The Old Stovall Mill

Posted on April 30, 2025 by Editor

The old Stovall Mill Covered Bridge at Sautee Junction, Georgia. Click on any of the images for an expanded view.

Fog wrapped the taller mountains in a soggy embrace along the Russell Scenic Highway as I made my way to the historic old covered bridge near Sautee Junction, roughly another 30 miles away.

This area of Georgia is part of the Russell-Brasstown Scenic Byway, which itself is part of our National Scenic Byways that dot this big country of ours. All told, there are 184 National Scenic Byways scattered throughout 48 states.

This one is in the beautiful Chattahoochee-Oconee National Forest. Brasstown Bald is somewhere off to my left.

The bridge is a popular spot for graffiti and seems especially popular for young lovers who need to declare their affinity for each other in chalk. The river is scenic here as it is elsewhere.

I have on a long-sleeve summer sun shirt, a T-shirt over that and then a leather vest — all topped off with a blue jean jacket. It’s border line enough clothing for motorcycling at these elevations and beneath this overcast, foggy sky.

But the sun returned as I reached the turn-off to Helen, Georgia, a tourist trap along the Chattahoochee River, which many people mistakenly believe is the river from the movie “Deliverance.” But, no, that’s the Chattooga River.

And while on “Deliverance” trivia, the rundown town in the movie wasn’t actually in Georgia at all. Those scenes were filmed in Sylva, North Carolina. Same thing with the movie, “Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Montana” — another cinematic wonder also filmed in Sylva.

Anyhow, the Stovall Covered Bridge isn’t much to look at.

There are picnic tables at the bridge along the beautiful Chattahoochee though, and it’s a nice stop for a snack and a break from the saddle — especially for motorcycle riders, who need more butt-rests than auto travelers might.

I had bought a root beer and a chocolate bar at the Old Sautee Store a few miles back, so I sat at one of the tables, snacked, and enjoyed the view for awhile along with the mid 70-degree day. The chill of the higher mountains long gone.

On the day I visited the mill fiber optic cable was coiled on the ground ready for stringing by crews hoisting it to poles.

The Old Sautee Store and Market make for an interesting if not critical stop for sightseers. There was a father with his two-month-old baby sitting on the porch during my visit. The little boy, wide eyed and smooth skinned as wee ones his age are, worked his month like a guppie and waved his arms like a sea amoeba as I walked by him.

Which gets to my sole bit of advice for the day: Never trust anyone who can walk by a new-to-the-world child like that one was without smiling.

I’m unsure why we always smile at seeing the very young, perhaps as a small way of rejoicing at the world renewing itself, replacing us wrinkled and mostly worn out old versions with new ones.

Outdoor Furniture Refinishing

Posted on April 16, 2025 by Editor

Sanding off the crud

The picnic table was here when I moved in more than seven years back, and the summer and winters had taken their toll.

So, finally, after years of putting it off, I spent a day sanding at an old man’s pace while Hazel kept watch and looked on.

Rot had eaten its way up one of the legs, so that had to be replaced; otherwise the old table of treated wood while poor cosmetically was in surprisingly good condition.

I found a suitable piece of lumber for the new table leg in my wood pile that was the right dimensions. Two quick cuts with the circular saw was all it took and then I screwed it in place with decking screws.

A No. 40 disk on the sander cut through the grime and got the wood ready for a coat of Cabot seal and stainer. I opted for a stain with a cedar tint, thinking, correctly, I believe,

The table after the first coat of stain.

that the tinting might help cover some of the many imperfections in the table’s surface.

To help keep it in better repair than it has been these past few years I’m considering putting paving stones down for a small patio like surface alongside the fire pit. Time will tell whether I ever actually get around to that job. Maintenance and chores around the place, while in ready supply, no longer hold the charm for me that they seemed to in years past. But, as I say, time will tell how much more actually gets done.

I trust, though, that I’ll at least have the will to add a few more coats of sealer and stain, though prettier weather returns tomorrow that promises to be nearly perfect for a motorcycle trip; so I’m not making any promises/

A Different Sort of Enemy

Posted on April 14, 2025 by Editor

The Yoknapatawpha at a dock outside Bayboro, North Carolina.

“The sea is a different sort of enemy. Unlike the land, where courage and the simple will to endure can often see a man through, the struggle against the sea is an act of physical combat, and there is no escape. it is a battle against a tireless enemy in which man never actually wins; the most that he can hope for is not to be defeated.” — Endurance: Shackleton’s Incredible Voyage

Alfred Lansing’s book on Sir Ernest Shackleton’s adventures in the Antarctic was on my mind as I made my way on my motorcycle along the Hiawssee River and into Tennessee.

I miss my old boat, the Yoknapatawpha, and the days and nights when she and I were alone on the sea or anchored off an inlet while thousands of stars pierced the blue-black night. The gentle swaying as she rode the current; the popping sound of shrimp against the hull.

A bird call far off in the night.

A motorcycle is a poor substitute for sailing, but it is a substitute, a stand-in of sorts. There is wind in both, but vastly different winds.

If you’ve been to sea alone on a small sailboat you’ll know what I mean. If not, then not.

A boat at sea will test you every day in a way a motorcycle never will. As Lansing said, there — aboard a boat at sea — you often face a kind of physical combat where the best outcome you can hope for is a draw.

And then there are the calm, clear days where the winds smile and the sky and water are the same impossible shades of blue. Dolphins leap. A sea turtle surfaces off the bow and looks at you with deep dark eyes more ancient than time itself.

The combat and the calm, both are what makes sailing the grand reward it is.

Motorcycling ain’t bad either, but it’s not sailing. Not by a long shot.

Breaking Rocks in the Hot Sun

Posted on April 3, 2025 by Editor

Hazel was a loyal companion during my efforts over two days to gather stones to line the fire pit, which made the job more enjoyable but the loads no lighter. Click image for a larger view.

It’s a start.

For the past couple of days I’ve been hauling rocks from wherever I could find them to my fire pit alongside the swamp. It’s a work in progress.

A rich source for the stones has been the stream that runs along part of my western boundary before spilling through a culvert that runs under my drive and then into Horny Hog Ridge Creek. I hauled out a dozen or more stones from the stream yesterday and added them to the growing circle. It’s slow work, but I’ll get there.

I keep telling myself there’s no rush, but getting a few stones in place has a way of projecting what the finished project might look like and then the rush to completion is on. It’s a battle to fight the urge to overdo it.

But, then again, maybe the photo is overdoing it. It is, after all, a work in progress: there are many more stones to go. As fortune would have it I live in the mountains.