The path from Dahlonega to NearSewanee takes several hours to travel. Part of it is interstate highway travel. The end of the journey involves a climbing mountain road to arrive at the top of the Cumberland Plateau. Road signs and directional markers become fewer and homemade. I had a handwritten set of directions, which were effective until near the end, when the directions said to turn on the left road right after the sharp right turn.
We never found the sharp right turn, but instead ended up at a stop sign. Sugar considered going on, but I countered that the stop sign was not in the directions, and that we should backtrack. He countered that we never went through a sharp right turn. I settled the matter by saying, “I’m from Tennessee, and we need to go back”. We would go back and retrace our steps, and ignore the “sharp right turn” part.
This involves driving down every road until we found a mailbox with an address on it so that we could know what road we were on. When I was growing up, there were no road signs outside the city limits near where I lived. You simply told someone how to get to your house. Go about 1 mile from town, turn right sharp downhill, go across the creek and take the left fork, second house on the right. It’s on a hill. You can’t miss it.
We finally found our road, and fortunately I had copied the address. We don’t have GPS, so everything is part of the adventure.
Sugar’s cousin greeted us warmly, and we settled in. We had done it! We delivered oysters that had been on ice for three days, so were possibly about 4 days harvested. We talked about what to do with these oysters for dinner. Oyster stew, fried oysters, what? It seemed that the dogs needed a walk and the food decisions could wait.
The four of us, being myself, Sugar, his cousin, and her husband, plus the dogs, set out to walk the property. Apparently they thought we were spry enough, and I hoped my knees would prove this to be true. It’s hilly, and there was a little stream to cross. This proved to not be a walk, this was a hike for most sorts of folks, but we did it, and no one blew out a knee or twisted an ankle. It was remote, yet populated, territory, and at the correct geologic area for caves, which is why they live here, for they are cavers.
No, we did not go caving.
Then we had raw oysters on saltines with sauce. In anticipation of oyster stew, which SugarCousin made from scratch with milk and a stick of butter. Mouth watering now.
The next day we set out for sightseeing.
(Insert apologies here. There’s more than 70 photos.)
SugarCousin’s husband works at a FireTowerLookOuty Place.
Here’s a shot of the tower and a bird that’s catching some early morning sunshine.
On the way to Green’s View. No view of terrain, but the early morning fog was spectacular and worth the trip.
Ice! Still a bit left from the storm Titan.
Now, onward to Sewanee to the Archives. Closed! Until the afternoon. So, yeah, we’ll be back later.
Sugar’s paternal grandfather went to school here in the 1880’s. It’s now the University of the South, which went through severalhistorical twists and turns to become what it is today.
Yes, this is taken out the window.
One of the highlights of this campus tour is the chapel, which is now indeed much grander than a chapel, and is quite cathedral-like. See what you think.
We leave the chapel and head over to another overlook, still on the campus.
Now we head down into the town of Sewanee for some lunch, and to kill time until the archives are open.
We chose The Blue Chair. The food was great, and fresh, and there was a friendly lunchy atmosphere. I don’t even remember what I ate – a Greek salad? – but it was delicious – I have a delicious memory that the experience was delicious.
When we got back to the archives, the gentlemen in charge of the archives told Sugar that he had located a record of Sugar’s grandfather showing that he had matriculated in 1883 or thereabouts, but that was all. We were not allowed to look at any records, which was a disappointment.
We press onward to the Sewanee Natural Bridge, the subject for another post. It’s quietly spectacular.