripe. Old motorcycles, motorized scooters, bicycles, a classic VW bus, clothing, office furniture, rope, buckets, tires, Christmas lights, and home appliances. It was astonishing.
Bristol Road at Highway 73 A ban full of… well, everything imaginable!Another building full of…stuffNot to mention the abandoned cars…… And the abandoned house.
Finally, I’d be remiss if I didn’t tell you the squirrel story. As I was driving slowly through the small town of Ridgeway, Wisconsin I was required to come to a complete stop in the middle of the (thankfully deserted) two-lane highway right in front of St. Bridget’s Catholic Church. The problem was a squirrel. I’m not sure whether the squirrel was just confused or if he was militant, but he ran from the side of the road directly into the middle of the pavement holding an enormous acorn. He stopped there, and simply starred at me (in defiance, it seemed) as I approached, unmoving until I came to a complete stop. I did in fact come to a complete stop, and if you’d been in the vehicle with me, you’d have witnessed me throwing my hands in the air and shouting at the squirrel: “Oh, come on!” When the squirrel was sure that he had stopped me, he simply turned and scampered on across the road – never even considering discarding his enormous acorn in the process. It was absolutely crazy. If you don’t see the humor in this, all I can say is “You had to be there.”
St. Bridget’s Church. Site of the infamous squirrel who played chicken.
On Saturday morning, I continued to work my way slowly back toward my departure point in Moline, Illinois. The most memorable aspect of this leg was my sheer intuition-based stop in Mineral Point, Wisconsin as I drove south on Wisconsin highway 23, branching off just about due southward from US highway 151. I saw the sign that said “Mineral Point,” and I said aloud: “Now that sounds interesting!” When I pulled off of Highway 23, I glanced to my left and saw a remarkable old brick building that looked to me like a repurposed factory. As turned out, I was exactly right. What I had discovered – purely by accident – was a business called Brewery Pottery Studio and Gallery.
Brewery Pottery Gallery and Studio
The complex is an ancient brewery, purchased in 1992 by Tom and Diana Johnston. The Johnstons had just gotten through a period of 21 years where they travelled to do art fairs, and they decided they wanted a real brick-and-mortar studio of their own. Their specialty is handcrafted heirlooms “to enhance your everyday.” (Take a look at their offerings at brewerypottery.com; some cool stuff out there!) So anyway, the gravel parking lot was empty. The building looked well maintained, with gorgeous flowers and interesting (if eclectic) sculptures and artwork interspersed around the 3 largest buildings. (There is an even larger old barn, which I’m not counting here.) I got out and began to shoot photos of the exteriors because the buildings are great artistically, but it looked as though no one was home.
While I was absorbed in my photography, another car pulled into the parking lot and waited patiently for me to get out of the way so that she could finally park. I never heard her approach, so I apologized when a nice lady emerged from the car. She said it was no trouble at all, and launched into an explanation – or at least a colorful description – of the Brewery studio and gallery. She had come to do her Christmas shopping, it seemed, but – like me – determined that the shop was closed. After she’d left, as I continued to shoot exterior photos, Mr. Johnston emerged from the building and chatted with me for a bit. He’d observed me through the window as he was doing dishes, he reported. Seemed like a nice enough fellow. I wish I could have visited the gallery; maybe someday if they survive the COVID chaos. The property is beautiful, filled with ancient barns, decaying VW Beetles, and quirky works of art.
I’m hoping to return to Mineral Point one day just to explore the community more, even if the Brewery Pottery Studio never reopens. It’s a very pretty and significantly historic community, and the people there seem quite friendly. I’d like to understand that history better, and the impacts of lead and zinc on everything from immigration to economic development to architecture. The city was listed in the Register of Historic Places in 1971 – the first Wisconsin city to receive that designation. I did have an opportunity to wander along one of the streets lined with historical buildings saved by a preservation movement initiated back in 1935. But all of the buildings were locked up tight, of course – once again, presumably due to the COVID craziness. The area was quite beautiful in a Mayberry kind of way, with mossy roofed stone buildings embedded in the vine-covered hillside, and well worth a return visit.
Historic Mineral Point
Another segment of the home-bound trip that I’d like to revisit is the stretch between Dubuque, Iowa and Davenport, Iowa. There are a lot of beautiful old barns out that way that I just didn’t have an adequate opportunity to visit and photograph. Maybe one day. Here is one additional story from my Door County excursion. I had pulled off Route 61 at Plum Hollow road working my way back to the south, to look at a particularly interesting old barn.
I was just sitting on this old gravel road and getting ready to take a photo of the barn from my truck, and I was spotted by a sentry. It became clear to me that the sentry was the alpha member of resident herd of cows, and when my camera came into view, the cow was not happy. A special coded alert was “moo-ed” out (kind of like the special “twilight bark” used by Pongo and Perdida to locate the 101 Dalmatians) and the entire herd stood, lined up single file, and strode hurriedly around the pen to hide behind the barn. Only the sentry remained, warily peering at me around the corner of their recently collapsed barn. One of the funniest things I’ve ever seen, but – again, it’s like my squirrel story. You probably had to be there.
The Great Cow EscapeThe watchful sentryThe herd in hiding behind the ruins of their barn
In the meantime, this was a great trip; I had a blast, met a lot of nice people and virtually none that were unkind. Saw a lot of beautiful scenery, and learned a lot about the ownership and operation of lighthouses.
Highlights
North Pierhead Lighthouse
Cave Point County Park
Cana Island Lighthouse
Eagle Bluff Lighthouse
Kewaunee Pierhead Lighthouse
Karsten Nest Hotel in Kewaunee
Lowlights
Condescending lighthouse keepers, especially at Sherwood Point
This excursion was a bit of a departure for me. A few days before it began, my wife asked me what trips I have on my list that would be good for fall foliage, especially out east. As it happened, we had several days in a stretch clear from our normal grandchild caretaking, and it was the right time of year for a little leaf-peeping. Since I typically do my travelling solo, my wife hadn’t been on one of my little retirement excursions, and was eager to get away for a few days. We sat down and looked through my spreadsheet, and decided that a trip I titled “Cherokee to Brevard” might just fit the bill. We made some adjustments to the original route, which I derived from my primary reference guide: “The Most Scenic Drives in America.” That book refers to this trip as “Carolina Countryside,” and we expanded on the route because my wife wanted to include the Biltmore Estate in Asheville, and I wanted to pick up Mount Airy, as a personal homage to Andy Griffith.
The Carolina Countryside route as Readers Digest identified it circumscribed an oval shaped track beginning and ending in Cherokee, Tennessee. It extends counterclockwise through Bryson City, Nantahala, and Murphy North Carolina. At that point it turns back eastward, heading through Hayesville, Franklin, Cullasaja, Cashiers, Lake Toxaway, and Brevard. Then it starts Northwest again, closing the loop in Cherokee after traveling through Waynesville and Maggie Valley. Neither of us had seen either the Blue Ridge Mountains or the Smoky Mountains, and the stars aligned for us – so away we went.
We departed from St Louis around 7am on Saturday, October 17, 2020. We completed the trip on Saturday, October 24, 2020. We were extremely fortunate on this trip to hit the absolute peak of foliage color. I’ve been advised by friends for many years that I need to see the Blue Ridge Parkway in particular, in Autumn and they were certainly right about that. The colors frequently produced vistas that literally made us gasp. I know that a few of my friends who are themselves photographers – many of whom are better at it than yours truly – will look at these photos and say something like: “Well, I see he found the saturation slider in Photoshop.” But the fact is, on those rare occasions that I touched that particular adjustment, I actually desaturated the image. The colors were so vibrant that they were almost too much to take in, and in a few cases I actually toned them down.
Our first stop (aside from the normal refueling and comfort breaks) was Chattanooga, Tennessee, where we visited the Point Park on Lookout Mountain. Point Park is an absolutely beautiful park along the Tennessee border. It was the site of the 18th century “Last Battle of the Cherokees” during the Nickajack Expedition, as well as the November 24, 1863, “Battle of Lookout Mountain” during the American Civil War. Commemorating the events, artillery pieces and monuments tastefully placed in positions that seem somehow to blend into the scenic topography. Lots of walking trails and some gorgeous overlooks where the Tennessee River stretches out across the countryside far below.
Looking out over the Tennessee River from Point Park on Lookout MountainPoint Park
Visitors can also see Signal Mountain and some of the Prentice Cooper State Forest. There is normally an admission charge for entering the park, but the rangers there leave as dusk approaches and admissions then move to the “honor system.” We didn’t see any “honorable” people among the dozens of visitors the evening we were there. We decided to spend the night in the Chattanooga area, having lost our daylight as we watched the sun setting at Point Park.
The following morning, we headed for Highlands, North Carolina. Highlands is near the 4,635-foot-high Satulah Mountains. This area offers a lot of beautiful scenery, stretching along US Highway 64 toward Cashiers and on to Brevard. On Route 281 just southeast of the city is Whitewater Falls, a striking waterfall that cascades over 400 feet. We experienced the roaring torrents of both water and sound from a lot of waterfalls on this excursion, and Whitewater was the first really big one.
Highlands, NC areaWhitewater FallsA closer look at beautiful Whitewater Falls
Around Cashiers (pronounced “Cashers”) North Carolina the Chattooga River is comprised of spectacular whitewater runs. This drive began the slow, switch-back-laden, up-and-down course that comprises almost all mountain driving. It was also so scenic that we made a LOT of stops for me to take pictures, and just to admire the beautiful autumnal mountainsides. Finally, as darkness overcame us, we found a place to spend the night just inside the South Carolina border.
Along the road to Cashiers, NCFollowing the Chattooga River in Cashiers
The next morning, we headed north again, picking up the Blue Ridge Parkway and travelled on to Asheville where we visited the North Carolina Arboretum (100 Frederick Law Olmstead Way, Asheville, NC). We found it well maintained and bursting with color from the soft maples lining the parking area to the “quilt pattern garden” that is the centerpiece of the place. There is also an incredible array of Bonsai trees and miniature garden scenes as well as eclectic artwork dotting the grounds among the fountains and paved walkways. We stopped for lunch at the garden’s Savory Thyme Café and then – duly refreshed – got back on the road. I found the Blue Ridge Parkway a little tricky to return to coming out of the Arboretum, and if you plan to make a similar journey, I advise caution and deliberation at that point. Although there is signage, the connection is confusing and – once headed along the wrong route – it’s not easy to figure out where you went wrong. Here’s the best hint I can give you: The make-or-break point is within about 100 feet of the Arboretum entrance. Pay close attention to the signs.
The North Carolina Arboretum in Asheville, NC
Once we made it onto the Blue Ridge Parkway, we headed toward Brevard. Again, the terrain – while challenging – is absolutely wonderful dressed in Fall colors. The air is cool and crisp in the mountains, the water is clear and cold, and has a mind of its own as it rushes in a cacophony of sound through the rocks around you. Among our favorite stops were Looking Glass Falls (a feature of the Davidson River,) and the Mills River Valley Overlook along the way.
Near Looking Glass Falls, in the Pisgah National Forest is US 276 (The Forest Heritage Scenic Byway), is one of our favorite waterfalls, called Moore Cove Falls. It’s about a ¾ mile hike from the small parking area (by small here, I mean a half-dozen vehicles) identified by a large sign along the way. The trail is clear but neither level nor paved. It’s easy to trip over large roots and stones, so use caution. When we finally reached the spot, we were rewarded with a 50+ foot waterfall that I was able to climb behind. One hearty soul, arrayed only in a bathing suit, was enjoying the waterfall when we arrived but departed shortly thereafter. (I’m not sure I understand how he endured the icy water, or why he did it voluntarily, but I have never understood those polar bear swim events, either.) I can say with great confidence that the return trip along the trail was far less demanding that the trek up to the falls. It was well worth it, at least to me; one of my favorite memories from the excursion.
Hiking through Pisgah National ForestMoore Cove waterfallLooking out through the Moore Cove Waterfall in Pisgah National Forest
While we were in Asheville (which is a beautiful and obviously prosperous city), my wife compelled me to spend a day with her at the Biltmore Estate. (Nothing wrong with touring the estate, of course; just not exactly my thing.) The main residence and tourist attraction on the property is the Biltmore House, an historic house museum built by George Washington Vanderbilt II between 1889 and 1895. It is said to be the largest privately owned house in the United States, and is more than 178,000 square feet, with more than 135,000 square feet of living space. It is, of course, rich with amenities like bowling alleys, a fitness center, billiard room, and a 70,000-gallon heated indoor swimming pool. There are a lot of buildings on the estate, even setting aside Antler Hill Village. The village contains restaurants, rental cottages, a post office, shops, a doctor’s office, a school, and a church. There is also a full-size and quite luxurious hotel, a winery, and bass fishing lake on the 8,000-acre estate. And to use a recent motion picture title, “a river runs through it.” In this case it is the French Broad River. There are guided and unguided tours of the Biltmore House as well as other features of the estate available. We took advantage of one of the restaurants and ate a scrumptious breakfast at one of the restaurants in Antler Hill Village, and meandered through the shops there. Then we walked around the demonstration farm area, looking over the vintage farm equipment, watching a documentary about the estate, and chatting with a genuinely nice man who hand-manufactures straw brooms there and sells them in the gift shop.
The Biltmore House
In the afternoon, we toured the Biltmore House itself, and of course – took photos. There is also a large garden on the property, and had we understood its location and composition better – we’d have made time for that too. Even without looking over the gardens, though, the estate is a full-day kind of activity.
The primary activity slated for Wednesday was our visit to Mount Airy, North Carolina. Mount Airy was established in the 1750s as a stagecoach stop along the road between Winston-Salem, North Carolina and Galax, Virginia. Today, the population is reported to be a little over 10,000. It really gained notoriety – a sort of fame, really – as a result of a television show that starred a citizen of the town named Andy Griffith. The Andy Griffith Show, and its short-lived spinoff Mayberry RFD, were set in a fictional town called Mayberry that was patterned after Andy Griffith’s memories of growing up in Mount Airy. These days, the town enjoys about $5 million in annual revenue as a result of the Andy Griffith Museum, city tours in Mayberry “police cars,” and similar attractions around town. My primary interest was the Museum and the statue of Andy Griffith and Ron Howard just outside. Our last stop in Mount Airy was Andy Griffith’s childhood home (711 East Haymore Street, Mount Airy, NC) which is clearly marked by signage, is now available for overnight stays, and can be rented through the local Hampton Inn. I was not disappointed. But unless you’re a fan of the show – which means that you are probably well over 50 years of age – this might not be a stop worth making.
Barney’s Cafe in Mount Airy, NC – Otherwise known as MayberryMayberry Squad CarSherriff Andy Taylor’s Desk Wally’s Fillin’ Station / Goober’s GarageHomage to the Andy Griffith Show
Following the Mount Airy and Mount Pilot visits, we drove on out to historic Rockford, North Carolina. Rockford is a tiny village that was founded in 1790, and still retains and maintains a number of historic buildings. Its most famous buildings – and we simply stumbled on this one – is the Rockford General Store. (It’s another case of “if you’re anywhere nearby, you really need to see this place for yourself!) It’s an opportunity to walk back in time about 75 years. From the old water-filled Coca Cola Cooler to the room-full-of-candy-jars, this place is pure unadulterated nostalgia. Probably my greatest regret about this trip was not having more time to explore the backroads here to get photos of the old buildings; for me, a place like this is a gold mine.
Historic Rockford, NC – The General StoreThe candy room inside the Rockford General StoreOne of the many historic buildings in Rockford
If you do make it to this area, there is one nature-based feature that I strongly recommend. Viewers of the Andy Griffith Show will remember frequent references to the closest “big city,” known as “Mount Pilot.” Not far from Mount Airy is Pilot Mountain, a beautiful National Natural Landmark at the heart of Pilot Mountain State Park. Pilot Mountain is an incredible natural monolith towering more than 1400 feet above the upper Piedmont plateau. The park contains an exceptionally well-designed observation point from which the mountain and the surrounding area may be viewed and photographed. One of my fellow photographers there on the day we visited told me that he arrives every day at sunrise to photograph the mountain, and due to the endless variations in weather and sun placement, the view is never the same.
Ascending to the observation point in Pilot Mountain State ParkPilot MountainPilot Mountain
On Thursday morning, we drove on to Hickory, North Carolina. It’s a “big city” these days, sporting a population of more than 40,000 people. But it began as a tavern beneath a huge hickory tree back in the 1850s, and was finally established as a town in 1870. The town has a much-storied past, including one of the worst outbreaks of polio ever and some very bizarre murder investigations. But the most recent claim to fame in this town is that the area known as Henry River Mill Village – abandoned since the 1970s – was used for the filming of a major movie (The Hunger Games) in 2011, with the old abandoned buildings there used to depict “District 12.” Personally, I’ve never seen any of the Hunger Games movies – (a movie where the plot involves children killing each other has never appealed to me) – but I can certainly see why this area would provide cinematic authenticity and “grit.” It is quite evocative in a haunted house way.
Henry River Mill Village – also known as District 12 in the Hunger Games movie.
After leaving Hickory, we drove on through Morganton and on to Newland, North Carolina where we came across a particularly attractive community called Linville Land Harbor, which is situated around a gorgeous 46-acre lake. Beyond Land Harbor Lake, a number of scenic features in the area are especially attractive, including Grandfather Mountain.
Land Harbor Lake in Linville, NC
Grandfather Mountain is among the tallest peaks in the Blue Ridge Mountains, at 5,946 feet in elevation. There is a tremendous view from it’s summit, and the great news is that one can drive nearly to the peak. At the peak, you’ll find a “swinging bridge,” which – these days – is comprised of aluminum and is very stable. There’s not a lot of “swing” left in it! Also, the swinging bridge is really only about 85 feet above the ground below it. Nonetheless, the scenic view is truly breathtaking, and in fall color, it is incredibly beautiful. My advice about this place is to be prepared for temperatures that can be 20 degrees cooler than Asheville, with stiff winds. The drive ascending and returning from Grandfather Mountain is a solid half-day event, and this ended our official travel day.
Along the ascent to Grandfather MountainThe parking area at Grandfather MountainThe “swinging bridge” at Grandfather MountainAs far as the eye can see from the peak of Grandfather MountainAnother vista from the peakLooking back on the mountain during our descent
On Friday morning, we continued driving out from Grandfather Mountain westward toward Cherokee, North Carolina. Near Cherokee, we stopped in to photograph the Mingus Mill (Mingus Mill Trail, Cherokee, NC). This 1886 grist mill isn’t functional anymore, but the sluice and turbine are still working. It’s usually staffed by a person knowledgeable about how the equipment operated, and about the history of this particular property. It is more photogenic than anything else, but there is some valuable information on the signage and the available from the overseer.
Mingus Mill – a very old grist mill near Cherokee, NCWater cascades from the old sluiceThe milling house at Mingus Mill
From the Mingus Mill, we headed north into the Smoky Mountains along Route 441. The clouds were beginning to roll in at this point, after a week of perfect weather. The Smoky Mountains certainly lived up to their name; the smoky haze lifted, it seemed, from the mountains themselves directly into the clouds – though I’m sure it was the other way around.
The Smoky Mountains between Cherokee, NC and Pigeon Forge, TN
The colors were stunning, and because of the overcast day, the tomes and saturation in the foliage was almost palpable. It was as though the color would ooze out of the leaves and drip on the ground at times. We got a little sprinkle from time to time as we moved through the mountain, but by the time we made it to Paula Deen’s Family Kitchen (131 The Island Drive, Suite 8101, Pigeon Forge TN) for dinner in Pigeon Forge, the sky had cleared again.
Now, I’m no restaurant critic, but let me tell you this about Paula Deen’s: It is AMAZING. As we were eating, I remember telling my wife: “It’s as though someone sat down with the chef day after day and took one dish at a time – from the rolls to the desert – and said: Now, I want to make this the best thing on the menu. How do we do that?” It was that good. EVERYTHING was THAT good. Holy cow. Good thing I don’t live any closer to that place; I’d weigh 300 pounds.
While we waited for a table at Paula Deen’s, we sat in rocking chairs out by the fountain at The Island. Beautiful place; sort of a Bellagio Fountain set in the hills of Tennessee. Tons of people, kids everywhere, but everyone was gracious and well-behaved. The whole city was clean, safe, and – at least the evening we spent there – orderly and efficient. We sat across from Jimmy Buffet’s Margaritaville Island Hotel. Art galleries, ice cream stores, souvenir shops, the fountain performing in cadence with music playing softly on the breeze. I could have remained there much longer, but I was hungry and when the text message came in saying our table was ready, we wasted no time giving up our seats there by the fountain. Later that last night it absolutely poured. I was glad we weren’t planning to start for home until the following morning. The visibility would have been poor, the wind was howling at times, and we’d have been miserable for hours picking our way carefully onto the highway and through the mountains.
No photos from Saturday. We drove in steady but diminishing rain the first few hours, finding clear weather only when we got about half-way back to St Louis. Still, I’m not complaining. We had gorgeous weather the entire week, absolutely peak foliage colors, and both of us got to see a part of the country we had never seen before. People were friendly, food was good, and we had no real deadlines; a great way to live!
Highlights
Whitewater Falls near Cashiers, SC
Forest Heritage Scenic Byway along Route 276
The Blue Ridge Parkway, especially around Looking Glass Falls
Rockford, NC (Not for everyone)
Pilot Mountain near Mount Airy, NC
Lynnville Falls
Grandfather Mountain
Paula Deen’s Kitchen in Pigeon Forge (Go there hungry!)
