The first leg of my journey was to visit my daughter and son-in-law in Washington, NC. I traveled across southern Tennessee, detoured to Lake Wylie, SC, and then continued to Washington. The AAA directions I had received allowed that it was 1023 miles to Washington, but my more interesting trip was via the southern route - 1,383 miles - not on the more direct interstates.
Tennessee
Trip preparation: It was off to Wilson's RV to have them put a new valve on the propane tank. I want to have a blast on this trip but not in that manner. They informed me I had a hole in the gas tank, which I later realized had to happen at their place on the rocky parking lot where they parked the van to drain the propane. Once I had drained the gas some JB Weld on the bottom of the tank seemed to work fine. Of course the hole was in the center of the tank so I had to jack up the van to get the little bit of remaining gas away from the hole. I finally got out of Hot Springs at 5 p.m. An overnight visit with Daniel and Amy in Memphis was the first stop once I finally located their house. I had broken Rule #1 and was stumbling around Memphis at dark thirty looking for their street. After a pancake breakfast the next morning it was time to enjoy Tennessee. I decided to wander over to Pulaski, Tennessee along highway 64. A very peaceful drive indeed. Rolling hills along the way with dried up corn stalks and bales of hay ready for the barns. I passed through some really quaint old towns which is always my plan if possible and truly enjoyed the scenery. The high today might have been 80 which was a treat after weeks of 100 plus degree weather. I stopped on the Tennessee River in a park on Riverside Drive just as I pulled into Savannah, Tennessee. The park had a nice picnic area and some fine old houses up the road with a great view of the river.
I stopped in Pulaski to visit cousin Margaret Butler and was surprised to find her in a nursing home. We had a very nice visit and she offered that I could stay at her house but I instead backtracked about twent miles to the state park.
In Lawrenceburg, Tn I located the David Crockett State Park. There is a KOA in Pulaski but I usually prefer a state park, not only cheaper but a lot more atmosphere in my opinion. I leave those on the highway campgrounds for the larger vehicles that are just rolling through the area. According to the clock it was September 9 and I at least knew without it that it was 1998. Each evening ended with recollections of the day on the Macintosh powerbook. I was camped near a creek whose sound competed with the electricity to the bathouse, but still a peaceful place.
I got up early the next morning and followed the instructions I had been given to Mars Hill Cemetery. It was a most scenic drive down Weakley Creek Road but not the proper setting. There were indeed two churches and a cemetery but they were not old enough. Old farms lined the narrow winding mounatinside road.
I decided to go to Lynnville and the Lynwood Cemetery to pay my respects to my grandmother, aunts and uncles. Lynnville is just the cutest tiny old town built up around a railroad track. Four or five streets converge in the center with the track running through the middle. A row of shops on one side of the street seem to serve as the center of town. Much of my mother's family had lived in Lynnville at one time.
I learned that Mars Hill Cemetery is between Lynnville and Cornersville. I was among rolling hills scattered with old farmhouses; as peaceful and pretty a place as one will find. Mars Hill is the old church built in 1893. There is an old organ, a pulpit , and pews that line the room and it looks like it must have 100 years ago. There I located my grandfather and much of his family. After reading lots of tombstones in the delightfully sunny about 75 degree weather day it was on to Cornersville, another quaint small Tennessee town.I went back to Pulaski and visited once more with Margaret. She was sitting in the recreation room waiting to be told how to make a fall wreath. Wouldn't you think a retired high school librarian who had extensively researched and written books on the history of Giles County would be able to create her own wreath with the provided plastic flowers. I had picked her a posey from her yard on West Jefferson which pleased her. Her house looked as if she still lived there. I also called her friend and POA Addie to thank her for watching after Margaret. It is amazing what you can learn in a florist shop in a small town.
As I continued across the state on 64 I passed little old towns with old building and town squares. I stopped at a roadside park to have some leftover tuna noodle casserole and cantaloupe for lunch.
When I got to Sewanee what a surprise in the landscape. I climbed right up that mountain and then got on the interstate (24) and went down the mountain at a 6% grade with the truckers in the right lane going 35. That was when I realized the time changed and there I was in 5 o'clock traffic in Chattanooga.
It is hard to believe that Chattanooga began as a trading post in 1815. It was also one of the staging areas of the relocation of the Cherokees known as the Trail of Tears. Chattanooga means rock coming to a point referring to Lookout Mountain south of town. I got back off onto 64 east and went through the Cherokee National Forest following the Ocoee River. The road was cut right alongside the river with steep mountains rising on either side. What a treasure! Then up the mountain and on to Murphy, NC.
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