Tag: #hillbilly

3 May 2018

Goodbye Savannah. I don’t plan much of this trip until the day before and even on the day I change my stops.

I don’t even know why I chose Congaree National Park to stop at on the way to Asheville North Carolina.

I left Savannah with its beautiful Spanish moss trees.

The Congaree National Park is in South Carolina and has hardwood trees.

This park is so serene and peaceful you can hear the wind rustling through the tops trees with no movement in the leaves but squirrels scampering and lots of birdsong.

However something broke the peacefulness and the park ranger confirmed what I thought was gunshots in the distance. Hunting season was on for hogs which are a nuisance here as well as at home.

The park ranger said not many Aussies come through here and he gifted me a walking stick for my walkabout.

This mosquito meter would be useful at home.

Driving through South Carolina I came across several rail crossings. I gave myself a wake up when I almost drove through one without stopping to check for trains.

I had a car tailgating me, as almost every car does in this country and I cannot shake the uneasiness I feel. I feel pressured to drive faster and try to make a conscious effort not to let the vehicle behind me control my speed.

This afternoon at this first railway crossing, it had flashing lights but no boom gate. I did slow down, looked right and left, then crossed the track. What felt like just 5 seconds later I looked in my rear mirror and a train went flying past sounding the warning signal. It reminded me of the book I was reading on the train to San Diego which stated there were many fatalities on USA rail crossings as many don’t have flashing lights or boom gates and people don’t pay attention or don’t stop and check before driving over the track. I certainly will stop no matter how close another car is to me.

Other signage of interest is the animal warnings. I have seen a lot of roadkill including small pig, snake, deer, possum and lots unidentifiable. Some of the signs have been to watch out for pigs (boar), alligators, deer, bears, turtles.

Crossing the border to North Carolina is another new experience. I feel like I am in hillbilly country and that was confirmed for me later in the evening. The landscape is hilly/mountainous, very green, with very different trees to the previous States.

The Airbnb I am staying in is in the backwoods of Weaverville. Do you agree it sounds like somewhere Gomer Pyle would come from? (O lordy I just Googled Gomer Pyle and the character is portrayed as from North Carolina)

The road (or rather track) to the house is similar to the road to Jenolan Caves. Narrow, windy, with big drops if you go over the edge it is a long way down. I had to psych myself up to leave the house knowing that I would have to drive that road in the dark on the way back from dinner. I don’t think anything has frightened me this much on the trip. Well of course I went to search for dinner and dancing. My hosts recommended Cowboys Lounge for dancing as it was open until 2am and that sounded perfect.

I mastered the windy road and when I got to the main road wasn’t sure whether to go right or left. When I took the left turn the GPS rerouted so I thought all would be fine. I passed this church.

And this building

And the road started to get narrower and steeper. When I came across a car stopped on the other side of the road on a dangerous bend I stopped and asked for directions. The person was the Sherrif and he was so concerned about where I was going he insisted I turn around and follow him. He said I would have arrived at my destination but the road was not a good one. He also said he didn’t think Cowboys Lounge was a place for me but he could show me where to get dinner. So I followed him to Weaverville and found an Italian restaurant, Glass Onion, with soup so delicious I took a second order back to the Airbnb.

Of course I didn’t pay attention to the Sheriff’s recommendation not go to the Cowboys Lounge which is now called the Tbirds. It was exactly what I was looking for. A place with locals, rednecks and by their admission, hillbillies. I was made very welcome by everyone. Most of them had never met an Aussie ever. One had been to Melbourne twice but he didn’t look nor act like a local. One asked me if I had been to Flat Creek before. I made him laugh because I had no idea that was where I was.

I had a few games of pool and had a lovely evening with these people.