The Mobil East Wing Coming Home, The Road Falling Away, Piping Sunshine, Bob Allen, Country Roads & Horses, Land On The Mountain, Tech and Twinkies

Greeting to all and welcome new friends to the East Wing.

As Johnny and I drove past the County Line Sign and descended into Magoffin County the road fell away quick, real quick. Now for those who may not be fully versed in the fine art of Hillbilly Conversation, “the road fell away quick” is simply a very graphic description of an extremely steep declining road in front of you.

And so it did fall away quick, that road leading into Magoffin County. Traveling in the mountains and having an aversion to height makes for an interesting time indeed. When ya traverse the mountains by road beds cut into the side of the rock, ya have two choices, you’re either on the inside of the road next to the mountain, or on the outside next to God, depending on how the road bed is cut in the side of the mountain and which side you’re setting.

As the road fell away quick, I was next to God. Very few rail guards exist on the lesser traveled roads in Kentucky. Ya just learn how to travel or they miss ya when you’re gone. It didn’t take Johnny long to learn how to drive the Kentucky Country Roads. His phone conversation with Bob Allen when we were in Jackson an hour ago had served him well. Johnny’s a quick learner, Bob Allen, knowing that we were not accustom to mountain driving had told Johnny “just watch the signs, they’ll tell ya how to travel”.

And so they did, in graphics and text. Those diamond information signs we all learned ‘bout when we first applied for our drivers licenses take on a whole new meaning when ya see a black curve painted on a yellow diamond more than 180° and a posted speed limit of 10 MPH, and all the while the road is falling away quick. In ‘bout two miles of downhill racing we’re off the mountain and we’re by the creek.

In Kentucky when you’re by the creek, well, that’s ‘bout as low as you’re gona go, ‘cause nothing’s flat, it’s either going up or going down. Now if ya can’t tell up or down where you’re at, just watch the water. The water is always going down. Even from Tiptop the water always flows toward the sea.

There was never a question as where we were going in the mountains, with my GPS on the laptop computer I always knew exactly where we were at all times. It seems sometimes technology gives ya too much information, the darn thing was also showing me how fast the road was falling away. It looked like a clock running backwards.

You’ve all heard the story ‘bout so far in the mountains, they have to pump in sunshine. Well, Bob Allen lives at the end of the pipe. The road’s ‘bout a hundred feet above the house and the descending lane is an adventure unto it’s self. The culvert to cross the creek is almost large enough to drive thru. Rain water runs fast off the hills in a downpour.

It was hard to tell who was most excited to see each other, us or Bob Allen. He was standing on this back porch before we were able to get out of the truck. We shook hands and hugged and shook hands and hugged again. Hillbillies are like that, that shaking hands and hugging stuff, we do that a lot.

We go inside and say hello to Bob’s wife, Toot, don’t know her real name just always called her Toot. Toot offers to feed us, we decline. That is so hillbilly, that offer to feed ya, no sooner do ya walk thru the door and someone’s trying to feed ya or get ya to drink their coffee. We passed on both, with gratitude for the offer.

Bob Allen has lived at this location for many years. One time he told Johnny that when he finally found the place of his dreams, all he had to do was just move Toot in have her start cooking gravy. This family of mountain people truly love where they live, the surroundings, and the friends around ‘em and it all shows on their faces and in their voices and even in the way they shake hands and hug. Happy people, Bob Allen and Toot, they make ya feel at home.

If we’re gona see our real estate holding in Magoffin County this day we need to hit the road right now, and so we’re off to the mouth of Bee Tree, ‘cause that the legal description, “43-39, Mouth of Bee Tree”. I had obtained an aerial map of the section 43 which identified the 39 portion of the map.

Bob Allen took one look at the aerial map, laughed and said the best he could do today was get us in some proximity of our land holdings and point to the side of a mountain. It’d be up there somewhere. Unlike Indiana where most all land is easily identified, land in some parts of Kentucky are not as well defined, in fact extremely difficult to identify in some cases. Bob thought we could locate our land on the side of the mountain, it’s just gona take some doing.

Contact some adjoining land owners, get permission to cross other people’s land, ‘cause our land doesn’t have any road access. That in its self is not unusual or an issue, cause much of the land in the mountains doesn’t have road access. Ya just work that stuff with the neighbor according to Bob Allen. The problem we are facing today is darkness.

Bob didn’t feel we had enough daylight to travel to where we needed to be to allow him to point to the side of mountain to show us almost our little part of paradise. So Bob proposed and alternate plan to use the remaining daylight. That plan was to go see his horses upon the top of the mountain. Then Johnny turned the truck around and we’re off to the races.

We backtracked all the way up the road that fell away quick. All the way back up to the Magoffin County Sign. It was at the very top of this mountain, we took a dirt road leading, not down the other side, rather along the top of the ridge. And so we drove maybe a mile or more, staying all the while on the ridge line, then we came to an area maybe 20 acres or so and almost flat.

Here on the top of the mountain we found many horses, most of the horses belonged to Bob Allen, but some he didn’t recognize, ‘cause in the fall of the year, some people bring their horses up to the top of the mountains and just turn ‘em loose. Both food and water are abundant on the top of the mountain, and it would seen an ideal spot to spend the winter. That way ya don’t have to feed your horse for the winter. I guess ya just leave ‘em up there on the mountain and God takes care of ‘em till you’re ready to ride ‘em again in the springtime. Bob was excited, one his girl horses had a new baby in the last 24 hours. The little baby was running ‘round and having a good time with his mama his first day of being a mountain horse.

We get out to enjoy the view from the top of the hill. Looking to the west is Breathitt County and looking east is into Magoffin County. Such a very special sight, not a house or soul to be seen, just Bob Allen, Johnny, me and the horses. We stood in silence for a while. Ya don’t have to say much in the presence of majestic splendor.

At Bob Allen’s yard, I’d locked in his house location in the GPS on the laptop. On top of the mountain, in the presence of the horses, I checked our current location in reference to Bob’s house and was amazed find were within less than 2 miles from his house. It was ‘bout 25 miles driving to where we were standing.

As darkness closed around us, we had the pleasure of viewing a most beautiful sunset from the vantage point of the top of the mountain. And then the road fell away real quick.

With Bob Allen delivered safely home and us agreeing on how he’d handle the paperwork for our mountain real estate investment, Johnny and I followed that Sunshine Pipeline back to the big road. It was well after dark when Johnny drove onto the Mountain Parkway and turned to the northwest toward Winchester.

The Mountain Parkway, my favorite stretch of Interstate Road in the whole country, runs from Winchester to Salyersville. When ya get onto the parkway at Winchester, you’re still in the Kentucky Bluegrass Country, horses and white fences can be seen for miles. In an hour or so you’re in the high mountains of southeastern Kentucky. The Mountain Parkway ends as Salyersville.

On this night, like all nights, the Mountain Parkway is just another road in the darkness, viewed only to the reach of your head lights. I don’t like traveling this pretty road in the nighttime, but we do. At Winchester we stop for supper. Having had so much for the last 12 hours or so we almost forgot to eat, and for Johnny and me, that’s saying something.

We started the day early, this Tuesday Morning, leaving Roswell GA shortly after sunrise, with Johnny stealing a frog on the way out of town, and now here we sit in Winchester KY at Chili’s waiting for our supper, what else, Chili. With a football game on the flat screens all over the place, I call the she and tell her all’s well in our world and we’ll be home before the sun set across the valley.

I give the she a long distance hug and kiss by cell phone. I love technology and the gadgets that come along. Cell phones, laptop computers, GPS, digital watches, laser lights, pumpkin cannons and twinkies. Yes twinkies. Now these little fellers are marketed as a "Golden Sponge Cake with Creamy Filling". In reality they’re mystery wrapped in cellophane. And I say that ‘bout twinkies ‘cause if ya take one out and just lay it somewhere out of the way, where nothing can get to it. It’ll stay there forever, it’ll not mold, it’ll rot, it’ll not get hard and dry up. It’ll just stay a “Golden Sponge Cake with Creamy Filling". Twinkies are just plain magic wrapped in a “Golden Sponge Cake with Creamy Filling"

By the time we finished supper, Johnny was done driving for the day. With me at the wheel, I’m looking toward Louisville and before two hours had passed so had Louisville. With the bright city lights behind me, I crossed the big bridge. Back Home Again In Indiana. Ya get sleepily late at night driving with a full belly. Just north of Louisville the DAYS INN sign welcomed me home. And so we slept.

One of the true great things ‘bout Indiana is a Cracker Barrel Breakfast when you’re hungry. Johnny had a meeting at 12:30PM in Indianapolis so we made our way up that dreaded strip of I-65 to capital city. Johnny went to his meeting and I sat in the truck and told stories with my fingers to the laptop. And as I told the stories, it dawned on me that I know sign language, but only to computers, not to people. That’s pretty cool, knowing sign language and all.

After his meeting Johnny said he knew a place in Carmel, just north of Indianapolis, that had the world’s best hamburger, but a little pricey. It was the world’s best hamburger. It was a little pricey, and it was worth every pricey cent. I hope to go back and have another hamburger someday, pricey or not. And after the big hamburger I drove home while Johnny slept some more.

As I sit in my beloved East Wing this 17th day of October and watch the leaves falling from the west maple tree in the front garden, which by now has lost most all its leaves, while the east maple tree has yet to lose a single leaf or even start to turn color in the green leaves, I wonder who controls that leaf falling and color changing stuff.

Maybe it’s the same one who plays the wind chimes, that sways the tree branches, that rustles the leaves, who rolls the tumble weeds, the leader of the band.

Stay safe in Afghanistan

The Mobil East Wing Coming Home, The Road Falling Away, Piping Sunshine, Bob Allen, Country Roads & Horses, Land On The Mountain, technology and Twinkies

I wish you well
BobbyRay