My Old Kentucky Home Tour

Umm -- I thought it was for the cool old mansions we passed on our bikes. So 2nd year of riding I dig into it a little -- Stephen Foster Avenue, My Old Kentucky Home State Park -- OK -- NOW I get it!

What a beautiful ride. From Louiseville to Bardstown on Saturday -- a tough, hilly 103 mile ride with a "legendary" climb (Pottershop) at the 95 mile mark. Oh -- and to make that one worse -- it's really 3 climbs -- so you struggle up the first thinking you've done it -- only to descend and climb and, and then again! Beautiful narrow roads, fields of corn, tobacco hanging in the barns to drive -- oh the smells. Perfect weather too -- high 70's, low 80's.

We had a broken chain early so we split off from the larger group (a bunch of guys from Greenville of all places! They were impressed that I did 3 laps of Paris Mountain last year -- oh and that I rode with that Lance guy) and waiting about an hour and 20 minutes until we were ready to head off again. Then we went a bit too hard trying to catch the group. Rick and Jim cramped terribly and my knees have just about had it with hills (and mountains) so we were a sad, sorry lot!

But it's hard to feel sorry for yourself when you are surrounded by beautiful views, enjoying beautiful weather, and outside riding your bike! We took it a bit easier Sunday and enjoyed the views, mostly because the pain in my knees prevented me from pushing had on the pedals. But it was great to enjoy the company -- it was even fun to spin up hills we'd normally storm up, all the while chatting away having a pleasant conversation. We laughed a bit -- because folks we passed probably didn't appreciate we were talking so easily -- we know this of course because on occasion in the mountains folks would pass us doing the same. So -- all and all a great weekend.

Back to the name of the ride.

Stephen Foster wrote his famous song (originally called "Poor Uncle Tom, Good Night") on a family visit from PIttsburgh to New Orleans via Bardstown Kentucky. While visiting his cousins he saw their magnificent house, Federal Hill mansion. There are more than a few holes in that story (time line being one of them, referring to a "little cabin" not a mansion in the song another) so another common thought is that he was inspired by Uncle Tom's Cabin.

The original words are, well, not so politically correct -- so of course when it became the state song they changed it up. And the tune is not all that catching -- oh well!

Bardstown is a neat little town with, of course (doesn't every town have one?), a "historic downtown". To start there is the Old Nelson County Jail. It was the oldest operating jail in 1987 when it became a bed and breakfast (which is technically was before the conversion if you think about it!). Constructed in 1874 it keeps its theme today with the stockade out front reminding everyone of it's history.

The Nelson County Courthouse was built in 1892, replacing the orginal 1790's stone courthouse. Some of the original stones formed the foundation of the new courthouse.

There is a monument to John Fitch, erected in 1927 to honor the inventor of the steamboat.

The first successful hip-joint amputation was performed by a Doctor here. With nothing to guide him it is amazing that the patient survivied. Bardstown was a Union recruiting site during the Civil War.

The Johnson Building has housed a drugstore on it's corner since 1900.

The first Catholic Cathedral built west of the Alleghenies is the Basilica of St. Joseph Proto-Cathedral, using native trees and clay for its bricks and pillars, built in 1816. But the oldest church in Bardstown is Union Church. Originally home to Protestant congregations it has been the home of the

Afro-American First Baptist Church since the 1860's with the sanctuary on the second floor.

Given it's diverse Civil War history first as a Union recruiting site with a Union hospital and also the Sweets-McCown House was, according to tradition, where Elizabeth Doom McCown presented a Confederate Unit, the Nelson Greys, with a silk flag on the steps. In addition the Narcissa House was bequethed by Austin Hubbard to his Mulatto slave Narcissa who he had raised from childhood. The funds from his estate purchased her freedom and at her death the property was sold to purchase the freedom of her two sons.

Whew -- OK I guess it qualifies as "historic"! More importantly it was beautiful city, full of friendly people who welcomed a boatload of eccentric, lycra clad cyclists.