There are four ways to get to Brevard. One way is to head north along US-276 from Greenville, South Carolina. It's mostly a nice, leasurely drive with the exception of a 1,500′ (460m) elevation change over five miles (8km) of switchbacks and blind curves through the Caesars Head State Park (straight as the cardinal flies it's two miles (3km)). We took this route once (note the emphasis)—while I had a blast driving, Bunny lamented the lack of strong sedatives and refused to even look as I drove this section (even my Dad commented on the drive—“You took that route?”).
This route is no longer under consideration for us.
The second way is to head south along US-276 towards Brevard. We don't take this route mainly because we're not north of Brevard, and secondarily because of the 2000′ (600m) elevation change over eight miles (13km) of switchbacks and blind curves (also two miles (3km) as the cardinal flies).
The third way is to head east along US-64. This is a nice road, no excessive elevation changes, no switchbacks, and once you hit Rosman, the road widens into a fast, four lane highway running along the Proclamation Line of 1763 right up into Brevard from the southwest. We don't take this route because we aren't west of Brevard.
We take the final option—west along US-64 into Brevard. The road along this stretch is two lanes, running through an area that's too built up to be rural, yet not built up enough to be suburban (much less urban)—perhaps “ruburban?” For us, this is the easiest option as it's also very simple—I-95 North to I-26 West to US-64 West.
The only issue we had this year in driving was mostly in South Carolina, For some reason, every semi-truck driver in South Carolina was headed north along I-95, then west along I-26 and trying to pass each other.
This wouldn't be that bad except that both I-95 and I-26 are only two lanes in each direction, and the traffic would pile up behind two semis as one would s-l-o-w-l-y pass the other. This was just in South Carolina (more like “Slow Carolina”). Florida, Georgia and North Carolina did not have this issue.
Bunny and I had lunch at Rocky's Grill and Soda Shop, and while there, I noticed this little bit of history:
The fact that the sign says “temporarily out of serice” implies they think it can be fixed at some point in the future. I sure hope they do—it would be cool to use just for the novelty of it.
Bunny wanted to stop by Ingles to pick up some items and while there, I came across this lovely product:
Bunny and I like cheese. Bunny and I like chocolate. We both agreed we both don't like chocolate cheese.
Bunny and I ate lunch at Hawg Wild BBQ, and right in the lobby was a totem the likes of which nightmares are made:
Only by sharing can I rid myself of this image.
We've been here for only a few days and we're still trying to acclimatize to the area. It has nothing to do with the climate—the mid-70s at noon, low-to-mid 60s at midnight are a given. No, what has us screwed up is the time! It doesn't start to get dark until near 9:00 pm and that's messing us up, given that Brevard rolls up the sidewalks at 9:00 pm. It's like, “No! Wait! It's just now getting dark! You can't be closing up shop! Wait!”
Another oddity to get used to—the local UPS driver constantly honks the horn at anything moving. Cars, people, white squirrels dashing across the road—if it moves, the driver honks at it. Quite odd indeed.
The third item is only affecting me, but man, is it annoying. I use my iPad as a laptop while on vacation (it helps that I have a keyboard for it—one that sucks but then again, any keyboard that isn't a full sized clicky IBM keyboard sucks so take that observation for what it's worth). But I've been noticing over the past few days it's having issues with browsing the web. Web sites these days are so XXXXXXX bloated that anything short of a multicore computer with a browser that's been updated in the last ten minutes stands to crash more often that not. Just trying browse the website of a local restaurant stands a 50/50 chance of crashing Safari on the iPad.
It was Captain Bligh who experienced the mutiny, not Captian Ahab, and certainly not Moby Dick who (if I may spoil a 168 year old book) did not die.
Still a cool sign, though.
I guess they're going to hang out with Elvis.
Bunny and I had dinner at El Ranchero, a Mexican restaurant just down the street from The Red House Inn (literally—it's at the bottom of a hill). The place has good food for the price (seriously—the prices are incredible for what you get) but I don't recall them having art on the table in years past.
They do now, though, and …
… wow. Just … wow.
So this is happening, right across the street from where we are staying:
And now, some background.
Bunny and I arrived back at The Red House Inn late afternoon to find a letter slipped under the door. It read:
Dear Local Resident,
The City of Brevard Fire Department will be conducting a training exercise in your neightborhood on Monday, June 10th from 6:00pm through 11:0pm. Specfically, the house located at the following address will be demolished through the use of controlled burns within the structure. Ultimately, the house will be leveled to the ground.
The house is located at 279 Probart Street.
Many tasks have to be …
If you would like to see what's all involved in the training exercise, we will have a designated area where family and friends are able to watch. We greatly appreciate your support during this valuable training exercise. If you have any qustions …
There was also a handwritten addition:
Received June 10, 2019 9 a.m.
So sorry for the late notice. I
hope it will not be disruptive to
your stay. Please call us
with any concerns. Thank you,
At the time, we had no idea where 279 Probart Street was. We do now, though. And we had to modify our dinner plans a bit, given that our ability to drive anywhere was seriously curtailed.
It seems a developer bought several pieces of property and was in the process of clearing it to build more homes in Brevard. The house in question was bought several months ago and was going to be knocked down anyway.
And here it is, a bit past 11:00 pm and the fire rages on …
First watching a total eclipse from the front porch, and now a house fire from the front porch. I have to wonder what we'll see from the front porch next time we come!
Bunny managed to get a picture of the house across the street before yesterday's training exercise:
Photo by Bunny
And the house as it “stands” today (pun intended):
We're told it should all be gone by Saturday. We'll see.
You can't throw a stone around here without hitting a church. As a result, some of them have a very unique design:
It's either a very daring design, or they'll turn anything into a church around here.
Walking along Main street I came across this odd doorway:
If you look closely, you can see some trees on the other side of the door. Intrigued, I went around to the other side of the building and found it was just a front:
I guess it makes Main Street look better if there isn't an obviously missing building.
So Bunny and I came across this lovely bit of signage in downtown Brevard:
So which is it? Loading, or parking? Or loading of wheelchairs for parking? Or parking for wheelchairs to be loaded? I'm so confused!
Bunny and I made the trek out to Sevierville, TN to visit Tennessee's largest flea market. Overall, it was “meh” and nothing at all what we were expecting. I'm not sure what we were expecting, but what we found wasn't quite it.
But that's not to say it wasn't amusing, like this interesting gask mask:
And just a few booths down from that, we hit a bookstore with both kinds of fuction, westerns and Amish:
And no, I am not making that bit about “both kinds of fiction” up—the clerk explicitly stated that as a direct quote. I did not handle any of the fiction, lest it burst into flames upon my touching it. The Amish theme kept going with this booth:
Yes, this booth would supply your trailer hitching and Amish honey and jam needs. Need I say more? Well, I could but I'm not sure if I should. And when did Tennessee become such a hotbed of Amish activity? Did I not get the memo? I must not have gotten the memo.
Just randomly, I saw several of these signs hanging from the ceiling:
At first, I thought that anyone wanting to buy an animal had to obtain permission from the office, so they could make sure the customer is capable of taking care of marmosets, sloths or whatever other livestock was being sold, but upon reflection, this sign could be a notice for the sellers, to make sure they aren't selling illegal wolverines, pangolins or alligators.
I also found amusing the number of booths selling cleaning products. We got accosted early on by one woman hawking a cleaning product. She mostly talked to Bunny, and every other word out of her mouth was “ma'am.” Every other sentance was “You can drink this stuff, but it wouldn't taste very good.” Nice to know, I guess (and it turned out, every cleaning product being hawked at the half dozen or so other booths were all “drinkable, but you wouldn't like the taste”). And I have no idea if the Amish would use such products.
The late-evening eating establishments are rather limited, which is why we found ourselves eating at The WaffleHouse at 11:30 pm on a Friday night. I swear, I never thought I would have the following coversation:
“Ooh, it looks busy.”
“Do you think we'll have to wait for a seat?”
“I hope not.”
We did not have to wait, as we grabbed the only two seats left at the counter.
There, we met with our waitresses, Kloey, with a “K” and Fur Ball (yes, “Fur Ball” was the name on her tag), which is a nickname given to her when she was 15 years old. I kid you not.
It's bad enough when the white squirrels are using abominations to take over the world, but now Slenderman is in town:
Then again, this is Transylvania County …
We are home.
We missed my ETA by one minute—had a driver not cut in front of us and slowed down to 40mph on I-95 just as we were approaching our final exit, we would have arrived home at 10:20 pm instead of 10:21 pm. Stupid slow driver! Other than that, it was an uneventful 12 hour drive, give or take a few minutes.
Anyway, a picture of the former house at 279 Probart Street as of yesterday:
I do say, it's largely gone.
And thus ends our yearly adventure in Brevard. (As a side note—man is it nice to get back to a real keyboard again.)