KENTUCKY!
This past week, I scratched out Kentucky from my list of states-I-haven't-been-to. (Remaining are Mississippi, Alabama, Louisiana, Washington and Alaska)
It was spring break and my birthday so I met Amy and Moose in Atlanta and we drive up to the Red River Gorge in southeastern Kentucky. The drive was supposed to take six hours but it took us eight plus-- we decided to take a shortcut across Kentucky along route 30 only to find out that there are two route 30's, neither of which corresponds to the one on Amy's map (which was about ten years old). So, after visiting the town of Corbin three times, we finally got pointed in the right direction and made our way to the RRG. It was the blond leading the blond.
The fun part about being hopelessly lost in rural Kentucky was that I got to see rural Kentucky. It seems to be where old cars go to die-- there were entire hillsides covered in stripped and rusted out cars and trucks. We also enjoyed the beaten up trailers and shacks, tiny gas station supermarkets, horses, cows, rolling hills, falling down barns... it was an eyeful.
One thing I noticed in Kansas and it seems to be true along the interstate in Kentucky and Tennessee is the perpetual juxtaposition of Jesus and Sex.
Anyhow, it was delightful to escape the monotony of strip malls and track housing that seems to have littered much of America. In the areas we were in, every single building and car and person (!)was unique. Our food options were local or Waffle House.
We set up camp at Miguels Pizza and had a few chilly, noisy nights. I went to sleep to the sounds of drunk college kids and I'd wake up ever few hours to the sound of snoring followed a a few hours later by frogs then birds and then people. Wrapped in fleece, coccooned in that sleeping bag (where a midnight turn in my sleep resulted in discovering a very cold section of my pillow), I wouldn't say that I slept very well. But I enjoyed the thriftiness of camping there (two bucks per night), pizza every night (with sweet potato and broccoli), and fun company and people watching-- college kids, couples on vacation, dirt bag climbers living out of their vans. Everyone was kind of dirty and stinky and really there so they could climb.
The climbing was stupendous! Hard sandstone cliffs with big roofs at the top (dry in the rain!!) , covered in finger pockets, sidepulls, beautiful pinches, and plates. The foot holds were always there. My forearms were screaming. We climbed overhanging sport, slabby stuff, and a few cracks (I'm still gettting this whole jamming things down)
Anyhow, it was a fabulous week of climbing and hanging out. Its been a long, wet winter so this was a nice way to start the season. I'm looking forward to getting good and strong this year and heading back there to hit some harder stuff. Did I mention that Amy rocks?
One last story-- on our drive back, we stopped at the Waffle House in Winchester, Kentucky, for breakfast. We squeezed in at the counter-- I was sandwiched between Amy and a guy with a big white beard and red, peeling hands, wearing a straw hat and dirty flannel shirt. I ordered eggs with toast and strawberry jam, at which point the bearded guy took his microphone to his throat, leaned over to me, and told me that strawberry jam will make your hair turn red. He lifted his hat to demonstrate, exposing long, thin white hair with a faint pink hue down the middle.
It was spring break and my birthday so I met Amy and Moose in Atlanta and we drive up to the Red River Gorge in southeastern Kentucky. The drive was supposed to take six hours but it took us eight plus-- we decided to take a shortcut across Kentucky along route 30 only to find out that there are two route 30's, neither of which corresponds to the one on Amy's map (which was about ten years old). So, after visiting the town of Corbin three times, we finally got pointed in the right direction and made our way to the RRG. It was the blond leading the blond.
The fun part about being hopelessly lost in rural Kentucky was that I got to see rural Kentucky. It seems to be where old cars go to die-- there were entire hillsides covered in stripped and rusted out cars and trucks. We also enjoyed the beaten up trailers and shacks, tiny gas station supermarkets, horses, cows, rolling hills, falling down barns... it was an eyeful.
One thing I noticed in Kansas and it seems to be true along the interstate in Kentucky and Tennessee is the perpetual juxtaposition of Jesus and Sex.
Anyhow, it was delightful to escape the monotony of strip malls and track housing that seems to have littered much of America. In the areas we were in, every single building and car and person (!)was unique. Our food options were local or Waffle House.
We set up camp at Miguels Pizza and had a few chilly, noisy nights. I went to sleep to the sounds of drunk college kids and I'd wake up ever few hours to the sound of snoring followed a a few hours later by frogs then birds and then people. Wrapped in fleece, coccooned in that sleeping bag (where a midnight turn in my sleep resulted in discovering a very cold section of my pillow), I wouldn't say that I slept very well. But I enjoyed the thriftiness of camping there (two bucks per night), pizza every night (with sweet potato and broccoli), and fun company and people watching-- college kids, couples on vacation, dirt bag climbers living out of their vans. Everyone was kind of dirty and stinky and really there so they could climb.
The climbing was stupendous! Hard sandstone cliffs with big roofs at the top (dry in the rain!!) , covered in finger pockets, sidepulls, beautiful pinches, and plates. The foot holds were always there. My forearms were screaming. We climbed overhanging sport, slabby stuff, and a few cracks (I'm still gettting this whole jamming things down)
Anyhow, it was a fabulous week of climbing and hanging out. Its been a long, wet winter so this was a nice way to start the season. I'm looking forward to getting good and strong this year and heading back there to hit some harder stuff. Did I mention that Amy rocks?
One last story-- on our drive back, we stopped at the Waffle House in Winchester, Kentucky, for breakfast. We squeezed in at the counter-- I was sandwiched between Amy and a guy with a big white beard and red, peeling hands, wearing a straw hat and dirty flannel shirt. I ordered eggs with toast and strawberry jam, at which point the bearded guy took his microphone to his throat, leaned over to me, and told me that strawberry jam will make your hair turn red. He lifted his hat to demonstrate, exposing long, thin white hair with a faint pink hue down the middle.
posted by Michelle at 5:50 p.m.
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