My Old Kentucky Home

From Kansas City across Missouri.  We made the decision not to head up towards Chicago, but down to Kentucky, where we had never been.  We stopped for lunch in Columbia, and left the thousands of chain restaurants by the interstate and drove into the small college town (nice when you have the time) to find a decent restaurant.  We did, the Sycamore, where despite its being his fifth birthday, Ziggy had to wait outside.  Thankfully, he is used to this and has patiently waited on the street outside of some of the finest restaurants in the country.

Back on the road, we drove through St. Louis, so Susie could photograph the arch.  Then we had to drive through Southern Illinois and Indiana to get to Kentucky, where we set our sites on Mammoth Cave as our next destination.  We spent the night in Evansville, Indiana, another college town, judging from our waitress who was complaining about finals. Of course, leftovers were shared with Ziggy in honor of his birthday.  

The next morning, Wednesday, we awoke to rain and hit the road, left Indiana and arrived at Mammoth Cave National Park in Kentucky just before one o'clock, when a ranger-lead tour was about to start.  After listening to admonitions intended to discourage anyone unable to handle steep flights of stairs, tight, claustrophobic environments and vertigo inducing heights, we decided to brave it, only to find the cave itself quite disappointing compared to the

wondrous Lehman Caves we toured in Utah.   Only it's mammoth length and beautiful surrounding forest made it memorable.

We spent the rest of the afternoon finding our way on small roads through the bluegrass country.  We stopped at the Corvette Museum near Bowling Green, but alas, we didn't buy any samples.  On to Bardstown, Kentucky, a picturesque town where we dined on local cooking and spent the night.  Despite being told -- erroneously, thank heavens -- that Kurtz's restaurant did not serve alcohol, reports of their "famous coconut cream pie" motivated Ron to insist on eating there.  Ironically, the pie was the only disappointment of the meal.  

In the morning, a walk around Bardstown before it started to rain.  The town also hosts the "My Old Kentucky Home State Park" wherein one finds the house which inspired Stephen Foster to write My Old Kentucky Home (see picture).  Chimes play "Oh, Susannah" and "I Dream of Jeannie" (though not "Massa's in de Cold Cold Ground") as you stroll the immaculate grounds.

Many  bourbon distilleries are close by and we hoped to find time to tour one.  We visited Maker's Mark distillery (where we thought of our brother-in-law Sherman) but the tour had just left and we didn't want to wait.  On to West Virginia.  More to come.