Hey, Meg here. Guest blogging.  This was written yesterday, but we lost internet, currently, we’re in Memphis:

So we left Louisville, Kentucky yesterday morning. Said good bye to our wonderful hosts, with whom we stayed for a few days.  Our plan was to then drive a few hours to the outskirts of Williamsburg, KY and farm for 2 weeks at a farm we found through WWOOF (World-Wide Opportunities on Organic Farms), where we would work on the farm every day in return for food and housing.  We mapquested the farm before we left and three hours later found ourselves in rural, rural farm country in 89 degree weather, lost and nearly out of gas.

Up till this point we felt pretty comfortable and not too much like stand-outs. This feeling ended abruptly when we pulled over at a small mini-part in Corbin, KY to ask for directions.  We pulled our 2009 Chevy Colbalt with New York plates into a parking lot full of old Ford pick-up trucks and walked in. The place was full of locals having lunch, accents were thick and I really can’t describe how it felt except that we were a long way from Long Island from where we left.  I believe we both felt suddenly self-conscious of our accents and lack of orientation.  I felt a bit like Marissa Tomai in “My Cousin Vinny” despite being from rural upstate NY myself.

We asked a couple women standing around the counter how to get to the farm. A friendly, middle-aged thin woman, with a crutch and a thick accent was willing to help us, but her directions went something like this: “Go out here, take a layft, take a raht, drahve fur awhile, go straight to the bipass, drive fur a while, take anuther layft, drive fur a while…” There were no road names or numbers and the culture shock of the whole scene was so ridiculous that part way through I started laughing and said, “I’m really sorry, I just don’t think I’ll be able to remember all that.”  She recommended calling the farmer.

“There’s yer phone,” said and pointed to a pay phone on the wall. When was the last time I’ve used a pay phone and not a cell?

Heather said to her, “Perhaps we should buy a local map?”

The woman chuckeled and said, “Huh. Thur ain’t one.” 

We got out to the parking lot and laughed for awhile and how ridiculous we felt. Called the farmer and found out mapquest can’t provide directions for areas that are still somewhat off the map.  We were about 45 minutes out of the way. 

Found the farm out in the middle of no where, further south than the last stop.  Drove through many winding roads and up a dirt path, and passed a garage until we hit a dead-end and a couple young men told us we’d passed it.  We turned around and realized that the garage was the farm.

We pulled up and a man yelled out to us.  It was Dave, the farmer we’d spoken to over the phone.  He had a cane from having had a horse fall on him, badly injuring his hip a few years ago.  We started a patchy, aimless conversation, he introduced us to his animals (the only animals on the farm) his huge black Shepard aptly named “Bear” but we called him Kujo, and another dog that I could tell was once an Austrailan Blue Shepard but now could barely be categorized as living. The poor animal was thin, covered in dirt and sores, with over-grown toenails that caused it to limp, but it did pull itself up to greet us and sauntered over with it’s nose pointed to the ground.

The man pointed us to “the garden” which was a few rectangular patches of dirt and leaves, one of which had some garlic.  We exchanged skeptical glances before he lead us to the other side of the big garage which contained the living quarters.

We began warming up the place when we saw the huge loft bedroom with skylights and two beds and dressers.  He encouraged us to get our stuff, which we did. He made mention of all the free home-made wine that was available to us. We could drink as much as we wanted!

He brought us out to the front garden to plant onions and we chatted casually about traveling while he made elaborate plans for all of us.  In the first hour he had offered (as a handicapped man, mind you) to teach us to fish, gut and cook fish, bring us hiking in several state parks, see waterfalls and moonbows, go swimming in his ponds, meet all his artist/guitarist friends, “shoot shot guns and hand guns,” meet up with us in Texas because he would be there around that time, make sassafrass tea, cook dandelion greens, teach us all about farming, traveling and current events and have wine, beer, wine and more wine.  That all sounded fine to us.

Then we got to work planting blue berry bushes and while Heath and I planted he offered to teach us about “the 12th planet.”  He started in about a library discovered full of ancient texts, then about a planet with a giant orbit that comes around every 3,000 years causing earthquakes and tsunamis, then that it would come back in 2012. He wasn’t saying like, “Oh, here’s this theory…” he was saying, “This is how it is and thank god you met me in time to prepare for it.”  Then he continued with talk of how the navy’s in on it, how there are underground cities beneath all of the US that can hold 2 million people and how only the rich will survive, and how Lowes no longer builds on coastlines because of it…  As he spoke it became uncomfortably clear to me that this man was not in his right mind.

I pulled Heather aside as soon as I could and told her my thoughts.  After some conversing a lot of insanity became clearer.  Nothing he said lined up or sounded right, he at once referenced many past WWOOFers and then said there was only one, the bathroom and bathtub were in the living room surrounded by a curtain and glass windows, he was on food stamps, he had several children’s toys sitting on the floor next to four shot guns (though he told us he didn’t hunt)… the list went on and on and suddenly we realized we were in the middle of no where, off the map, huge dogs and a crazy man who had many loaded guns and knew how to use them.  We were pretty nervous then and quickly brainstormed ways out that wouldn’t upset him.

So a couple hours later, after we got clean from a swim in the pond, we tip-toed up stairs while he watched tv, snuck out our book bags, sleeping bags and my guitar into the car in 2 nearly silent trips.  Without a word we jumped in the car and sped away in a puff of red dust and arrived in Nashville, TN by nightfall.

No word from the crazy man yet.  Last night we slept in a hotel parking lot and ate a delicious continental breakfast.  Thanks to the breakfast we were also able to load our cooler with biscuits, bagels, muffins and waffles. Currently we’re at a Panera Bread in Nashville, trying to set up couchsurfing in Memphis.  Overall I gotta say I think we’re pretty pleased with ourselves.

Me and Cujo/Bear by the "farmer's" pond.

 Heather enjoying a continental breakfast.