Day 36 -- Georgetown to Fort Boonesborough State Park, Kentucky -- 40 Miles

Today marked our 36th day on the road and, as Concetta is fond of telling me, if we don't move a little faster then our recent 50 miles a day, we won't get home until just before Christmas. Today she was hoping that I would set our course eastward toward the West Virginia/Kentucky border, but I still had a couple of Kentucky tricks up my sleeve. Not wanting to let ol' Abe Lincoln slip behind us, I planned for a "brief" visit to the Mary Todd Lincoln house in Lexington, Kentucky, followed by a short drive further south for another "brief" visit at Boonesborough, a place I've wanted to see since I was a child.

Naturally it rained last night and this morning at our camp near Georgetown, Kentucky. Yesterday it was absolutely beautiful, but today dawned gray and drizzly. Fortunately, by the time we had eaten breakfast and straightened up the rig, the light rain had tapered off to nothing and I was able to break down the sewer and water hoses, as well as the electrical cable without getting soaked. In reality, we didn't care about the weather so much this morning since we planned to be inside for the Todd house tour anyway.

We were fortunate when we arrived in Lexington for the Todd house tour as the city had thoughtfully provided an absolutely HUGE parking lot for visitors. We even were able to find a level spot. The weather still looked gloomy, and the temperatures didn't invite much outdoor walking, but the Todd house was warm and cheerful. By the time we arrived we had missed the 10:00 o'clock tour, so we had an opportunity to get to know the receptionist and one of the docent guides for about twenty minutes. They both proved just a joy to talk with.

Before long, it was our turn to tour the house and by then another half dozen visitors had arrived. Our guide's name was Robert Wright, of the Dayton, Ohio Wrights. And yes, he said he was distantly related to that other famous American family so dear to the folks in Dayton. It was hard to believe that Robert hadn't been born in Lexington, as he was so lyrically soft-spoken you could have sworn he was a southerner.

Ohio native or not, Robert knew his Todd family history. He told us how Robert S. Todd purchased the house in 1832 and turned it into a residence. Before that the building had been a stage station for over a quarter century. Mary Todd was born in Lexington in 1818 and spent many of her formative years in the house. Her father, Robert, not only provided for his daughter's education but also fostered her interest in society and politics since he was a prominent businessman and politician himself.

After Mary's marriage to Abraham Lincoln in 1842, Mary would bring Abe and the children to Lexington on visits. During these visits Lincoln witnessed slavery first-hand, not only within the Todd household, but perhaps at slave auctions at the nearby courthouse, events that may have helped formulate his opinions on slavery that would guide his actions in the future.

Personally, I often find that historic house tours can to be quite similar, and therefore I don't normally get very excited about them. Concetta tells me she feels the same way. Whether it's a plantation in the south, or a federal-style house in the north, the furnishings are largely the same and all begin to blend into each other in your mind. But today we found that the Todd house was an exception. Though a large percentage of the furnishings are representative of the era, many pieces on display are the actual family heirlooms.

There are a number of reasons for the quality of the furnishing displays. First of all, when Robert died in 1849, he had not done a legally-witnessed will. Therefore, all of the family possessions within the house were auctioned off. To do that, the auction company formulated a detailed descriptive list of everything to be sold. This allowed the Kentucky Mansions Preservation Foundation, who now own the house, to recreate all of the furnishings with period-accurate items using the auction list. And, once the foundation began restoration in 1969, people began to come forward with actually pieces of the Todd furnishings that their various ancestors had purchased at the auction in 1849.

As the eight of us moved from room to room, Robert Wright described in detail each and every item in the room and told us whether it was original to the house, or was a period-correct antique. We began to feel a certain bond with the family that comes from seeing their actual possessions on display. Also present in the house were items from the Presidential White House that Mary had received permission from the new President, Andrew Johnson to retain after her husband had died. One example of this are the beautiful candelabra set that we saw on the Todd family dining room table (photo lower right).

The miracle of the Todd family house was that after the Todds had lost it, the house went through a succession of owners and often non-residential uses. By 1969 the house had deteriorated so badly that it was slated for demolition. Had not the Governor's wife and first lady of Kentucky at that time, Mrs. Beula C Nunn, stepped in, this historic treasure would have been lost. Mrs. Nunn not only prevented the destruction, but spearheaded the restoration and refurbishment efforts.

The thing that Concetta and I liked best was being in a house that had felt the touch of our favorite President, Abraham Lincoln. His hand, as did ours, felt the silky smoothness of the banisters; his feet trod the soft-wood floors; his eyes gazed upon the guest room portrait of his then lovely wife. It just makes your heart beat faster to contemplate it.

It was with a great deal of regret that we finally reached the end of our tour, though we did tarry for a time in the gift shop and I talked Concetta into buying the book on CD entitled "Manhunt: the 12-day hunt for Lincoln's Killer," so we can listen on one of our long drives through the countryside.

After we left the Todd house we dashed over to the nearby cemetery because our guide, Robert, told us that they were very helpful in finding one's ancestors. The cemetery was only a block away and easy to find, and moments later we were wheeling in the front gate opposite the Gothic-style office building. It took some doing to find a place to park the RV since the office parking lot, at the time, was full of automobiles. We saw a sign that said "turn here for bus parking," but we didn't really see a large area in which they expected you to park your "bus." So, in frustration I just violated the cemetery rules that said to keep vehicles off the grass, and rolled the rig into a sort of half grass/half blacktop position, and stopped.

Exiting from the rig with my notebook and pen in hand, I walked back to the entrance and right up to the office door. But when I attempted to twist the knob, I found it locked. Right next to me was an outdoor computer terminal that you could use to call up the cemetery database, but it was out of order. Batting a thousand, I turned to leave and saw two gentlemen standing nearby in conversation. I approached and asked if they knew why the door was locked. "They only work until twelve noon on Saturdays," one of the men said. Just my luck, I thought. It's not like I can return on Monday.

Making my way back to the rig, I discovered that Concetta and spent her time getting sandwiches made for our noontime meal, and so we proceeded to have a nice picnic lunch in the middle of a cemetery, a very gloomy cemetery that could have used a bit of cheery sunlight I thought. Still, we found it to be a nice quiet lunch hour. And, although two different cemetery maintenance trucks rolled past while we parked on their grass, no one came to the door to demand that we get the heck out of there.

Once lunch was over, the second half of my plan for the day came into play. Just 22 miles away, I told Concetta, was the not-to-be-missed, historic "jewel" of Kentucky called Boonesborough. I'm sure lots and lots of you watched Fess Parker and Ed Ames, as Daniel Boone and Mingo, in the old 1964 TV series about Boone and Boonesborough. I mean, as a kid at the time, I would dream about getting to go there someday. Well, today was my day!

Anyway, Concetta didn't object so off we went. The skies were still gloomy, and there didn't seem to be any reason to hope for any great photography, but having read the tourist information booklet, I knew that there would be ample opportunity to talk to docents who would be demonstrating 18th century arts and crafts, something that we both just love.

From the web I learned how Boonesborough came about: "Richard Henderson, founder of the Transylvania Company (a sort of real estate group) in 1775, chose Daniel Boone to head a party of 31 axe men to clear a path through the Cumberland Gap (southeastern Kentucky) that would run from Long Island of the Holston River, Tennessee, to Otter Creek of the Kentucky River."

"Blazing the trail presented extraordinary difficulties – the route through the wilderness was a hunter’s trace that was too narrow for a wagon. The task was to combine many trails into one continuous route by clearing underbrush and overhanging foliage. For some stretches however, it meant using axes and tomahawks to clear trees for a new section of trail. It was very expeditiously but roughly done."

"For decades afterwards, the Wilderness Trail was generally conceded to be the roughest, most disagreeable road on the continent, but was one of the major factors in the opening of the Middle West to colonization. A determined Boone and his loyal followers forged ahead until they reached the settlement site “about 60 yards from the river, and a little over 200 yards from a salt lick.” On the first of April, 1775, Boone and his woodsmen began the construction of several temporary log huts that were immediately dubbed 'Fort Boone.' The name would later be changed to Boonesborough."

The modern-day re-constructed Fort opened in 1974 and is just a wonderful representation of the cabins and block houses of the original fort. After watching a great movie about Daniel Boone's life, we wandered the Fort grounds talking to the various docents who were involved in a number of different crafts including spinning, soap making, candle making, gun smithing, and dietary recreations. In addition, I spent some time talking to Larry as he was cleaning the barrel of a Kentucky-style, flintlock rifle.

After Larry finished he asked me if I would like to try throwing an Indian tomahawk. Although I had failed miserably to hit the target when I tried tomahawk-throwing in the past, I readily agreed to sign the permission slip and give it another try. Once the official paperwork was done, we headed for the throwing ground. Thankfully, Larry didn't demand that I stand halfway across the fort's interior to throw the thing. We actually stood fairly close, less than twenty feet away I expect. Still, I can say with pride that I threw that lethal Indian weapon at least eight times and I stuck it in the target almost every time. Now I'm going to have to buy myself one of those so I can practice some more.

Our last stop for the afternoon was to visit with a chap named Robert Caudill, the gunsmith. It turned out that we soon recognized that Robert was perhaps the most talented docent in the fort. He hand made Kentucky-style long rifles using, he told us, no power tools whatsoever! His workmanship looked superb! We spent at least a quarter hour with Robert and asked him every question we could think of about guns, gunsmithing, blacksmithing, and life on the frontier in general. He seemed to have a complete handle on the pioneer life.

I was so impressed with Robert I couldn't dream of letting him get away. I figured that if I had his email address or the address of his web site that I would be able to ask him questions in the future. But Robert said, "Don't have any of that stuff."

"No email," I repeated, I'm sure sounding incredulous.

"Nope," Robert said. "I live in a log cabin. I don't have any modern conveniences of any kind."

I'm sure that both Concetta and I stared open-mouthed at him at that point. "A real log cabin?" Concetta asked.

Robert nodded and said, "Which means no phone, no electricity, nothing."

At that point Concetta asked him if he had a hand-made rocker for his cabin porch.

"Sure do," Robert said. "Made it myself."

"I sure love those old Kentucky rockers," Concetta said. "We saw one at the Buffalo Trace distillery."

Naturally, I didn't want to talk about rockers. I said, pointing to a large, heavy musket over the fireplace, "Is that one of those British muskets?"

"Yes," Robert said. "It's a Brown Bess. The British made boatloads of those things and brought them to America. Just about everyone had one at some point or another."

"Heavy bugger," I said.

"About fourteen pounds," Robert said.

"Sure would hate to have to carry that thing all day long," I said, just trying to prolong the conversation until I could think of even more questions to ask this brilliantly talented artist. But at some point the conversation trailed off and we had to say our goodbyes. I was never so sorry to see another human being get away from me. I would just love to be able to go to Robert's house once in awhile and pick his brain about the pioneer days. Such skilled historians are rare indeed.

Before we left Robert I did ask him if he knew where we might park the rig for the night and he told us just to turn right out the front entrance, drive just a mile or so down the road, and we'd see the Fort Boonesborough State Park. We did just that and now sit quite comfortably amidst dozens of other campers in a very pretty setting next to the Kentucky River. Our day was just astoundingly wonderful, full of history and talented historians, and if I never experience another day like this, I'd still go away happy. Thankfully, I hope that won't be the case, for tomorrow we're headed sort of east toward Virginia and I suspect that a whole new spectrum of adventures await. So until that day, we wish you Happy Travels!