Playing in the rain

[FlickerOfLight]

You sound just like my dad again. Lol

He grew up in west VA. His childhood stories sound a lot like yours.

He always said I had missed out not being able to romp around the mountains like that. Sounds like a good childhood. I wish I had had that freedom growing up. I wasn’t aloud to ride my bike more than a mile or two from the house. I'd get in serious trouble if I went too far. I had to stay close for the most part.

There's good reason for that. My Dear Old Dad hailed from West Virginia, too. An area in the northwest quadrant of central WV, usually known as "The West Fork", Being the west fork of the Little Kanawha River. I spent a good part of my youth thrashing around the woods there with my cousins, too. My Dear Old Dad is buried on top of a ridge there, not far from the farm he grew up on.

My son lives in WV now, but way east, in the eastern panhandle, almost in Virginia.

I grew up in Russell County, VA, a few miles out from a town called Lebanon. I lived in what was called "The Corner Settlement", or just "The Corner", at the foot of River Mountain, which loomed 1000 feet above my front porch - I lived at 2200 feet, and the mountain top was at 3208 feet and roughly 1500 to 2000 yards away horizontally. This is in the southwestern part of Virginia, where VA, WV, TN, and KY all meet. That little tail of Virginia, the "ass-end" of VA, or just "the part of VA that Richmond has forgotten about".

I grew up around 3 or 3 1/2 miles from Cedar Creek, and maybe 3/4 of a mile from the Clinch River. There's a state park there now where Cedar Creek empties into the Clinch, but there was no park back then - it was just wilderness where you could do as you damn pleased and didn't have to worry or fret over picking some endangered plant or catching a fish for supper.

The last time I went to Cedar Creek, a game warden named Harry Street ran my ass out for carrying my .22. So I never went back. If my gun ain't welcome there, then neither am I. I've stomped these woods enough to know that some times, a fella is going to want a gun in them, because that's a lot more discouraging to something desiring to eat you than a sharp glare and a stern reprimand is.

The last time I went to "The Channels", on top of Clinch Mountain, I shot a rabbit for supper while my buddy was building the fire to cook it, and we ate supper in the shadow of the fire tower. That was 42 years ago, and that buddy has since moved on the the Great Beyond.

There's a state park at "The Channels" now, too, with a bunch of dumbassed rules and regulations. Wasn't one there when I was growing up, just an old fire watch tower, and we could go up there and do as we pleased, too. Now I can't tramp those grounds any more, for fear of pissing off some bureaucrat or crossing a rule that ought not to exist in the first place. It's a shame they'd spoil the natural value and beauty of places like that. Ain't nobody went up there back then that wasn't half billy goat, because the last 5 miles or so had to be on foot along a steep and switch-backed trail, and most folks weren't up to it. Now they have a road so folks can get to the park and do nothing while they are there unless they want to break a park rule..

I reckon that's "progress".

.

You reminding me of my father was a good thing. He's been gone for 6 years now. Seeing something (anything) that reminds me of him is a comfort to me.


Sounds awesome. 
I played in the ocean or any body of water that was around. Plus we lived in the suburbs growing up. Not too much to explore, but we did wonder off the beaten path and find little adventures. 

I didn't see a mountain until I was about 14. We took a family vacation up to the smokey mountains in TN. Pigeon forge and Gatlinburg were our hang out spots, but we decided to take a trip up to Clingmans dome, which is the highest point of that area. Somewhere in NC. Anyways, we had this plan to take a bucket of chicken to the top of that mountain peak and have a picnic of fried chicken up there.

We load up, get our bucket of chicken and start to make the drive up.

Halfway up this mountain it starts to storm. It stormed so bad the road leading up to the dome was closed.

My dad lost it... haha

He bitched and cussed and slammed his fist over and over. Dude was pissed. 

We were terrified... 

We rode down that mountain in total silence smelling that infamous bucket of chicken.

We went on 3 more family vacations like this. up to those mountains. Each time with a bucket of chicken for a picnic on the top of that mountain. 

We tried 3 times.

It rained every single time.

We never had our picnic of fried chicken on that mountain.  But we still had some great memories.



Before I die.......I will get a bucket of chicken to the top of Clingmans dome. I've already been planning it. He bought a drop top convertible Corvette, that I still have. I plan on getting some fried chicken and taking a cruise in his Corvette through those mountains and up to that dome. I'm hoping and planning for sometime this summer when its nice enough to drop that the top and ride those mountains.


Something I've been wanting to do in his honor.