A trip to Tennessee, a nice dinner and an art exhibition
Monday! The next two days I had planned to do some research for a new novel (writers blosk right now, but hope to get going again in the dark winter months here in Denmark). This research would include a trip to eastern Tennessee.
Today I had to change my place of residence from the former dentist's office behind Margaret Martine's home (in Caldwell County) to her parents' former farmhouse behind the Whippoorwill Academy and Village in Ferguson (in neighboring Wilkes County), where I would stay for the rest of the vacation. Here, however, I could not move in until 3 pm, as the house had to be cleaned and disinfected (due to covid-19 safety rules) after the previous tenants had left. When I bought the stay at the dental clinic at the summer 2021 auction, I also won the bid for a four-course meal for six people at a place called The Thankful Goat outside Lenoir. Even before I left, I had negotiated with the owner, Dawn Matthews, who was going to cook the food, about what day would suit both of us best, and we had agreed that it should be Monday, because she had time, and I as well as the guests I had invited, would be able to come. I had invited Margaret and Dick Martine of course as they were my friends as well as my hosts, and also my friends from Matthews, the author couple Charlotte and Bill Barnes, whom I have met on all my visits to NC since 2017 and finally singer/songwriter Rob McHale, whom I have also met on several occasions. As Dawn's place is quite remote and hard to find, we had agreed to meet at a supermarket parking lot oin NC 18 outside Lenoir, and then Margaret and Dick, who had visited the place before, would lead the way. Dinner was arranged at 6 pm and we were supposed to meet at the parking lot at 5. But even before I left the house that morning, I got an e-mail from Charlotte and Bill, who unfortunately had to cancel. More on that below.
Meeting a new friend
The
combined Welcome Center and Museum in Mountain City, Tennessee
However, I had to pass the time until I could
move into the "new" house. Since it was Monday, I knew that the Caldwell
Historic Museum, which I had decided to visit during the trip, was closed; it
always is on Mondays. Instead, I decided to go to Tennessee, specifically to
Mountain City, not far from the North Carolina border. Here I wanted to visit
the combined Welcome Center and museum, to see if I could find some information
for a hopefully forthcoming novel about a murder committed there in 1903. Having
eaten some of the breakfast items I had bought the day before, I dragged my
suitcase down from the first floor - after packing it. I then fetched the small
cart that Dick had put out, placed the suitcase and my backpack on it and did
the same with what I had in the fridge in the form of water, fruit and more
breakfast. Then I checked that the house was as it was when I arrived, minus the
muffins I had for breakfast the day before, left the padlock on the coffee table,
where I found it when I arrived, dragged the cart up to the car and put
everything in the trunk.
I then headed west - first on Tom Dula Road and then on Grandin Road and NC 268
until I reached US Route 321, which I took towards Boone. The road is four-lane
on this entire stretch, but even though I was driving the "racing car" I was
still being overtaken constantly, probably because I obeyed the speed limits
quite slavishly. It's pretty much uphill all the way from Lenoir to Boone, and
it showed on my gas consumption - the downside of the 6.5 liter engine. In Boone
I switched to US 421, which becomes a two-lane highway as soon as you pass
through the town, and continued the about 15 miles to the North
Carolina-Tennessee state line and from there another 10 miles to Mountain City,
where I found the welcome centre, which was on the main road just before
entering the town. I parked the car and went inside, where I was received by an
old lady (sorry Jenny, but you are a few years older than meJ)
who asked what she could help me with. I initially asked directions to for
Sawmill Creek, a small settlement north of town where the events took place back
in the day, but which I hadn't been able to find on a map.
She told me that the place was now known as
Furnace Creek and drew me a nice map, showing how to get there. Then she wanted
to know why I wanted to know what I wanted to know, and I explained about my
proposed novel about the murder of Lillie Shaw and the alleged killer, Finley
Preston. And immediately she started to find material, which I hastened to
photograph with my phone. The lady, who introduced herself as Jenny Johnson,
suggested that we should become friends on Facebook, because then she would find
more material and send it to me. So we did, and she has - so much so that I have
yet to read it all (another task for the winter months). Then she asked me if I
had heard of the Tom Dooley case, which I could confirm, and then she told me
that a local author, Patty Clark, had written a book about it. And since I buy
anything Tom Dooley related that I can get my hands on, I also bought this
little book, which turned out to be a novella similar to my own "The Doctor's
Secret". This book was called "Yours Truly, Tom Dooley", and is the
book I have yet read that is the furthest away from the real events. That
prompted me to go out to the car and get a copy of my non-fiction book, "Who
Killed Laura Foster", and present it to her as a gift, for which she was very
happy. So happy actually that already later in the day I got a message on Messenger
that she had started reading it, and the next day a new message that she had now
shown it to her boss, who had also been excited and wanted to buy it from Amazon.
After approximately an hour at the welcome center/museurs earlier, I said
goodbye to Jenny and headed for Furnace Creek. There was not much to see up
there, which I already knew, as Jenny had told me that the Preston family's
house had disappeared several years earlier, while the foundations of the house where
Lillie Shaw had lived with her husband and children had existed until a few
years earlier, but was also gone now.
PS! I visited Jenny once more in August which I will get back to when I start
writing about my summer road trip with my son - and we are still in touch
through Messenger.
After the visit to Furnace Creek, I headed back to Mountain City, where I looked
at some murals, of which there were a lot, including one supposed to depict the
capture of Tom Dooley in the small settlement of Pandora, 10 miles west of
Mountain City. I've visited Pandora a few times before, so this time I skipped
it and just looked at the murals before heading back to North Carolina. While I
was in Mountain City I got a text from Margaret that even though it was only
1.30 pm the house was cleaned and ready for me to to move in, so I continued
straight to Ferguson. Once at the house I hauled all my luggage including both
suitcases, my backpack, cameras and all my purchased provisions into the house.
I placed the suitcases in the one of the two bedrooms in which I had decided to
sleep- There are two single beds here, and I didn't think there was any reason
to mess around with the double bed in the second bedroom. However, I should get
wiser, but more about that in my next article.
A very nice dinner
Dinner
at Dawn Taylor Matthews' place. From left, Margaret Martine, Dick Martine,
Rob McHale, Dawn, aMary Anderson, Chris Anderson (the latter two eere the people
I met for the first time).
I had agreed that instead of following Margaret
and Dick in my own car, I would come to their home, and they would take me in
their car, and we had agreed that I should be at their house at 4.30 pm. Shortly
after I got back, Margaret called to say that she had also received the message
about Charlotte and Bill not being able to join the party, but that she had
spoken to Dawn, who had shopped for six people and was already busy making the
meal, so if it was allright with me she would invite two other people, who was
on the board of "The Village". They were really nice, she said, and since I
didn't know anyone else I could invite as substitutes, of course I accepted, and
they proved to be as nice as Margaret had promised. Before I left to go to
Margaret's home, I took the opportunity, now that I had arrived at a house with
a bathroom, to shave as well as take a long and refreshing shower - and I felt
like a completely different person after not having showered since Saturday
morning. About twenty minutes past four, I set off for Margaret and Dick's house
about 5.5 miles from my place, and I arrived almost exactly at 4.30 pm. We took
Margaret's new car, an SUV, and then headed for the supermarket where we were to
meet Rob McHale in the parking lot, and he was already there when we arrived. As
there were only four of us in total, there was no reason to drive in two cars.
Anyway, I'm glad I didn't have to find Dawn's home my own. You had to go on some
very small dirt roads with steep hills and no GPS coverage due to the mountains,
but Dick managed with no problems since he had been there before and could tell
that the roads had improved significantly since his last visit - so they must
have been very bad indeed.
It turned out that we were to eat at Dawn's private home and she asked if we
wanted to eat outside or inside? As the April weather was excellent and not at
all cold like the previous two days had been (this late April afternoon it was
around 80 F while even in the middle of the previous days it had not been above
55), we chose to sit outside so while we waited for the two people I didn't know
and who knew the place and therefore drove on their own, Dawn set the table on
the terrace overlooking the valley below the house. When everyone had arrived,
we had some kind of welcome drink, and then the dinner arrived, with it's four
courses. Since Charlotte and Bill don't eat pork or beef, I had arranged with
Dawn (when I still believed they were coming) that she should probably avoid it,
and she did. We started with an excellent spring vegetable soup (her term, not
mine), then a salad of mixed lettuce with various vegetables and a dressing made
with raspberry vinegar - my favorite. The main course was a casserole with
chicken served with green asparagus, and for dessert an unusually delicious, but
obviously very unhealthy dessert with cake, custard, jam, whipped cream and
berries. Wine and home-made mead were served for the chicken - that's what Dawn
thought went well with that particular dish, and she was absolutely right about
that. But even though there were six of us, less than a bottle of wine was drunk,
and only a little mead. After all, we all had to drive later. As we drank coffee,
all eight of us chatted about this and that (Dawn and her husband joined the party when her
husband got home from work around 9:30 pm) The whole time we stayed on the
patio without outdoor garments, and the temperature, which had been down to 38 F
when I got up in the morning had gone up during the day, and when we left Dawn's
place around 10 pm, it was still 75 F.
We first headed for the parking lot where we had picked Rob up and chatted with
him for another half an hour, but as he still had about 60 miles to go to his
home and he was driving to New England the next day to play a few concerts there,
he wanted to go home, which was quite understandable. Then we continued to
Margaret and Dick's house, where my car was parked. Here we said goodbye and
then I headed back towards the house and I was home around midnight so I went to
bed straight away. Incidentally, that would turn out to be the last time I met
Margaret and Dick on this trip despite all our plans for the next weekend, but
more on that in a future article.
A lot of sunflowers
Tuesday and only one week left of my vacation!
At dinner the day before, Margaret Martine had told me about an exhibition to
which she had contributed. Some local artists, on the occasion of Russia's
invasion of Ukraine, had chosen to support the latter by painting some paintings,
all of which should have a sunflower theme; sunflower is the national flower of
Ukraine. These pictures were on display at the Wilkes Art Gallery in North
Wilkesboro, and I wanted to see that exhibit, so after eating (some of) the
purchased breakfast in the kitchen of my Airbnb and drinking a cup of coffee, I
headed for North Wilkesboro. The very thirsty Dodge Charger also needed to have
the tank filled up, so when I passed a gas station, I did what was necessary
there. Although the price of gas had risen considerably since my last visit
three years earlier, it was still very cheap compared to Danish gas prices;
actually less than half - and still the Americans complained.
I easily found the gallery which opened at 10 am and that was exactly the time
when I reached the place. The street outside was almost empty of people and cars,
and since there was parking spaces on both sides of the road, I had no problems
finding a place to park the car. The Ukraine paintings were easy to find, as
the place was not very big and the paintings in question were hanging just
inside the door. While I was looking at the paintings, the lady who was
looking after the place came out of an office to ask if she could help with
anything. I explained that Margaret had told me about the exhibition and then we
talked a bit about that. She told me that Margaret's mother, Edith Ferguson
Carter, had played a significant role in establishing the gallery, so we also
talked a little about Edith, whom I also knew. When we finished talking, I saw
more Ukraine paintings, and then I walked around and looked at the rest of the
exhibit. Margaret's Ukraine paninting depicted burning sunflowers - to
illustrate the war - and also there was a picture of her granddaughter, Harper,
who is a few months younger than my own granddaughter, in a field of sunflowers.
In addition to these paintings, Margaret had several things on display, more
paintings, but also some beautiful mosaics. She has made a lot of mosaics and
even teaches mosaic classes.
After the visit to the exhibition, I headed for Lenoir. My thought was that I
would visit the local museum and present the museum director, Cindy Day, who had
helped me a lot during my last visit in 2019, with a copy of my Tom Dooley book,
but when I got to the museum this was closed and the flag outside the building
was flying on half mast. This led
me to believe that maybe one of the staff or volunteers had passed away, but when I
later drove around town I discovered that the flag was at half mast on all the
public buildings, so it probably wasn't just a museum employee they were
mourning! Why they were flying the flag on
half mast I never found out, but I believe that it must be something local, since
there was no similar displays in other cities I visited. While I was in town
anyway, I visited the local Walmart to restock some of the things I was missing;
more water and a sugar-free water from the America brand, which we always buy
when we're out and about. They come in many flavors, although Tim's favorite
flavor, Watermelon, has been discontinued. Mine which is Key Lime is still
around and I bought a few of them - and some fruit. And then I headed back
towards the house.
Springtime
colors on Indian Grave Road in Caldwell County
On the way back I took a small road I had never used before. It runs from US 321
to NC 268 (which actually meets 321 a little further north). This road is called
Indian Grave Road because years ago some Cherokee graves have been found in the
area - graves that presumably date back to the battles the tribe fought against
some of the first Europeans who settled in the area - but which may also date
from one or more of the many battles fought between the Cherokee tribe and
another tribe, the Catawbas, who lived somewhat further south, but also claimed
part of the same area as the Cherokees, which the Cherokee did not like at all.
As I drove along this road, which was mostly inside a forest (or at least
between trees), it started to rain, but only a drizzle, which made the trees
look even greener than they otherwise did. Gradually the rain increased, but
when I got home to the "farm" it was just a drizzle again so I could go into the
kitchen and make myself a cup of coffee, which I then enjoyed on the small porch
outside the "front door" of the Airbnb part of the house.
I relaxed on the porch for a few hours until about 5:30 p.m., then set off again;
this time towards Wilkesboro, where I would have dinner. The plan was to dine at
Ruby Tuesday, which is one of my favorite chain restaurants, mostly because of
their salad bar, but when I got there, it turned out that the restaurant was gone
and replaced by one I didn't know, so I continued a little further and visited
another favorite, Applebees Family Restaurant. Here I ordered "boneless chicken
wings", which Tim and I always order as a starter, and then a small steak (the
first and last of the trip). For the first time I was disappointed at an
Applebee's. The "wings" were more fat than chicken meat, which they shouldn't be,
and the steak had a corresponding amount of tendons. I considered complaining,
but let my good heart get the better of me and ate as much as I could and left
the rest on my plate - and btw refused a to-go box. And the service was
excellent as usual. Then I returned to the house again, where I relaxed with a book and my tablet (not at the same time)
until bedtime As the sun was
setting over the mountains, I went up to the museum, where the view is better,
and wanted to take some photos of the impressive sunset, but just as the sun was
about to disappear, a cloud passed, so the photos didn't show what I had wanted
them to show.
In the middle of the night, around three o'clock, I woke up with a bang when one
corner of my bed collapsed - and no, I hadn't done wild things in my sleep. I
therefore moved the suitcases from the "good" bed to the bad one and then went
to bunk there, and then continued to sleep without problems until the next
morning.