Mountain Man Trip, Part 1...

Maybe it was just me, but this past winter (at least I think it is passed) seemed particularly snowy and cold.  Perhaps it is just that I am getting older.  Maybe it is just that I am getting more impatient with snow and ice.  And maybe it is just that I was particularly anxious to get out and play some golf.  Whatever it was, I found myself looking for accommodations for our annual golf trip a little earlier this year, with more anticipation, and higher expectations. 

I wanted to try a mountain course or courses this year so I looked for something in North Carolina that might offer not only good golf, a complete absence of snow, and good Bar-B-Que, but also great, mountainous scenery.  I thought it might also be a good idea to avoid any area where there might be an NCAA tournament game, so I picked the Asheville area.  My Google search came up with a great place called The Smoky Mountain Country Club.  Their golf course looked pretty nice and when I talked to the coordinator, Mike C., I told him we also wanted to play at least three courses in the area, nice ones, and have the option to play 27 holes each of the first two days.  Mike did a great job of getting us lined up to play his course as well as The Waynesville Country Club and the Maggie Valley Country Club.  Even though Mother Nature didn't cooperate with us and we were not able to play the Maggie Valley Course, we had a great time at Smoky Mountain and Waynesville.

The Smoky Mountain course was literally carved out of the mountains.  Fairways wound their way up through valleys, and greens had a habit of falling off the mountain on three sides.  Accuracy was pretty important -- and sometimes lacking in our group.  Given the loss factor in our foursome, we pretty much insured continued golf ball sales for several years to come.

I have to apologize for my lack of pictures.  I was so into the game that I forgot to take a lot of them.  I also forgot to take my good camera with us so I had to use my phone for shots.

This particular hole appeared to be cut from the top of a small hilltop.  The T-box was to the far left and you had to hit a 3 wood to a spot down near the end of the fairway.  Then you had to line up a shot that went over the cliff to a green that was another 150 yards away from the bottom of the cliff (and of course, it was surrounded by sand traps). Following your shot over the cliff, you then had to drive your golf cart down the side of the mountain/hill (?), winding back and forth until you got to the bottom.  What a great hole.


This hole featured a fairway that had a mountain side to the right coming down to the fairway and a drop-off to the left side.  If that wasn't enough to scare you, the small  green was elevated, fell off into a creek on two sides, and was sloped back toward the fairway.  If you missed the putt, the ball almost surely ran back down into the fairway for about 10-15 yards.  In these pictures, you can see the uphill drive (left picture) and the elevated green back by the condos.  This was a pretty good challenge.

Again, I apologize for the lack of pictures on the Smoky Mountain course.  Sometimes you get caught up in playing the game and forget everything else. 

Chuck was in pretty good form.

Oh, did I say "FORGET EVERYTHING ELSE" ???  Well one of the things that is very clearly outlined in the OPORD (it's an Army thing -- an Operations Order I publish prior to the trip to give all the details to the guys, just like I used to do with troops.  Old habits are hard to break.) that all participants are to take every precaution not to forget or lose anything on the field of battle because there would be very limited recovery assets available.  Well, it seems one of our party (Whoever it was --see left -- will remain unidentified) "lost" his 3-hybrid club one one of the holes and couldn't recall which one.  We duly notified the club managers, the cart guy, Mike C., the North Carolina National Guard, all local residents within a five mile radius, and even the local sheriff, who searched every foursome on the course that day.  Fortunately, the club showed up the next day.  If offered any of four or five possible scenarios for its possible recovery, how many of you would have chosen the one that had it in Dave's bag all along?  You would have been absolutely correct if you had !!!  Oh well, at least he had the club back although it wouldn't have mattered -- he says he can't hit that club anyway.

                                         We also were able to play the Waynesville course.  It was quite a bit different from Smoky Mountain.  This was an old school country club.  It had that look and feel to it when we pulled into the parking lot.  There was a very nice looking lodging area and I am sure it is filled in the summer and fall. This course had 27 holes and I shot a pretty good round (43, 39, 44).   Check out these mid-season forms.  Not bad for this early in the year. The one on the left kinda looks like I had divine inspiration shining down on me.

Playing the Waynesville course was also enjoyable because the temperatures were in the 60s and it was very sunny.  And although it was an old school country club layout, we also got a pretty good variation in elevations and enjoyed some good scenery.  If you click on the picture to the right, (a par 3 shooting from an elevated tee to a small green 178 yards away with a creek on the left and OB long and right) you will see green grass all around, some trees beginning to pop some buds, and snow on the mountain top in the background.  What a variety of natural beauty that was especially welcomed after this winter.

So now my batteries are recharged and I am once again ready to take on the challenges of Ohio weather, golfing at The Oaks, and doing yard work. But I can't wait to go back there and see these places in the summer or fall.  Shold be even better.

You never climb the same mountain twice, not even in memory. Memory rebuilds the mountain, changes the weather, retells the jokes, makes all the putts, and never hits one out of bounds.

Hooah

(Mountain) Man Trip, 2014 (Part 2)...

Those of you who have read this blog in the past will remember that this time of year is the time when 4 of us (Dave, Chuck, Larry and I) go on our spring golf outing, a.k.a "The MAN Trip."  Well, this year, I wanted to try something different and change the location a bit.  I have always loved the mountains, and what better way to enjoy this time of year than to match golf with a mountain vista.  So I tweaked the name a bit, thus "Mountain Man Trip."

I have always wanted to play golf in the Asheville, NC area.  Pam and I visited there many years ago and I thought it was quite impressive.  So, one evening I hit the Google searches and found a golf package that looked pretty good, located in Whittier, NC, just a little drive west of Asheville, but still within our self-imposed 8 hour/one-day driving limitation.  The town of Whittier isn't much -- two intersections, and a couple of little shops, but the surrounding area was very nice.  Clear streams (maybe a fly fishing trip in the future ??), emerging flowers and tree buds, and beautiful mountain views. 

And right in the middle of that area was our destination, The Smoky Mountain Country Club.  Sight unseen, we decided that this would be the place this year.  Remembering that we had been in Tennessee before and got booked in a place called the Dayton Country Club (burned out fairways and green, spray painted greens), some in the group were a little skeptical of another sight unseen "Country Club", but I said this was the place we were going and off we went.  I felt pretty confident after talking with Mike C., our point of contact.  He sounded like he really had things under control and I thought it was worth a shot, if for no other reason than to meet him.  Needless to say, we were not disappointed.  This complex was fantastic.  The condo we stayed in was outstanding.  The pictures don't do it justice because I used my phone  camera and those shots just aren't as good as my Canon. 

Our back balcony overlooked the 11th green, nestled between two mountains and up a canyon.  We thought that was a very nice scene until we played the course and found out how difficult it was to actually hit the green, make the ball stay on it and then sink a putt.  In fact, seeing this course and this hole and where it was located reminded me of a saying I once read in an Army mountaineering field manual (it fits golfing too) -- “It’s always further than it looks. It’s always taller (breaks more) than it looks. And it’s always harder than it looks.”  (the three rules of mountaineering with a golfing truism added for emphasis).

Also just out of our door, we could climb up a small road and get a better look at the mountains.  The incline was so steep that old timers like us used the excuse that we were looking at the views  every 25-30 steps.  Actually, it looked like the road went up about 300 feet in just a little ways.  Certainly got the blood flowing.  My heart doctor would have been proud of me.  This picture to the left shows our building to the left.  Dave's car is parked by the door...this might give you some perspective as to the climb.  In some ways it was good that we came when we did because we were able to see more without the leaves and trees blocking out everything.

 The picture to the right shows a couple of fairways that were a ways from our condo.  I think the next time I go there I want to have the trees and flowers all out and the fairway grass green.  This place was simply outstanding, and the course was in pretty good shape just coming out of winter, but I just have this thing about wanting to play on green grass.

There were a couple of nice towns nearby and plenty of good places to eat.  People were very friendly and easy to talk to.  That's always a good thing when you are traveling to a place for the first time.  I would also give high marks for the friendliness of everyone at the Smoky Mountain CC -- the rental place and the pro shop.

I have covered pretty much all aspects of the golf part of the trip.  But what if you are bringing a family?  I understand there was a pool located on/near the condo grounds (we didn't see it though), and there was a gym (we're playing golf in the mountains -- isn't that enough exercise?) for guests. Locally we saw canoe and river rafting places, and saw that there were riding stables in the area featuring trail rides in the mountains.  There were flea markets along the roads near the condo, and in the local towns there were small shopping areas for food and such.  We also got gas for 20 cents/gallon less than back in Ohio or Kentucky.

Yes ............ I think I will have to go back and stay here again. As their advertising says -- this is an experience few flatland golfers ever get to enjoy.  I have a few scores to settle with some of the holes on the golf course, and I really want to see the area when it is green. I'm certainly glad we weren't scared off by a disappointing past experience.   I'll let you know how it turns out.

Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn't do than the things you did do.  So throw off the bowlines and sail away from the safe harbor.  Catch the trade winds in your sails.  Explore.  Dream.  Discover.  (Mark Twain)

Hooah

What a time for you two to show up...

We woke up this morning to a rather nice surprise.  I have written about two ducks, mallards, a male and a female, who would come around once in a while and hang out in the pond.  We called them "Betty and Joe" after my mom and dad.  They always had ducks down on the river in Zanesville and loved to watch them.  They would say that was such a peaceful time for them.  So when "Betty and Joe" would come to our pond, we would always talk to them (goofy, I know), and when they would leave we would say they were going to Wal-Mart or K-Mart for the blue light specials.

Well, this morning they showed up.  And they stayed here pretty much most of the day.  That was just what we needed after losing all the fish.  It was like they were here just to add some calmness to our week.  Way to go, "Betty and Joe."

 

Mallards are really very pretty ducks and fun to watch.  They seem to gargle when they drink, they like to preen, they waddle when they are on the land eating the corn and seeds that are out for the birds, and when they pretty much stand on their head trying to reach some food on the bottom  of the pond it's funny to watch their tails shake and wiggle.  So that was what we did off and on today.  Yeah, we had lots of other things we did, but when we would go back to the windows in the "Pentagon" they were still there.  And, oh yeah, these were real ducks, not my decoys.

I know I probably won't say this quite elloquently enough for some, but there are times when just sitting, watching ducks on the pond -- or birds at our feeders, -- or doves one moment walking around on the ground pecking at seeds and then the next so gracefully jumping into the air, flying like a missle, -- or wind blowing through the trees across the back of the yard -- there are times like these when nothing else is necessary.


Sometimes "situations" just come into your life and you know right away that they were meant to be there...to serve some sort of purpose, to teach you a lesson or to help you begin to understand the "grand plan." You never know what these "situations" may be, but when you lay your eyes on them, you know at that very moment they will affect your life in some way -- maybe some profound way. And sometimes things happen to you that at the time may seem horrible, painful and unfair, but in reflection you realize that without experiencing these situations you would have never started your journey down the path to realizing that there is a "grand plan" and you play a part in it.

It is hard for a lot of the younger generation to understand Thoreau, who lived by a pond and didn't own a bass boat or a diving snorkel.

Hooah

Let's explore some myths and legends...

Last weekend, I saw one of the owls that frequent our area during the winter.  It came on Saturday night and perched in an evergreen tree overlooking our pond.  Normally I wouldn't have thought anything about that as I am always glad to see them each year.  It's not very often that one sees one or more owls in his back yard.

Owl sitting on a tree out back.

My next door neighbor and I were talking that afternoon and he said he had seen the owl sitting on their "clothes line tree" early Sunday morning.  So I knew one was in the area.  Little did I know that I would see it the next day.  Ancient folklore ties the owl with death.  Stories tell of the owl's hoots foretelling of a death among other things.  For example, in southern India, the cries of an owl were interpreted by number: one hoot was an omen of impending death; two meant success in anything that would be started soon after; three represented a woman being married into the family; four indicated a disturbance; five denoted coming travel; six meant guests were on the way; seven was a sign of mental distress; eight foretold sudden death; and nine symbolized good fortune.

So where am I going with all of this?

Oh, by the way, it was on the night of a full moon.

Well, it just so happens that the day before, the ice had finally started to clear off the pond, that same pond that had been covered with ice, sometimes over 9" thick, since early January.  I knew this was a bad thing, and I attempted to chop holes in the ice so some oxygen could get into the water and gasses could escape from under the ice.  However, as soon as I would cut a hole in the ice, it would freeze over again, sometimes in less than an hour.  Also, there never was the annual January or February thaw that takes care of that for me.  So, I hate to report this, but we had a total fish kill this year.  I feel real bad about this.  These were totally healthy fish except they had no oxygen and suffocated.  I know these things happen in nature, but we -- all the neighbors and the kids who fished here -- saw them kind of like pets. I failed to take care of my pets.  So I spent all day Saturday getting them out of the water and burying them in the field.  That, my friends, was not a happy day.  We took pictures, but I don't think I want to display them.

So then the owl shows up the next day.  Coincidence?  Folklore reality?  I don't know, but he came that evening, sat there for a while looking over the pond and then left and hasn't been back since I cleaned it out.  So now there is just a big "tub" of empty water.  No Walter, no emirs, no bluegills for the kids to catch, no crappies, and no big catfish.  No nothing. What a shame. 

But I will now make sure to do better next time.  And I'll visit the fish hatchery here in a couple of weeks and restock -- bass and emirs in the spring, catfish and bluegills in the fall.  Won't be any fishing here for another couple of years or so.  So in the evenings, I'll just have to sit out by the fire ring by myself -- no sound of fish jumping up after bugs, no feeding frenzies when I throw out the fish food, and no laughing and hollering when the little ones catch bluegills as fast as they can bait a hook.

Going back to the owl, maybe that folklore is where the old saying "I don't give a hoot" came from.  But maybe today, I can start a new saying -- 

"May your hoots always number nine."

 Hooah

A view from the other side of the fence...

MG Ed Mechenbiertalks of his POW days.

 

Last week Pam and I had the opportunity to hear Retired MG Edward Mechenbier speak to a group at the WACO Air Museum in Troy, OH. This was a part of the lecture series sponsored by the WACO Museum which has included several other aviators and military personnel.  I thought this particular one would be very interesting to hear, especially since MG Mechenbier was a Prisoner of War for 5 years, 8 months and 4 days (but he says "who's counting"), having been shot down during the Vietnam War. 

My whole military career was spent in the Military Police Corps, devoted to the operation of Enemy Prisoner of War camps.  My fellow MPs and I spent a great deal of time training on this mission, and several years operating these camps for both military operations around the world as well civilian contingencies (Cuban Boat People).  We became the Army's "resident experts" in this type of mission. 

Having said that, I know what goes on behind the wire when we are running the camps.  So I thought it would be good to hear about these camps from someone who spent all those years on the other side of the wire.  That is what took us to Troy on that snowy, cold and blowing night.  It was not a wasted trip.

MG Mechenbier talked about the things I would have expected him to discuss and pretty much stayed away from the rest -- politics of the war, treatments when he got home, physical and mental abuse.  His story was one that just bordered on the edge of  "man's inhumanity to man."  At any time he could very easily crossed the line he set for himself and taken us into tales of horror.  Instead, he talked about his fellow captives, how they communicated with each other, food (and how many individual grains of rice are on each place that was served to them over those 5+ years), living conditions, and relations they had with each other and how they maintained a system of military order and demeanor.

You can click on these pictures to enlarge them and see (left) the hand signals they used to represent the letters of the alphabet, and (right) a drawing of one of the confinement areas.

During his talk, I was thinking of some of the things I saw during our operations and things that were reported to us by our guards, comparing them to what he would say.  

The evening was very short, the talk light and not the place where anyone was going to get very deep into the subject.  There were a couple of Jane Fonda questions, and he was asked if he ever went back to see that area again or had ever run into any of his captors after the war. But that was as deep as it got.  And following the talk, there was such a line to meet him, and the snow was piling up quickly, so any other chance of talking about the view from both sides of the fence was impossible.

It was good anyhow to meet him and hear his story.  A pretty fair sprinkling of former military members populated the audience.  But one other nice thing was the number of young school people who were there.  I assume from the notebooks they had out and the furious writing and note-taking they were doing that this was a class extra-credit project.  First of all, kudos to the teacher from Tipp City who gave the students this opportunity to learn something of value about that war and its warriors, an opportunity to learn something that hasn't been changed over the years thru political correctness to reflect some fantasy that wasn't even close to the realty of the moment. And a tip of the hat to those young people.  It is good that they hear first-hand stories of this kind so these lessons won't disappear from our country's moral and ethical  and historical memory.  Glad I went.  Glad I got to hear his perspective from his side of the wire.

“In prison, I fell in love with my country. I had loved her before then, but like most young people, my affection was little more than a simple appreciation for the comforts and privileges most Americans enjoyed and took for granted. It wasn't until I had lost America for a time that I realized how much I loved her. ” (J. McCain)

Hooah 

Pie pan solo...

Remember, you heard him here first.  Who knows -- some day he may be famous.  He's getting a start on the singing too.  Not too bad for not yet turning one.

I kinda like the way he addresses the audience before starting to play.  And what great musician doesn't want to eat his instruments at least once during his performance.  Good composition.  Good rythem.  BRAVO!!

Creative play is like a spring that bubbles up from deep within a child.  (Joan Almon)

Hooah

I forgot to post this. Hope you like it...

I took this video of Quinn putting out reindeer food at Christmas. Turn up your sound and enjoy.

May Peace be your gift at Christmas and your blessing all year through!  (Irish proverb)

Hooah

Oh Happy Day...

Yes it was.

My knee hurt, I had cotton mouth, and I woke up in the middle of another Army dream, but as I always seem to do lately at 6:45 a.m., I tossed the covers back, slipped out of bed, put on my slippers and robe and went out to the "Pentagon" to see what kind of day we were in store for.  What a treat -- the birds were already out, the sky was a light blue and the sun was just coming up.  It held out the promise of a very nice day -- a day that would enhance Brian Davis's credibility as a weatherman.

So it was off to the shower, followed by a nice, hot cup of coffee.  It was about that time that Pam came in and told me she had popped some rolls in the oven so we would soon have a light breakfast.  That was good because I forgot to tell her that I had wolfed the last of the corn flakes the day before.

So...now I am clean, I am fed and I am ready to get the day started.  And what a day it turned out to be.  First, I went out and picked up sticks in the yard and after burning all the yard junk,  proceeded to the burn barrel to get rid of the paper waste.  Following that, I went out to cut some holes in the pond -- that ice is still over 7" thick and it has been covered with very thick ice since about early January.  Since this year we went without our traditional January and February thaws, I am beginning to worry that there will be a fish kill.  I have been trying to cut holes in the iced on a regular basis to keep them open to allow some air into the water.  Unfortunately, the water would refreeze within a few hours of my cutting it open.  But I thought today would be different because it was predicted that our thermometer would top out at 50+ degrees and maybe melting would open a bigger hole in the pond.  (Later in the day, still no noticeable thawing or open water)

After all that, I called Dave to see if the driving range in Troy was open.  Knowing that he would be as anxious to go hit golf balls as I was, I told him I would meet him there in a while.  Knowing that I would soon be whacking away at those little dimpled spheres, also known as:  (FYI -- this is the scientific symbol for a closed metric ball -- a.k.a "golf ball"), the extra 15 min. delay in driving due to construction on the Interstate didn't get into my head.

So here we are -- the sun is still shining, the birds are still singing, and it's 54 degrees.  It doesn't matter that the ground is still frozen solid -- that's what artificial turf hitting mats are for.  And, if I must say, we did a rather splendid job of it on our first day.  Check these out:

Dave was making pretty good contact and hitting the ball real straight.  Looks like he's almost ready for the "Man Trip."  And no, didn't shoot these backwards.  Dave's a "leftie."

I, on the other hand, have been watching golf videos every night during the winter, telling myself, "I can do that."  So my goal this year is to hit a draw and a fade (as opposed to a duck hook and a slice) "on demand" (as the guys in my golf league call it).  They say it's like basketball -- if you hit a three-pointer using the backboard but don't call it first, it doesn't count.  So if you hit a fade or draw but don't call it first, you have to rehit.  I certainly don't want to have a "redo" in league play so I thought I would practice it today.   And I must say, for the first day, I hit it real well.  Check out this form:

I had a few shots that had a mind of their own, but, for the most part, I was able to call my shot and hit it like the guy on the golf video.  Well, maybe not "JUST LIKE" the guy on the video, but good enough to get through a round or two in the Tuesday Night McCartyville Golf League without having to do any "rehits" or buy any rounds.

Can't wait for the next trip to the range, and then the course, and then -- "da, da, da...dummmm" THE MAN TRIP!!

Being out on such a day, hitting the ball with some sense of regularity and skill reminds me of a quote from Arnold Palmer: "What other people may find in poetry or art museums, I find in the flight of a well-struck drive."

So...now, I know what I want to do and what it is supposed to look like. I just have to do it.


A golf ball is like a clock. Always hit it at 6 o'clock and make it go toward 12 o'clock. Just make sure the two of you are in the same time zone. (Chi Chi Rodriguez)

Hooah