The Dream, The Challenge, The People
by Bob Kranich
(Excerpt 25)
“The Lodge Called Folkestone”. You may wonder why the first half of the book is about my many adventures throughout the USA. Well, this first part explains just why my interests changed from hot rodding cars to backpacking. How the idea of a lodge came about, and just how the lodge came to be in North Carolina and next to the Smoky Mountain National Park, Deep Campground to be exact.
Following are our experiences and adventures over the next five months, in some sort of order as they happened.
“Nice to meet you sir. My name is Bob Kranich. I am staying the next four months on East Deep Creek Circle, trying to learn about the Smokies. I have a request of you, if you own the land that is a field on Lackey Hill on east Deep Creek?”
“Yep, I do. That must be at the old Taylor house you are living in. Her nephew owns it now. What do you need?”
“Well, sir, that’s correct, the old Taylor house. I want to plant a small garden, and I need some land.”
“Tell you what, Bob. Go up there and stake you out a small plot, and what we’ll do is let you sharecrop it. At the end of the season, whatever you sell off of it, I get half.”
“Johnnie, that is interesting, I didn’t think of that.”
“Yep, a man has to think of making some money on everything he does. Well, what about it?”
“Yes sir. Thank you, Mr. Shuler.”
“Just call me Johnnie.”
To tell the end of this story, I planted corn, green beans, squash, and sweet potatoes up there. It was a lot of hard work. The corn didn’t do very well, but the beans and squash did amazing, and the sweet potatoes were ok. We used some of the vegetables for our eating, and I sold the rest of it to the A & P and the IGA. I made a grand total of $79. That meant I gave Johnnie Shuler $39.50. That was my grand adventure into sharecropping.
One day, I went around the back of Doc Gibby’s. He had what appeared to be a logging saw attached to a board, and he was filing the teeth.
“Hi Doc, what are you doing?”
“I’m filin’ this here logging saw. Got to keep the teeth sharp. You know, it’s a dull one that'll hurt a fella.”
“It sure is a big saw, Doc.”
“Yes boys, I cut a heap of logs out of the woods on our farms.”
“Those were the two farms you told me about earlier, Doc?”
“Yep, we decided to quit farming and buy this here little house on Deep Creek. But I still keep this here saw sharp. A body never knows when they will need one.”
We hadn’t seen Granny Gibby come out, and she added, “You’uns talking about our two farms, we were chased off of? As far as we know they could come right through, right here, any day, any time, with another big highway and chase us off again!”
Doc added, “That’s right, any day, any time!”
Then Doc said, “I’ve been thinking that I would go trout fishing up Cherokee way tomorrow. I need to take Bob here, and Irene, and teach them how to fly fish, and catch a mess of trout. Bob, if you and Irene want to go fishing, it will be real early in the morning. They will stock the river tonight, and we need to be up there early tomorrow.”
“What time, Doc?”
“We should leave here about five sharp tomorrow morning. We want to be there when they begin hitting, and beat the tourist fishermen.”
The next morning it was rough getting up at four, so we could leave at five. But Doc was ready, knocking at our door at five sharp. We drove up to Cherokee, and he directed us to a small creek that ran into the Oconaluftee River. In fact, the Oconaluftee runs right through Cherokee. Doc was right, the fish were biting. Since we only had one fly rod, Irene fished, and I took the photos. We got our limit that morning.
For my next adventure, it was mid-summer. One day I was visiting the small country store just before you go into the Deep Creek National Park Campground. The store was run by the Jenkins’ family, and Harold Jenkins had been the county sheriff at times. Mrs. Jenkins knew that I was staying on Deep Creek because I had been in there before. She asked me, “Mr. Kranich, Harold is looking for someone to help him and our son Johnnie to make hay. Would you be interested? It will pay five dollars an hour.”
“Yes ma’am’. What should I do?”
“Well, Mr. Kranich, be over at Johnnie’s house at seven tomorrow morning. It’s the house down here on the right before you get to the Camp Living Water. It’s right there on the hill. Johnnie will drive you over in the hay truck. Dress for warm weather. It’s hard work.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Jenkins. I’ll be there.”
I went over to Johnnie's house and introduced myself. Johnnie was an average height guy with lots of muscle from farm work. He was a very fine fellow. We drove downtown, and picked up another guy, and the three of us rode through Cherokee and up into the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. Just a little ways up and around a big turn was a great field. All the hay was cut and was dry. It seems that Harold had a contract with the National Park to keep the fields cut and neat. This way, the farm museum just a ways up ahead would look nice.
Mrs. Jenkins wasn’t joking when she said that the work was hard! I sure earned my money that day. Johnnie drove the tractor and hay bailer. The other fellow drove the hay truck which had a loader hooked to the side of the truck. He would follow Johnnie’s trail of finished hay bales, and the loader would grab the bales. I would hear it coming up, click...clack, clack, clack. The bale would fall into the truck, and I had to stack those heavy bales neatly. When I went home that evening I was beat!
From the Author:
This is a new book. It is about the Lodge I built in the Smoky Mountains, near Bryson City, and Deep Creek campground, North Carolina. Having been from Florida, I know that a lot of Floridians love to visit the Smoky Mountains National Park. Therefore hopefully you will enjoy my story of the building of “A Lodge Called Folkestone”.
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