I go to The Rock

I was remarking to someone or other a day or two ago that the best adventures are those that are not planned out quite so carefully.

Heavier on the impromptu, as it were. Entered into with less in the way of itinerary and more in the way of spontaneity.

My point was proven unexpectedly when, late last week, TG and Andrew conspired on an arrangement to meet in the Upstate of South Carolina and spend the day playing golf.

TG invited me to go along with him and that made me think of inviting Audrey, who lives in Knoxville where Andrew lives, to come along with her brother.

We two girls kicked it around for about thirty-six hours and the jury was still out when, after Google-Earthing the location of the golf course where TG and Andrew had secured a tee time of eleven o'clock on Saturday morning, I decided I didn't want to go.

There was an adorable little church cemetery near the resort, but the forecast was for hot, sticky weather and I've had just about enough of traipsing around in hot, sticky weather.

On Friday morning I composed an email to Audrey telling her of my decision. I figured she'd be glad because she gets up early every day for work.

Saturday is her only day to climb out from under the covers when she's good and ready, and enjoy her morning coffee in open-ended peace.

Going along with the guys would mean leaving our respective houses at seven thirty in the morning. And since my girls and I are hair-and-makeup types (for everything) rather than jeans-and-teeshirt types (for anything) it meant being vertical at O'Dark Thirty.

But before clicking send I decided to call The Rock at Jocassee, in the shadow of Table Rock, where the guys were all set to tee up the next morning.

There were three numbers listed on the website: pro shop, restaurant, and administrative. I called administrative.

A lady answered. I told her of the plan that was afoot and of my misgivings about the lack of interesting stuff for tagalong non-golfing females to do at The Rock while their menfolk played eighteen holes.

OK ... here I would like to say that although if you've read me for very long you know I am given to hyperbole at certain times, I am not exaggerating even a little bit when I say that THIS WAS ONE OF THE TOP THREE NICEST LADIES I HAVE EVER HAD THE PLEASURE OF CONVERSING WITH VIA TELEPHONE.

And how often do you get that? I mean, really?

In my experience when you call a place to ask questions, you are generally made to feel as though you are imposing merely by breathing and existing on the earth, or that you're inconsiderately wasting somebody's time by having had the temerity to dial their number in the first place, or that you stutter and/or are grossly inarticulate, or worse, just plain stupid, or -- and this is the most aggravating part -- your reason for calling is so unimportant that you must be constantly interrupted.

Instead of engaging in that sort of nonsense, this lady -- name of Dianne Gardiner, and she turned out to be the manager -- from the moment we started talking, assured me that she would love for my daughter and me to come along with the guys and enjoy a day at The Rock at Jocassee.

She said we were welcome to sit in the restaurant and drink coffee or have lunch, and to go online.

She even gave me the code for hooking into their WiFi, just in case there was nobody to ask when we arrived.

She invited Audrey and me to use their pool. "If anyone says anything, tell them you're my guests," she said.

She even said we we were welcome to play pool if that was our thing. (It isn't, but what a charming thought.)

When I revealed my interest in cemeteries, especially old ones, she told me about two ancient graveyards on or near the property. In particular she told me exactly how to find one situated at the eighteenth hole tee box.

She gave me the name of the golf pro and told me to go to the pro shop, ask for said pro by name, and request the use of a golf cart to prowl the course in search of the cemeteries.

Oh my goodness. I could have talked to Dianne all day. But I didn't. After thanking her -- enough, I hope -- I said bye because I was anxious to tell Audrey what I'd learned.

Of course Audrey was enthusiastic -- that's the kind of cool girl she is anyway but when I said "Free WiFi" she was more than in -- so it was decided that we would go after all.

When TG and I arrived at The Rock on Saturday midmorning, I was happy to find that it was not a fancy place. No snobs, no weirdness. Just people who like to play golf.

The clubhouse used to be a family home, built circa 1920. It's old-shoe comfortable, with a wraparound porch.

Audrey and Andrew wheeled in when we'd been there about ten minutes. The guys, grinning from ear to ear, took off in a little green-and-cream electric Club Car.

We girls headed inside and found a table in the restaurant. The place was empty because technically it does not open until noon, but we didn't care.

We chose a table overlooking the pool we were free to use if we felt like it.

Immediately a lady just as nice in person as Dianne had been on the phone -- I think she said her name was Marsha and I hope I'm right because that's what I called her for the rest of the day -- greeted us and told us to make ourselves at home.

She said would we like some coffee because she'd just been "looking for an excuse to make a fresh pot."

! ! ! ! !

Uhm, yes, ma'am, we would enjoy a coffee break, we burbled. Said refreshment was duly produced and served to us in bright orange ceramic mugs, and it was delicious.

Later we took a golf cart out and buzzed around until we found the guys. They were having a marvelous day on the links even though while we'd been enjoying our coffee, it had rained a couple of times.

Skies were powder blue and puffy-cloud pretty as we headed over a gurgling-brook bridge and up a steep path to the eighth tee, where TG and Andrew said we'd have a breathtaking view of a waterfall.

Audrey had never before ridden in a golf cart -- can you believe? -- and I could tell she was afraid I was going to spill us out on the steep parts.

I had to show her that when you remove your foot from the accelerator, the cart stops even if you're on a steep incline. But I could tell she was still nervous.

We saw the Gauley Falls, and we found the three-hundred-year-old Lewis Family Cemetery up by the eighteenth tee box, and the surrounding countryside was so breathtaking, my little girl and I were just ecstatic.

(Once I caught a glimpse of her out of the corner of my eye. She wore an expression that, even though she was in my peripheral vision, I could tell looked exactly like how she used to smile as a toddler.)

Then we were hungry so we zipped back to the restaurant, and Marsha took our order for chicken tender baskets with fries and while it cooked she brought us great big tumblers of fizzy Coke garnished with lime wedges.

While we ate, Marsha (I do hope that's her name) told us about another cemetery just outside the main entrance of The Rock.

So we breezed out and nabbed another golf cart and set out down the road to find that cemetery, but we got confused and had to go back.

Audrey went inside and asked Marsha to tell us again how to get there, and this time we listened better and retraced our steps and found the Lynch Cemetery.

William Lynch, a Revolutionary War soldier, is buried all by his lonesome on the The Rock at Jocassee property, but even though I looked for his resting place where I thought it would be, I couldn't locate it.

The Lynch Cemetery is full of his kinfolk, though, and we spent about twenty minutes taking pictures in the half-acre densely wooded and very overgrown spot.

Then we met up with our men again and set out for Travelers Rest, where we stopped at Duke's Doggs on the Swamp Rabbit Trail and the guys had a meal while we girls ate Blue Bell ice cream.

Afterwards, Andrew participated in Olympic bike-rack running. I'm pretty sure he medaled. Or maybe he only pedaled.

Either way, everybody is super friendly in the Upstate! I told TG we should move to Pickens so I can go to The Rock whenever I want.

I think he thinks I think they'll let me borrow a golf cart even when he's not golfing, but I don't know why he thinks that.

But I think that would be nice. And up at The Rock, they're nothing at all if not nice.

Happy Monday!

Comments

[Mari]

What a gorgeous place! I love when days like that happen - with little planning involved. You're right - those kind of days are the best.
The Rock is gorgeous!

[irene]

What a great day, it sounds like it wasn't even hot out. Great pictures too, I love all that moss on the stones.

[Glenda]

Fun, happy day. What a wonderful outing that was!

G.

[Crystal]

Awesome post and pics! And sounds like the perfect way to spend a day! So glad you all enjoyed urselves!