Under Kentucky skies

When it comes to road trips, my road atlas and the term "unlimited mileage" on rental cars are my two best friends.  About five years ago, I started a tradition of making at least one big road trip over the summer months.  I save money all year for these trips and since starting this tradition, I've been to Kansas City, St. Louis, the Black Hills of South Dakota/Wyoming/Colorado, Milwaukee and other parts of Wisconsin, and most recently my "mini" road trip into Louisville, Kentucky. 

I will definitely tell you about some interesting things I picked up from the jazz workshop, but before I do, I'll explain the 'unlimited mileage' thing.  While driving around in places I've never been, I like to watch the road signs for interesting places that I might want to stop at.  Yesterday, I was driving the Kentucky Parkway (highway that crosses the north side of the state, between Louisville and Paducah).  The highway cuts through the bluffs and rolling hills, highlighting the beautiful countryside .  Nearing the exit for Beaver Dam and Hartford, I saw a sign for the home place of Bill Monroe.  You will remember that I wrote part of a recent post about Monroe while researching Kentucky musicians.  Well, how could I resist?!  Consulting my handy atlas, I saw that Hartford isn't too far away from the highway, so, thinking that it may be a quick detour off the road, I make the exit.  I drive through the town of Beaver Dam, then, mistakenly thinking that the house was in Hartford (the next town over), I hesitated before turning at the not-very-obviously-marked sign for Monroe's house.

I started to wonder why I was so bent on seeing this place.  But, the inner zombie pushed me forward.

I kept driving, along a road called "Blue Moon of Kentucky Highway."  Well, that sounds promising, I think to myself.  I continued driving, for what seemed like forever (but it always seems like a long time when you don't know where you are going), and just when I was starting to think that I misread the sign or somehow got onto the wrong road, I drive past a sign that says "Jerusalem Ridge."

At first, I kept driving past it, thinking that it was for something else...but I had been driving for at least the 6.3 miles that the previous sign had said, so I turned around for a better look.  No other warning sign (like the helpful "destination in 1 mile" sort of signs).  Just this one is all you get.  I entered the short drive.  I felt for a moment like I was intruding onto someone's land or private property.

There are friendly looking caution signs, telling you that you're in Monroe Country.  They were about the only thing keeping me from deciding that I was in the wrong place and needed to turn around and look for the 'real' spot.  If you decide to look for the place, you will use this entry road.  The road into the homestead is narrow, gravelly, and winding.  "Drive slow and keep right" the road signs tell me.  Will do.  Several blind curves later I see a couple of signs like this:

Follow the arrows.  That's what traveling is, isn't it?  To navigate highways you just need to follow arrows to stay on certain roads or pass onto different roads.  I follow the arrows.  To get to this sign, it took several hairpin turns and steep grades.  Drive slow and keep right.  I had seen only one other car up until this sign, and they were leaving.  I follow the arrows.

Finally, I arrived at the top of a hill that opened up into a clearing.  There is a house, a sign that says "Tour guide on duty", and no obvious parking lot.  I park at a spot that looks reasonable, and get out to take a look around.  I am struck by two things:  it's really hot and humid, and it's reeeeally quiet.  Scary quiet.  This place is far from the highway or any well-traveled roads, so it's silent.  No music, no cars.  It's been a while since I've been somewhere this quiet.

I first see one of these little huts:

 I later learn from the frail, elderly, but knowledgeable gentleman tour guide that there are several of these little huts around the property.  They are used during a music festival that takes place here in October.  He tells me that last year there were 15000 people on the grounds for the festival.  I try to imagine that many people driving up that curvy, narrow road. 

So, I made it.  I found it.   I'm in the spot where the inventor of Bluegrass music was born and grew up.

While reading this sign, I heard a funny sound and was startled by three adorable chickens, who apparently call this place home.

This is the house.  It looks nice, but inside there are pictures of the building before it was rescued from dilapidation.  Originally, there had been a log cabin standing here.  It was destroyed in a fire, and so this house was built over the same chimney post.  The Monroe family (parents and 8 children) lived here, and they were visited often by other musicians, including Uncle Pendleton Vandiver (Uncle Pen) who was a great musical influence on the whole family.  Everyone played something, or sang.  Bill played the mandolin because no one else in the family played it.

One half of the house.

Other half of the house.  What a great porch!  The other side has a similar porch.

 If you make the trip, be prepared for the driving conditions.  Watch carefully for the signs.  Pop some bluegrass music into the CD player. 

I know, it's not Texas.  But it was an official looking plaque...

Follow the arrows, drive slow, and keep right.