Evil Trail Master Leads Us Off The Grid, We Almost Die, Then Feast At Jim ‘N Nick's Bar-B-Q.

George and Roy are lucky stiffs because they missed this week’s adventure. George was with his bride in London for rest and recreation– you know, tea and crumpets and whatnot.

Roy was nursing his plantar fasciitis and lunching with the swells. While he read online that your heel can be healed by eating your enemies’ feet, he decided to try chicken salad first.

Meanwhile, Trailheads Steve, Brad, Patrick, and Trail Master Guy assembled to hike the East Palisades, North Loop Trail. It had rained the previous night, and the trail was slick as an eel. The morning was beautiful, and the Hooch was high. A man sat on the beach with his laptop and phone, working in the idyllic setting. But there was something fishy about him. Hmm.

Patrick thought he might be a secret agent, and padded his Walther PPK, ready for anything. Although he doesn’t have a License to Kill, he does have a Gwinnett County library card and has read many secret agent books. He’s even written one that he’ll be editing.

The Trail Master said we had to get moving. Patrick removed his hand from his David Bowie knife (who knew the Starman carried a knife?) and fell in line.

The men marched over the bridge, looking like an elite corps of finely tuned physical specimens ready to take whatever challenges Mother Nature might serve. Would this be a bridge to somewhere or a bridge to nowhere? No one knew. Not even the Trail Master.

Be forewarned, hikers, this is a trail where you’d better watch your step. There are roots galore, stones, and stumps eager to trip unsuspecting feet and serve them to dastardly Mr. Gravity for punishment.

E. Palisades is a popular trail, and we encountered scads of people walking their dogs. A cordial woman greeted us, but maybe she was too friendly. Patrick tapped his throwing stars in case she was up to no good. We passed without incident but kept alert to dangers.

Onward we trekked, up the slick hill, every step posing a potential death threat. It was early on, and our fresh legs took the challenge in stride. Nature even placed slick leaves on the path for us to traverse, and we did so like billy goat champs. 

We posed in front of a rock formation and mustered a heroic look. It was early, and that would change. 

A woman approached wearing a T-shirt we liked. She is a researcher and still believes in old-fashioned ideas like science. You meet all types on the trails! Trailheads are fans of science. We don’t always understand it, but we’re glad some people do. Patrick released his grip on his crossbow. She seemed harmless. We had a pleasant conversation and moseyed on.

Mother Nature had been toying with us, giving Trailheads a false sense of confidence. She had served us appetizers, and now it was time for the entrée of perilous trails. We had to scale the slanted hill, which was slick with leaves and carpeted with nasty roots and mud. We were one missed step from a Six-Flags Runaway Mine Train ride downhill.

We survived somehow, and no one was whining. Yet. (Obviously, Roy was not in attendance.)

Next, there was a fallen tree to limbo under. Patrick carefully snuck beneath the lumber with his fake hips and knees intact. Was this a trail or an obstacle course? A Zen proverb states: obstacles do not block the path, they are the path. Curiously, there were no Zen monks on the trail. They knew better.

Brad and Steve posed for a zany photograph, pretending that they were lifting the tree trunk. Like anyone would believe these two schmos could lift a tree.

Trail Master saw them goofing around and stooge-slapped them. 

“Quit your hijinks,” he barked. “Get in line and start marching!”

Steve was heard to snarl “Why, I oughta...” in a Curly-like way.

 But we quickly did as he said. Trail Master demanded we assemble for another selfie. 

“And smile like you mean it this time,” he commanded. We gave our reluctant teeth to the lens. Were we suffering Stockholm Syndrome?

Evil Trail Master grinned and led us into the great unknown. We crossed a small creek and hiked on. Then, suddenly, we realized we were off the trail. Trail Master led us down a hill through wild growth where baby chiggers spat out their pacifiers in search of giving human flesh. God only knows what was in that wild vegetation.

We assumed Trail Master was taking a shortcut to the trail, but when we reached the hill’s bottom, there was nothing but more natural growth. Where were we anyway?

With a glint in his eye, Trail Master looked at his AllTrails app, and we were nowhere to be found. He had led us off the grid and into oblivion. We wondered if he was serving our tired bodies to Mother Nature as sacrifices. Was this his revenge for not gushing enough praise to his glory last week? Read about it here.

A chorus of whining began. Trail Master told us to follow him– but isn’t that what got us into this perilous situation in the first place? We had no choice. None of us has a good sense of direction. Sometimes, we don’t even know our left from our right, which is apparent when you look at our hiking boots pointing away from our bodies.

We would keep hiking until one of the thousands of satellites orbiting the Earth located us on the planet. We trudged on, navigating beneath fallen trees, crossing over the creek, and avoiding the snakes.

Like Indiana Jones, we hate snakes! Although this fellow is good, no one wanted to handle it.

After what seemed like two days, Trail Master located a trail, and we were back to being a dot on the AllTrails map. Unfortunately, we were a dot that was a loooong way from the parking lot.

There was a conference around a trail map. Trail Master studied it carefully and ordered, “Follow me. The parking lot’s this way." Then, under his breath, he said, “I think.”

We were exhausted, hungry, and beaten into submission. We meandered behind him like sheep behind a shepherd. 

Finally, we returned to our cars and sped away for lunch at Jim ‘N Nick’s Bar-B-Q in Suwanee. We hadn’t been here since June. Read about that visit here.

We grabbed a table on the patio, and our friendly server, Jay, came and took our orders. 

Trailheads began with a round of Arnold Palmers. Elvis wanted an Arnie but didn’t have a straw long enough.

We feasted on Jim ‘n ‘Nick’s famous cheesy muffins. They’re so good you want to crawl inside them and eat your way to a nap.

Jay brought us an order of wings, and we made short work of them. These crispy, meaty babies are in the top tier of barbecue joints. Eat ‘em up!

We recounted our hike and made it even more dramatic–we recalled being at death’s door, but fortunately, no one was home. Are we heroes, or what? We'll let history decide. Our food arrived. 

J 'N N’s beef brisket is very good. It’s tender, tasty meat that eats right nice. Sandwiches are served on toasted Martin’s potato buns, the best in the business, and we ate them with greedy glee.

The pulled pork is also a winner. Its flavor is enhanced by one of the tasty sauces. The Carolina Gold, with its mustardy tang, is particularly nice.

The spareribs are mighty fine. Grab a bone and go to town.

Brad liked his jalapeno/cheese sausage and was nice enough to give us samples.

On to the side dishes. The onion rings are fantastic. They’re crisp and perfect naked, or after a dunking in Heinz Ketchup.

The fries are also delicious. Unpeeled potatoes are sliced and taken for a bath in hot grease. They’re dusted with salt and ready for action.

The baked beans are fine. Nothing special, but good. They're beany.

Trail Master described his coleslaw as "excellent."

He also loved his roasted ear of corn. 

And Steve made short work of his baked potato. 

We sat at the table as the legend of our courageous and dangerous hike grew. Trail Master laughed maniacally. We said he’d be much more menacing if he tossed his head back first, and he did so, then laughed himself quiet. We breathed relief.

Jay was a terrific server, and we left him hefty signs of our appreciation.

Then we took our battered bodies home to recuperate, as we cursed stupid Zen sayings.

Rating: Four Ribs*

JIM ‘N NICK’S BAR B-Q SUWANEE 

1103 Old Peachtree Rd NW

Suwanee, GA 30024

770-255-1717

jimnnicks.com/locations/ga/suwanee/1103-old-peachtree-rd-nw/

*About Our Barbecue Rating System

Trailheads do not claim to be food experts, epicureans, or sophisticated palates. We are hungry hikers who attack a selected barbecue venue and ravage our way through whatever smoked fare and fixings they're dishing out. Our reviews feature what we believe are the highlights of the menu we sampled. So our intent is not to trash talk the saintly folks who tend to smoldering smokers on hot, humid summer days. They are sacrificing themselves in the noble art of smoking meats and feeding the drooling masses. Many are independent entrepreneurs who are the backbone of this humming American economy. Now that you know our standards, you may wonder why every barbecue place gets a four-ribs rating. The answer is easy: our group has acclaimed designers, and they think the ribs graphic looks cool. Who are we to argue? Enjoy.

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