Big Trains and Little Ones and a Talk with a WWII Vet

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Today I went to visit a model railroad club in Hendersonville North Carolina. It is one of those places that I found while web surfing. (Thanks again, Al Gore for "taking the initiative in creating the Internet.") It caught my eye as a place that is historic -- it is located in a 1902 railroad depot -- and is related to engineering, my profession. Busman's holiday anyone?

Hendersonville is easy to get to from home, taking mostly well-paved two and four-lane roads. There is some city traffic at both ends to contend with, however. My plan is to take a few lesser-traveled roads, and to photograph a railroad trestle I spotted a few days ago when I went out for a quick evening ride.

Here is the route I had planned for the day.

The trestle is located parallel to Saluda Dam Road at the Pickens/Greenville County line and runs over the Saluda River. It is quite rusty, but is used every day. A train is just passing when I ride up. I hurriedly stop and pull out my camera to get a shot -- just as the last car goes out of sight. Oh well, maybe another one will come by while I am here.

I wander along the highway bridge and take a few pictures. There is a house down near river level with quite a number of "collectables" in the yard.




There is also evidence, in the form of additional concrete piers, of another bridge having been across the river.


Perhaps this was an earlier highway bridge, replaced in 1980 by the one I am standing on. The Shadow standing over the bridge's date stamp.


The track that runs over this trestle is the same line that runs through downtown Easley, carrying both freight and passengers.

On the other side of the road, is Saluda Dam.



This is a small hydroelectric plant constructed in 1905 by Duke Power Company. It is now owned by North Brook Energy, LLC.

Others have posted photographs of this trestle. Here are a couple entitled Trestle of Rust by their photographer, powerwasher on Flickr.


He almost makes the photos look like paintings. There are other good pictures of sights around the area in his albums.

Here are a couple of photos by bearden82 on Panoramio.



He, too, has a lot of good area pics.

Alas, no other trains cross the trestle while I am there, so I continue my trip. After I reach US-25, I turn north and follow it across the North Carolina line. The road is uphill for quite a long distance, though it is four lanes and easy to ride.

Photo by M.OZ on Panoramio.

The fall colors have given way to mostly brown here at this elevation. It is still pretty, though not multi-colored as it was a few weeks back.

I trek onward to NC-225, not far from Lake Summit that I wrote about a few weeks ago when I was "dual-sporting." This route takes me through the small town of Flat Rock, a mostly retirement and tourist-oriented town.

On the north side of Flat Rock, it says that 225 ends. I am puzzled by this, as I thought it went right into Hendersonville. I stop and study the Google map to no avail. I decide to continue on business US-25 and I find myself in Hendersonville within ten seconds. I guess Flat Rock and Hendersonville don't have any space between them.

I follow the map to the train depot on Maple Street and scope out possible parking places. I like to find a spot that is protected from auto damage yet visible. I decide to circle around the depot, so I cross the tracks and follow Boxcar Street, which I find has a short stretch of gravel, potholes, and mud. Before getting to the bad spot, there is a good place to take a picture of the track side of the depot.


I edge through the gravel and mud and come back to Maple Street again. I pick a spot on the sidewalk near the building, park, take off my gloves and helmet, set my alarm and head for the entrance.

My sometime riding companion, who I picked up in Lawrenceville Georgia, has decided to stay with the bike again today. You can just barely see him sitting there on the seat behind my gloves.


Note that my right turn signal has fallen off. I must have bumped it on something.

The depot is nicely restored on the outside. I go inside and find it attractive as well.

A little history from the club's website:

"The current structure...is actually the second station.... The first station was built shortly after the Southern Railway reached Hendersonville as a narrow gauge line late in June 1879. This was ten years after Coast-to-Coast service was established through Ogden Utah. The first station for all practical purposes was a duplicate of the Saluda station, which still stands in that village. By 1902 the station proved to be too small to handle the ever increasing traffic and was moved across the tracks, North of 7th Avenue where it was used as a Freight house for many years.

"The present station was started in 1902. Originally it was 87 feet long and consisted of two waiting rooms (a white and a black), an Agents Office, indoor plumbing, and a freight or Railway Express Office. The total cost of construction was $2613.00 which included three coats of heavy oil-based paint. In 1906 15’ feet was added to each end of the station to provide a Ladies waiting room, and more baggage handling space. A few years later an open pavilion was added to the North end of the station to provide an additional covered waiting area. This addition was still not enough to handle the crowds of customers. On some Saturday mornings, especially during the summer, between 500-600 young campers waited for the train to come up the Saluda Grade for their return trip home. When the train arrived it would disgorge approximately another 500-600 young campers for the next camping session.

"In 1916 another 50 feet was added to the roofed over, open pavilion waiting area making it 75 feet long and reaching all the way to 7th Avenue. Soon after the last passenger service ended in 1968, this open pavilion became the unofficial unemployment office for the City of Hendersonville.

"In its heyday, a 22,000 gallon water tank stood on the other side of the tracks with underground pipes to two stand pipes in between Track #1 and #2, just far enough apart for two Mikado steam locomotives to be serviced at the same time. At its peak, six passenger trains a day stopped in Hendersonville collecting and discharging passengers for our City, while making their way from as far away places as Cincinnati and Charleston.

"[The adjoining] track is still claimed to be the steepest Class #1 railroad in the United States [having a] 600’ elevation [change] in less than 3 miles between Saluda and Melrose. While passenger service ended in 1968, thousands of tons of freight, particularly coal and wood chips, traveled over these tracks and through the Hendersonville station with as many as 6-7 trains a day up until 2002. At that time the current owners, Norfolk Southern Railroad, elected to re-route trains South by selecting different routes thereby by-passing Hendersonville. Except for occasional local deliveries to area industries the tracks at the Hendersonville Station sit quietly beside the station providing a nostalgic reminder of the hustle and bustle of years gone bye.

"While the station still belongs to the Norfolk Southern Railroad, it is leased to the City of Hendersonville who maintains the building. In the year 2000, the building was registered by the North Carolina Historical Society as a Historical Landmark commemorating its long and useful history in serving the public and residents of Henderson County."

I take off more of my gear, leaving my tee shirt and leather pants and stow the rest on a bench. Since it has been cold this morning, all the stuff I had on fills the bench up completely. I approach one of the club members, a fellow named Bob. He says he is a modeler himself. His working career was spent mostly in the information technology (IT) field, from mainframes on down. I ask him about the club's origins and activities.

He says the Apple Valley Model Railroad club was formed many years ago and moved into the depot in 1992. The building had not been occupied for some forty years, was complete with pigeon droppings, and had been vandalized. They have an agreement with the city that they can use the building as long as they are open to visitors every Saturday between 10 AM and 2 PM.

Why is it called Apple Valley, you ask? Well, this area is known for its fine and varied crop of apples. In fact, they host the North Carolina Apple Festival right here in Hendersonville every September. It is quite a nice celebration; with the streets filled with vendors and all the stores open.

The club's first layout in this building was built shortly after occupying the depot. That section represents the general Asheville North Carolina area. A second phase of the layout was built between 2005 and 2008. The overall layout dimensions are 18 x 100 ft (0.3 scale miles x 1.6 scale miles), 1700 ft (28 scale miles) of track, and 225 turnouts (switches for you non-train readers). The trains are controlled by Digital Command Control (DCC), a system that allows multiple trains to run on the same track with individual control by several "engineers" at once. The scenery has taken thousands of hours to complete.

The club is getting ready to rebuild the oldest section of the layout to freshen it up and improve reliability. Today, several members are priming pieces of lumber and sheets of plywood to reduce the effects of temperature and humidity changes.

I also meet Terry, another member. He says he is a fellow motorcyclist, riding a Kawasaki Vulcan for about a year now. He asks me about learning to ride, so I tell him about the MSF Basic Rider's and Total Control classes I have taken. He happens to give a talk to visitors about the Saluda Grade, and he was interested in my blog entry about it. By the way, the tracks that run by this depot continue over to Saluda, so they are seldom used any more because The Grade is no longer in operation.

Here are some shots of the layout.


A large articulated locomotive, frequently used in mountainous areas to haul heavy freight.


A roundhouse and turntable.


The Saluda North Carolina Station looks like the real one,

though the real station in Saluda has been moved from its original trackside location to this spot across the street and perpendicular to the tracks.

Some of the members operating their trains.


Real looking water in this lake.


A logging crane.


A great, curved wooden trestle.


The club has set up a kid-height layout that they can operate themselves. This little lady was controlling Thomas the Tank engine,...

while a pair of twins were controlling Emily, another engine.

You can see how fast Thomas is going -- he's just a blur. Note the authentic Chick-Fil-A billboard in the upper picture with its the suicidal cow.

Do remember my little riding buddy? Well, he's created a bit of a stir outside, as related by a couple of people in the depot who recognize that I must be the motorcycle rider whose bike is parked there. Apparently they stopped to take a closer look at my friend, and the proximity sensor caused the bike alarm to squawk at them. I wish I had seen their reactions. I'll bet my buddy enjoyed the little trick, too.

Outside is this bright red caboose.


As I prepare to leave, I see that an older gentleman, two ladies, and a younger man are walking up the sidewalk. The gentleman asks me a few questions about my bike. As I describe it to him, the others go along ahead to see the trains. As she walks away, his wife turns to me and says, "You'll need to just walk away from him, because he'll talk your arm off."

It turns out that the man's name is Carl, he is eighty eight years young, and lives in Greenville South Carolina, maybe fifteen miles from where I live. Ordinarily, I would not call someone who is significantly my senior by his first name, but in almost all cases in this blog, I use only a first name to preserve the privacy of the people about whom I write. That is the case here, too, so Carl it shall be.

For some reason, Carl asks me if I know the significance of the date December seventh. I answer that I do. At that, Carl begins to tell me about some of his life. It turns out that Carl was in the military, stationed at Pearl Harbor beginning on December 4, 1941, when he was about twenty years old.

On the morning of the seventh, his squad was positioned somewhere that he could see Hickam Army Airfield, but not the harbor. He and his unit were doing practice exercises where half of the troops were designated blue, the other half red, to prepare them for possible action.

He says he spotted planes that were flying over the harbor, painted with the Japanese rising sun on their sides. He thought they were part of the exercises and pointed them out to his squad saying, “Those are the enemy, boys.” He says he did not immediately realize that they were indeed enemy attackers, even after they began to drop bombs on the airfield.

He telephoned his superior to tell him that there had been a mistake – that the planes participating in the exercises were bombing our own planes on the airfield. His superior, apparently not aware of the bombing that had begun, accused Carl of being drunk. Carl placed the call a second and third time as other waves of planes came in, finally convincing his superior that these were really the enemy. He was then ordered to shoot them down if they could.

Carl also spoke of their having been warned of a possible invasion from the sea. Some time after the bombings, his squad noticed something bobbing in the surf. It struck him that there appeared to be only one invader rather than a larger group. Carl took a pistol shot at this invader, but he continued to bob in the surf. He says that he knew he wasn’t that bad a shot to have missed, but next took a rifle and shot at the intruder again. This, too, did not dispatch this enemy. Carl then took a bayonet, waded and swam out into the surf, and speared his target – which turned out to be floating debris from the bomb carnage.

After the war, Carl had a bad case of survivor’s guilt – questioning why had he survived and so many others had not. An officer explained to him that there are no victors if no one returns from war. Carl says he had never considered that, and has been able to reconcile his guilt as a result.

After the war ended, Carl and his wife moved to California, bought a new car and a house trailer. They proceeded to circumnavigate the United States, heading east in the southern states, then north in the eastern states, and west in the northern states, back to California. Carl's marriage produced a daughter who he affectionately called Baby Angel.

Carl relates that one evening on his way home from work, he had an automobile accident that resulted in his being in a coma for twenty-eight days. When he awoke, he found that his wife and baby were not with him. He did not say why they had left him, but some thirty plus years later, he received a call from a woman in California seeking her father. He called her by the affectionate name Baby Angel as a test. He said her whoop of joy could almost have been heard without use of the telephone. She subsequently visited him and he her -- for a long-delayed reunion.

I am glad I stopped to let Carl "talk my arm off." Otherwise, I would not have gotten to hear his first-hand account of these significant events in his life, some of which have helped preserve my liberty and freedom.

After Carl leaves to rejoin his family, I chat for a few minutes with a former Marine, probably about forty years old, who is a member of the model railroad club, and whose car sports a conservative bumper sticker. He speaks passionately about how wrong and arrogant most of our politicians are, with their tax and spend, divisive, anti-U.S. military posture. He shakes his head as we part, indicating his extreme dissatisfaction with their behavior, and vows to encourage others to vote them out of office. He is another patriot who helped and continues to help preserve my freedom.

I am about ready to jump on the bike when I see one more thing: A vanity license plate with a good sentiment.


This fellow also displays a Blue Ridge Parkway sticker in his rear window.


Well, I have to get started for home pretty soon. I call my bride and explain where I am and why I have been detained. She says she understands -- I tend to take longer when I am out on a ride than I expect, so she has heard this before. At least she knows I am safe.

Oh. One more thing. I go back into the depot and beg for a piece of duct tape to fix my turn signal. Terry shows his generosity by offering me his entire roll. I decline his offer but elect to take a few inches of the tape instead. Duct tape fixes almost anything.

Finally, I take the same route home, stopping at an interesting church in Flat Rock, The Episcopal Church of St. John in the Wilderness. Built as a private chapel in 1833, it is nestled into a very wooded site, literally surrounded by its graveyard.


Better heed this sign.


It would be interesting to spend some time reading epitaphs here.

I don't tarry long at the church, and I turn south to retrace my path. I intend to cut off of US-25 and take Gap Creek Road down to SC-11. This is a curvy secondary road that has some nice views. You can see some pictures and a description here.

Unfortunately, I blow right past it, and the divided highway makes it impossible to turn around in a short distance. I decide to go on down to Route 11, then jog over to SC-8, Pumpkintown, and SC-135 to home. After I get on 11, I go a little beyond Route 8 to the Table Rock State Park Visitor Center. I like the view from here, and take a few pictures.

I go back a ways to the corner where Aunt Sue's Country Corner is located, turn right there on New Hope Road, meet SC-135, and go home. This is my actual route.

Today, I have ridden only 116.5 miles, but it has been an enjoyable day.



Other attractions near Hendersonville North Carolina:

The Western North Carolina Air Museum. Lots of historic aircraft can be seen here.

Hendersonville Antique Toy Museum. All the toys you remember when you were a kid -- and more.

Writer and poet Carl Sandberg's Home, Connemara, Flat Rock, NC.

Paddling on the Saluda River.



More Pearl Harbor information:

Pearl Harbor Raid, 7 December 1941
Japanese Navy Type 97 Carrier Attack Plane ("Kate") flies high over Hickam Army Air Field during the attack. Pearl Harbor is in the background, with smoke rising from burning ships off Ford Island and at the Navy Yard.
Photographed from a Japanese plane.
Official U.S. Navy Photograph, now in the collections of the National Archives.
Photo #: 80-G-21218


Pearl Harbor Attack, 7 December 1941
Torpedo planes attack "Battleship Row" at about 0800 on 7 December, seen from a Japanese aircraft. Ships are, from lower left to right: Nevada (BB-36) with flag raised at stern; Arizona (BB-39) with Vestal (AR-4) outboard; Tennessee (BB-43) with West Virginia (BB-48) outboard; Maryland (BB-46) with Oklahoma (BB-37) outboard; Neosho (AO-23) and California (BB-44).
West Virginia, Oklahoma and California have been torpedoed, as marked by ripples and spreading oil, and the first two are listing to port. Torpedo drop splashes and running tracks are visible at left and center.
White smoke in the distance is from Hickam Field. Grey smoke in the center middle distance is from the torpedoed USS Helena (CL-50), at the Navy Yard's 1010 dock.
Japanese writing in lower right states that the image was reproduced by authorization of the Navy Ministry.
U.S. Naval History and Heritage Command Photograph.
Photo #: NH 50931


Pearl Harbor attack information on the Shipwreck Central website.

Google map of Pearl Harbor, USS Arizona Memorial, and Hickam Field. The airfield is almost directly south of the Arizona Memorial pushpin.

Timeline of the days before and after December 7, 1941.

Pearl Harbor Raid Attacks on Airfields and Aerial Combat.
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Ride to Collins Ole Town, Oconee Heritage Center, Issaqueena Falls, Stumphouse Tunnel, and Oconee State Park

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Well, there were snow, ice, and below-freezing temperatures earlier in the week, but today we had temperatures ranging from 55 to 76 degrees. We had had this ride planned for a week ago, but it rained all weekend, so we postponed it.

Oh, by the way, “we” is the motorcycle group we have formed at church. We’re just getting started, but have had several meetings and rides. The group is patterned after the South Carolina FaithRiders.

Anyway, we started out at 9:30 from Easley, and the three of us spent the day riding and stopping at several sights within about fifty miles. As I said, the temperature was ideal, the humidity is still low, and the roads turned out to be clear and dry. There was only a trace of sand and salt on the roads from the previous cold weather.

There were scads of motorcyclists out, along with convertibles, bicycle riders, and all other manner of vehicle. Our ride was along an easy route with few tight twisties.

The three of us ride quite different bikes. One fellow, Ken, rides a Honda Goldwing. It is quiet and smooth as silk –- a comfortable ride. Ken is the most experienced rider in the entire group, having clocked fifty one years of riding dirt, enduro, flat track, and street bikes. Another who rode is Steve who rides a Honda VTX1300. He has ridden for about thirty seven years. Of course, I am the newbie, riding my Ninja 650R for only about two years now. I led the ride this time, so I am sure we got some odd looks due to the mix of bikes. Oh well, let them look. We had fun.

We started out at 9:30 AM. The temperature was about 55 degrees. I wore my usual light gray/dark gray/black two-piece leather suit, armored vest, bicycle shorts, lightweight polypropylene-Lycra underwear, boots, and helmet, but wore my Shift Carbine summer gloves for the first time this year. My light balaclava, neck warmer, and grip heaters were enough to keep me warm enough at speed in the morning. By the way, I advocate the bike shorts to help keep the bottom padded and comfortable. They don’t have heavy seams like conventional tighty-whitey underdrawers have, so are more comfortable for the long haul, and they are most certainly better than bunching boxer briefs.

We headed west on SC-93 through the town of Liberty and toward the town of Central. Here there lives a retired man and his wife who have constructed a small 1930s-era town on their property. They call it Collins Ole Town. Mr. Roy Collins and his wife Pat welcome visitors ranging from school children to seasoned citizens. Mr. Collins was a forester working for a college nearby that you may have heard of -- Clemson -- for almost twenty years, then retired for a political appointment.

He is a very good host, spending two hours with the three of us, explaining his life, his collections, and his philosophy. He is soft-spoken and gentlemanly, but matter-of-fact. He refers to his town as a hobby gone awry, but he is pragmatic about it, saying that as a retiree, he can work on something, but if he doesn’t finish it, that’s OK. The town is situated very close to a busy railroad and several long, fast freight trains passed while we were visiting. I enjoy trains, too. A barn-side Coca-Cola sign is also shown in this view toward the tracks.

The structures include a one-room schoolhouse much like the one he was educated in. It is filled with antique desks, books, and classroom materials. The piano is in pitch, so I played a little tune – ‘Tis So Sweet to Trust in Jesus. The mimeograph reminded me of school days, being a fast low-cost way to make copies before Xerography was invented. Mr. Collins looked up all of the schoolhouses that were in existence in Pickens County in 1934 by consulting a booklet published at the time. There were dozens of schools scattered around the county.

Next, there are a couple of sheds with farm tractors and implements inside, then a blacksmith shop so filled with equipment and artifacts that you couldn’t get into it.

The General Store, further on, is packed with products and displays, mostly from the early part of the twentieth century. Mr. Collins says he collects anything that is “older than he is,” and quips that that is getting harder and harder with his advancing age. The outside of the store is encrusted with old advertising signs of all types and sizes.

He also has a working example of a product marketed by Honda, the Kick N’ Go scooter from the 1970s. I am surrounded by Hondas today, it seems! Anyway, the scooter has a spring-return chain drive and a one-way clutch that changes the force applied to the bar behind the platform into high rotational speed at the rear wheel. You can buy a Kick N’ Go at the on-line auction sites, but beware of purchasing one advertised as being in mint condition, as reproduction decals are also available. This little cousin of our motorcycles looked as though it would be fun to ride. Too bad I am so big and it is so small –- I didn’t want to risk hurting it by taking it for a spin.

Mr. Collins showed us some round wooden boxes there in the store, and asked us what we though they were for. We didn’t have a clue. They are cheese boxes. Cheese rounds came in them like the ones shown below, except smaller in diameter.

Outside the General Store is a vintage gasoline pump, Crown Silver brand. You can see our reflections in its globe.

Next up was the barber shop. It is filled with vintage equipment, though bloodletting equipment was notably absent, having been phased out of the barber’s duties several hundred years earlier.

In a back room, was a permanent wave machine for the ladies. The electrically heated clips caused the hair to become curled, but the risk of burns was multiplied many times over today’s hand-held curling iron. What women went – and go -- through to have curly hair!

There was a sorghum molasses mill and boiler, used every year, a Ford Model A pickup truck nearby, and another shed full of farm implements.

Mr. Collins also operates a sawmill, making most of the lumber used in his little town. The lumber is stacked drying in various places.

Here, he is explaining heart pine to a couple of us.

The last building is a hotel, the Collins Hill Inn. It has a wide, inviting porch with a passel of rocking chairs along with a swing suspended by chains from the ceiling. This hotel is really a banquet hall with a couple of rooms above it for guests. The Collins put on feeds for up to about sixty people. There is a small gift nook in one corner, a warming kitchen on the main floor, and a commercial kitchen in the basement. As Mr. Collins offered us an apple fritter, he said that it was his wife who prepares the deserts. Naturally, I asked if she had baked these. He said, that no, he had baked them himself. Renaissance Man, indeed! He looked thoughtfully at the one he was munching, and opined that it was a little different and especially tasty this time. I agree. I could’ve eaten the whole plate full.

Mr. Collins says that he has plans for a chapel yet, and then his town will be complete. As the visit was winding down, we looked out the window of the hotel at the other buildings we had visited and at our trusty steeds patiently waiting in the paddock for the next leg of our journey.

If you go, do note that there is a short stretch of gravel road on the way into Collins Ole Town, so use your best gravel riding techniques.

Our ride continued about fifteen miles through the towns of Central and Clemson, then following route SC-28 to Walhalla, SC.

The Oconee Heritage Center is housed in the 1892 Old Walhalla Tobacco Barn that has gone through several transformations in its life. It had been a furniture store at some point, and to make the front of the building more presentable, an addition was put on. This addition has a basement, and when excavating for it, the foundation of the main building was undermined, causing the front wall to collapse, and the second floor to fall. The main building was put back together, but with its second floor mostly removed.

The Heritage Center preserves and promotes the history of the county. Inside, the Center has interesting displays of local history, archaeology, and heritage, separated into seven time periods.

• Era One (Prehistory - 1783)
• Era Two (1783 - 1861)
• Era Three (1861 - 1876)
• Era Four (1876 - 1929)
• Era Five (1929 - 1945)
• Era Six (1945 - 1972)
• Era Seven (1972 - Current)

The Director and Curator Nick Gambrell is a quiet, pony-tailed young fellow who got us started on our tour of the center. Another fellow who was working at a table in the lobby, noted that we were riding motorcycles, and related to us his tumble from his bike wearing only a tee shirt, jeans and a helmet. His ankle was just healing up from the road rash, without benefit of a skin graft, and his broken collarbone was pretty well mended as well. I told him of my “off-road” experience, and recommended ATGATT.

The center is entrusted with two dugout canoes rescued from being buried along two upstate rivers, the Chattooga and another one whose name I do not recall. One of the canoes is thirty two feet long and was dated about 1760, the other is not yet dated. The canoes are soaking in vats of preservative chemicals so that one day they may be dried out and put on display.

There is a section explaining the right-of-way of the Blue Ridge Railroad that included Stumphouse Tunnel that we are slated to visit later in the day.

After we had perused all the displays, we went a few blocks down the street to the Steak House Restaurant. This is a locally-owned place on the main street. When out on a ride, we try to patronize places that are out of the ordinary, and preferably, extraordinary. This one is definitely different –- a steak house that doesn’t specialize in serving steak.

The story here is that it was a steak house, but one day in 1973, as Gloria Yassen rode by the Seigler's Steak House, she saw that it was closed. After inquiring, she found that the restaurant was for sale. Gloria and husband Abed (new to the USA) decided to take the plunge and purchase the business and building. In April 1973, they opened for business. T-Bone steaks and grits were staples on the menu in those early days, then short-orders like fried flounder and hamburger steak were added.

They have a varied menu, much like any meat and three in the south. I had a bowl of scalloped potatoes that were tasty, and they recommended the "Arabian Rooster" fried chicken breast to me as being great, so I tried a piece. It was good fried chicken, but as they say, “If it tastes good, spit it out” to maintain a healthy heart. Therefore, I try not to eat fried foods, and peel the skin off when I do eat them. Well, I peeled off most of the skin, and ate the rest (except for the bones). I know, I should eat vegetables and fruit at every meal, but everything is à la carte and I wanted to spend less than that. All together my bill was $4.50.

The owner Abed as sitting a corner booth overseeing operations, but I didn’t have a chance to talk with him.

Aside:

As we were walking back to the bikes parked a few doors down, I recalled my thoughts of more than a year ago about getting an alarm system for the bike, since motorcycles are relatively easy to steal. I got one a few months back, a Scorpio SR-i500. It is an older model, but seems to have the features of the newer ones. There is a remote that arms and disarms the alarm, and it is this remote that is different in the newer versions. The remote also receives a signal indicating that the alarm has been triggered.

The alarm sounds on the bike if someone jostles or tips it, if someone turns on the ignition, and if someone comes too near. The jostle and tip functions are triggered by accelerometers inside the alarm housing, so they work without having to pay attention to mounting transducers separately. The proximity function requires their SN-5 Perimeter Sensor. This emits microwaves that detect nearby mass and causes the unit to chirp, then alarm if the intruder persists. I also have the RID-5 remote ignition disable relay that prevents the engine from firing when the alarm is armed, but can also shut down the engine if someone grabs the motorcycle and tries to get away. You depress (Southern talk would be “mash”) a button on the remote that makes the alarm chirp, and after a delay, stops the engine.

The alarm with built-in sounder fit easily under the seat, mostly behind one of the seat cowlings of the bike, the proximity sensor attaches with Velcro to the top of the battery so it is positioned under the seat, and the cutoff relay is tucked away under a seat cross member. Almost all of the meager underseat space of the 650R remains open for packing your toothbrush (and not much else) for a trip.

All in all, I am pleased with the unit. It is built to automotive standards for circuitry protection and robust electrical connector design. The proximity feature particularly, makes my bike a little less vulnerable to a casual thief: He might be scared off before he even touches the bike if he trips it. Its range extends a bit from the bike, so even when someone comes near but doesn't touch, the alarm chirps.

One problem: I keep forgetting about the alarm when I approach the bike, so I end up triggering it myself. I expect that I’ll remember eventually…and I can always say I am just testing it when I forget.

Back to our ride.

We continued our outing by going further along SC-28 about six or seven miles to Issaqueena Falls and Stumphouse Tunnel. The two are only a few hundred yards apart, and are reached from one short stretch of tight-turned, downhill side road. The surface is good, but oncoming traffic might encroach on your lane, and you certainly don’t want to risk encroaching on their side. Low gears work well here.

The entrance to Issaqueena Falls comes first on the road. The parking lot is all gravel, so bring your kickstand pad so your bike doesn’t topple over while parked. I made mine from thin aluminum, but a 4” square electrical box cover works well, too.

The parking lot is rather randomly laid out, but we found a place along an edge to park in line. I didn’t want to carry my helmet, so I fiddled with the cables under the seat to lash it to the side of the bike. This requires unlocking and removing the seat, threading the cable through the helmet buckle, then replacing the seat – a bit of a hassle.

The above photograph shows the differences in the three bikes we are riding this day: Small, medium, and large!

That done, we walked to the falls. It had been rainy here so the falls were a bit fuller than in the other times I have come here. The winter vegetation was a bit drab, but the sunny day compensated. There is an overlook a few hundred feet downstream of the brink, so I walked down there and snapped a few pictures. Some other visitors climbed down to other vantage points beneath me. I’ll go down there some other time.

According to the Oconee County website, legend has it that the falls is named for an Indian maiden, Issaqueena, who, warning the white settlers of an Indian attack, was then chased by Indians and appeared to jump over the falls. She was actually hiding behind the falls, tricked her pursuers, and survived. The Park is open daily from 8:00 a.m. to sunset. Since I have not yet begun to make movies with my digital camera, you can see a little Flash animation of the falls on this website as well.

Stumphouse Tunnel is a short distance from the falls, but we mounted up and rode there so the bikes would be closer when parked. We made the short walk up a slight grade to the tunnel entrance. We felt the coolness of the underground space spilling down around us. It felt good to me, though I was the most heavily dressed of the three of us. The others might have been a bit chilly. We brought flashlights so we could walk into the tunnel, but their meager light was almost swallowed up by the darkness. The tunnel is incomplete because the Blue Ridge Railroad ran out of money during its construction. You can walk in as far as an expanded steel barrier that keeps visitors out of the remainder of the tunnel due to the danger of rock falls.

Again according to the Oconee County website, the tunnel is 1,617 feet long and was started in 1852 to connect Charleston to Knoxville and eventually on to Cincinnati. The Civil War and the lack of funds brought construction to a halt. While there were various efforts by the Blue Ridge Railroad to revive the tunnel, none of them came to pass and it stands today as a monument to the efforts of pre-Civil War engineering.

The tunnel measures seventeen feet wide by twenty five feet high and about mid-way in, there is a sixteen by twenty foot airshaft that extends sixty feet upwards to the surface, causing the cool breeze. The tunnel leaks from the ground above it and condensation adds to the dampness inside.

In 1951, Clemson College bought the tunnel and used it to cure the South's first bleu cheese. The tunnel's environment was later duplicated at Clemson, and the cheese making that Clemson is now famous for, was moved there. The tunnel still belongs to Clemson University, but is maintained and managed under the South Carolina State Parks System.

Though we didn’t hike there, the Blue Ridge Railroad trail leads to two other tunnels that were built for the railroad: Middle, and Saddle. Middle Tunnel is the closer and the only one of these two that can be entered. The tunnel was back filled with dirt, but a small hole has been dug that allows entry. The third and furthest tunnel, Saddle, is totally submerged in water with only the top of the entryway still exposed.

After we walked into Stumphouse as far as we could, we turned around and made our way out and downhill back to the bikes. I again forgot that I had set my alarm, so I demonstrated the chirping sound for everyone within earshot. Just testing, you know.

The exit from Issaqueena Falls/Stumphouse Tunnel requires a sharp right turn that is on a steep upgrade with a limited view of oncoming traffic. I was a bit apprehensive about this, but did fine. Perhaps more than a year of riding has improved my technique since I first exited the Whitewater Falls road.

We rode just a few miles and reached the entrance of Oconee State Park. We paid the entrance fee and motored to one of the picnic areas. Steve had left us to attend a family function later in the afternoon, so only Ken and I entered the park. The picnic area is on a small lake, so we walked down to its edge and took in the view. It was a beautiful, warm, spring afternoon, and we enjoyed the quiet and solitude of the place.

Big and small together in the parking lot.

We walked back to the parking lot, and decided that we would skip stopping at our last scheduled destination, the World of Energy at the Oconee Nuclear Station. We will pass right by it, but will save it for another time. By the way, the Oconee station has generated in excess of 425 billion kilowatt-hours of electricity so far, more than any other U.S. nuclear station. Oconee unit 1 began commercial operation in 1973; units 2 and 3 in 1974.

We rode back down SC-107 and SC-28, then turned left at SC-183 in Walhalla. We took this all the way through Pickens and picked up SC-8 to Easley.

We spent about seven leisurely hours riding and looking at the sights. We parted ways at the church and each turned toward home. It was a great day to be out in God’s creation.

Here are some photographs at Issaqueena falls taken in September of 2008 when the foliage was full.