A VISIT TO THE OLD ABANDONED STATE PARK

THE PERFECT CIRCLE

Its been so long since I've posted to the blog that I almost forget how to do it.  I've been on Face Book for the past couple months trying to learn the processes there.  Face Book has a different feel to it that than does a blog as I feel hurried there for some reason and there's a sort of obligation to everyone that hovers over entries folks post.  I like it but I like the blog too.  The blog is a much better forum to put stories and detailed dialog on.  Oh well.

I decided to take Shade and Clarissa Sharp down to the old state park that I call the Ruins.  Its the old Carson/McGhee homestead located at Vonore, TN.  The history of the place is covered else ware on this blog and I won't bother with it here. I used to go there every day when I lived in that area but visit infrequently now.  It was and is a perfect place to take my girls (dogs).  Clarissa has never been there and I really love her company so she shared the truck seat with Shade and me.

Old Carriage Road to the McGhee/Carson House. (Ruins Now)

Overall, the place is the same but I can instantly notice changes as I walk the lane that leads to the old ruins and eventually dead ends into the lake.

I notice some of the enormous old trees have met their fate over the years and lay, still dominant figures, where they have fallen.

And, some old trees stand strong against the test of time.

A tiny cluster of dried leaves stands out far away in a field of solid brown and I try to make something out of nothing with the camera.  Its a frivolous activity.

You don't want to brush against these.

Speaking of time tested trees --- Wow!

 A detour toward the right off the main trail leads to the old McGhee cemetery.

Final resting place for souls long gone and eventually, if left unattended, even the stones will be enveloped back into the earth removing all traces of what lays beneath them.

 I don't know why these ancient cemeteries are ignored here in Tennessee.  I run across many that are in disarray and many that will be no more if not protected soon.  History receives such little attention on the importance ladder here in Tennessee for some reason.  Bottom rung it seems.

The old foundation (Ruins) is showing wear and tear from the elements.  Again, I won't go into the history of this place now as I have covered it in previous blog entries over the years.  There is a search engine on the blog front page that can be used to find things.

 The house was enormous with a porch that went around the whole thing with four sets of marble steps to the porch on each side of the house.  I posted an actual picture on the blog that I retrieved from the internet showing a man and a lady in the yard.  It wasn't a great picture but it did show the house as it stood back during the Civil War.

 The property that was to become a state park was given to the state park people by TVA when Tellico Dam was built.  The park people figured the old house would make a dandy park headquarters so they ran power to it, threw the switch and promptly burned it to the ground.  I don't know when care stopped at the park but the entire park property fell to ruin at some point and it is used now by TWRA to grow fields of grain for critters.  Its a lovely place to get away from the world, except in hunting season.

The old tree that Douglas, my Golden Retriever, used to play at is still standing and is inhabited by a woods fairy.  I was lucky enough to capture the critter as it was exiting the old tree.

 Douglas used to stand up and practically crawl into that big hole in the tree every time we came here.  Now, I see that a woods fairy has taken up residence in the old tree.  As luck would have it she (appears to be female) was home today.

 Shade instantly ran to the woods fairy and sought out treats.  Fairy's have been known to make cookies in trees and leave them laying about for the Haints.  In return the Haints would leave the woods fairies alone.

 I approached the woods fairy and it, she, ran away instantly and disappeared into the surrounding forest.  No luck.....

I showed Clarissa the old farm buildings that are hidden in the woods behind the old foundation.  This is a fascinating place where one's mind can run wild about history.  Imagination plays a large part of keeping history interesting.  I think that is a part of the problem in schools these days as far as history is concerned.  Kid's imaginations are not energized about history.  Its not their fault but the fault of a sorry education system in the lower grades.

As usual, I break everything I see down into parts and photograph the individual parts.  Its a habit now that I can't break.  Even cattle are sectioned into hoofs, neck, head, ears, eye, tail etc.  Its worse with old wood or brick buildings.  

 An old hand made gate, below, is made of pipe and a fancy piece of metal across the top with circles.  Note the ole pipe elbows to make the bends.  Its a fence gate.

I like these twisting vines, as you all know.

 Wood fitment on a log corner

This is without a doubt the creepiest door I have ever seen.  Scary!

How can one not wonder what happened in these old places.  I can sit and just see daily activity in my mind.  Amazing times back then!

 Douglas, my Golden, and I spent a solid hour in the building below while escaping the ravages of a Sunday afternoon storm six years ago.  The place is still standing but in sad shape.  It won't be long until it is gone forever.

 The exterior door you see here is an interesting piece of architecture.  The wood is obviously old but the colors in the wood grain are varied and give the piece an antique quality.  Hell - it is an antique.  

 Look at that old door latch.  Thats different.

 A heavy vine outlines the door and curves around to the right under the eves and across the top of the window.  Crazy!

 Gotta love and appreciate hinges.   Old rusty fossils that hold doors to frames, nailed on with all kinds of hardware including screws - sometimes wired on.

 The door, hinge and cross bracing below are beautiful to my eyes.  This is history in wood.

 The following shots are exciting and beautiful in their antiquity.  Rusty nail heads, intensely darkened wood with course grain, hand fitted and nailed with square nails.

 The shot below is fascinating and if you're into art - should hold your eye for a time.  What a combination of wood and metal!

Time to go.  Clarissa had a great day and I think you'll see the pictures she took on her Face Book page.  I probably will only post here.  I did post pics of Shade on Face Book as she enjoyed herself in the lake down at the old abandoned state park.

 What a great time she's having.

Thats it for this trip.  I may stick another shot or two on here before closing.  Thanks for looking in and I'll try to do better on the blog.

MOTORCYCLE RIDE TO THE ALAMO - 1974

I wrote this little piece for a Facebook entry and thought I'd just insert it onto the blog as well.  I will be writing little snippets about motorcycling experiences from my past, here and there, and will post them here when I can.  Hope you enjoy the visit to a place where a few heroes fell to the onslaught of many.

RIDE TO THE ALAMO - A MOTORCYCLE ADVENTURE

For 13 days (February 23 - March 6, 1836 around 180 Texans (Americans) struggled for their lives at Bexar, Mexico against the overwhelming odds of 1500 seasoned Mexican soldiers with 2000 more en route, at an old Spanish mission called the Alamo and were killed to a man. Those who tried to surrender were instantly put to the sword. No mercy was given to any. The Alamo would be known to history where a few stood against many. President General Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna paid a heavy price (1200 dead or wounded) to win this fight against a few sturdy, brave American defenders but he would lose the war he sought to an angry army of Texans lead by Sam Houston at the battle of San Jacinto which was fought on April 21, 1836. "Remember the Alamo!" was the cry as Houston's angry countrymen descended upon Santa Anna's army and showed no mercy to the enemy.

I left the mountains that morning in the Summer of 1974 and rolled down onto the plains and into Texas. The big BMW motorcycle had been carrying me across America for the past two months and I was excited because today I would finally get to visit the Alamo. I had been fixated on the tale about the Alamo all my life and had read several books about the famous battle and the heroes who died there, and they indeed were heroes. They were men who knew they would lose the fight yet stayed on against insurmountable odds with the result of creating a few unbelievable pages of history that would define the meaning of American hero and what Americans are willing to sacrifice to maintain freedom. James Bonham, Col. William Travis, David Crockett, James Bowie and a host of other heroes gave their lives for what they believed in.

I was sorrowed by the sight I saw as I pulled into San Antonio in search of the Alamo. It appeared so small sandwiched between sky scrapers on a downtown city street. I put the kickstand down and dismounted the iron horse, put my hands flat on the seat and rested my weight on my arms and just stared at the vision before me. I made my mind crop away the modern city buildings that surrounded the old mission until I was looking at a scene from 1836. I drank it in. This was a place where glory was realized and where hero's fell and here I stood gazing at the gates of this sacred place - the same gates that an enemy army saw 138 years prior this date. I felt a strange sensation as I crossed the street and approached the old mission. I was humbled. I felt small in the presence of this alter where the heroes of America fell and were burned to ashes on that fateful day when the Alamo was overrun and no mercy was shown any defender. I walked through the main doors and stopped to just look. There were very few tourists this day as it was late in Summer and Fall was nearing. My eyes fell on a door that stood open to a room that had no exit. The word Bowie on a placard caught my attention as I stepped into the small confined space. Here was the cot that Jim Bowie laid, incapacitated. With Bowie knife in one hand and a .45 caliber flint lock pistol in the other he listened to the gunfire and the intense struggle outside his locked door. He pulled his weak body up and rested his back against the masonry wall behind his bed and waited for the inevitable. I stepped to the head of his cot and stared down and saw the huge knife clutched tightly in the fist of his right hand and the pistol, primed with hammer back in his left ready to leave his personal mark on an enemy that would promote him to hero status for all Americans forever. The door smashed to the floor and five soldiers rushed in toward the invalid on the cot who fired a single pistol shot into the nearest antagonist, his long glistening blade embedded itself into the next closest soldier while the sharp pointed Mexican bayonets punctured the sacred flesh and took the life of one of the greatest Americans to ever walk onto history's pages. The moments in Bowie's room were like a religious experience. My heart became tight and a sense of pride overcame me. I stepped to the doorway, stopped and turned toward the cot for one last look and a tear rolled down my cheek from the corner of my right eye. I realized that I was here exactly where he was. I walked across the courtyard to where David Crockett and his Tennesseans took positions on a very poorly constructed wooden wall that faced the enemy. It is this wall that the Mexicans would concentrate on and when the wall broke, Crockett and his men were doomed.
I walked out to the bike, put on my helmet and snapped a last picture of the Alamo, My leg swung over the saddle, the engine came to life and I pulled out of San Antonio heading for Arizona. I didn't look over my shoulder. I saw what I needed to see and I was done with it. I never went back.........

A point of interest:  Notice the four recesses on the front face of the old mission.  Originally there were statues of saints inserted into each recess.  Of course they were stolen, probably stolen shortly after the battle but, I doubt many people catch that detail.

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THOMAS AMIS HOUSE

This entry is titled Thomas Amis House but it has nothing to do with any house.  Thomas Amis was a pioneer in this area and he built a home in Hawkins County, Tennessee back in 1780 on Big Creek.  Of course there was no Hawkins county back then - just a territory.  Anyhow, Mr. Amis built his house, lived in it and also rented out rooms to travelers on an overnight basis.  Later on he built a store, tavern, distillery, saw and grist mills and surrounded the whole thing with a palisade fort to protect his holdings from Indian attack.

 What a cold, cold morning.  Stopped at the boat ramp at Quarryville to visit the graveyard of the old church there and shot these pics of the mountain side.  Burrr!

The grave yard at this church is on the historical places records and contains many very old tombstones.  The markers are left to their own devices for the most part and the hand of man remains void where the stones are concerned.  The grass is cut occasionally but its a weedy place and a rustic memory of past times.

 I invited Clarissa Sharp to ride with me today and photograph the Amis waterfall where the old grist mill used to reside.  She was really interested in this old cemetery and I'm looking forward to seeing her photos.

I'm always looking for old cabins and houses to photograph.

The Thomas Amis place is just outside of Rogersville near Beech Creek so the ride there didn't take long.  We stopped the truck at a pull off that paralleled the Amis Park and gathered up tripods and all the accessories needed to take photos of water on an overcast, cold day.  Did I say it was cold?

 If you look closely at the shot below you will see the water has an edge to it center picture.  That is the edge of an impressive waterfall.  Here,  I'll show you next photo.

 This waterfall is addicting.  The place has all the charm of yesteryear - the times when things were right with the country.

 The photo below is one of my all time favorites.  The light was soft and everything went as expected for once with the result being a lovely creation that is pleasing to the eye.  Or, at least pleasing to my eye.

Below is what is left of the original grist mill.  Even in its destruction the old stones make one stare in awe at the fact they still lay where Mr Amis put them 235 years ago.

 I just happened to look up toward the sky for whatever reason and noticed a dot dangling from a tree.  Its in the picture above. Look closely to see it.  I guarantee its there and can be found.  I put the telephoto on it and the result is below:

 What a pretty picture the old hay rake makes.

The hawk just appeared and I took a wild shot at it.  Badly back lighted as usual but the images are usable, I guess.  

Just a nice old building below:

 Here's the front view

 The door has that old antique look as it displays progressive ruination

Last but not least is a shot of a building that I photographed earlier in the week.  We went past again today on the way back from the park and I stopped to investigate it further.

 All this stuff just seems to be sitting on shelves exposed to the elements.  Why doesn't the wind and rain carry them away or at least knock them off the shelving?  Wonder if the stuff is nailed down.

 Here's more of the story.  This is the city garbage drop off point.  Yep.  This building is right next to the shack where the old guy sits who watches the garbage bags being crushed.  I'm betting he picks all this stuff up out of the garbage and sells it.  Just a guess.  Anyhow, he has a really diverse collection of, well, a, useful junk.  The place is a conversation piece for sure.

Clarissa was great company and we had a super time talking about photography all day.  Time flew and we were on our way home too soon.  I'm really looking forward to seeing her pictures as she has a knack of putting that museum (brownish gray) color onto her pictures.  Hard to explain.  So check her out on face book (Clarissa Sharp) and I guess you can find me there also if you like, at least for awhile.  See ya.