Jill's Journal: We headed south out of Bardstown to our destination for the week: Cave City, Kentucky. This place is hilarious! I swear, the only way I can describe it is the hillbilly equivalent of Disneyland. I had no idea. It’s campy and goofy and oh, so much fun. As we drove down the street to our campground, the girls were treated to the sight of everything from dinosaurs to a knight in armor to wigwam teepees to a giant chicken statue to live goats being chased down the street by locals. Names like “Redneck Golf,” “Guntown Mountain,” and “Hillbilly Hound Fun Park” leapt out at us.
With such campy things just waiting to be explored, the girls were highly disappointed at our choice of campground. But alas, Cave Country RV Campground is the place that actually had an opening on the Fourth of July! The girls don’t understand such things yet. :) We’re in what looks like a relatively new park – it’s all flat with only small trees, very unusual for Kentucky. It could not be more different from our Bardstown campsite. There’s plenty of space between campsites and the sort of amenities I get excited about: flat ground (I’ll never again take it for granted!), full hook-ups (which means I can catch up on laundry!), and wireless internet. Even though the campground doesn’t have a lot of personality, it feels like great luxury (and at a very, very good price). There’s even cable t.v. service! I don’t know how to work our television yet, but I promised the girls they could get a huge treat and watch cartoons in the morning. Somehow that didn’t take the sting out of seeing the campground we’ll stay at in three days (a Yogi Bear Jellystone Park kid camping mecca). Oh well, they’ll get over it eventually. :)
Showing posts with label Bardstown KY. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bardstown KY. Show all posts
Saturday, July 3, 2010
Federal Hill
Jill's Journal: Our stay at the tiny state park in Bardstown is complete. The super friendly and helpful staff had a spot open up for us if we wanted to spend an extra night, but it would require moving the fifth wheel and the new spot was even smaller than the one we’d squeezed into two days ago. And getting out of the original spot was challenge enough all on its own! Luckily awesome truck driver (and former Navy fighter jet pilot) Johnny was back to help and we made it out with zero causalities to human or equipment. Johnny complimented Rob profusely, saying he didn’t know too many people who could have maneuvered the trailer into the spot in the first place and that Rob “has a real talent.”
Before leaving Bardstown, we took a family trip to Federal Hill, better known as the spot where My Old Kentucky Home was composed. It’s a Georgian-style mansion, built in various stages between 1795 and 1818. The grand house boasts a third-floor ballroom, 13 1/2 foot ceilings throughout, and 13-inch thick interior and exterior walls. There’s also 13 windows in the front of the house and each staircase has 13 stairs…all of which is believed to represent the 13 original colonies. The front hall is a copy of Independence Hall in Philadelphia. The family patriarch, son of a Revolutionary War captain, was a Secretary of State and Judge of the Court of Appeals. He entertained U.S. presidents Andrew Jackson, James Monroe, John Quincy Adams, and Martin Van Buren at the home.Stephen Foster, known as America’s first great composer, visited the home (of his cousins) in 1852 and was inspired to write what became Kentucky’s famous state song there. The song brings a tear to countless eyes annually as it is played during the post parade of each year’s renewal of the Kentucky Derby.
Foster, who was never formally trained and died at just 37, also wrote Florida’s state song, Swanee River, plus Oh! Susannah, Camptown Races, and about 200 more.
The mansion is beautiful and exquisitely restored. Only one family ever lived in the home (albeit several generations) and many original pieces remain, including the square grand piano with rare mother-of-pearl keys, a couch that President Andrew Jackson napped on, and the desk where Foster is believed to have composed My Old Kentucky Home. Really neat stuff.
Friday, July 2, 2010
Outlaws, Presidents, and…Monks?
Jill's Journal: Rob tells me there’s a slight chance I overloaded our children on educational opportunities today. Judging by their crabbiness at the end of the day, I suppose he might be right. So here’s another lesson for me, which ranks right up there with carrying enough water on a humid day: remember how young they are and don’t try to fit too much into one day.
Oh, but what a fun day it was! The girls and I started in downtown Bardstown at the Old Jailer’s Inn. They were a little intimidated about going to a jail, but our guide/daughter-in-law of the owner was so fun and eventually put them at ease. This limestone jail was built in 1819 (after a disgruntled wife of an inmate burned the original one down) and served as the Old Nelson Country Jail until 1987, just over 20 years ago! The new civilian owners have renovated part of it to serve as a bed and breakfast, but left some of it unchanged for tours and let me tell you, it’s what a jail should be. Stark, uncomfortable, and zero amenities (unless one counts the shackles on the floor!). The 30-inch thick limestone walls, heavy steel doors, fold-down wall cots, crowded conditions, non-existent air conditioning, and gallows in the courtyard surely would make a criminal think twice about going back after they did their time.
Interesting note: the jail was frequently home to Jesse and Frank James, but not in the way one might think. Their cousin was married to the sheriff of Bardstown during their marauding heyday. Anytime Jesse especially needed to lay low, he knocked on the door of his sympathetic sheriff relative, who hid him in the jail. Obviously, the last place the law would look for an outlaw is in a jail, so Mr. James cunningly and repeatedly evaded capture while right under their noses. And how handy for him – the Old Talbott Tavern, apparently his favorite watering hole, is right across a narrow alley from the jail.
After our fascinating jail experience, we trekked down through much rural-ness to a completely nondescript town named Hodgenville. I’m not sure this town would even still be on the map today were it not for a fortuitous event in 1809…the birth of Abraham Lincoln. The 16th president’s parents bought 300 acres for $200 in the months before he was born and built a tiny log cabin on the top of a hill. He was born there on a February night. Unfortunately, a land dispute drove the family off the beautiful property (complete with a sinking spring) when the future president was just 2 1/2.
Their log cabin no longer exists, but in 1909, exactly one hundred years after Lincoln’s birth, President Theodore Roosevelt stood on the same hill where Lincoln was born and delivered a fiery oratory about the importance of preserving the property. He laid the cornerstone that same day of a grand memorial that looks like it belongs in Washington D.C. (and was designed by the same architect who did the National Archives, Jefferson Memorial, etc.).
The massive memorial is currently undergoing renovations so we weren’t able to go in, but inside is a “symbolic log cabin” that was touted as Lincoln’s and toured the country a century ago. It turns out it wasn’t the one he was born in, but it was on the property originally and is the closest thing they’ve got. We did get to see the family Bible from 1799. Lincoln filled in his own birth and kept his family’s records in it.
The girls and I then loaded up again and drove less than 10 miles away to Knob Creek to see Lincoln’s boyhood home. The family leased land there while their land dispute was being resolved. Lincoln often spoke of childhood memories from his time at Knob Creek, which included his best childhood friend, Austin Gollaher. The latter once rescued the future president from certain drowning in the swollen rainwaters of Knob Creek.
It’s actually Gollaher’s log cabin, which is believed to be identical to the one Lincoln lived in, that survived and was moved to the land Lincoln lived on. Lincoln’s cabin had fallen into disrepair and was eventually used as a farm outbuilding for pigs before being dismantled decades after he’d lived in it. But the site is special nonetheless and the girls got to walk in Lincoln’s footsteps and play in the very same Knob Creek he nearly drowned in.
We also saw the site, two miles away, where Lincoln had the only formal schooling of his childhood.
Lincoln’s family eventually lost the land dispute, by the way, and when a similar one threatened the Knob Creek land they were leasing, the family and several others packed up and moved to Indiana to take advantage of a new, kinder homestead law that didn’t favor previous owners as did Kentucky’s at the time. Lincoln was almost eight years old. It is said that Lincoln diligently watched what his family went through with the dispute and the lawyers and that’s what piqued his own interest in law and public service.
By this time, I had tired girls and two fell asleep in the car (not a regular thing for them). As the remaining girl enjoyed having her Mom all to herself and talked my ear off, I took a quick detour off the main road back to Bardstown to get a glimpse of Trappist, Kentucky, and the mysterious Abbey of Gethsemani. This unusual monastery rises up majestically in the middle of nowhere and is quite the curiosity. It was founded in 1848 by a strict order of French monks who favor labor, prayer, and silence. But here’s the crazy thing: they support themselves by shipping their world-famous bourbon fudge, bourbon fruitcake, and cheese all over the globe via the internet! I don’t know why that cracks me up, but it does. Somehow the combination of silent monks, bourbon-laced fudge, and e-commerce sounds something like the beginning of a goofy joke.
Oh, but what a fun day it was! The girls and I started in downtown Bardstown at the Old Jailer’s Inn. They were a little intimidated about going to a jail, but our guide/daughter-in-law of the owner was so fun and eventually put them at ease. This limestone jail was built in 1819 (after a disgruntled wife of an inmate burned the original one down) and served as the Old Nelson Country Jail until 1987, just over 20 years ago! The new civilian owners have renovated part of it to serve as a bed and breakfast, but left some of it unchanged for tours and let me tell you, it’s what a jail should be. Stark, uncomfortable, and zero amenities (unless one counts the shackles on the floor!). The 30-inch thick limestone walls, heavy steel doors, fold-down wall cots, crowded conditions, non-existent air conditioning, and gallows in the courtyard surely would make a criminal think twice about going back after they did their time. Interesting note: the jail was frequently home to Jesse and Frank James, but not in the way one might think. Their cousin was married to the sheriff of Bardstown during their marauding heyday. Anytime Jesse especially needed to lay low, he knocked on the door of his sympathetic sheriff relative, who hid him in the jail. Obviously, the last place the law would look for an outlaw is in a jail, so Mr. James cunningly and repeatedly evaded capture while right under their noses. And how handy for him – the Old Talbott Tavern, apparently his favorite watering hole, is right across a narrow alley from the jail.
After our fascinating jail experience, we trekked down through much rural-ness to a completely nondescript town named Hodgenville. I’m not sure this town would even still be on the map today were it not for a fortuitous event in 1809…the birth of Abraham Lincoln. The 16th president’s parents bought 300 acres for $200 in the months before he was born and built a tiny log cabin on the top of a hill. He was born there on a February night. Unfortunately, a land dispute drove the family off the beautiful property (complete with a sinking spring) when the future president was just 2 1/2.
Their log cabin no longer exists, but in 1909, exactly one hundred years after Lincoln’s birth, President Theodore Roosevelt stood on the same hill where Lincoln was born and delivered a fiery oratory about the importance of preserving the property. He laid the cornerstone that same day of a grand memorial that looks like it belongs in Washington D.C. (and was designed by the same architect who did the National Archives, Jefferson Memorial, etc.).
The massive memorial is currently undergoing renovations so we weren’t able to go in, but inside is a “symbolic log cabin” that was touted as Lincoln’s and toured the country a century ago. It turns out it wasn’t the one he was born in, but it was on the property originally and is the closest thing they’ve got. We did get to see the family Bible from 1799. Lincoln filled in his own birth and kept his family’s records in it. The girls and I then loaded up again and drove less than 10 miles away to Knob Creek to see Lincoln’s boyhood home. The family leased land there while their land dispute was being resolved. Lincoln often spoke of childhood memories from his time at Knob Creek, which included his best childhood friend, Austin Gollaher. The latter once rescued the future president from certain drowning in the swollen rainwaters of Knob Creek.
It’s actually Gollaher’s log cabin, which is believed to be identical to the one Lincoln lived in, that survived and was moved to the land Lincoln lived on. Lincoln’s cabin had fallen into disrepair and was eventually used as a farm outbuilding for pigs before being dismantled decades after he’d lived in it. But the site is special nonetheless and the girls got to walk in Lincoln’s footsteps and play in the very same Knob Creek he nearly drowned in. We also saw the site, two miles away, where Lincoln had the only formal schooling of his childhood.
Lincoln’s family eventually lost the land dispute, by the way, and when a similar one threatened the Knob Creek land they were leasing, the family and several others packed up and moved to Indiana to take advantage of a new, kinder homestead law that didn’t favor previous owners as did Kentucky’s at the time. Lincoln was almost eight years old. It is said that Lincoln diligently watched what his family went through with the dispute and the lawyers and that’s what piqued his own interest in law and public service.
By this time, I had tired girls and two fell asleep in the car (not a regular thing for them). As the remaining girl enjoyed having her Mom all to herself and talked my ear off, I took a quick detour off the main road back to Bardstown to get a glimpse of Trappist, Kentucky, and the mysterious Abbey of Gethsemani. This unusual monastery rises up majestically in the middle of nowhere and is quite the curiosity. It was founded in 1848 by a strict order of French monks who favor labor, prayer, and silence. But here’s the crazy thing: they support themselves by shipping their world-famous bourbon fudge, bourbon fruitcake, and cheese all over the globe via the internet! I don’t know why that cracks me up, but it does. Somehow the combination of silent monks, bourbon-laced fudge, and e-commerce sounds something like the beginning of a goofy joke.
Historic Dinner
Jill's Journal: After finally parking the fifth wheel in the disconcerting campground, we were famished and decided to take advantage of what Bardstown has to offer. Bardstown, by the way, was established as a city in 1780 and is Kentucky’s second-oldest city. It’s frequently described as the “quintessential small, southern town.” It’s also self-proclaimed as the “Bourbon Capital of the World” as several major bourbon distilleries are located right here. Apparently there’s even a bourbon trolley that takes visitors from one distillery to the next for tastings and tours! That sounds like fun, but won’t be anything we partake in with small children. :)
Tonight we ate at the Old Talbott Tavern, which was fascinating and worth the trip all on its own. The stone building was built in 1779, was used pivotally in the Revolutionary War by General George Rogers Clark to wrest control of the Northwest Territory from Britain, and has been in continuous operation as a restaurant and inn for the 231 years since. We ate in the same room as the travelers of so long ago! And what travelers they were…everyone from Lewis and Clark to Abraham Lincoln as a child to Jesse James to General George Patton. The meal was way too expensive but worth it just for the cool history factor (and the burgoo – Kentucky roadkill stew – was yummy).
We also snuck upstairs to the rooms above the restaurant to see the inn, now a five-bedroom bed and breakfast, where all the aforementioned travelers and many more also stayed. If we’ve ever in Bardstown without a fifth wheel at a disconcerting angle, we’ll definitely be staying there!
One of the more fascinating rooms has a mural painted by one of the entourage of King Louis Phillippe of France when he stayed at the Tavern for a time during his exile in the late 1700s. Bullet holes now pepper the mural. Decades after King Louis Phillippe, outlaw Jesse James stayed in the same room. Legend has it that he woke up after a rough night of drinking and thought the birds in the mural were real. He unloaded more than a dozen bullets right into the plaster and they remain today.
Tonight we ate at the Old Talbott Tavern, which was fascinating and worth the trip all on its own. The stone building was built in 1779, was used pivotally in the Revolutionary War by General George Rogers Clark to wrest control of the Northwest Territory from Britain, and has been in continuous operation as a restaurant and inn for the 231 years since. We ate in the same room as the travelers of so long ago! And what travelers they were…everyone from Lewis and Clark to Abraham Lincoln as a child to Jesse James to General George Patton. The meal was way too expensive but worth it just for the cool history factor (and the burgoo – Kentucky roadkill stew – was yummy).We also snuck upstairs to the rooms above the restaurant to see the inn, now a five-bedroom bed and breakfast, where all the aforementioned travelers and many more also stayed. If we’ve ever in Bardstown without a fifth wheel at a disconcerting angle, we’ll definitely be staying there!
One of the more fascinating rooms has a mural painted by one of the entourage of King Louis Phillippe of France when he stayed at the Tavern for a time during his exile in the late 1700s. Bullet holes now pepper the mural. Decades after King Louis Phillippe, outlaw Jesse James stayed in the same room. Legend has it that he woke up after a rough night of drinking and thought the birds in the mural were real. He unloaded more than a dozen bullets right into the plaster and they remain today.
Not All Campgrounds are Created Equal
Jill's Journal: We left Louisville, eager to hit our first new town. Here we are, officially on the road, and our first weekend is the Fourth of July (which means everything everywhere is completely booked)! Not the best planning on our part, but sometimes you just can’t anticipate these things. We of course thought we’d have a month of this under our belts by now.
My Old Kentucky Home State Park in Bardstown had a cancellation for two nights and we snapped it up a few days ago. We are not yet schooled in campgrounds, but I think today was a huge lesson. The Horse Park was palatial compared to this! I had no idea. This is very rustic and tiny, which is fine and charming all on its own, but the spot we were assigned to is meant for pop-up campers and tents, not a 42’+ fifth wheel. It’s surrounded by trees and odd angles and when we saw it, I was certain there was no way to back our home into it. It would take an act of God to fit…or at least Rob’s amazing driving skills. Somehow he, with the direction of our new neighbor Johnny (who drives truck for a living), backed this thing into that crazy space. I think all 38 of our new neighbors came out to watch and I’m certain several bets were placed on whether it was even possible. But Rob did it!
We have woods right behind us and trees so close we can touch them out windows and are on such a grade that it feels like we’re going to topple right over, although Rob assures me we won’t. Our new neighbors are the friendliest things in the world. This must be what camping is all about – everyone is instant best friends. There are campfires everywhere tonight and the 65+-year-olds are the biggest and noisiest partiers out there! Hilarious.
We did meet another full-time RVing, homeschooling family, which was awesome. I spoke to both the mother and to the now 21-year-old daughter, who is now settled down with her own family but has grown up doing this. Both raved about it. The mother told me we’d never want to stop and settle down and the daughter told me it was the most fabulous childhood imaginable. She said she loved it. Very encouraging.
My Old Kentucky Home State Park in Bardstown had a cancellation for two nights and we snapped it up a few days ago. We are not yet schooled in campgrounds, but I think today was a huge lesson. The Horse Park was palatial compared to this! I had no idea. This is very rustic and tiny, which is fine and charming all on its own, but the spot we were assigned to is meant for pop-up campers and tents, not a 42’+ fifth wheel. It’s surrounded by trees and odd angles and when we saw it, I was certain there was no way to back our home into it. It would take an act of God to fit…or at least Rob’s amazing driving skills. Somehow he, with the direction of our new neighbor Johnny (who drives truck for a living), backed this thing into that crazy space. I think all 38 of our new neighbors came out to watch and I’m certain several bets were placed on whether it was even possible. But Rob did it!
We have woods right behind us and trees so close we can touch them out windows and are on such a grade that it feels like we’re going to topple right over, although Rob assures me we won’t. Our new neighbors are the friendliest things in the world. This must be what camping is all about – everyone is instant best friends. There are campfires everywhere tonight and the 65+-year-olds are the biggest and noisiest partiers out there! Hilarious.
We did meet another full-time RVing, homeschooling family, which was awesome. I spoke to both the mother and to the now 21-year-old daughter, who is now settled down with her own family but has grown up doing this. Both raved about it. The mother told me we’d never want to stop and settle down and the daughter told me it was the most fabulous childhood imaginable. She said she loved it. Very encouraging.
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