Pocahontas County, PA, 2-day Itinerary

Scroll down for travel info or take the long way and travel through my descriptive itinerary. 

Waking early, we went north out of Charlotte, NC one Fall morning, heading towards Cass, WV in Pocahontas County, PA, a quaint and quiet area along the Greenbrier River during what was reputedly the peak leaf peeping season for that area - the first two weeks in October.

The Greenbrier River Trail and the nearby off-season ski slopes of Snowshoe draws a lot of avid mountain bicyclists and we saw plenty.

We turned off I-81 around Pulaski to get on some back roads, followed 100 up through Staffordsville to 460 to 219, the Seneca Falls Highway, snaking along Indian Creek, and we pulled over to the left at the Historic Indian Creek Covered Bridge. GREAT place to stretch our legs.

Our next stop was Lewsiburg, the "coolest small town in America." We had a great comfort-food lunch at the Red Mill Taphouse and Grill. I got the Hot Diggity Dog which lived up to its name, with a side of green beans to die for. The Red Mill has a music hall vibe.

Walk across the parking lot to Amy's Market for dessert or to pick up some local honey or gourmet popcorn.

We arrived at the Cass Scenic Railroad State Park in late afternoon. We walked around the Cass Company Store and the Pops and I enjoyed a root beer float. 

We drove five more minutes to our Air BnB to unpack and found it to be an adorable cabin perfect for our group of four. The cabin sleeps 6, has 1 BR on the bottom floor and the only bathroom is also on the botttom floor. There are two BR upstairs, one of which has a balcony overlooking mountain views, very pleasant for morning coffees.

Cass, WV, is very secluded and, BTW, is located in the 13,000-acre National Radio Quiet Zone, meaning: no cell service. Come prepared to tour around without GPS. The Air BnB has wifi, which helps.

We went to the only restaurant in Cass that was serving dinner - Shay's, also located at the Scenic Railroad park. We found it to be short-staffed and with a long wait - we were there two hours before we got out. As for the food? Well, it wasn't terrible... as the kids say.

Day 2 we drove 40 minutes to the Greenbrier Grille and Lodge in Marlinton, also on the Greenbrier River, where their claim to fame is throwing corn for the ducks in the river. We found this restaurant also to be short-staffed and we had another two-hour meal. I think dinner here would be better than breakfast, but here we were. Breakfast. The food was plentiful and good when it finally arrived.

Now.. for the good part... We took the long, scenic route back to Cass, taking the Seneca Trail. First we detoured to the cranberry bog in the Monongahala National Forest. We walked the 1/2 mile boardwalk through the cranberry bog in the middle of cranberry season with the beautiful fall leaves surrounding us. The boardwalk is wheelchair accessible, but there's a seep descent from the parking lot that could be hazardous.

The cranberry blog is a perfect place to walk after a big breakfast. If we had more time, we would've stopped at Falls of Hills or Falls Creek Upper. These are probably great stops.

We hopped on the Highland Scenic Highway taking the long way back to Cass. It was beautiful. We stopped and stretched at several overlooks with a longer stop at Sharp's Kissing Bridge, another covered bridge. The Highland Scenic Highway is fantastic for lear peeping, I highly recommend.

We nervously arrived in Cass the Scenic Railroad State Park just in time for our 2:00 ride on an authentic restored steam-driven Shay locomotive. We took the 2-hour trip to Whittaker Station. (runs May - Oct) This ride consisted of 45 minutes up, a 30 minute layover, and 45 minutes back. It was perfect. We went along the river, then up into the mountains, utilizing two cool switchbacks. We enjoyed the recreated old logging camp, a little snacky-snack and the gorgeous Fall views.

After the train ride, we returned to the room for a minute, scratched our heads to figure out where to eat. We drove up to Snowshoe, maybe a 20-minute drive to eat at the Foxfire Grille while watching the sun set right outside our windows. This restaurant is excellent -- service, food, ambiance -- all 5 stars. I had the hot roast beef with mashed potatoes and it was fantastic.

The drive down Snowshoe in the orange glow of the setting sun was a perfect way to end our trip.

Travel Info:

Greenbrier River Trail
Historic Indian Creek Covered Bridge
Lewisburg, WV
Red Mill Taphouse
Air BnB Cass WV
Cass Scenic Railroad State Park
Greenbrier Grille and Lodge
Monongahala National Forest
Highland Scenic Highway
Snowshoe Foxfire Grille

Charlotte, NC to Cass, WV

So we hopped in the Golden Chariot and pointed the nose north out of Charlotte, zigzagging through the morning traffic on I-77, gliding over Lake Norman, the sun shining low over the ripples and we hung a hard right into Bojangles just short of Statesville.

With full bellies, we cruised along to a Starbucks in Pulaski, peeled out onto a country route and found ourselves crossing back and forth over Walker Creek on the Pulaski Giles Turnpike, fall foliage just starting to turn on either side of us.

We left Walker Creek north of Staffordsville and headed west to cross the New River. We later took a hard right on 219 and began looking for West Virginia. We were firmly on the Seneca Trails Highway when we began thinking about lunch and my coffee cup was getting dry coincidentally as we drove north along the Dry Creek, ears popping with the drop in elevation.

Where Dropping Lick Creek meets Trigger Run, we paused for a moment of silence as we crossed Tranquility Drive. At Rock Camp Creek we came to a sudden stop on account of men working in the highway.

Soon after, we pulled over at the historic Indian Creek Covered Bridge while the sun was high in the sky.

This is a beautiful Covered Bridge built in 1898. There are helpful signs giving great description of the history there including a standoff with Chief Cornstalk. You read that right: Chief Cornstalk. A most unfortunate name for a warrior.

Back on the road, we stumbled upon the notoriously coolest small town in America (Lewisburg, WV) whereupon taking a slight left on account of I wanted a Hot Diggity Dog at the Old Red Mill Taphouse and Grill. Randy Travis was reminding us as we entered that there's No Place Like Home and marmots were playfully peering down at us from the 72-in screen.

This is a great place to stop, eat and walk around. As we left, Johnny Lee was telling me I was Looking for Love in all the Wrong Places. The joint has great music.

Be sure to walk across the parking lot to Amy's Market for some delicious baked goods where I considered getting a second latte for the day. You might grab some local honey or gourmet popcorn. I chose a black raspberry cookie.

Settled back in the van, I was crocheting my hat, eating my way across three states, pondering the Apple Pandowdy and the whole dowdying process that produces all that juicy caramelized filling over the pastry.

Quick draw snacks secured in my buttonholes.

I began to speculate whether I could dowdy properly and if it's worth the effort. I envisioned neighbors and friends praising me for my apple pandowdies and begging for more - me with my flower covered I Love Lucy apron and apple goo sticking my fingers together.

I was startled out of my fantasy when Steve, the driver, audibly questioned why there's so many Wallace's in the funeral business.  To which dad randomly shared what he was pondering - that all these rivers must flow to Pittsburgh as we found ourselves sandwiched between the New River and Howard Creek. He spent a semester six decades previously at Geneva College just outside Pittsburgh and now Pittsburgh was on his mind. He talked of all the steel mills so big that the railroad train drove right through them and how the ore was mixed for steel, stainless steel, iron or tin, melted and formed into sheets, pipe or bridge girder types of things.

I went back to my own pondering and started worrying about the lack of self-sustained migration among the whooping cranes, the last of which runs between Canada's Wood Buffalo National Park and the Texas Gulf's Arkansas Natural Wildlife Refuge. I was knee deep in the latest issue of Garden and Gun Magazine and the cranes were heavy on my mind when we approached White Sulfur Springs.

There were signs of civilization here (as opposed to the rest of the trip) but we flew non-stop out the other side anxious to get to our destination: Cass Scenic Railroad State Park.

Whereupon we discovered we were smack dab in the middle of the 13,000 acre National Radio Quiet Zone which disabled cell signal..... and with it, our GPS. Traveling for the rest of the trip became a really fun scavenger hunt.

And you can read about that in my next post.

Boiled Peanuts and other Yankee Treats

So I, again, crossed the unusually low and slow Catawba River in the time of drought where the Catawba Tribe would cross at Nations Ford 200 - 300 years prior. I glanced down and up river then gunned the engine across the Carolinas dividing line, entering Charlotte with windows down, hair wild in the breeze.

Not just a trip to see the Pops, but a trip full of doctor appointments at Levine where they work diligently to keep me alive despite my lack of fortitude and my brokenheart.

Not boiled peanuts, but maybe I could interest the Yankees in this giant NY pizza.... 

But what's on my mind as I continue north and pass the giant baseball, what's on my mind is boiled peanuts, the caviar of the Carolinas.

I would soon be having brunch with my cousin down from new york. And I imagine he has never had boiled peanuts before. That got me to thinking about my other cousin who came down from New York and tried boiled peanuts upon my request demand. I think one member of the family enjoyed the peanuts and the rest did not. 

And then there was that time I took boiled peanuts to New York - I took green peanuts to New York and I boiled them in the crock pot. I took them to my surprise 50th birthday party dinner for everyone to try and again we had mixed reactions. It's just not a huge hit with the Yankees.

In this frame of mind, I pulled over at Sweet Lew's and got a bucket of boiled peanuts to carry with me. Sweet Lew's BBQ is reported to have the best boiled peanuts in Charlotte.

I was disappointed. 

The peanuts were tough, not cooked long enough, not salty enough. And while I was there, I ordered some ribs, but they "wouldn't be ready" for another hour.  All in all, a disappointing stop at Sweet Lew's. (I got some hash and rice, but it was nothing great.)

I then pulled over at the downtown farmer's market, but alas, they had no boiled peanuts, only raw ones.

When I later met my Yankee cousin, my hands were empty. I had nothing to offer. It was quite a welcome to the Queen City. 

IF he returns, what should I offer?

A Truck Called Millie Van Winkle

When I was 9, 10 or maybe 11, I would stand proud on the back of a truck called Millie Van Winkle.

Standing, four cousins abreast, tiny hands, white knuckled, gripping the headache rack of that old 1960 or 61 Ford F-350 Flatbed with my uncle at the wheel, my dad beside him. We'd go careening through the neighborhood, peering over the cab, wind in our hair, bugs in our teeth screaming "Faster! Faster!!" 

Dad bought the truck from his boss Dick Snelling (Richard A. Snelling) after Dick purchased Miller & Van Winkle. It was an old Miller & Van Winkle truck Dick was offloading, a distressed asset. Dad gifted it to his brothers, a couple of builders, Uncle Moose and Uncle Bill, whereupon they christened it "Millie Van Winkle."

Dick Snelling took struggling businesses and returned them to profitability, becoming a millionaire in the process. He eventually became governor of Vermont.

When dad worked for him, Dick had a little single engine plane that he would fly up to Burlington Vermont, back and forth, landing on a grass strip in Greene, NY. After a little engine trouble flying over the Great Lakes, Dick replaced it with a nice little twin-engine. 

I believe Millie Van Winkle is the same truck I, years later, threw square hay bales up on in the hayfield we cousins terrorized with our motorcycles. 

Starting out on a Honda 50, I grew into a Suzuki 75, then a Honda Rebel 450 street bike in the early 90's.

My motorcycle days are over, Millie Van Winkle has long since been retired, standing on the back of a moving truck has been outlawed, but dad and I? We still enjoy rotating in an old truck.

Sobremesa, Not Just for Mother's Day

I found a new word today remarkably close to Mother's Day and very reminiscent of my mother, this my second Mother's Day without her.

Sombremesa. It's a Spanish word that literally means "upon the table," however, it's often used to refer to the tradition of staying for a bit after a meal to relax and enjoy conversation.

Towards the end of her life, my mother confessed that she longed to just sit at the table after a meal and relax. She yearned for Sombremesa. But we were all in such a hurry. And being the type who wanted us to read her mind, Mom didn't tell us her wishes. Also, she thought she didn't deserve to have her wishes granted... or even acknowledged.

By the age of 81 she worked up the courage to tell me this one desire, to spend time relaxing at the table after the meal she worked so hard to create and serve.

It angers me that she didn't feel worthy enough to express her desires. It bothers me that we accepted it. It frustrates me that my efforts to free her from her self-imposed self-denial were rebuffed every single time.

As Mother's Day approaches, I think about Sombremesa and focus on the memories from when we did, in fact, relax around the table at the end of a meal. Goofing around swirling our fingertips around the mouth of mom's crystal glasses, listening for the choral sound she promised. Listening to mom's adult "grandkids" admit the shenanigans they pulled off in their youth. Mom acting shocked they would commit such dastardly deeds. Comparing college exploits and pranks from the "old neighborhood" in upstate New York. 

On this Mother's Day, I'm thankful for the beautiful table my mother set, for the mouth-watering food she prepared with so much love and mostly? For the Sombremesa.

Otter Falls, NC

Otter Falls

825 Skyland Dr. Seven Devils, NC

I left my family twenty feet below me in the bottom of a gorge, "rock climbing" (a child's version) at the foot of Otter Falls, perilously climbing from boulder to boulder, the youngest swaying in the crest of a backpack, riding his daddy's back.

It was raining one of those quick mountain downpours that drench you to the bone and abruptly leave while you wipe the drips out of your eyes, wring your hair out and furiously wipe off your phone.

I was focused on the climb out. Watching the kids frolic so close to the edge of death wasn't my thing. I mean, I'm glad they do it, they have to grow up tough and experience nature, but I don't have to watch. 

The hike down is less than a mile, not bad. Great path. The hike back out is steep. One water per person is enough in the spring, maybe two in the heat of Summer. Take a backpack picnic and enjoy the stay. Take a fishing pole if you're so inclined. Take water shoes, wear hiking boots.

Parking is minimum in the parking lot. There is some parking along the road. They say go in the morning to avoid the rush. I say go in the late afternoon to avoid the rush. Go in the rain, even better.

Great family hike.  Within miles of Grandfather Mountain. Grandfather Mountain Travel Ideas

Tulip Farm Near Charlotte NC

The Pops and I went rotating again and ended up in a tulip field in the Carolina Slate Belt of the Piedmont Plateau of North Carolina, just a 40 minute drive northwest of Charlotte.

Patterson Farm Market & Tours

10390 Caldwell Rd.

Mount Ulla, NC

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VisitPattersonFarm.com

It was a cool late-March morning dangerously close to tulip season's end, after the great rains and tornado threats went through when we finally got the chance to get out rotating.

We drove North out of the city of 950,000, crossed Rocky River, took a slight left at Concord, crossed Irish Buffalo Creek just below it's headwaters and inched our way over Kerr Creek, slowing down to take the left into Patterson's. 

Patterson's has a market we browsed with a clerk we knew 30 years ago. We reminisced a bit then drove my 86 year old father closer to the Tulip gardens. 

I paid the $5 entry while the Pops got settled on a bench in the sun. I looped a wicker basket over my arm, twirled the cutters in my fingers and tip-toed through the tulips. You knew I'd have to say that sometime.

As an Anthophile, the tulip is my favorite flower. I know, right? Anthophile! Google it.

My fave would be the Estella Rijnveld tulip because 1. Anna Pavord, in her raging best-seller The Tulip, says it "looks like raspberry ripple ice-cream" which I love, and 2. Online it is described as having a "whirling dervish intensity," which is SO me.  (My X bio includes "artist, vagabond, whirling dervish...")

I consulted the Hortus Bulborium to find that while tulips date back to the 16th century, they Had a magnificent comeback in the Dutch Tulipomania of the 1630s. Tulipomania! I know, right? I'm in Heaven.

One last significant thought. In 1920, brown tulips were in fashion. The Dom Pedro grew in fame due to its coloring. I'd like me a Dom Pedro tulip on account of it reminds me of the steak burrito at Don Pedro's. 

The tulips I planted six years ago bloomed a few years and quit, to my great dismay. But I just learned that I should dig up the bulbs in Summer and store them in a dark cool place, replanting them in late Fall. AND because it's so hot here, I should put the bulbs in the fridge 8 weeks before replanting. They love that! So when you come over for a Fall picnic, be careful what you eat out of my fridge. I'm just sayin'.

Back to today and my fresh cut tulips from Patterson's. I found out that they will last a lot longer if I do one of the following:  toss a little vodka in the vase, put ice cubes in the vase, OR put a copper (pre 1982) penny in the vase.  And this is just my thought here, if you put a penny in the vase, make a wish as you toss it in.

What's in a Name Anyway

Pictured: Dad (ar), me (ar), Cousin Carl (er), Lisa (er), and Bernice (er)

The misspelling of my name originated on a cool Fall New York day in November of 1939. In a stupor after birthing her fourth child, my grandmother misspelled her own last name on the birth certificate.

Grandma Masler

Not being prone to the execution of a plan, she never bothered to get around to changing it, my father's birth certificate. So it was I found myself 84 years later arguing with the night clerk at the hotel in Elmira.

"It's spelled ER on the form," she says. 

"But I spell it AR," I say. 

To which she responds, "But it's ER."

I calmly explained that my cousin made the reservation and that she spells our last name with an ER; we spell ours with an AR.

With that, the clerk stapled the receipt to the invoice, looked me dead in the eyes, handed me my room key and firmly said, "You guys better get on the same page."

As if. Anyway, I was just relieved the old battle-axe let me have a room. 

Soon after checking in, we caught up with my cousin, a NY State Supreme Court Judge and there it is rubbed in my face again, his name - our name - on various plaques spelled with the ER. 

Who would you believe spells it correctly -- a state supreme court judge or a little country grandma?  However, in this picture, the ARs outnumber the ERs. So there's that.

Anyway, the name you answer to matters much more. Here's to Pookie. 

Classic Arcade and Pinball Museum

So I drove to Charlotte North Carolina because Papa wanted a pumpkin pie. Upon delivery, we decided to find some fun and get into some mischief.

We crossed the mighty Catawba a few miles upstream from where I usually do and crossed the South Fork Catawba with a nod to McAdenville Lake, took a hard left at Lowell and crossed Duharts Creek. I pointed the nose of dad's Carolina blue Camry toward Cramerton and let my lead foot have at it.

Arriving at our destination, we entered the Classic Arcade & Pinball Museum, squinting  eyes adjusting to the darkness and blinking lights of the pinball machines.

"You're going down, old man." I spoke prophetically under my breath.

$15 later, we had our free play all day wrist bands on, talking smack and making a bee-line for the 1976 pinball machine.

Dad had a bad start. "Now I know why we got ride of our pinball machine." He muttered.

That was always a mystery to me. We had a pinball machine in our dining room in the 70s and I never knew when or how we got rid of it. It just suddenly wasn't there anymore. We moved to Charlotte and my attention turned to Pac Man at the local Putt Putt. OK... maybe Johnny, Danny and Cory were the real draw at Putt Putt if I'm being honest.

Two long aisles containing 80 games kept us busy. For pinball we played Dr. No, Maverick, Honey, and Spirit of 1976. At some point, dad was given a stool to use and carry around. One hand had the stool; the other, his cane. He's a beast.

We also raced cars, shot guns, played basketball and a bowling game. We had two very good Nathan's hot dogs throughout our visit.

I was the over-all winner. Y'know, if we were competitive like that.

Closed M, T. Opens at noon. 

3210 Union Rd., Gastonia, NC

(Half hour drive out of Charlotte)

Charlotte family fun.

Things to do in Charlotte.

Best Homemade Cheesebread and Cinnamon Rolls

So I crossed the churning Catawba again after a month of rain to spend some time with the Pops. My sister and brother-in-law were out of town again leaving dad unattended and I thought it was a good time to step in and get into some mischief, as we are prone to do.

After popping in to various classes in the Healing Arts program at Levine Cancer Institute which is a fantastic program, I focused all my attention on dad. A trip to Sam's, Dutch Blitz at my brother's, cleaning dad's house, that sort of thing.

Suddenly, we had the brilliant idea to bake some bread. It was chilly out and the smell of bread rising and baking would be out of this world.

We stuck some cheese in the bread before baking and made cheese bread. Then I had some leftover dough so we made some cinnamon rolls. It all turned out SO good! And just in time for my brother to stop by for lunch.

And you probably guessed it by now..... a surprise visit from Cousin David.

This recipe makes enough dough for both projects.

1/2 c milk

3 Tbsp. butter

3 Tbsp. sugar

2 tsp. salt

2 pkgs yeast

1 1/2 c warm water

5 1/2 c bread flour

Scald milk and butter, then cool in fridge for a few minutes. Add sugar and salt.

In a large bowl, put yeast and warm water, mix well. Then stir in your milk mixture. Add flour. Knead well and let rise until nearly double in size, maybe an hour.

Divide dough in half.

With one half, make the cheesebread:

Roll dough out into a rectangle. Place in a casserole type pan with half the dough hanging over the edge outside the pan. Cover the half that's inside the pan liberally with shredded cheddar cheese (maybe 12 or 16 oz bar of cheddar cheese). Fold other half over cheesy half and seal the edges.

Let rise again for about an hour.  Bake at 400 degrees for 20 minutes. Let it cool a bit before cutting into it or the cheese will melt all over the place.

Cinnamon Rolls

Using the other half of your dough, roll out into a rectangle.  Spread a melted stick of butter over the dough.  Spread sugar and cinnamon to your preference over the butter.  I used a half container of cinnamon and maybe 1 c sugar.

Roll the dough into a log.  Cut into slices. Place slices on a baking sheet or casserole dish. Bake at 350 for 20 - 30 minutes. Check them and remove them when the tops start to brown.

Enjoy!  (Cousin David did)

NC Accessible Waterfalls

 If you just want waterfall info, skip a few paragraphs.

Tossing my backpack in the rear of the Jeep, I climbed up behind the steering wheel and drove off in a Northwest direction, Casey Kasem giving me the top 40 countdown from 1977. The sounds of Fleetwood Mac, Andy Gibb, Rod Stewart and KC and the Sunshine Band carried me through the SC countryside.

I crossed the Little Saluda and braked hard at Bojangles. With my biscuit firm in hand, I zig zagged along the Saluda River and took a hard right North bound over Mulberry Creek. I caught my first glimpse of the Blue Ridge Mountains just prior to crossing Little Crowe Creek.

I took a nail-biting left at a hairpin turn at the notorious Bad Creek. Pulled over to take in the scenic view with some leather-skinned bikers, nodded Chevy Chase fashion and rolled on in to Cashiers NC.

I narrowly escaped all the gift shops and art galleries and motored out the other side towards a condo rental on Lake Toxaway where I later discovered both a waterfall and sunrise were right off my balcony. Being an early riser, every day was a new delight.

Family members descended and unpacked along with me, marveling in the luxury of this high-end condo, we of the hillbilly heart.

First on our agenda was an afternoon of waterfalls. Well, after lunch slope-side at the bottom of a dry ski slope. We drove out of Cashiers on 64W and visited four roadside waterfalls, mostly accessible for the elderly.

Bridal Veil was first with a small parking area. We could walk under the falls and we enjoyed stretching our legs. Wheelchair accessible. 

Dry Falls was next. Large parking area with an outhouse. There was a beautiful view of the falls just a few steps down a ramp, wheelchair accessible. Beautiful view where I first discovered the flowers of the Mountain Magnolia tree. (Fraser Magnolia)

There were ramps and steps to go down to the falls. At 60, 70 and 80 years of age, we avoided that.

Next on the route was Quarry Falls. There was room on the edge of the road to pull over, but no real parking area. We had to climb up rocks, 4 or 5 steps, to get a gorgeous view. The 84-year-old with a cane could not handle the rocks, but the rest of us easily did. Not wheelchair accessible.

And the last falls of this journey was Cullasaja Falls. Again, no real parking area, just pull over roadside. Beautiful view again, but perilously near traffic. Not wheelchair accessible due to traffic. I mean, you can try...... 

We went on into Highlands, NC and did a little shopping.

The next day found us taking a waterfall boat tour on Lake Glenville, a thirty minute drive out of Cashiers. It is expensive, but worth every penny. This was the highlight of our trip. In the first week of May, it was very cold on the lake, but the captain had warned us, so we were prepared.

Captain Mark is an excellent tour guide. He told us about lake history, the bald eagles that nest here every year, and all about the nature of the Highlands Cashiers Plateau. We saw eaglets peeking out from a huge bald eagles nest.

Captain Mark motored us around four private waterfalls that can't be seen any other way. We ended the tour and went to lunch at Happ's Place for the excellent Sunday Buffet featuring the best prime rib ever.

With full bellies, we hit the road back to Cashiers to find Whitewater Falls. The gps was a little off, but thankfully there were signs pointing the way. There is a 1/2 mile paved uphill trail to another view of beautiful waterfalls. There were 153 steps beyond that to a second view for those so inclined. The 20 and 40 year old in our group took the steps and reported a great view. The 60 year olds just went up the walkway to the first view. The 70 and 80 year olds waited in the car. Theoretically, you could push a wheelchair up to the view, but it would be difficult and you'd risk them getting out of control and rolling back down hill. So I'd say NOT wheelchair accessible.

After Whitewater Falls, we went back to our luxury condo overlooking the falls and relaxed for the night. All in all, this is a great itinerary for those who don't want to hike much.

If you like hiking, check out Gorges State Park. There is a tiny hike to Upper Bear Wallow Falls, but I only went halfway because I was alone and I thought a bear might get me. So I backed out slowly. Of course nothing would compare to the bear we saw up close in Alaska.

If you want to extend your trip, visit Brevard, NC and Pisgah Forest. 

All of these waterfalls can be found on your gps maps. 

Enjoy!

Work Snacks, Changes and Links to So Many Memories

Being a stay-at-home mom, I never pursued a career as a vocation (“a person's employment or main occupation, especially regarded as particularly worthy and requiring great dedication.”) I ended up working a variety of temporary jobs when the kidswere in school and when we needed a little extra cash.

I loved the mixed experiences of different jobs, however, I am also a creature of routine. I would establish routines at each job, one of which regarded my snack. Looking back, I realize I established a snack at each job that I would consume daily at work and almost never consume any other time or place.  Each snack is now reminiscent of a particular place and time.

Currently, I’m in my Bazooka Joe years at Aiken Standard. That momentary sugary pink bliss that so quickly turns into jaw-exhausting, solid dense rock-like clump. And the comics and fortune in the wrapper!

I’m fond of my Jolly Rancher days at Samaritan’s Purse in Charlotte. It was a seasonal job for a few years and I would have a dish of jolly ranchers on my desk at all times for others to enjoy as well. But secretly I kept all the blue ones for myself. I remember the beautiful, uplifting music playing while we worked and this one co-worker who got all excited every. Single. Time. That Anne Wilson’s “My Jesus” came on. We would all get wound up on that song.

“… He makes a way where there ain't no way
Rises up from an empty grave
Ain't no sinner that He can't save
Let me tell you 'bout my Jesus

I worked for Jackie when she began her law firm, working just until she could find a permanent secretary (Connie) and that was my 3-Musketeers season. There was another lawyer who would visit and eat my Musketeers. So one time I saved my wrapper and filled it with a Pink Pearl eraser then resealed it with glue. Sadly, I wasn’t there the day he chose that Musketeer bar, but I get a lot of joy thinking about him opening it up in his car as he drove away. I'm weird like that.

McDonald’s was my earliest job and they invented the chicken nugget while I was working there. I had McNuggets almost every shift I worked. Also, of course, nibbling on a hot fudge sundae every time I worked the drive-thru.

When I worked for a month in Ireland, Cadbury caramel and Galaxy chocolate bars were my thing. And I toyed around with hot tea, but that was mostly for show.

Rollos were my candy of choice while working in Boone one cold Winter. I have such fond memories of driving up on the parkway for sunrise before work, then hitting it for sunset after work, Rollos tucked in the cup holder of my Jeep.

I could go on,  you know it, but enough about me….

What about the White House? Do they have snack routines that change between Presidents?  I turned to Google and to www.whitehousehistory.org/the-presidential-sweet-tooth to find out everything you need to know.

Probably the most popular is Ronald Reagan’s fascination with Jelly Beans. Many pictures of White House meetings feature a jar of jelly beans front and center. And it wasn’t just the White House. Back when he was a lowly Governor, the Herman Goelitz Candy Co sent his office a monthly shipment of jelly beans and they made him a customized jelly bean jar.  I didn’t get any customized jars for any of my snacks. I’m sad about that.

Most unusual was in 1984 when President Miguel de la Madrid of Mexico visited the White House. The executive pastry chef created cactuses out of kiwi sorbet filled with tequila-flavored mousse and decorated with pulled-sugar flowers and spines. You can’t really call that a routine though, I just threw that in here as a bonus.

The routines were as follows:  Clinton, gummies. FDR, rock candy. Carter, peanut brittle. Obama, salted caramels. (more on Obama here) (and even more here) Bush, fried pork rinds. Jefferson, ice cream. (Remember when you all screamed for ice cream?) George Washington, chocolate. (Remember when Marjorie passionately talked to herself about chocolate?)First recorded order was for 20 pounds of it in 1757. His largest was 50 pounds in 1799, three months prior to his death. Don’t you know as they recorded that information they wondered who on earth would be interested in this?

I don’t know what President Jackson’s favorite was, but one time a dairy farmer sent him a 1,400 pound brick of cheese. He let it age for two years and then invited the public to come eat it. Maybe cheese was his routine snack, but probably not after that one.

What’s your routine snack?

PS.  Read about my worst snack. Good times.