Highest Point In Alabama

Cheaha State Park near Pulpit Rock

Soon after Tim and I married, he was transferred to Fort McClellan in Anniston, Alabama, for a six-month stint at the military police academy there.  It was our first introduction to living in the South where the Civil War is still called by some, The War of Northern Aggression.  Somehow in those six months, we never realized that just a short twenty miles away was Cheaha Mountain, the highest point in the state of Alabama.

When plotting our route back to the farm for fall harvest, I googled "top tourist attractions in Alabama" and Cheaha State Park popped up.  Online photos of the park were stunning.

Learning that the park had both a hotel and a restaurant, I quickly made reservations for a three-night stay.

Twice we missed turns as we made our way to the park.  To say that it is off the beaten path is a true assessment.  But it was worth it to finally reach the summit where the vista unrolls for miles and miles.

During our stay we practically had the park to ourselves.  In fact, one evening we dined alone in the restaurant with its floor-to-ceiling windows.  Questioning our young waitress, she told us in her sweet Southern accent that while business was slow now that children are back in school, the park will be flooded with leaf-peepers come fall.  Oh, how I wish we could be here then!

Ever on the prowl for waterfalls, I persuaded Tim to hike to Cheaha Falls with me.  This three-tiered cascade flows over a rock face located three miles into the Talledega Forest.  It's a beautiful place.

Another day we hiked a few miles of the Pinhoti Trail which stretches 171 miles across Alabama (and another 100 miles through the mountains of northern Georgia) before it connects to the Appalachian Trail.  The section we crossed was a narrow tract overgrown with brush, not as well maintained as I'd hoped.  Tim's reconstructed knee was aching by the time we returned to the car.

Pulpit Rock

So I left him behind at the hotel while I made the pilgrimage to Pulpit Rock.  Wow!  The vista seen from that outcropping of rock was amazing.  Well worth the effort, despite the fact that I missed the trail blaze on the way back and had to backtrack for a time to find it.

All of that, however, could not compare with the magnificent sunsets for which we had ringside seats.

On the last day of our stay we drove to Horseshoe Bend National Military Park, the scene of the end of the Creek Indian War.

Chief Menawa

There on March 27, 1814, Tennessee militia under the command of General Andrew Jackson massacred 1,000 Red Stick Creek Indians led by Chief Menawa.

The Creeks hoped the protection of the river bend on the Tallapoosa River and a log barricade across the neck of the peninsula would suffice to save them, but Jackson sent Brigadier General John Coffee and his troop of 700 infantry to surround the bend across the river from where the Creeks were camped.

White posts tell the approximate location of the barricade.

Then Jackson ordered a frontal assault on the wooden barricade.

At the end of the day, at least 800 of Chief Menawa's men were dead.  The peace treaty following the battle added 23 million acres of Creek land to the southeastern United States--roughly three-fifths of  Alabama and one-fifth the state of Georgia.

General Andrew Jackson

For Andrew Jackson, the victory at Horseshoe Bend was the first step on the road to national fame and the White House.

Likewise, Cheaha State Park was our first step on the road back to the farm for fall harvest.  I'm thankful I had a second chance to find this beautiful place.

Mackinac Island

Tim and I had already made plans to travel to Mackinac Island way before May 15, 2018, when TripAdvisor named the 10 Hottest U. S. Destinations for Summer and ranked the island as No. 1, ahead of the likes of Bar Harbor, Jackson Hole and Martha's Vineyard.

Of course, we'd planned to have our children with us, but work commitments kept them home.  So we held onto our hotel reservation for one night and the four ferry tickets we'd pre-purchased.  If we couldn't hawk the two extra ferry tickets, it would be no hardship to cross the Straits of Mackinac twice to enjoy this charming 3.8 square-mile island.

The island's ban of automobiles right from their inception at the turn of the 20th century has resulted in the obvious--exhaust-free air and the absence of auto noise--but also in the island's ambiance that recalls that period of time.

The village lanes are narrow and lined with quaint shops

and picture-perfect Victorian homes.

Horse-drawn carriages line up in the early morning hours ready to carry tourists wherever they will

while cargo drays powered with--well, horsepower, of course-- transport goods.  I found it a little disconcerting to see shipment boxes labeled Amazon on the back of the latter.

So how did budget-conscious visitors like Tim and I get around?  By foot power, either walking or peddling.

We wanted to join the island's cycling craze, but I was without a bike or bloomers, those baggy trousers that once liberated ladies from cumbersome petticoats and skirts.  I could substitute my own duds for bloomers, but having left our bicycles back on the farm, we needed to rent two if we hoped to cycle around the island.  I didn't know if the island's bike rental shops would have enough for the day's crowd.  So we arrived at the dock of the Star Line Ferry in St. Ignace, Michigan early enough to catch the first ferry over.  I need not have worried.  With five rental shops on the island, there were plenty to go around.

What I noticed first when I walked off the ferry was the smell of chocolate.  Mackinac is world-famous for its homemade fudge.  Chocolate Turtle, Double-Dark Chocolate Cherry Walnut, Penuche Pecan and a host of other flavors designed to make you drool appeal not only to smell or taste but to sight as well.  Confectioners dump the stuff on marble-topped tables and scrape it around until sugar crystals form and the fudge becomes firm.  Then they shape the chocolate deliciousness into mounds that look like meatloafs before cutting them into 1 inch-wide slabs certain to add pounds to your behind.

So it's a good thing that most visitors bike the island's eight-mile perimeter

and climb the steep hill leading up to Fort Mackinac.  We did as well, dodging other cyclists, carriages and the crap left by the horsepower.

The picturesque route took us past Arch Rock, a geologic curiosity that spans 50 feet at its widest point, and British Landing where British, Canadian and Native Americans came ashore and overtook the island during the War of 1812

However, the showpiece of the island is the Grand Hotel.

Built in 1887 to accommodate the flood of summer visitors who still flock to it, the hotel sets its guests apart from the masses.  Not a guest?

Don't expect to climb up the steps to its 660-foot long porch without paying a $10 entry fee.  And if you are a guest, ladies must don their best dress while gentlemen are required to wear ties and jackets at dinner.

Our hotel reservation was not at the Grand Hotel.  Still, ours was pricey, but I found it totally worth it in order to experience the island after the day visitors were ferried away.

Near the island's public school (a place of learning for approximately 80 K-12 students with an average class size of 6 students), Tim and I found a good place to watch the sunset.

The next day was Friday and you could tell by the size of the crowds who arrived by ferry that the weekend was gearing up.  This was the weekend of the Chicago Yacht Club's Race to Mackinac, the longest freshwater race in the world.  The race would begin Saturday at 11:00 a.m. near the Chicago Lighthouse just off the Navy Pier and end 333 miles and between 40-60 hours later at Mackinac Island.

Tim and I used our last two ferry tickets to the island on Monday where we saw the boats arrive after their long jaunt.

Saturday's weather had been stormy and one man was swept overboard amid six to eight foot waves soon after the race began.  Despite a search by fellow competitors, the Coast Guard and Chicago's Fire Department and Police, he was not found.  A very sad tragedy!  My heart goes out to the man's family.

Punta Gorda

Last Tuesday we moved our bus, the Dawntreader, to Punta Gordo, a small historic town nestled on the shores of Charlotte Harbor, a large estuary off the Gulf of Mexico. Since then, by means of walking or biking, we've been learning the layout of the town.

Ponce de Leon

Conquistador Ponce de Leon landed here in 1521 and named the harbor, Florida's second largest after Tampa Bay, Charlotte in honor of King Carlos of Spain. 

Finding murals such as The Conquistadors painted on the buildings around town was a fun scavenger hunt for us.  Along the way, we gained a glimpse of Punta Gorda's commerce and history.

Cattle Drive Downtown

Fishing Tales 

Building a Community

Hotel Punta Gorda's Famous Guests (Pictured are Clarence Darrow, Henry Ford, Daniel Beard, Thomas Edison, Harvey Firestone and Andrew Mellon.) 

What we also found remarkable were the canals that flow through the community's neighborhoods right out to the harbor. 

Fifty-five miles of canals!  Boating and fishing are huge here. 

On Friday just for fun, we toured Punta Gorda's Parade of Homes.  A realtor there told us that the length of time it takes to reach the harbor is factored into the cost of a property.  For the neighborhoods within shouting distance of what we might afford, that could be as much as an hour. 

So instead of purchasing property here perhaps we should be satisfied with claiming a brightly colored beach chair at TT's Tiki Bar on the harbor. 

At least watching the sun set over the harbor is within our price range.