Day 46 -- Blue Licks to Frankfort, Kentucky -- 103 Miles

Today was Bourbon day. In fact this whole month happens to be Bourbon month in Kentucky. Concetta and I set out from last night's camp in Blue Licks, site of an Indian attack that took the life of Daniel Boone's son, Israel in 1782, and we headed for the Bourbon Trail. Our plan was to visit two or three distilleries, buy some Christmas presents, and then look for a camp for the evening. Well it sounded like a good plan.

Unfortunately, we immediately discovered that we weren't the only ones looking to visit distilleries and stock up on the good stuff in late September. We found this out when we headed first for the Woodfords Distillery near Frankfort, Kentucky. All the tiny feeder roads that form the Bourbon Trail proper, and thereby connect the various bourbon-producing properties, were absolutely thronged with men and women riding bicycles. And these were not just any bike riders. No, these folks, who numbered just under a thousand souls we were told, were decked to the nines in multicolored touring togs and riding mega-dollar bikes.

The bikers were, as a whole, pretty well behaved as they coursed along the tiny Bourbon Trail tracks, but put twenty or thirty of them in any given distillery tasting room or gift shop, and the noise level rose to eardrum-damaging levels. Still, it was something to behold when you saw them in their colorful groups.

You might think that these marathon-riding bikers were all twenty-somethings in the prime of their mating-game years, but this wasn't always the case. We passed numerous riding helmets that covered decidedly gray heads as we navigated the skinny roads. These folks tended to be the most polite as they would signal us when it was safe to pass them.

Some of these roads on the Bourbon Trail could easily rival the ones in England for the International Skinny-Road award. More than once I had to pull the rig onto the almost non-existent grassy shoulder in order to let a car pass in the opposing lane. My mental tape measure told me that several of the roads we traveled this morning were about 1 1/2 times as wide as the rig, which made for some interesting situations when confronting oncoming trucks or tour buses.

Our first visit was to the Woodfords Distillery that Concetta had heard good things about. And in truth we were pretty impressed with the place. There was ample parking for the rig, there were shuttles from the parking lot to the visitor center, and there were tours leaving often enough to keep your wait to a minimum. All the employees were attentive, cheerful, and extremely friendly. And the merchandise was so attractively displayed that you couldn't help but load up your basket.

We didn't opt for the distillery tour since we'd been on production tours before and decided that Woodfords probably wouldn't be much different. After making our purchases, we did opt for eating our lunch in the rig in their parking lot, though we saw that lunch was available on the grounds if we wished.

After leaving Woodfords we decided to visit the Wild Turkey Distillery that was located conveniently close by. Though the roads were once again ultra-narrow and were thronged with bikers, we managed to pick our way up the hill to Wild Turkey and found that they had been kind enough to provide us with level RV parking just a short distance away from the visitor center.

Part of the reason that we chose Wild Turkey, other than the proximity, was that Concetta had read that their grounds were wonderfully laid out and gorgeous. This didn't turn out to be the case unless you only got to see the beautiful stuff on the distillery tours. Perhaps it's the ultra hot and dry weather Kentucky has been having, but most of the landscaping appeared to us to be pretty parched and dead.

No matter, we headed inside and made a beeline for the gift shop to see what they were offering. Once we were totally confused by what we saw, we made the wise choice of going down to the tasting bar and asking the bartender to explain the various brands and offerings. This done, we chose two that we wanted to taste and ultimately purchase, and then took our glasses containing the "one finger" of bourbon out onto the patio to enjoy the sun, blue sky, and the loud and lively conversation of the bikers at the next table.

So far I haven't mentioned our efforts to find a camp for the night. The minute we arrived in Kentucky we discovered that the camps are jammed - all of them. Whereas up north the camps are starting to close because of the cold weather, camps here in Kentucky are still doing a brisk business. We thought we had nailed a spot around noon for a camp called the Kentucky River RV Resort, but they called us back a half hour later and said they'd made a mistake. They had no room. The next camp we called said they had no full hookups for the first day, but could give as a full hookup the second day. This deal we took and were glad to get it.

So right now were luxuriating inside with the air conditioner cranked up, and showers put off until tomorrow unless we want to visit the shower room here in the camp center. I took a walk over there and they don't look too bad, though they sure don't give you the space we saw at the Sandy Springs camp where you got a whole bathroom to yourself.

Tomorrow we're headed for the Buffalo Trace Distillery, which will probably be our last one here in Kentucky. By then we will have purchased all the spirits we want or intend to give away and should be ready to visit a historic site or two. I wouldn't mind going back to Boonesborough, especially if I get to throw a tomahawk again. Last time we were there a craftsman was selling a handmade example. It was pricey, but later I wished that I had purchased it.

So when you get out there on the two-lanes, don't forget Kentucky for all the fabulous things you'll find to do there. And when you do, The Happy Wanderers wish you happy travels and exciting destinations.