Camping in the Smokies

Last weekend, Erin and I headed to the western part of the state. 150 miles west and a couple of thousand feet up helped us to get away from the temps that were generally around 102 (with a heat index of 107). I have some pictures, and the stories to go with them.

First of all, how can you not love a place called "Moonshine Creek"? Unfortunately, the distillery was not in use anymore.


The owners have named all of the cabins after booze. I took a picture of what I call "The Chandler Suite." Other cabins were Jim Beam, Ezra Brooks, Johnnie Walker, etc.


The "Creek" portion of the name comes from the creek (or "crick" if you want to get the appropriate southern pronunciation down) that flowed through the middle of the campground. Our site was right on the banks, which created the very pleasant sound of running water.



Even though the temps were lower there than in Charlotte, they were still in the high 80s. When the sun broke through the trees, bathing us in heat for several hours, we coped by putting the chairs in the creek and letting the cold water run over our feet and legs. It helped.



Saturday morning was actually quite cool for a while, giving us some extra time to lay in the tent and relax.


For dinner on Saturday, I was determined to make hobo dinners. The problem was that the fire pits had low walls, and no grill/grate over the top. I didn't anticipate that. However, with some ingenuity, I was able to solve the problem.

I started by creating a small fire in the center of the pit, and placed two larger rocks on either side. I took the grate off of the propane grill, and set it to the side.


As the fire burned down, I created a nice bed of coals in between the two rocks. I then built the rocks up higher.


I put the grate across the rocks and over the coals.


I added some additional wood to keep the heat up.


Flipping every few minutes, I was able to make a tasty meal of seasoned beef, potatoes, and carrots. Hooray for ingenuity!



Some scenery shots in and around the campground:





The only complaint I had is that the sites were very small, and totally lacking in privacy. Fortunately, there weren't many tent campers, so it wasn't an issue. In the future, however, I think I'll stick to state and national parks for my camping.

In all though, the trip was a resounding success. Very different than the booze-a-minute trips that I am used to. We read, we cooked, we hiked, we had some drinks. I taught Erin a few things about making fire and cooking outdoors. She took to it very well, which is important if our marriage is to succeed ;)

Charlotte Knights

In the grand tradition of the Pistons and (formerly) the Lions, The Charlotte Knights play their games in Ft. Mill South Carolina. Fortunately, given our location at the south end of town, Ft. Mill is closer than the downtown location that the Knights will be occupying in two years.

The Knights are the AAA affiliate for the White Sox, which makes them awfully tough to root for. Fortunately, the Mudhens were in town last night. Dru, Kate, Erin, and I sat above the visitor's dugout in the third row.

The game itself was rather exciting...taking a 5-1 lead into the bottom of the 9th, the Mudhens called on the AAA equivalent of Todd Jones. In between the first two outs were a ground rule double, a single, and a walk to load the bases. A 5'2" nobody with zero RBI at the AAA level cleared them with a double that fell about a foot short of HR status. Fortunately, the next batter flew out harmlessly to end the game, and we could leave with a Mudhen victory.

Here are the pics:

Can't argue with this promotion...


...or the fact that Hooters sponsored it.


A few pics of the stadium.








Players stretching pregame.



Here's a fine action shot (Brent Clevelen)


Fernando Rodney walking by the dugout. He had pitched the night before, so we didn't get to see him on the mound.


Their mascot is Homer the Dragon. He rides an ATV. You really can't make this stuff up.




This is outfield advertising that you can only find at a minor league park in the south.


Bazardo on the mound last night, gave up 1 run through 6.2 innings.



Brent Clevelen with an unconventional looking swing, that actually went for a single up the middle.


Henry Mateo with the weird stance. He got an RBI double though.


Timo Perez beating out a throw at home.


Jack Hannahan not so lucky.


Me and wattse at the end of the game.

Beer Pongy Goodness

During a trip to Columbus several years ago, we had the misfortune of dining at Quaker Steak and Lube. The evening started just fine, as Nick, Chandler, Brandon, Jamie, and I dined on wings and beer. The atmosphere was alright (cars and various racing paraphernalia), and prices were decent. Unfortunately, the wings were not good. In fact, they caused more than one extended trip to the bathroom while we were in the restaurant. Brandon looked like death for about 5 hours after eating there.

On the whole, not the most pleasant of memories.

So, it was with great trepidation that I agreed to go to the Charlotte version of Quaker Steak with Erin, Dru, and Kate. I decided that the reaction that we all had to the wings last time had to be a fluke. After all, how would a place stay in business if it made everyone sick?

When my wings were set in front of me, I could see the oil oozing out onto the plate. I don't mean that the sauce, mind you, but oil and grease just spilling out of the chicken. I didn't eat very many of them.

Fortunately, no one got sick. Nonetheless, I was ready to write the bar off for good and never return, until we saw a sign advertising beer pong tournaments on Saturdays. We saw the beer pong area (an enclosed porch with a pair of pong tables), and asked how things worked. We were told that you could play at any time, and the weekend tournaments only cost $5 to enter.

Hmmm...

Playing the next day wasn't going to work, as we all had other plans. We decided to come back the next Friday and practice a bit. Needless to say, there were no wings ordered at the table. Instead, we stuck to burgers and fries (which weren't all that good either). More importantly, we had a bucket of Bud Lights in front of us.

Another couple, who had met Dru and Kate previously, joined us, and we began to talk and drink. After a suitable time, the men walked out and began setting up one of the pong tables. We began throwing, and the buckets and pitchers of beer began to rack up. Some people noticed us, and began playing on the other table.

It started out with a few guys playing. Then another pair came in, and started rotating on to the tables (standard playground rules applied...winners keep the table). Then a pair of young ladies who looked like truck drivers and fans of Melissa Ethridge joined as well. Within an hour or so, there must have been over a dozen people drinking beer, singing along with the jukebox, and generally taunting one another.

Good times.

With our practice in, we decided to return the following night to compete in the tournament. The lesson was learned, however, and we ate at home first. So, while the women stayed home to watch chick flicks, the men got ready to do some more damage to our livers.

The only problem is that no one else showed up. We waited an hour and still no tournament. We sat at the bar; drinking and smoking while talking about sports. After some time, the manager approached us. He knew why we were there...he remembered us from the night before.

He said that if we'd like, he would join the three of us, and we could essentially play the finals of the tournament. The idea didn't sound all that appealing. After all, why would we pay the entry fee just to play each other, when we could walk back there and play for free like we did the night before?

Oh right...the tournament had prizes. $50 gift card to the winner, $25 gift card to the 2nd place, and $15 to the third place. So, for $15 in entry fees, we were guaranteed to win $90 in prizes.

And so it came to be that the three of shot beer pong with the bar manager for a good hour. The first game was a quick win for me and Dru, as we won by four cups. In the second game, Dru's hand went cold for a while. Just long enough to allow a one cup loss. Heading in to the rubber match, I felt confident.

We started out on a hot streak, going up 9-6. John (the other dude) and the bar manager began to chip away at the lead though. After a bit, we were down 3-2. Two quick hits gave us the lead back, but it wasn't meant to be. That last cup did not want to get hit, and so it stood as John and the manager finished off the table.

Dru and I took down the second and third prizes (since the manager couldn't claim a prize), and we made our way back to the bar for another drink and to wait for the women to come pick us up.

Am I a little too old for this sort of thing? Probably. But there is no question that I had a good time. And if I spent a little time channeling Frank the Tank on my first night out with guys in North Carolina, then so be it. Every now and then, we all have to get in touch with our inner college kid, and act like an ass in public.