How the heck did you find Hiddenite?

HIddenite, North Carolina

"How the heck did you find Hiddenite?" was all Mel heard when the lady at the corner market checked her driver's license. You would have thought Utah was some crazy imaginary place only seen on made up maps of the country west of the Mississippi which few from this part of the world have dared cross. A foreign wild land beyond them there hills. Rural areas in the southeast have been great both because of the hospitality and genuine nature of the people but also their simplicity. Most people in the rural areas have never left the state, some the county, like a great uncle of mine in Kentucky. Let me stress how SMALL their counties are. So it was a bit of a shocker for this cashier to have someone walk in from some foreign land in search of soda and ice enroute to the local gem mine.

Creekin'

Thanks to Travel or Discovery (we can't remember which) we found Hiddenite, North Carolina in our search of riches untold at the only Emerald mine open to the public in the US. For a few bucks you can dig, use the sluicebox or even go 'creekin' in search of emeralds, rubies, saphires, amethyst, hiddenite (super rare), smoky quartz and a slew of other gems and minerals. Their hand painted sign says, you find 'em you keep 'em. And find 'em we did. We came away with all sorts of stuff including a few saphires. The kids mostly had fun playing in the water of the sluicebox and creek while Mel was enamored by the possibility of finding something shiny. I was mostly manual labor.

Abondoned gas pump struck me as almost a piece of industrial art.The 'RV park' we found in Hiddenite reminded us of a rerun of My Redneck Wedding. The place was primarily a final resting spot of trailers and fifth wheels for the kids, cousins, and whoever else was remotely related to the owners in this beautiful little valley tucked out of the way in the trees. Mixed in with the miniature horses, pigs, and goats was a nice extended family who had the foresight to carve out some extra spaces, add utilities and make an extra buck on the wandering vagabond who responded to the sign 'RV Park this way -->'. Fortunately there was a kid's playset complete with an insanely fast slide and a pool filled with green water competing for a spot in the Miss Swampy calander, making for an entertaining stay. Camden, Levi, Jaisa, Becca, and Kaitlyn striking a pose.

Every day several kids would come from somewhere to play. On the third day we realized they were wearing the same clothes and seemed to crave some attention and a tall glass of Kool-aid. After some questioning I surmised they were essentially homeless living in a van. That's 6 of 'em Mom, Dad, Kaitlin (10), Becca (7), Levy (5), and Sara (2) crammed in to a van. We did our best to feed them and let them choose a few of the kids' toys to play with. Experiences like this really help us appreciate our blessings and I hope our kids learned a little about sharing what they have. To their credit, Jaisa and Camden never complained when I asked them to pick a few of their favorite toys to leave behind.

It's a sad story that we're beginning to run in to a little more often. The father lost his job in Alabama when a plant closed and moved to Ohio where a relative lived and there was a Honda or Toyota plant. He got a job and three weeks in to it they laid off half the plant. So he came wandering down to North Carolina at the promise of another job that hasn't panned out. As we were leaving someone found an unused RV not much bigger than their van, but that had a sink and some beds they could move in to. The kids haven't been to school in a while and are craving some permanency. What's weird was no one at the park seemed to find this unusual.

I can't help but think about the contrast of the situation. We came here in search of 'riches and gems' and found poverty. While we walked away with a few saphires, it is clear we are richer for the experience.

Smokin' in Tennessee

Dogwood Blooms

The dogwoods are in full bloom in the Great Smoky National Park and while I would like to think we planned on being here because of that, it's just been a happy coincidence. One thing about our trip that has been both fun and at times nerve racking has been the complete spontaneity of the whole thing. A typical evening conversation usually goes like this: 'Hey honey, where should we go tomorrow', 'eh, nowhere, let's just hang out here there's still more to see', 'okay'. This goes on until one or the both of us say, 'okay, what's next'. And we pull out the maps to see what's close and just point the RV in that direction and go.

The kids excited to hang with Yogi or 'gogi' as Camden calls him.

Well, this time Mel decided while we were in Kentucky that she really wanted to see this national park, so she put together a plan that included a stay at Jellystone with Yogi Bear. Man, when she puts together a plan, she really hits it out of the park. We've been parked next to a creek all week in the forest with stuff for the kids to do, easy access to the National Park, and the tourist meccas (or traps for the less religious) of Pigeon Forge and Gatlinburg.

Parker, Camden, and Jaisa posing for a photo

The first few days were awesome. We had fantastic neighbors and immediately hit it off. It was just like a bunch of family decided to go camping for the week - oh wait that's what they were doing, we just crashed the party and self-adopted. Parker, the 3-year-old and Jaisa and Camden were inseparable playing with each other's toys, throwing rocks in the stream and perfecting the ubiquitous SMORE. Trey and Mary Beth were great to hang out with and his parents treated us just like we were part of the family. Southern hospitality at its finest!

Reflections of the kids in old cabin deep in the woods

Jaisa, as has become a self-imposed requirement, earned yet another Junior Ranger badge, but somehow the only thing she learned was that black bears are scary, eat people and fill her head with nightmares no longer letting here sleep at night. Tonight I had to convince her that those Feds were filling her heads with lies and that there are mostly nice bears: Pooh Bear, Smoky Bear, and let's not forget Yogi Bear who visits nightly in our park. I then pulled up a quick clip on Youtube of that guy in Alaska that let's bears roam around his cabin like grandchildren playing and even napping with them. I chose however to withhold the story of the guy who lived with Grizzlies and got eaten. Alas, she is now soundly asleep ... until I begin snoring soon and she thinks a bear has come to get her.

Riding the tram in Galtinburg - still trying to figure out the point of this 'skilift' to nowhere - was fun nonetheless

I needed to bail for a couple days to do an inspection on the house we just bought and visit some customers, so Kim decided to fly out and trade me spots. While I was gone, Mel, Kim and the kids went hiking in the forest to a spectacular waterfall, explored a cool cave, and cruised the strip in Gatlinburg. I got back this evening and was quickly reminded of the joys of parenthood as Camden puked his guts out twice on the way to/from the airport. Thank goodness for well-placed outlet stores to buy fresh clothes so we could go to Shoney's to eat without bringing in 'used food'. Unfortunately, the food at Shoney's wasn't much better than 'used food' and we could have just brought him in, nobody would have noticed. Check that one off the list.

A week here is not enough - the place is absolutely gorgeous and the people are divine, but the urge to roam calls and we can't deny our primal instincts.

A gallery of photos is available for this story, click here.

Where Do Babies Come From?

[This is a catch up post and is out of order on the trip, actual date 4/10/09]

Jaisa asked one day recently, Daddy, where do babies come from? I don't understand. I think storks bring them, but they have to come from somewhere. This was the easiest question of all to answer. Rather than try to explain it myself, Melanie decided to take her to the birthplace of Cabbage Patch Kids, Cleveland, GA and let the fine doctors at the Babyland General Hospital answer the question for us.

Jaisa peering in to the nursery at Babyland General HospitalThey explained that babies come from the Mother Cabbage Tree. Fortunately, there were babies being born during the visit so she could see first hand how they popped out. After the Mother Cabbage Tree was dialated to 10 leaves apart, she received a dose of imagicillin and the Doc performed an easyotomy. Lucky for Jaisa it was twins this time. And there you have it, that's where babies come from. Our job is done here.

Performing an easyotomy on the Mother Cabbage Tree

Anticipation

Commonly used in cinematic performance as a way of creating suspense, anticipation peaks interest and allows the mind to wander and begin to imagine the possibilities. I'm sure by now some of you are wondering ... Did they get lost? Did they give up on there quest? Did they breakdown in the swamplands of Florida and get eaten alive by wild alligators and transplanted Burmese Pythons? Maybe Plato was wrong, the earth isn't a sphere after all...they fell of the face of the earth! (in fact some of you have sent some rather pithy comments for our lack of updates which have been rather entertaining in themselves)

Hand cut stakes used to hang tobacco in the barn to dry. These stakes are probably around 50-70 years old and have been used that entire time until recently when the Fed decided to stop subsidizing tobacco prices (can't imagine why)

Alas, we are still on our trek and alive! I can't decide if I can call the absence procrastination, creative use of anticipation or simply 'doingtoomuchination', either way we've had some AWESOME experiences the last couple of months. I can't believe its been that long since our last post! We've been around the whole of Florida and strolled across South Carolina, Georgia, Tennessee, and now Kentucky. We'll catch you up on Florida in upcoming posts, but let's get current with Kentucky which is kind of ironic, because there is a little 'current' about Kentucky.

Hand forged hinge off the Clemons farm.

Not necessarily on our 'wish' list of places to hang out, Kentucky is the land of my forefathers, the Clemons and Townsend clans and there is no running away from one's roots, that and Susan needed backup. She'd been here for a week and couldn't take too much more of Grandpa on her own, so we decided to make the long haul from Savannah, GA to 'save the day'.

Getting here was an adventure. As it turns out the backroads of Kentucky are actually one lane with a set of yellow stripes down the center. The RV stretched out from the edge of the asphalt which drops off in to a ditch to well beyond the stripes, which makes passing oncoming traffic at the posted limit 55mph a game of chicken, fortunately we have a bigger chicken.

Jaisa, Abagail and Camden climbing through the slot on the way to Natural Bridge

It was nice to see the clan, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins (I think), and of course my sister, Susan and her daughter Abigail (they were happy to see us pull in). Between neverending Scrabble games with grandma, we took the kids to Natural Bridge State Park (didn't we leave Utah?) for a hike. They climbed the mile and a half up and back on their own, no complaints, no carrying, they just trucked up the mountain like it was their calling in life. I never thought keeping up with a 5, 3, and 2 year old would be so much fun and exhausting.

On top of the Natural Bridge enjoying themselves. The decided laying on their stomachs would be a lot of fun.

Despite the cynasism, I've always really liked the area and had Uncle Delbert take me over to the old Clemons farm which he owns. He's collected the tax receipts since 1851 when Great Great Great Grandpa Joseph Clemons first acquired the property. Would be really cool to keep it in the family. He gave me Great Uncle Berrell's fox horn as a gift for the new house (yup we bought a house - story for another day). It was my birthday so everyone chipped in with some of my favorites, bean salad (Aunt Janice is famous for it), cupcakes, and Ale-8 (a Powell county soda). After a short couple of rainy days, we headed out and are parked for the night at Boonesborough State Park built by Daniel Boone and some of my relatives, the Townsends...which apparently wasn't cool enough to get in free.

Uncle Delbert in the tobacco barn on the Clemons farm.

More soon as we try to catch up on the last couple of months - stay tuned, it's worth it!

Feeling Saucy

We woke up feeling spicy, so to satisfy our urges we decided to get a little saucy. Now, I don't know about you, but that can only mean one thing, Tabasco! We were told by Mel's brother Brian that Avery Island was only about 30 minutes from where we parked last night, so we decided after church we would go check out the capital of all things spice. Edmund McIlhenny founded the company after sharing samples of his creation in 1868 with friends and family. A banker by trade, he married in to a family that had a farm on Avery Island. His banking career was short lived thanks to the civil war and his new pet project. He originally packaged it in used perfume bottles and produced 700 bottles that first year. The fifth generation now produce 700,000 per day at Avery Island and ships them to 161 countries in 20 languages.

Camden and Jaisa hanging out on a tabasco barrel.Jaisa was immediately offended when we opened the door of the RV to the aroma of fresh Tobasco asking why it stinks so bad out there. I told her that was the odor of heaven and to get used to it if she planned on going there some day. She didn't buy it saying God would not make something that smelly for good people or something that effect. No arguing with a four year old. She seemed to forget about the smell when she heard the words, 'ice cream samples' come from our tour guide and was quickly fixated on the idea. To her great shagrin the dairy treat was not what she had in mind, the jalapeno flavored ice cream didn't go over too well as I suspected.

Tasting line. Rules specifically outlawed double dipping. That makes it safe.Avery Island is a pretty cool place. It is literally a salt dome as deep as Mount Everest is tall. The girl who gave us the tour lived up to her Louisiana heritage with a Cajun accent which was entertaining and kept us on our toes. They have their own salt mine on the island and grow the seeds for each batch of Tabasco there while the actual peppers for the sauce are grown in South America. The McIlhenny's still own the company, and the island, and are very hush hush about the figures, but based on some basic math I figure they net about $164 Million/year ... not a bad family business with less than 150 shareholders. That also doesn't include the oil and gas leases or the salt mine.

Close up of barrel. They use them until they fall apart up to 100 years and then sell the wood for barbecues.An interesting note, they only utilized the plant Monday through Friday. All workers have weekends off. The family seems like they are control freaks (can't imagine why) and personally choose the peppers, weigh the peppers and approve the batch by tasting each one.

[MY MATH: 700,000 bottles / day x 260 days (only 5 days per week) x $3 (est wholesale) = $546,000,000 x .3 (net margin guess) = $163,800,000 per year.]

The manufacture of the sauce itself is interestingly simple. They pick only red peppers matching their 'le petite baton rouge' (little red stick) and mix them with salt from the mine in to a mash. The mash is put in a used and refurbished white oak barrel from Jack Daniels or Jim Bean and allowed to ferment for 3 years becoming a solid block. The blocks are then mixed with Vinegar until reaching the perfect consistency. It then makes its way onto my fried chicken, eggs, and well basically everything.

That is a logo known worldwide for its zing.After getting all fired up, we jump back in the rig for a long day of driving and pushed across Lousiana, Mississippi and Alabama landing in Pensacola, Florida. The drive was visually diverse with Cyprus groves, swamps, elevated roadways, tunnels under cities, fog, the Mississippi river, and birds galore. The devastation in New Orleans and the surrounding areas is also still very evident and was a sobering reminder of the hurricane and the fact that people are still suffering in the area. Fortunately the McIlhennys, most of whom live there, have contributed hot sauce to the food banks, so the 'Saints' have that going for them.