As we arrived in downtown Anderson for our second walk of the day on Saturday I made a quick, and succinct, executive decision. “Nah.” A festival of some kind was ongoing and while I like a Saturday hootenanny with classic cars and people selling boiled peanuts as much as anybody, I’d just finished getting my butt dragged up and down Main Street in Greenville by Tucker and Gracie. The abundance of unfamiliar sights, sounds and people had jacked their excitement and energy level through the roof and to quote Andy Griffith, there wasn’t so much as I could do but move with ‘em. Anderson’s roads were blocked off and there were roughly one bajillion people crammed in there for whatever was going on. I decided we’d do our walking elsewhere, since my aim is just to walk my dogs in every county, not necessarily the downtown of every county seat. I don’t know a whole lot about Anderson County, to be honest. I had a great aunt and uncle that lived there, I very nearly went to college there and I’ve passed through it going to Clemson on many a fall Saturday morning. That’s about it. In addition to there being a festival, it was apparently “Drag your old crap out in the yard and sell it” day, as we passed no less than 10 very large yard sales. With the temperature beginning to rise, I didn’t have time to peruse the merchandise, though. We needed to figure out where we walking and get on with it. We did drive past Anderson University and I have to confess I’d forgotten how pretty the campus and buildings were at the place I nearly matriculated. That would have been a good place to walk, but it was oddly busy for a Saturday during summer break and I needed as low key a locale as I could find after getting worn out in Greenville. We saw a sign for the community of Cheddar and I nearly went for it. First of all, it would probably be the very definition of “low key” and I have some history with Cheddar. I was driving back from a baseball playoff game at Belton-Honea Path several years ago, missed a turn and ended up in Cheddar. Being fairly well inept when it comes to directions and location (and with me not yet having the magical, all-knowing lady in my phone capable of giving turn-by-turn directions), I texted several people asking if they knew where Cheddar was and got a response along the lines of “IN MY REFRIGERATOR HERPDY HAW HEE.” I also got a blank map of South Carolina sent to me with a red dot on it where Cheddar was and the message “you are here” which was super helpful. I decided to pass this time. At some point we passed the Anderson Jockey Lot and there was no way in the world I was jumping into that madhouse with two crazy dogs, though any place that has a permanent building whose sole purpose is to sell mini doughnuts is OK in my book. We weighed going to Belton, but I soon spied a sign for Williamston and decided that was where we’d do our walk. I figured it wouldn’t be very crowded, it was relatively nearby and, you know, it crossed my mind that there is a Smokin’ Pig location there, one of the finest purveyors of smoked meats in the upstate and home of perhaps my single favorite side item (jalapeno cheese grits). We got to Williamston and I could see what passed for a small downtown area, but just before it came a park. There were some people having picnic/family gatherings, but it was a mostly quiet day in Mineral Spring Park, so I decided the walk would take place there. Even though there weren’t a lot of people about, we were still in an area unfamiliar to my canine companions, so they both tried to run off in different directions simultaneously. We finally got synched up, though. I spotted a covered bridge over trouble wate…no, it was actually a creek. There was a family standing on it, comprised of a mother, father and two kids. The children, who were probably about four and seven, saw us coming and their faces lit up. I could tell they where enthralled and really wanted to pet Tucker and Gracie, but their parents grabbed them, took them off the bridge and off to the side in what looked like fear. They acted like I was walking a rabid hyena and a hungry coyote instead of fluffy, happy doodles. Whatever, y’all. As I got over that covered bridge, Tucker, seeing the creek and never wanting to miss a chance to get wet, tried to double back and head for it but I kept him from doing so. They’d just gotten groomed and washed the day before and I wasn’t going to have him wallering around in some creek, plus, I’d rather not ride with a dirty, wet dog from Anderson to Union if I can help it. We found a designated trail area and walked on that as far as it went, which wasn’t very far, though we did see a colorful and interesting mural. There was an old, big drainpipe that had been converted into a walkway and we were about to go through it when Tucker pulled up. He refused to walk through that pipe and I can’t figure out for the life of me why. My first impulse was that he might have seen a snake or something in which case AHHHHH!!!!!! But there was no snake. I’m not sure what bothered him about it but I’m not going to make my buddy do something that he doesn’t want to do, so we skipped it. We passed one of those historic markers on the edge of the park, this one denoting that there was a Civil War skirmish at the location. From what I read the war was actually over at that point and some cadets from the Arsenal Academy were actually marching to Newberry to disband when they met a band of Stoneman’s Raiders. That is the most South Carolina thing I can think of…the war’s over, we are actually on our way to officially disband but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to shoot at you anyway. Man I love my state. Ashley joined us for part of the walk, which included walking over another covered bridge, which led to a little open field where an Army tank sat. Most of our walks end because I end them. About 95 percent of the time Tucker and Gracie wear me out and I have to tap out. This time, as we’d walked in Greenville already and had been walking in Williamston for a while with the temperature starting to rise, Tucker and Gracie started plopping down to rest in every bit of shade we encountered. That’s their signal that it’s time to stop, so we started to head back to the car. As we did we some of the folks who were enjoying a picnic approached us. A woman asked us what kind of dogs Tucker and Gracie were, how I managed to walk both at the same time and made general chit chat. She also asked if her kids could pet Tucker and Gracie and we said they could. Tucker, knowing he was dealing with very small children, sat down and allowed all three of them to pet him. He gets wild and wide open in new places and in big crowds, but he’s got a gentle soul and knows to be calm around little people. Gracie, copying Tucker as she often does, sat there and soaked in the attention as well. Before we got back in the car we made one last stop, that being at the mineral spring the park is named for, which sits in a gazebo. A sign says you can actually drink the water from the small spring (it’s about as big around as a manhole cover, with the water flowing out and toward the creek I mentioned earlier) but you can’t do anything else without facing a possible fine (you can’t wash clothes in it or treat it like nature’s commode, just for example). We had water in the car, but I thought maybe Tucker and Gracie would enjoy some cool, natural refreshment. Tucker sure did, approaching it licking his lips. As he went to take a sip, though, he stopped and flopped down in the spring. He’d tricked us. I again had a very succinct reaction. “NO!” I got him up out of there before anyone saw us and got to the car. We did get lunch from the Smokin’ Pig to go and other than a terrible mishap involving my baked beans (some ended up in my lap) it was excellent. I had pulled pork and smoked chicken. I’d never had the latter and it was excellent as were the beans and the jalapeno cheese grits were rocking as always. On the way home, we decided to do some of that off-the-cuff freelancing I mentioned in the Greenville entry. Ashley looked online for stuff to do in Anderson and found a goat farm. We actually went there, Tucker and Gracie weren’t sure what to make of the goats (the goats looked at them quizzically too) and we supported S.C. agriculture by buying jalapeno goat cheese (which was great), some soap and a lemon, yogurt drink, all made right on the farm. Ashley tried the yogurt drink and said it was good but tasted “like a goat.” “Good” and “tasted like a goat” don’t normally belong in the same sentence, but I tried the drink and she was right. You tasted yogurt, you tasted lemon and you got a slight musky goat taste, but it wasn’t unpleasant. In fact, in a busy day that left me completely whipped, nothing at all was.
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TravisI am Travis, the king 0f SC 1A Football Archives
November 2021
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