Lost River Valley and Cave…and Waterslide of Death

Jill's Journal: It is hot. Really hot. The massive heat wave on the East Coast must have spread this way, because triple-digit temperatures in Kentucky just don’t happen very often. It was 104 degrees today, confirmed on both our car’s thermometer and the local bank temperature sign we drove by. I grew up in the California desert and then spent four years in Phoenix, so 104 normally wouldn’t phase me (that would be a cool summer day in Phoenix!)…but when that 104 degrees has what feels like 5,000% humidity attached, it’s a whole ‘nother level of brutality. Even the pool offers no relief – the water is so hot it feels like you’ve just jumped into a giant boiling pot of water while simultaneously being baked under the sun.

Being the savvy traveler that I am or maybe just lucky, I scheduled a cave visit for today (since we are in cave country and caves are generally pretty cool in temperature year-round). We made the trek to the Lost River Cave, which one can only enter by boat. I’m not a big cave fan, although I’ve been to probably a half-dozen in my life, but thought the girls might get a kick out of both the cave and the boat.

The beautiful valley surrounding the cave was originally part of the cave itself, but many, many moons ago, a massive cave collapse turned the area into a valley of lush vegetation and four spectacular blue holes (where the underground river escapes to the top). We hiked to a butterfly habitat and the girls absolutely loved chasing butterflies. One landed on Madelyn (see it on her shoulder in the picture?), much to her sisters’ envy, and we spent five minutes “oohing” and “aahing” over the fancy insect.

One of the blue holes in particular was a source of great mystery. As Confederates were marching through during the Civil War, a horse carrying a supply wagon spooked and tumbled into the blue hole. Within seconds, the wagon, horse, and driver completely disappeared and fellow soldiers found no sign of them after diving in. Shortly after, Union troops had a similar experience – several soldiers jumped in for a refreshing swim and one by one started disappearing. The spot began to be known as the bottomless blue hole and it was thought a Native American curse covered the place.

As other people were lost over the years to the bottomless blue hole, yet no bodies were ever recovered from the outwardly peaceful water, an engineer eventually decided to get to the bottom of things. He threw in a rope with a rock on the end to find the bottom. He kept having to tie on more and more ropes, but finally measured the depth as an astounding 437 feet. The length of the blue hole is only 400 feet. The notoriety of the place grew and Ripley’s Believe It or Not came to validate the measurements, pronouncing it the “shortest and deepest river in the world.”

As technology advanced, the place became a novelty and was studied extensively. Eventually, it was discovered the serene blue hole with no outwardly visible hint of moving water was not 437 feet deep, but a mere 15 feet deep! However, it was finally learned that a treacherous underwater current lies near the bottom and sweeps anything in its path into an underground cave river.

We left the mysterious blue hole and hiked to the cave entrance, one of the largest cave entrances east of the Mississippi River. The entrance is so big that it was turned into the very unique “Cavern Nite Club” in 1934 and existed as a big band nightclub into the 1960s. The original bar, dance floor, and stage all still exist and are of course naturally air-conditioned by the cave. I wonder how many dancers took one wrong step or how many patrons had one too many drinks and plummeted down into one of the cave crevices or into the cave river?

A boat was waiting to take us into the cave itself and the cave roof at some points is so low that the boat riders have to crouch down in the boat. Erika and Victoria thought that was pretty neat, but Madelyn was highly unimpressed. “I do not like this, Mommy!” Luckily, she hung tough and later enjoyed seeing the wall/rock formations. Part of the underground river was dammed off for a water-powered mill before the days of electricity and that was neat to see too.

Jesse James seems to be a recurring theme this week and we saw where he hid out in 1868 after robbing a local bank. Law enforcement waited outside for three days to capture him and never succeeded. He also kidnapped a local physician to care for a wounded comrade in the cave and still avoided capture!

After our cave experience, we headed back to the campground where Rob happily joined us on the 300-foot waterslide, which we have now dubbed the “waterslide of death.” Erika went another three times and still loves it. Madelyn went again, got turned around backward, and even though Rob caught her at the bottom, she was scared enough to renounce the whole thing. Victoria was ready to go, was literally sitting on the mat at the top of the slide, when she changed her mind. Rob and I were so delighted with this – in spite of reassurances from the park staff, we felt she was just too young and although she may rule the world someday with that attitude, she isn’t a daredevil. Rob gave it a try himself and nearly drowned – small kids float down, but adults with their bigger body frames get plunged into abuse. He insisted I try and I did, against my better judgment. As I got flung around from side to side with my feet and lower legs being tossed over the top edges of the slide, I was certain I was going to die! I later heard only one person has ever been thrown from the slide. I’m still thanking my lucky stars I wasn’t the second!

Rob made it up to me by making us all a fabulous dinner on his new grill for the second night in a row. He does such a good job that I believe he should permanently take over cooking duties…he would have had to anyway if he’d lost his wife on that miserable slide!

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.

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.