November 2012

November 26, 2012January 20, 2022

Stalking the Wild Persimmon

You know that Mother is a big fan of the persimmons growing at Tower Rock, but she keeps her eyes open for other ones, too. Right after I shot the photo of the rennovated dam at Trail of Tears State Park’s Lake Boutin, we cruised through the lake’s parking lot.

I had just about made the circle when I slammed on the brakes and put the car in whoa-back. For once I had spotted something before my co-pilot.

This tree had already dropped its leaves, leaving its fruit shining like miniature pumpkins against bright blue sky. The ground was orange with fallen persimmons. I gathered up a handful and took them to Mother for a rating. She said they weren’t bad, but that they didn’t compare to the Tower Rock ones.

Sleeting in Cape

I’m hearing reports that it’s sleeting around Cape this evening. Mother flew into St. Louis from visiting Brother David’s family in Tulsa over Thanksgiving. She said she made it back to Cape with only a few sprinkles on the windshield. I imagine she has a fire in the fireplace and her electric blanket turned on.

I guess I’d better run one more fall picture before folks get the gloomy gray day blahs.

November 26, 2012October 27, 2016

On the Wrong Side of the Tracks

I made a swing up to Cape Rock to check out the river level and the huge sandbar hugging the Illinois banks. After taking a couple of shots, I pulled into the small park at the bottom of The Rock to get a different angle. You can click on the photos to make them larger.

Tracks were open

The BNSF tracks were clear to the south. As soon as I crossed the main line and siding and looked north, I spotted the sunken barges I posted on October 21.

Where’d that train come from?

I spent about 45 minutes shooting the barges, then turned to see a long freight blocking my path back to the parking lot. This young fisherman was stuck on the wrong side of the tracks, too. Since these cars were parked on the siding, I thought maybe they were making way for a faster freight on the main line. Since most local trains aren’t that long, I decided to start walking south to see if I could get around it.

This one one of those situations where Plans A, B and C all involved swimming: I had the Mississippi River to my east; if the train extended south to Red Star, I was going to run into Sloan Creek; if it went too far north, there was Juden Creek to contend with.

Does this thing have an end?

About a quarter mile down the tracks, I ran into two fishermen walking north. “How far does this thing stretch to the south?” I asked.

“A long way,” one replied.

“Well, the head end of it is out of sight at Cape Rock, so I’m going to keep walking south.”

Way off in the distance, I could hear a train horn. Probably blowing at the crossings in town, I thought. Shouldn’t be too long before it passes, then the train on the siding will pull out, I was hoping. The clouds were building up, the wind was getting stronger and all I was wearing was a light long-sleeve shirt covered with a wool vest I had picked up for twelve bucks off a remaindered rack at Monteagle Pass.

Walking on railroad ballast is no fun, but I didn’t have much choice: there had been a rain recently that made the non-gravel areas full of soft mud. Adding to my distress was the audio book I had been listening to on the trip: Stephen King’s The Long Walk. I kept fearing that if my pace dropped below four miles an hour that someone would terminate me.

A little beyond this point, I ran across a bunch of bones on and around the track. They were too big to be a dog and they weren’t human, so I assumed that a deer picked a bad time to cross the tracks. I picked up a clean piece of vertebrae as a souvenir for Brother Mark.

Here comes the local

It was taking a long, long time for the northbound train to get here for all the whistling it was doing. When it pulled into sight, it had two power units, which meant that it was probably the local freight I shot back in April 2010.

Caboose confirmed it

When the caboose passed, I knew it was the local, probably headed to Proctor & Gamble to drop cars. I decided I’d start walking north again, figuring that once the local passed the stopped freight, it would pull out of the siding.

Getting ready for crew change

Then, the local started backing up and conductor Randy Graviett popped out of the caboose. He explained that they needed to do a crew change. They were going to back the train up far enough he could hop on the engine and go up north of Cape Rock to pick up a new crew. He said the train on the siding was being held up until a dispatcher in Texas told it to proceed.

Delay let me shoot Dredge Potter

By the time I made it north to the parking lot across from Cape Rock, the freight on the siding had pulled out. That was the good news. The bad news was that the local was blocking my path north and south as far as I could see. While I was waiting for the train to move, I spotted the Dredge Potter and her pushboat, The Prairie Du Rocher headed upriver. Not a bad day when you can shoot three stories in a three hours.

I was beginning to get chilly, so I decided to see how far north the local stretched. I finally came upon the head end about half-way to Twin Trees Park. Once I got back on the road, I started counting train cars. I can’t remember now if it was 29 or 39 cars back to the parking lot. I’m going to guess my total walking for the afternoon was about four or five miles on railroad ballast.

November 25, 2012

Monteagle Pass Surprises

I’ve hinted that my 2000 Honda Odyssey is getting a bit long in the tooth. When I was in Cape the summer of 2011, I had to have a rebuilt transmission dropped into the van by LeGrand Bros. Transmissions for $3,498.34. This trip home, I felt an unusual vibration in the front end. Plaza Tire was enriched by $700 to replace the left front axle (I sort of like the idea of my front wheels staying on at 75 mph), new struts and an alignment. It sure made the car ride much better.

About 10 miles south of Manchester, Tenn., on the Friday I headed back to Florida, my Check Engine light came on. That didn’t scare me because my catalytic converter is overdue for replacement. Then the TCS (Traction Control System) light came on. That’s not what you want to see if you are going to have to go over the Eastern Continental Divide, but the car was running fine and I soldiered on to the peak of Monteagle Pass in Tennessee (elevation 1,923 feet).

I pulled into the parking lot of one of my favorite stores, Mountain Outfitters, and called LeGrand for advice (I have an extended warranty). They suggested I take it to one of the shops in their nationwide network. Unfortunately, they didn’t show any in my next big town, Chattanooga. They said it would be a good idea to see if anyone could read the computer error codes that turned the light on to see if the problem was serious. (You can click on the photos to make them larger.)

Monteagle Tire & Auto Service

Fortunately, right across the street was Monteagle Tire and Auto Service. I had stopped in there on an earlier trip when the van was mysteriously blowing fuses that would cause the car not to shift out of park, would keep the cruise control from working and would black out the brake lights.

I walked up to the counter and asked if somebody could read my error codes. A nice guy pulled my car into the bay, hooked up a gizmo under the dash and promptly reported that the only code showing was for the converter. He reset the warning lights and backed the car out. With some trepidation, I asked, “How much do I owe you>”

Let’s put this in perspective. If I had pulled into a Honda dealership, that three-minute process would have cost me $95 plus tax (based on experience). Here I am, on a mountain in Tennessee, miles from a big city and in a vehicle with Florida tags. If that’s not a license to steal, I don’t know what is.

Nice Guy shrugged his shoulders and said, “Have a Happy Thanksgiving.” I slipped him a twenty and felt fortunate.

Looking for lunch

With the car problem out of the way (I hoped), I poked around the Mountain Outfitters. If I lived where it was cold, I’d have walked out with lots of cool stuff, but temptation was averted. I asked the cashier if there was a good place to eat other than the Smoke House, which used to be good but had been disappointing the past couple of stops.

He recommended Dave’s Modern Tavern, just east of the Interstate by about a mile. He liked their fried green tomato BLT, which would have pleased Wife Lila, but isn’t my thing. His second choice was the Oink Moo Burger, a Hereford patty topped with pulled pork, caramelized onions and Gorgonzola cheese. Huge homemade potato chips came as a side. Instead of drenching the pulled pork with BBQ sauce, it was served as a side. The sandwich was WONDERFUL. Juicy without being sloppy. When I’m hungry, I’m more interested in eating than pictures, so I made do with this semi-fuzzy shot with my cellphone.

I ordered a cup of lobster bisque for an appetizer. It’s described as having a “hint” of brandy. If I had ordered a bowl, I’d have probably blown over the legal limit if I’d have been pulled over.

Donna Smith of Monteagle Tire

On the way out of town, I stopped back at Monteagle Tire to tell owner Donna Smith how much I appreciated their great service. She said that she and her husband moved to Monteagle in 1987 and opened the service shop about 10 years ago. When he died, she stopped providing wrecker service, but the store is spotless, well-stocked and her employees are friendly and helpful.

All of the delays cut into the time I would usually have spent stopping at Larry’s Army / Navy at the next exit down. There are plenty of excuses to pull your car over to let it cool down after the long climb through the Pass.

November 23, 2012November 23, 2012

Dew Drop Inn

On my pilgrimage south on U.S. 61 (Highway 25 to the real oldtimers), I passed the Dew Drop Inn at the intersection of Hwy 61 and Hwy Y in Bloomsdale. It was the kind of thing that made me do a quick U-turn. I’ve heard of Dew Drop Inns, but have never been inside one. You can click on the photos to make them larger.

A quick Google search turned up less than a handful of reviews, including, “Good bar food. Tried the patty melt and would order it again. Drinks are reasonably priced with a nice pour.” This didn’t have a thumbs up or a thumbs down, so I’m not sure how to interpret it: “Hicksville. If you have more tattoos than teeth this is the place for you, don’t forget your shotgun and sister!”

This one was clearly favorable: “I was there for the first time last week. It was brilliant! Definitely a hole-in-the-wall…but I mean that in the BEST way. The bartender and cook (owners?) were really really nice, the clientelle all knew each other, and we all watched some kind of “Dumbest 100 Disasters on Wheels” on the TV together. I didn’t eat, but the pizza looked great. The appetizers were cheap (curley fries!!! $1.50 and Fried Pickles too!) and the decor was…quaint. Walls decorated with posters, signed photos, and what looked like gifts from the patrons. Milwaukee Best cans $1.50, Budweiser bottles $2.00. I want to live in this place. It felt like the home I never had.”

Lots of Dew Drop Inns

That Google search popped up lots of Dew Drops. Here are just a few towns:

Forks, Washington
Honolulu, Hawaii
Mobile, Alabama
Miller, South Dakota
New Orleans, Louisiana
Alpena, Michigan
New York, New York
Moline, Illinois
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

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