What We Don’t Know (Blog #567)

What a wonderful life.

Yesterday after I posted the blog, my small group went for a hike. This is something I don’t do nearly often enough, get out in nature. It was so gorgeous, so invigorating. Then we watched our guide feed the owls, the birds they’ve rescued and are nursing back to health. Oh my gosh, y’all, they feed them dead mice. (GAG!) I joked, “Do you buy the mice from Amazon?”

“From the pet store,” our guide said.

Hum. What can you say about watching an owl systematically tear apart and choke down a small rodent? It was fascinating. It was powerful. It was gross. It was bloody. It was both terrific and terrifying.

It was life.

After watching the owls eat, we explored the dam I mentioned yesterday that was built by the Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC). That’s the back of it in today’s featured image. Here’s a picture from the top, looking over the other (front) side toward Bird Lake, which we kayaked yesterday morning.

For dinner last night we all met up in Cookeville and ate at a local pub–Father Tom’s. Since the inside of the restaurant was full, I ate outside on a heated patio with several other journalists. Y’all, it was the perfect thing, this delightfully laid-back evening filled with darling conversation and much-needed laughter. So perfect, in fact, I forgot to check my phone for messages or take any pictures.

This is how I know I was in the moment.

Yesterday after I posted the blog, I took a nap. Then last night I was in bed by 10:30 (and up this morning at 5:30), so I’ve been better rested today. Like, capable of coherent conversation before sunrise. Which is good–when you’re travel writing, at least with this group, there’s always something going on and something to talk about, so it’s a plus to be both vertical and alert.

Our first stop today was a local coffee roasting business–Broasters. The owner was just like everyone else I’ve met here–warm, open, kind, and enthusiastic. On top of that, his store’s drip coffee was SO GOOD. I’m really not a coffee snob, but after this morning, I think I could become one. I even got to try–for the first time–cascara tea, which is cherry-flavored drink made from the hull of the coffee bean. It was fabulous.

Better than any relationship I’ve ever been in.

See, Marcus, good things CAN happen before noon.

Since leaving the coffee shop, I’ve been on a wine tour with several other journalists. I think there are nine of us–journalists and staff together–doing this, while the rest of the group does outdoor stuff like I did yesterday. Anyway, currently it’s 1:00 in the afternoon, and we’ve already been to two local wineries and are now on our way to the third. (I’m blogging in the car; we’re about thirty minutes away from our destination.)

The first winery was DelMonaco. It was gorgeous, like something you’d see in a movie, and the owners welcomed us like family. The wife, who poured all our samples, used my name every time she spoke to me. This is no small thing, to look people in the eye and make them feel important.

And it doesn’t hurt to get them tipsy either.

Here’s a picture of several of our group in the DelMonaco elevator. (Elevators are great places for taking random pictures.)

The second winery on today’s vino tour was Cellar 53, another family-owned outfit. What a treat! These folks really went over the top. Not only did they provide more wines, but they also partnered with a local restaurant (Ebel’s Tavern) and provided lunch–oysters, scallops, steak, asparagus, broccoli, and cheesecake. Delicious!

Here’s a picture of the oysters, the FIRST oysters I’ve ever eaten. (These oysters were baked; there were also raw oysters, but I didn’t try those. One thing at a time!)

Here’s a picture of the cheesecake. And I know you wouldn’t guess by looking at my rock-hard body, but this was NOT the first cheesecake I’ve ever eaten.

Hard to believe, I know.

2:13 PM

We just left the third winery, where we were pressed for time because we apparently ran late at the last place. Anyway, this spot was Highland Manor Winery, Tennessee’s oldest winery.

“How old is old?” someone asked.

“38 years,” the owner said. “We started in 1980.”

So that felt good. (1980 is the year I started too.)

Anyway, check out Highland Manor’s cool basement.

4:53 PM

Well shit. I lost internet for a while, then got swept up in our last major stop for the day (besides dinner)–the Alvin C. York State Park. Wow. I got quite the education. Alvin C. York was a war hero from WWI. At first a conscientious objector, he was drafted into the war and ended up almost single-handedly capturing over a hundred Germans. Like, he was a big deal. Hollywood even made a movie about him (Sergeant York) that starred Gary Cooper. Anyway, we got to meet one of Sergeant York’s daughters and his great-granddaughter, as well as tour his home and property (which were given to the state after he and his wife died). Also, we got to tour the school that Sergeant York started when he returned from the war and that his great-granddaughter is now working to have renovated and turned into the Sergeant York Center for Peace and Valor.

Here’s a picture of a map of Germany that’s believed to have been used by York during the war.

The last thing we did before leaving the park was tour a replica of a WWI trench that was dug out and constructed in what used to be Sergeant York’s backyard. (Sergeant York would have lived in such a trench while fighting the war in Germany.) The tour was given by park employee Joseph Gamble, who wore the traditional “dough boy” uniform of WWI. (The term “dough boy” was also used to refer to soldiers in the Spanish-American war and most likely derives from the fact that the soldiers were often so covered in dust that they looked as if they had flour–or dough–all over them.) But seriously–can you imagine wearing that outfit every day and eating, sleeping, and living in what essentially amounts to a hole in the ground?

I certainly can’t.

5:18 PM

Now we’re almost to dinner, and my brain is more fried than a piece of chicken. Whenever we’re done eating, I want to go to bed–and not stay up to blog–so I’m trying to wrap this up. How do you summarize a beautiful day? I haven’t even mentioned my new friend Tom, a journalist from California with whom I’ve been speaking on and off the entire morning, afternoon, and evening. Tom’s an old war-horse, a veteran in the travel writing world, and hosts a podcast called Journeys of Discovery on NPR. He’s SO cool–curious, kind, interested, and interesting. Tom says that as journalists our strength is rooted in what we don’t know, not in what we do. I think this is important, to keep an open mind, to always be willing to learn, to not assume you have the entire damn world–including yourself and your neighbor–figured out.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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We all need to feel alive.

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The Griswolds, Pirate Sam, and Devil Bullshit Ale (#566)

Holy crap. It’s 8:00 in the morning, and I’ve been awake since 5:30. How did I get myself into this?

I should back up.

Yesterday I arrived in Tennessee for a travel writing trip, and after lunch in Cookeville was deposited in Crossville at Cumberland Mountain State Park. Um–y’all–the cabin I’m staying in is straight out of the 1930s. Like, I bet it was been THE SHIT back in the day. (The Griswolds would have loved it.) As it is now–well–let’s just say it’s rustic. And big–it’s way big. I’ve got the whole place–cabin 24–all to myself. Which is a little lonely. But hey, I can run around naked.

Don’t worry, Mom, I shut the blinds.

This is one of those “bring your own” places. What I mean is that it has a coffee pot, but no coffee. (Bring your own.) Likewise, it has plates, dishes, and cooking equipment, but no food. (Bring your own.) This is fine, of course, but after I went to the bathroom yesterday and wanted to wash my hands, I realized there wasn’t any soap–or shampoo or conditioner. (UH–bring your own.) That being said, I DID find a small bottle of Palmolive, which worked for washing my hands, but I thought, I DON’T WANT TO SHOWER WITH THIS STUFF!

Call me stuck up, but we all have standards.

Thankfully, the group that’s organizing this trip picked up soap, shampoo, and conditioner for me and the rest of the journalists staying in the cabins. (We’re in Crossville; some other journalists are in hotels in Cookeville.) So all is well.

Cookeville, which is an hour away from Crossville, is where most of our activities are taking place this week. This means that for us cabin-dwellers, there’s a lot of driving (or rather, being driven) back and forth. This also means we have to be ready to hit the road at 6:00 most mornings, since breakfast starts at 7:00. And whereas I’m not in love with the early-bird thing, it’s going to work out. This morning when my alarm went off, I got dressed, shoved a chocolate-covered donut in my mouth, then simply poured myself into a minivan and let someone else (who got less sleep than I did) do the driving to breakfast. In other words, it may be a tired life, but it’s not a difficult one.

One of the positives to being in the car so much is that it gives me time to blog, so there’s always a silver lining. With such a packed schedule, I’m not sure I could make time for it otherwise without giving up valuable sleep hours.

Last night the Tennessee Tourism Department hosted a reception for us journalists. (I think there are 12 of us.) Y’all, they really went over the top–the reception was in a huge barn, and there were about a dozen local vendors to welcome us–a barbecue restaurant, a coffee shop, a distillery, a jewelry store, an outdoors store, a yoga retreat center–you name it. There was even a pirate–Pirate Sam–who works with a canoeing group on the Caney River. He’s their mascot. Talk about cool.

Here’s a picture of me and Pirate Sam discussing very serious pirate things. ARG. Buried treasure. Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum.

The craft beer people at the reception last night were with Calfkiller Brewing Company, and they told me they were recently voted the #3 worst-named beer brewing business in the US. (They’re actually named after a local river, not after animal-harming activities.) But I guess unique names is their thing. One of their beers is called Scorched Hooker, and another one, which I tried last night, is called Sergio’s Ol’ Evil Ass Devil Bullshit Ale. (Say that three times fast.) The company employees I spoke with said sometimes they just call it Sergio’s.

I wonder why.

Yesterday one of the other travel writers referred to Tennessee as The Swag State, meaning that the tourism department and businesses here are famous for giving away free shit to journalists. And boy was he right. Last night I walked away with half a dozen grab bags full of goodies (including the donut I ate this morning). When I got back to the cabin and sorted it all out, I found–among other things–hand sanitizer, a lint roller, coffee beans, a mug, a hand towel, three small travel bags, and several pieces of handmade jewelry.

And get this shit. Apparently Cookeville boasts a famous Crossfit athlete (Crossfit is, as one journalist said, “Where people workout and shit”), and he and his extremely-large-muscled friends were at last night’s event. Seriously, I’ve never seen so many bulges in all my life. Or felt so gaunt. One guy’s boobs were so big, I swear you could have balanced a dinner plate full of fried chicken on them. At least a saucer and a tea cup. (Imagine that–a tea cup on a d-cup.) When we first saw him, one of my friends said, “You know that t-shirt he’s wearing is a small.” No kidding! It was SO TIGHT. Anyway, the Crossfit swag bag included a postcard of the famous dude showing off his ripped abs and bare chest.

Oh-la-la.

[Note: I stopped blogging here for a while and picked it back up after lunch.]

This morning after an early breakfast at a coffee shop in Cookeville, another journalist and I, along with one of the trip organizers and a state park employee, went kayaking on Byrd Lake, which is part of the Cumberland Mountain State Park here in Crossville. And whereas I’d anticipated it being cold and miserable, it was truly delightful. Just the perfect, relaxing thing on a cool, sunny day.

Check this picture out. I love how the water reflects the trees and sky.

While kayaking, I learned that Cumberland Mountain State Park and Byrd Lake were built during the years following The Depression by the Civilian Conservation Corps, a government program created by Franklin D. Roosevelt as part of The New Deal in order to both provide for America’s single, unmarried men (and their immediate families) and conserve and expand the nation’s natural resources and parks. In fact, our last stop while kayaking was the local dam and bridge, which is the largest masonry project built by the CCC during its entire history.

After kayaking, we went to lunch. Now we’re on a break (back at my retro-fabulous cabin), which is good–I can finish this blog. Shortly, the same group that went kayaking and I will go for a hike, then tonight we’ll meet everyone else for dinner. So far, I’m having wonderful time. Everyone I’m meeting is super southern sweet, even those who aren’t from “around these parts.” In terms of food, I’m moderating more than I did the last time I went on a travel writing trip by drinking less beer, watching my portions, and not eating every damn dessert in sight. Plus, I’m doing the hiking thing. So that’s something–having caloric boundaries and exercising.

Woowho.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Abundance comes in many forms.

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