Susan and Dennis recommended back roads, so back roads we took and the hills began to roll almost immediately. The patch of land between Lexington and Cumberland Falls State Park is lovely, green, quiet. About half way between GPS Point A and GPS Point B, we saw a cattle trailer hauling what was easily 5000 pounds of nose to rear steer behind a pick up truck. Had it been Sunday, they might have been out for a drive in the country. As it was Monday, Chris wondered aloud whether they were headed to slaughter. A moment later, the pick up turned off the road we were on and we saw the sign for the livestock auction. It's in moments like these that I realize what excellent travel companions Chris and I make. There was no question but that we were going to the livestock auction and now.
There weren't any other Saturn Ions in the open field parking lot. It was mostly dusty pick up trucks, a few flat beds and dozens and dozens of trailers. Today was painfully hot. Hot like... well, probably hot like Kentucky. In any case, it was 97 degrees and sunny and we had the AC on full blast as we traveled the road so we were insulated. Spilling out of the car there were three simultaneous sensations: the hot wet inhalation of Kentucky humid, the sound of a thousand moos and the smell of all of those cows uttering them. It was a terrific assault.
The auction was in a room with stadium seating facing a pen above which sat the auctioneer and in which were two men who worked from either side, opening one door, using cattle prods to usher the animals along and then out a second door. The pen was small, maybe 15 feet by 30 feet, and the cows big and dumb. Mostly the men stood around and mostly the cows were docile; on occasion, there was some ruckus and those men dashed behind their protective fencing. The stadium seats were for the sellers who were straight out of central casting: dusty dungarees, different iterations of faded plaid, suspenders (and not the kind worn by a dandy), and baseball caps. These were men whose beards could only be referred to as whiskers, and who maintained a far off look in their eyes that belied the importance of the sale. The buyers sat in box seats at the top of the room and with the flick of a finger purchased 13 head at a time. It was strangely captivating and we stayed for the sale of probably 30 animals before heading out. We might have stayed longer but for the smoke. I forgot that there were still places where people can smoke indoors and where they can smoke indoors while at work. On the way back to the car, we walked along the stockyard; there were hundreds of pens, all full. The auction had started at 8:30, we were there at 11, and I'm sure it went on for most of the rest of the day.
We stopped once or twice more. There's an abundance of fruit stands and we'll bring some homemade peach jam home with us. One craft market we visited was housed in a log cabin built in 1863 and maintained by a local 4H club.
We arrived to the state park mid afternoon in the height of the heat. We visited the falls, which are rushing and loud and beautiful and walked along the river a bit but ultimately decided to spend what remained of the day at the pool to beat the heat. We met a couple who had just spent 11 days in the Smokies and said it was cooler and there were bears in abundance. They recommended several places for us to visit when we arrived.
Dinner included fried okra, fried catfish and fried hush puppies. Enough said.
At the 4H Craft Market, we had seen a posting for a three-hour bluegrass jam on the second Monday of the month for local and visiting talent in the Great Room of the lodge here in the state park. In fact, after dinner, there was music everywhere. In the lobby, there were two women playing mountain dulcimers and people sat in a song circle around them. In the Great Room, there were four guitar players, a fiddler and a harmonica player. In the room adjacent, there were several guitars, a mandolin and a woman was wheeling a piano in when we entered. We settled in the Great Room to listen, but after only two songs Chris itched for his guitar. He went for it and joined the circle. He played with them for an hour or so: Wagon Wheel, Jambalaya, Long Black Veil... It was music and music makes every day better.
We're hoping it will be cooler tomorrow, but we're hoping against hope because the reports say it will be close to 100. Luckily, we're clever and we'll figure out some way to make use of the day and enjoy it.
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