Georgia - Day 28 - to Fort Mountain

Fort Mountain State Park, Chatsworth

Tuesday, 25 April 2023

today's route

Even with the stops I'd planned along the way, Google thought we'd make the drive in less than 3 hours, so we didn't leave Tallulah Falls until 9:00.  As it turned out, Google was wrong.  I normally assume half again extra on driving time, which would have made today's drive 4½ hours, but even that wasn't enough.  Today's route was essentially winding through the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains and took us 6½ hours to drive.

About 10 miles along the road, we came to Clayton, which looked a whole lot bigger than its 2,000 residents would suggest.  For instance, we passed a very large Quality Inn motel, lots of restaurants in a range of tastes, a very nice downtown area, and even both a Benjamin Moore and a Sherwin Williams paint stores.

At Clayton, we switched roads to US-76 and saw a sign: "Georgia Wine Highway."  And we did pass turns for several wineries.  Georgia has an extensive program called Georgia Agritourism that I think links travelers with farms offering tours or other programs for various farm products.  I mention it because I saw several signs along today's route directing travelers to specific farms.

This road was nearly constant curves and s-curves and hills, driving through the Chattahoochee National Forest.  I saw an unusual sign that said, ""Curve Becomes Sharper 500' Ahead."  And it did - downhill.

I passed a historical marker titled, "The Unicoi Turnpike" which marked a road that ran through this area.  (I thought it said "Unicorn" Turnpike and thought that was a playfulness I hadn't expected in Georgia.  But it was "Unicoi" instead.)  Created as a toll road in 1813, it connected North Georgia and Tennessee with the navigable waters of the Savannah River system.

That name Unicoi struck me as odd; I thought for a while it must be a company name or a typo on the signs I saw.  But when I came to the town of Unicoi, I decided it was the name.  Wikipedia tells me it's derived from a Cherokee word meaning "white," though I don't understand what that has to do with northern Georgia.  Just another of those oddities I'm finding in every state, I guess.

One of the reasons I wanted to go this route was in hopes of seeing Brasstown Bald, the name of the highest point in Georgia at 4,784'.  All the online photos were views taken from the mountain, not of the mountain, so I'm including this link to the Wikipedia page because of the photo.   https://en.wikipedia.org/Brasstown-Bald

I passed the town of Young Harris and thought that name must be a joke of some kind.  But that's the full name of the town, which was named for Judge Young Harris.  And my memory finally stirred enough to come up with the fact that, when I was a kid, my parents were friends with a man whose legal first name was "Young" and I guess Mr. Harris had that same name.

I think it was there that I saw a homemade sign that said, "Experts built the Titanic - Amateurs made the Ark."  Of course, of all the problems Noah had, massive icebergs weren't among them.

A sign told me I was on the "Southern Highroads Trail," which I hadn't heard of.  I've learned it's a loop of 364 miles, passing through 4 states; in Georgia, the trail includes my entire day's drive so far.  It's been hard driving through this winding hilly rural road, but no question that it's been scenic.

I came to the town of Blue Ridge, where I'd noted directions to a grocery store and a wine store, not having found a liquor store online.

I thought this car outside the grocery store was interesting.
That's a "Trump 2020" sticker on the rear.
The other side said something like "savior" or "warrior" (I can't remember now).

The wine store wasn't at all what I'd expected in this town of 1,200 residents.  The owner of 34th Degree° (that's the way she writes it) told me, when I asked about liquor stores, that Fannin County is what they call a dry county, meaning sales of beer and wine only are allowed.  That's a lot wetter than I'd have defined a dry county, but that's what she said.  Her shop was quite small, very narrow, and she had racks of very high quality wines - out of my usual range.  But I was intrigued with a bottle of white Rioja, when I'd thought Rioja wines were always red.  Emily, good sales person that she is, talked me into paying $22 for it (I know that's not at all an expensive price for good wine, but it's a lot more than I usually pay).  

She said she's been in business now for a year and offers occasional wine tastings.  I'm always impressed when someone manages to create a small masterpiece where no raw materials existed, and I think that's what she's done.  Instead of catering for the tastes of a small rural town, she's managed to attract the attention of a far-flung audience that appreciates what she's offering.  Impressive.

Her shop is across the street from the municipal buildings, and Dext and I took a walk around the block they sit on.

The next county over, Gilmer County, advertises itself as the "Apple County of Georgia."  I remember seeing a sign about this when I first came into the state, and here it is.  Not exactly the usual time of year for an apple crop, though.

Speaking of which, Georgia's nickname is The Peach State, and they pride themselves on their peaches.  I love peaches and can't tell you how sorry I was that peach season isn't until a month or so after I leave the state.  Almost enough to make me want to stay longer.

I came to the towns of Ellijay and East Ellijay (I couldn't tell the difference), and once again Georgia's highway signs proved to be not at all good enough.  I'm telling you, the Georgia highway department should hire me as a consultant to show them the multiple ways they could improve travel for the tourists this state badly wants.  So I ended up going miles down the wrong road, then had to figure out somewhere to turn around and go back - and still couldn't find the turn Google said was there.  Not that Google's all that reliable either.

Near the intersection where I couldn't find the road was a Walgreens, and I stopped in their parking lot long enough to pull out my hotspot and laptop and ask for directions starting at the Walgreens.  From the parking lot, I could see the intersection, and after studying Google I watched traffic for a bit until I was pretty sure I could see where folks were turning that might be the turn Google said I should make (that the highway department fluffed on).  So off we went again.

All of that just to stay on US-76 that we'd been on most of the day.  A little way along the road I came to a sign saying we were on the "Historic Route of the Trail of Tears."  And my first thought was "they came through these hills?!"  Back then there wouldn't have been a road, or possibly even much of a trail, which would have been only part of the problem.  These hills aren't gentle little slopes but the true foothills of the Appalachian Mountains.  And the trees are thick all along here.  Even the US Army, presumably on horseback, would have found this route difficult, let alone the people being forced to march, without food or water, for hundreds of miles along this route.

Farther along, I came to another sign telling me we were now on the "Appalachian Foothills Parkway."  And then we turned onto the state road that took us to tonight's campground.  That took us for 7 miles along almost constant double-s curves - and then there was the hairpin turn with no warning other than the usual double-s curve signs.  

This road is GA-52 and a sign told me it's been designated the "Bill Gregory Memorial Highway."  It took me a while to find the right Bill Gregory online (there are a lot of them), but this one was a well-liked and respected local doctor who was killed while bicycling on this road.  Considering the type of road it is, I'm surprised cycling is even allowed on it - all those curves and hills and not an inch of shoulder space as the road hugs the mountainside.

As you might imagine, after a day of driving in these conditions, I was absolutely pooped by the time we got settled into our campsite.