Lake Burton Fun Run 2012

Any idea how hard it is snapping event pictures while actually participating in the thing?
In this case a two mile run.
Course not.
Because why would one do that?
Put themselves out there - in public no less - looking like a big dork with camera in hand, two feet strapped into a pair of beat-down, over-heated Nikes.

Run ahead. Stop. Take picture. Run ahead. Stop. Take picture.

Actually, it was kind of fun.
And of course, an excellent work out.

This summer, the 28th Annual Lake Burton Fun Run once again delivered.
Because... how could it not?
This U.S.A. Track and Field Certified event is known throughout the southeast as one of the most scenic two mile courses. Ever. Tucked into the far northeastern corner of Georgia, it's a unique setting for exercise and fun. Starting at lovely Moccasin Creek State Park and ending at fabulous La Prades Marina, participants wind down Hwy. 197 where bottles of water, snow cones and quite possibly a dip in the lake await.

Both young, and young at heart, are drawn to this family event. Some folks attending for over twenty-five years now. In many cases, three generations of Lake Burton Fun Run fans show up - encased in event t-shirts, running bibs and big smiles.

The run was started back in 1984 by founder Robert Nichols. And come race day, Mr. Nichols is personally on hand for hours. Grinning, greeting, directing and starting off the race from the back of the pace truck, bull horn in hand. Afterwards, he grabs a mic under the La Prades' pavilion; welcoming everyone again and handing out trophies. Proceeds from the annual event go to support the three Lake Burton Volunteer Fire Departments with a special donation to Rabun County Search and Rescue.

Open to all runners, joggers and walkers, a celebratory spirit waifs throughout the event each year.  Pre-race Jazzercise warm ups go down at Moccasin Creek State Park to get things started. Rock music blasted over speakers as arms reached for the sky. Muscles got loose. Resident ducks never know what to think. They just sit and watch. And quack.

Back in '84 - think Wake Me Up Before You Go Go - the race began with a humble 85 participants. But between the draw of the mountains, gorgeous lakeside setting and cool alpine air, appeal has grown. A firm 800 participant limit is now in place. Note to self: sign up early. In 1998 the course became certified by USA Track and Field, taking its clout up a notch. Most runners and walkers come out for a leisurely good time, and a little huffing and puffing.  But if you want to get serious -  official times from the event can be used for qualifying in other sanctioned athletic events.

Two years ago, the run's board of directors decided to become members of the Road Runners Club of America to continue to meet professional standards. The local chapter is named the Lake Burton Road Runners Club. The Lake Burton Fun Run is their sole event, and boy - do they go all out. Not only is Mr. Nichols on hand, but 100 of his closest buddies join in as volunteers. It seems like all of Lake Burton can't wait to help out with this beloved event.

My favorite leg of the race was passing the Wildcat Volunteer Fire Department Station. Fireman standing roadside: clapping, waving, encouraging and thanking. Since race proceed go towards the area's fire departments, their presence is appropriate. But it's great to see the actual fireman out there cheering on the people, who are cheering them. Community coming together, helping and encouraging. All of this taking place, mind you, before anyone's had enough coffee.

Towards the end of the race, the celebratory spirit only grew: snow cones, popcorn and face painting all on hand. Upbeat music bouncing over both air waves and actual waves, as families gathered at La Prades Marina. Local businesses were also on-hand. passing out everything from magnets to sun screen. Come trophy time, this was my personal fav...

A Going Strong Over 90 award?
That's right baby! We're a group of people who chug our calcium and Vitamin D.
Livestrong and live long.
Tons of awards and trophies passed out this year (although not to people named Kathleen). And once again, it's fair to say, the Lake Burton Fun Run proved its worth.

As things wound down, the fire boat which had been on hand in the cove,
strutted it's stuff. Sapphire water jetting high into the air, signaling both a
frothy thank you and good-bye.
Yes, quite a show. Quite a morning

www.lakeburtonfunrun.com

All images seen here taken by...
www.kathleenmoorephotography.com

Wildcat Fire Station Rises From Ashes

As I gear up to trot the annual Lake Burton Fun Run, I find myself thinking not of sweat, heat or lime-flavored Gatorade, but of one of the landmarks along its route: the Wildcat Volunteer Fire Department. And how much the property has changed in just one year. Fourteen months ago, a tornado came ‘round the mountain, plunking itself right smack on top of the station. Twister, plus ensuing fire, equaled complete destruction of the property. Trees, trucks and equipment lay in smoldering ruin too.

Only one of the fire trucks survived. Driven out of the burning building, by who else – a quick-thinking fire fighter. A year later, through much planning and toil, the station has been rebuilt, under the keen direction of Chief Pat Thompson. Offices, kitchen, bunkrooms, rec room – two floors of impressive space. It was the chief’s idea to take the ruined pecan tree out back and create the station’s kitchen cabinets from its wood. They turned out beautifully. Someone call Martha Stewart.

Jokingly, I asked Chief Thompson, “Where do blue prints for fire stations even come from…greathomes.com?”

He answered, slightly embarrassed, “Well, I designed it.” 

So humble. Truth is, not only did he create the floor plan; his own hands did much of the labor. Along with the rest of the volunteer fire fighters. They all worked together building back up what Mother Nature had torn down.

At this spring’s open house, chief Thompson took me aside. He pointed out the one lucky fire truck which made it out alive. And its back melted light, now reduced to droopy white plastic. He could've had it fixed. But chief has left it disfigured on purpose - to remember. Now looking entirely akin to an oversized marshmallow gone wrong, it gave me shivers. 

They should drive the truck to schools on don't-play-with-matches day. Nothing beats a great visual aid.

From the two bunkrooms, freshly painted game room and Viking stove tucked between those hand-made cabinets, there was much to admire at the station’s open house. But my favorite was the people. Each fireman associated with the station seemed on hand for the big day. They wore their uniforms and polished nametags and smiles. It was an honor to meet so many of them.

If you ever find yourself in Rabun County, Georgia, drive past the Wildcat V.F.D. station. Maybe even park out front, admire its million dollar view of Lake Burton. Stunning location. I'm sure the old station thought so too. 

The old station. Gone, but not forgotten. Through the years, it housed much more than red trucks and equipment. Swinging wide its doors welcoming church services, local meetings and educational programming. That was then. I can only imagine all that will take place under this new station's watch and keep. It's off to a beautiful start.

http://www.rabuncountygov.com/firedepartment.html

www.kathleenmoorephotography.com

BBQ Fund Raiser at the Firehouse

“Once. Twice. Three times…sold!” rang the auctioneer voice of fire chief Mr. Chad Dixon, gesturing enthusiastically in the direction of someone other than myself.

Rats. Outbid fair and square. I really wanted that item too. After all, who wouldn’t get a kick from an airplane joy ride high above Rabun County in the depths of spring?

But that’s how it goes at the annual Tallulah-Persimmon volunteer fire department BBQ fundraiser.

This year’s event took place March thirty-first, at where else - but the sturdy firehouse itself. Polished to a glorious shine the station’s arsenal of trucks patiently waited outside, grabbing gravel during the affair. Their home temporarily parlayed into a party venue. And what an amazing event fireman and organizer, Mr. Tom Madison Sr., created.

Old and young gathered together under a big blue sky, American flag waving overhead. Thanks to The Foxfire Boys, mountain tunes tickled the crowd as the scent of BBQ punctuated the air. Several ladies broke out in dance as we all clapped along. It was a festive atmosphere almost belying the gravity of the event. Each of Rabun County’s twelve volunteer fire stations needs every dime they can get.

  


































“Raised funds go primarily toward life support equipment,” Mr. Madison informed me. “We’re in critical need of pagers, portable radios and breathing apparatus.” He also explained the importance of a solid ISO rating: a ranking system that gauges a community’s fire-fighting capabilities. Ratings are based on several criteria: well-trained fire fighters, proper equipment and adequate supplies of water.

    


































“ISO ratings effect citizens directly. Great scores equal lower rates for home insurance,” Mr. Madison continued. “A couple of years ago Rabun County received an upgraded rating. It’s in everyone’s best interest to maintain that quality.”

 Think of it as a help-me-help-you kind of thing. Attend fund-raiser, eat BBQ, enter raffle, bid on auction items, raise money, lower insurance rates, sleep well, eat more BBQ. If properly orchestrated it all comes full-circle, like a well-played Seinfeld episode.

This year’s auction and raffle prizes alone were something to get excited about. Just ask Mr. Kenny Walker, who strolled away with a $500 Wal-Mart gift card. Not to be out done, pastor Kevin Hurt won a $500 Ingles gift card. Go in peace. Reeves Hardware donated a serious looking riflescope, but I was more taken with the gorgeous leather ottoman offered up by Timpson Creek Gallery. I didn’t win that either. Mr. Madison’s daughter-in-law Jennifer, was the high bidder on that piece. Her feet are probably comfortably propped-up on it this very minute.

    

I did however come away with a hand-made bracelet and one oversized carrot cake. Plus, a newfound appreciation for all this station does for the community. Approximately two hundred 9-1-1 calls are answered annually by the Tallulah-Persimmon department, working with a current roster of only twelve volunteers. Their area of service covers the Northwest region of Rabun County, including Lake Burton up to the North Carolina state line.

Without a doubt my family will be back in attendance at their BBQ fundraiser next year. We’ll be armed with hungry bellies and a handful of cold hard cash. I’m already looking forward to it. Next spring that airplane ride over Rabun County oh-so-generously donated by Joan and Wayne Plaster, is oh-so mine.

https://sites.google.com/site/foxfireboys/

7-11 meet Norman Rockwell

Lake Burton Grocery has a real name. Lake. Burton. Grocery. But we simply call it Joe's. That because it's Joe who's running the place, and Joe's life-blood sunk into it. Joe and the rest of his hard-working family originally hail from Florida. But he's here in Georgia now, cooking up the best batches of turkey and artichoke dip I've ever had. The "grocery" is hardly just a grocery. Oh no. It's a deli, a kitchen, a place to buy your bait and firewood, grab some Tylenol and ice cold beer. Perhaps not in that order. The place is like something out of the 1930's. Just one look at the old building and ancient gas pumps, give a clue that you're in for a real treat.

When you visit Joe's - I mean, Lake Burton Grocery -follow this plan: First, pull off of Hwy 76W, parking on the splash of asphalt out front. Do not run over any free-range children who've walked up from the lake for ice cream. Do brace yourself to be hit by the scent of bbq wafting from a beat-up smoker to your right. Pause. Breath deep. Walk up, pulling open the old screen-door serving as the grocery's grand entrance. Let it smack shut behind you. Register that oh-so-satisfying sound. Nothing says you've left the city like an anciently painted screened-door banging shut. Step foot over the decade-old, scuffed-up wooden floors. This aint no 7-11. You'll be greeted by a friendly smile and a "How ya doin'?" by either Joe himself, daughter Barbara or a real-deal Rabun County resident.

The front room of the store offers anything a visitor or local resident may need. There's cold drinks and matches. Lighter fluid and tick-tacks. Graham crackers, marshmallows and chocolate for those parents who couldn't get it together, coming up to the mountains without s'mores supplies. There's dog food, canned beans and Starbucks iced coffee in the fridge - for city folks and their ensuing coronaries if gourmet caffine consumption is disrupted. Joe has his wooden shelves stocked with wine (that's for me), fishing line and lures, shampoo and homemade fudge. But wait for it. It gets... better.

Durk's Take-Away is the official name of the kitchen and deli in the next room. This cozy space while small in square footage, feeds masses of hungry. Visitors and locals alike. It's a great mix of people milling around waiting on their BBQ and slaw. The daily menu board will make your mouth water. Realizing you missed home-made breakfast sandwiches makes you wanna kick yourself. Noting that on summer eves Joe produces gourmet take-out dinners, will having you placing an order faster than a...well, lets just say, really fast.

I don't know who the Durk, in Durk's Take-Away is. Usually it's Joe himself back in the kitchen. Looking like a wild mad-man, tongs and cutting knives whirling. Longish white hair attempts escape freedom-fight style under a tightly worn ballcap. His white goatee - much better behaved - surrounds a wide smile of interesting dental work. Joe wields his spatula more like a pitch fork or light-saber. The man is a mix of Sweeney Todd meets Emeril Lagasse. Don't be scared. He won't bite. He just wants to feed your belly.

It's touching how proud Joe is of his place. Last summer he showed me all around the storage rooms explaining his plans and grand visions. He giddily showed off his place like a normal grandpa would photos of his grand-kids. Joe asked what I thought of his ideas, inquiring if I liked the new and improved patio. How flattering. And yes, I did like the new patio - a.k.a. relaxing waiting area. Huge logs-seats and benches provide a fine space to kill a little time while you hang-out. Newspapers lie scatter around underneath a huge map of Lake Burton hung perfectly at eye level. Nearby, that rusty smoker churning out the scent of tantalizing pork being cooked oh-so right. You'd better sit down.

Most of the folks who traverse through the place are salt of the earth. Its sweet - sentimental in my old age I am - to see the local, older guys come in for their morning cup o' jo.. Clad in jean overalls and wilted ball caps, you get the feeling you're witnessing what's been their daily uniform for 60 plus years. However, I can report at least one instance of the direct opposite. It wasn't pretty. High-glossed Range Rover barrels into the tiny parking area like they own the joint. Two people hop out. You know them: Ken and Barbie. Stepping up to the kitchen's counter, Ken can't wait to order those sandwiches. And he's going to do so, with great lunch-ordering authority. However, Joe had stepped into the back. Kitchen momentarily unmanned. My sister, Nicole, stood nearby, holding up the wall while waiting for her own sandwich she'd just ordered. Ken glances around blinking. Empty kitchens confuse him. Darting eyes quickly settle on Nicole. She's positioned on the customer side of the counter - just like he is - but clad in jeans, t-shirt and ponytail. Typical weekend attire.

"I want to place an order," he informs her.
Amused, she looks up. "I think you should."
Ken just stands there. Emaciated Barbie linked to his arm, scrying hungrily, hoping her man will provide.
"Aren't you going to take our order?" Ken demands.
"I don't think so." Nicole informs calmly.
"Why not?"
"Because... I. Don't. Work. Here.

Just then, Joe emerged from his cloisters quickly taking the guy's order. He then handed my sister her steaming-hot BBQ, thanking her by name - as he does all his regulars. But as I stated, this type of customer is the anomaly. Most folks milling around are either up from Atlanta on a fantastic day-drive, or weekending at the lake. Either way, its a prime environment for a lot of happy, shiny people. Often, I've envisioned Vermont's Norman Rockwell - great American illustrator who's paintings showcased small town U.S.A. throughout the '30s - '50s - waltzing into Lake Burton Grocery feeling right at home. It's a special kind of store, with the authentic feel and flavor of a bygone area. And except for the occasional out-of-line Range Rover, you'd almost believe not a day has passed.

Lake Burton Grocery / 7335 Hwy 76 West / Clayton / GA 30525

phone: 706.782.4646

website: yeah, right

I've died. And gone to Edith's Daylilies.

One of my favorite drives through northeast Georgia is lovely, winding Hwy 255 near Clarksville. Heading north, I know that soon the simple two-lane road - hardly a highway - will morph into 197. Which then weaves around the west side of Lake Burton. Another gorgeous slice of sightseeing to be sure. But before all that - there's Edith's Daylilies.

As you approach, a wooden sign stuck in the ground is all the warning one gets. And it's pretty much all one needs. Rising atop a perfectly landscaped hill appears a little white house. And all around it - paradise. It's hard to miss. Edith - yes, there's definitely a real Edith involved - has taken the grounds around her home turning it into a sweetland. If you happen across the scene during peak, you'll hardly believe your eyes. Rows and rows of lilies, in all shapes, sizes and hues. And behind the lines of botanical-garden worthy flowers is an old-fashioned vegetable garden. Behind that, nothing but fields and woods. It's an unspoiled world of loveliness Edith and her grandson Samuel have lovingly created.

At Edith's Daylilies there's an open door policy, with visitors welcome anytime. As they tell folks, "A phone call will assure someone being in the garden, however during the bloom season that is not necessary." The day we stopped by last summer, it was Edith herself who appeared - thin white hair in curlers no less - helping us choose the first of many purchases we'll be making. As friends and family know, I will stop anywhere, anytime to scour a place which looks even half-way interesting. Lily gardens no exception. Though I knew this venture would produce nothing in the way of antiques or rhinestone brooches, I discovered better: a charming lady who's been living among the same gentle hills her entire, long life. Warm and friendly and happy to chat. As if she were downright tickled we'd stumbled by. She spoke of the area and her family homestead where she grew up. Her sparkling white childhood farm home standing proudly just down the road. One of her sisters residing there still.

Edith likes everyone to know that mid-June is peak time in the garden. If you ever stop by that time of year, you'll note all the happy people strolling through the lily aisles, cameras in hand. Sun shinning down, fresh air, just gazing at flowers. All for free. You get the feeling Edith would just as easily talk about a canning recipe, as make a sale. There's no pressure to buy. What there is, are dozens upon dozens of fantastical prize lilies. Some gorgeously healthy mounds born 20-25 years ago. In front of each, a petite medal stake spelling out its stats. Our kids were floored to discover flowers decades older than they. Actually, that was one of their favorite parts of the visit. Seven year-old Hoffman ran from lily to lily shouting out floral inception dates. The whole experience was picture perfect. A charming open-air education for mind and spirit.

If ever you find yourself in that neck of the woods, do your soul and senses a favor and pull over. Hopefully, you'll visit with Edith. She can explain the colorful world of lilies to you. And if you have the time, a smidge more.

http://www.edithsdaylilies.com/