Sidetrack to Penn Alps

When I was a kid, my mother and I would drive from our home outside of D.C. to my grandparents' house outside of Columbus. Well, I wouldn't drive; I was a kid. Often we would stop for lunch at Penn Alps. I remember enjoying their mashed potatoes and gravy, and how pretty the area was. There was something magic about it. It's not like I have any crystal clear, completely re-livable memory of the place or experience. And I have no idea if we only went twice or if we stopped there with more frequency over the years. But I've long been wanting to make a trip out there, to see if I could recapture whatever sensation or pleasure I associate with the place. Things in the current land of cc are decidedly less than ideal. Last week my parents let me know that my mother was back in the hospital, so I got myself together to drive on down to Nashville to be with my parents. I figured I would break my trip in Ohio, and that a slight detour to Penn Alps wouldn't kill me. So. That's what I did. The place is pretty much the same, though the entrance/lobby area is decidedly more corporate/gift shoppy than I remember it. They had a buffet, and while I really just wanted their mashed potatoes, I figured I might as well opt for it. I made myself one plate of mashed potatoes, turkey and green beans (with liberal amounts of gravy).
It was all quite good. I felt like I was having my own mini Thanksgiving, minus giving any thanks or pumpkin pie for dessert. I also tried their sausage and sauerkraut (eh, not for me) and their fried chicken (eh, grease is good).
I took a look in their craft store but didn't see anything much that appealed to me...except these really beautiful quilts. And I bought a ridiculously oversized bottle of sarsparilla. Because that is how I roll.

This little collection of old log cabins and houses, which are mainly used by local artisans, was another clear memory. I feel like Mom would go inside and actually look at the stuff, I probably wandered around.
I went into one potter's building in search of a potential tea cup replacement, but nothing caught my eye as much as the beautiful sun, trees, foliage and overall day. It was a really beautiful day to be in the country.



I'm also not entirely sure that I remembered this huge stone bridge. I mean, we must have walked across it or gone over to see it, and it wasn't like I was surprised by it but it wasn't like I wandered in its direction knowing that it was going to be there either.


I also noted that there's a nearby campground/cabin business right along the river. They declare that there's great fly fishing to be had. I'm not sure I have the patience or coordination for fly fishing, but I kind of wish I did.

This spider had a red dot on its back and came out of nowhere while I was trying to take a photograph of the wall and sky. Freaked me out.



So that's that. I think visiting places that you found magical as a kid can be a bit of a let down, because whatever else has happened in your life makes it difficult to have that same exact sensation again. Especially if you're not even sure what that sensation was in the first place. That said, it was still a beautiful little place to stop and stretch my legs after the first four or so hours of my drive.