Trailheads Brave Drizzle, Welcome A Female Guest, And Trail Master Demands Praise At Socks.

It’s been a busy time in Trailheads Country, which is a lot like Marlboro Country without all the macho cowboy crap, chaps, heavy coughing, and emphysema.

George premiered his epic movie, The Games in Black & White, about Billy Payne and Andrew Young’s quest to bring the 1996 Olympic Games to Atlanta.

The film had a blockbuster opening on Saturday night at The Rialto Theatre as part of The Atlanta Film Festival. George’s documentary received a standing ovation. Bravo, Maestro! It was reminiscent of the 1939 premiere of Gone With The Wind in Atlanta—but without the Klieg lights, Olivia de Havilland, Clark Gable, and segregation. 

Over the weekend, Patrick was in Ohio for his 50th high school reunion. Amazingly, in 1975, he was voted Most Likely to Join A Hiking & Barbecue Group and Write Silly Blog Posts About Their Dumb Adventures.  

Obviously, someone in the class was voted Most Likely to be a Clairvoyant. Who knew––besides that individual? Patrick was happy he wasn’t voted Most Likely To Have Peaked in High School.

But like Thin Lizzy, the boys were back in town and rallied with Trail Master Guy, Steve, Brad, and his special guest, Anne. Roy is still on the disabled list with his plantar fasciitis, milking the injury for all its worth and receiving little pity from us. But he’s fine with that; frankly, we believe the ailment is self-inflicted.

We hiked the Bowmans Island and Laurel Ridge Trails at Buford Dam Park. We last left footprints on this path in February 2024 (read all about it here). It’s a scenic hike and the closest one to Socks’ Love Barbecue in Cumming, a joint we’d been jonesing to eat at again. If Socks’ were closer, we might eat there every week.

That morning, the gang was apprehensive—the sky was drizzling rain. Wetness! What would we do? Should we retreat to bomb shelters and take cover? Brad texted "SOCKS’ LOVE SUSHI!" Sushi is our default rainy-day fare.

But, NO! Trail Master said the rain was passing through. Who made him Weather Master? "Game on," he commanded. Guy gives no quarter to dissenters because he already tolerates so many whiners.

We embarked on our journey. The lovely Anne brought her dog Ellie, and Fio showed her the ropes.

“These humans are pathetic,” Fio confided to her new friend. “But if you pretend you like them, they’ll feed you. Play nice, and they’ll even give you toys and treats.”

“They’re pretty needy, huh?” Ellie said. “Cool. Let’s play the suckers for all they’re worth.”

“That’s what I'm talkin' about,” Fio said, winking. “I like the cut of your jib, girlfriend–whatever that means.”

Mother Nature was sporting a fresh coat of green, slick with rain. The trail was damp, and we trod carefully. With no Roy Tumbles, we defied gravity’s pull to the Earth. No one wanted to pick up his clumsy mantle. 

A creepy mist hung over the lake as fishermen, or perhaps ghouls dropped their lines in the water. The fish probably looked at their bait and wondered why they couldn’t get a nice, hot Egg McMuffin or Krispy Kreme. 

We posed for a selfie, and Anne’s addition gave our gangly group what the kids call “rizz.” 

Numerous conversations broke out as members swapped positions on the trail like horses running in The Kentucky Derby, but without all jockeys whipping and horses pooping on the track.

Patrick suggested we discuss what we love best about Trail Master’s leadership at lunch. Everyone agreed that it would be a grand idea. 

“My human will believe anything,” Fio confided to Ellie. They laughed and snickered in the way dogs do. Why can’t they be honest with us?

We meandered this way and that while Trail Master consulted a map. If we were in a cartoon, a big question mark would have appeared above his head. He began backtracking, and we followed, hoping he knew the way since we were getting mighty hungry.

Thankfully, he was leading us to freedom: the parking lot. We quickly saddled up our cars and began racing to Socks for lunch.

Socks’ Love Barbecue is one of our favorite smoke-a-terias. Many Trailheads believe that Pit Master Steve Hartsock “Socks” serves the tastiest beef brisket in the land.

We entered the smoked meat emporium and placed our orders. Roy joined us for lunch, so now we had a full crew.

Trailheads sat at the shady picnic table in the parking lot. Patrick and Guy had used their brute strength to move it there months ago. Heroic? You bet! The stuff of legends.

Mr. Socks appeared and hugged Roy for the illustration he gifted him last year. We had a pleasant conversation, and the Pit Master returned to work. Apparently, he cooks for others as well.

Trail Master Guy took control of the situation and demanded that we praise him while he feasted. “But only one person speaks at a time,” he commanded. “I want to savor every word.”

We’ll review the food as we hail our glorious leader. 

Yes, the brisket is all that. Smokey, tender, Texas manna. Slather it with tasty Socks’ sauce and go to town. You’re eatin’ good, pardner. Maybe better than you deserve.

Ditto for the pulled pork. Steve, our pork expert, puts it in the top tier. It’s ready for swine prime time. Eat up. We’ll wait.

Mr. Ribs, George the movie maven, encapsulated his opinion of the boned beauties succinctly: “Socks does ribs right.” 

“We would die without your brilliant leadership,” George began his testimony. “You are brilliant and brave, a genuinely great man among common men. Truly, we’d be lost without you.” We each assumed he was talking about us and then realized he had launched into his fawning over the Trail Master.

Brad enjoyed pepper sausage, which he liked, but prefers Socks’ jalapeno and cheddar variety. Still, he made his link disappear quickly.

“Forgive me, Guy, for all my whining,” Brad said sheepishly. “I am jealous of your natural skills leading others in the wilderness. I have never loved a leader more than our illustrious Trail Master. I would jump through rings of fire for you, your holiness.”

Roy ordered the daily special: a smoked yellowfin tuna melt. He cooed as he ate, which we believe signifies he liked it. "Boy Howdy, that was some smokey Tuna!" he shouted. He also got brisket, pork, and slaw to share the Socks’ joy with his wife, Karlenne.

“You goaded me to do everything I hate,” Roy told Guy. “You made me hike in the outdoors. I hate the outdoors. There’s too much weather out there.”

Trail Master nodded. He appeared pleased at his trailmate’s displeasure.

The sides are also all-stars. The coleslaw is crisp, tangy, and tasty.

The fried okra is an almost-healthy-but-then-again-maybe-not vegetable.

Anne raved about her “OMG” Mac & Cheese. It lives up to the hype. And the name.

She also adored the Collard Greens. “They’re very greeny and good.”

Trail Master looked expectantly at Patrick.

“Moses had nothing on you,” Patrick said, returning his attention to stuffing his gob with food.

“That’s it?” Trail Master asked, raising his arm to smite him mightily. 

“No, no! Please forgive me, Trail Master. You are a genius, brave, and worthy of adoration in every way. And you could teach compasses a thing or two about navigation.”

Trail Master nodded approval and waved a dismissive hand.

Brad slapped his chaps and described the Cowboy Beans as the best he’s ever had. We wondered if the beans would repeat later, like in the campfire scene of Blazing Saddles.

Socks Fire Roasted Creamed Corn is not to be missed. It’s love at first forkful.

It was Steve’s turn to gush Trail Master's praise. 

“Our Dear Leader is fearless and can even make rain stop when he wishes,” Steve began. “Next hike, he may even walk on water and chew gum simultaneously. He is that talented.”

Trail Master Guy smiled, satisfied we had fed his ego and inflated his enormous noggin to capacity.

“Not bad, guys,” he said. “But I expect you to do much better next week. Don't be so shy in your praise.”

“See?” Fio whispered to Ellie. “I told you these guys are pathetic.”

“Pitiful,” Ellie replied.

“I do like Anne, though,” Fio said. “But I don’t understand why she’s hanging out with these losers.” 

Ellie shrugged and turned her attention to the last bit of brisket.

She decided she liked how these hikes ended.

Rating: Four Ribs*

Socks’ Love Barbecue

1050 Buford Hwy.

Cumming, GA 30041

(470) 302-8383

sockslovebrands.com

*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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