Trailheads Debate Their Origin Story, Hike Old Forest, See Teddy Bears in Bondage, And Attack The 57th Fighter Group Restaurant

In the beginning, there was Genesis, followed by endless debates about the origin story of everything. If you ask Pete Best, he’ll swear The Beatles were his idea and that he formed the band. No wonder he was pissed when he got the boot.

If you ask Trailhead George about the origin story of our esteemed hiking group, he’ll say that he, Patrick, and Brad met regularly for dinner and drinks at The 57th Fighter Group Restaurant on Clairmont Road.

Patrick invited Guy to join them. Shortly after, the group began hiking, and the “handsome” newbie seemed vain enough to accept the responsibilities of Trail Master. (Just call Guy handsome, and he’ll do anything.)

But according to Guy, he met regularly with Steve and Roy to discuss hiking and barbecue, but felt they needed to add three more strong and true men. Since they couldn’t find such gents, they settled on George, Brad, and Patrick.

To further complicate the origin story, Roy claims he was obtained in a trade with the Lakers (a power forward?). But he confesses his true passions lie in interpretive dance and counted cross-stitch. While he loves barbecue French reduction sauces, forest-sourced mushrooms are his preferred menu item.

Perhaps the truth is a combination of these tales. Maybe Pete Best chose Guy to lead his hiking group, and Guy recruited George, who added the idea of barbecue. Then, Brad, Patrick, and Steve joined, and Trailheads were born. We kicked Pete out of our band and replaced him with Roy. Deja vu, Pete.

This week, the Johnny-come-lately Trailheads were M.I.A. Guy was lollygagging on the treasured sands of Hilton Head Island.

Steve was making business calls because he’s insane.

And Roy was still in Scotland on the Isle of Skye, taking his plantar fasciitis out for painful strolls.

 And so, the three Founding True Trailheads— George, Brad, and Patrick —met to hike a virgin area for our boots: Ashford Forest Preserve on Clairmont Avenue, the nearest trail to our lunch destination, a return visit to The 57th Fighter Group.

And folks, this hike is a gem.

George was our trail master, having selected the route, and we began on a pleasant path winding through tall trees. The area is part of the old-growth forest network and is also a certified wildlife habitat. And now, the area can hang a Trailhead-approved certification. For joy, for joy!

Within five minutes of beginning, we met Eric.

He used to live in this area and hiked the trail often when he had dogs (they're now chasing bunnies in heaven). Eric is a member of Hash House Harriers Atlanta (learn more about them here). We like the organization’s slogan: A drinking club with a running problem. However, running seems extreme to us–it’s perilously close to exercise. Eric was a nice guy and posed for the camera.

Then he took our picture, suitable for framing by Guy, Steve, and Roy. We continued our expedition into the great unknown.

Ashford Forest Preserve isn't a long trail, but you can take laps and explore the natural beauty up to the neighborhood limits. The trees are magnificent and old enough to collect Medicare (if political lumberjacks don’t cut them down first). 

 As we hiked, we encountered fallen timber and attempted to count rings to guesstimate the tree’s age. We gave up and concluded that the lumber was experienced.

There was a bench by the trail, and Brad decided to sit and manspread. He calls it Bradspreading. We think there is something wrong with him, and we eventually urged him to move on.

 The trail has some minor elevations, and we bravely descended. Good gravy, we were courageous. At any moment, we could have mauled by a black bear selling Amway.

At the bottom of the path, we saw an expanse of running water.

“What’ll we do?” Patrick shrieked. “We might drown. We could die!”

“Calm down, buttercup,” Trail Master George cooed. “Just follow my heroic lead. I am fearless.”

He calmly walked on the stones across the watery expanse. Brad followed. Patrick double-checked his life insurance and forged ahead carefully. Any misstep could introduce him to the Grim Reaper’s cold embrace. 

“Whew,” he said when he got to the other side. “That was a dilly of a pickle.”

Brad grabbed him by the shoulders. “For God’s sake, man,” he barked, “toughen up or we’ll dump you like yesterday’s garbage.”

Patrick sniffled. “Yes, sir.” He knows it's never smart to sass back anyone who manspreads.

“Enough jawing,” George commanded. “Let’s move out!”

We posed for a selfie by a fallen tree and noticed something on top of it. At first, we thought it might be a mushroom growth–didn’t Roy say he loved forest 'shrooms? But wait, that wasn’t vegetation!

It was a couple of kinky Teddy Bears bound together. Had we discovered a toy BDSM scene? What’s wrong with kids these days?! Would we soon see a Ken doll with a red gag ball in its mouth? We blushed and walked away in disgust. 

We hiked another lap and decided to call the journey due to hunger pangs. Off we went, a short drive to The 57th Fighter Group Restaurant across Clairmont Road. If you’ve never been here, you’re missing one of Atlanta’s most unique dining environments.

You’ll find a P-51 Mustang replica out front, along with a jeep and an artillery gun station. Chuck E. Cheese, this ain’t.

Inside, you’re welcomed with a wall of sandbags leading you into the check-in station and dining rooms. 

The walls are hung with black and white portraits of the brave airmen who battled fascism in WWII. They kicked ass, took names, and did the world proud. 

There’s a nice bar area and a large dance floor. The joint gets jumping at night, and you’ll see a lot of fancy steppin’ on the boards. Since we were in our hiking boots, we didn’t moonwalk, do The Hustle, or The Monkey On An Electric Fence. 

 We got a spot on the outdoor patio. The runways of Peachtree-DeKalb Airport are close by, and aircraft of all sizes taxi, take off, and land as you eat. You’ve got box seats to all the aviation action.

Our server, Nick, a friendly young man, took our drink orders. While this isn’t a barbecue place, it does offer brisket sliders and bourbon wings, accompanied by blue cheese dipping sauce. We ordered our wings extra crispy (that's the Trailheads' way).

The flappers were fantastic, and the sauce had chunks of blue cheese (it's not bottled Kraft). Nick said the daily special was a burnt brisket ends sandwich. Brad and Patrick were all over that. George ate like a fashion model: a Caesar salad topped with ginger soy salmon.

Our burnt ends sandwiches were amazing.

The toasted bun held a generous portion of brisket burnt ends, served in a sweet, spicy, and savory sauce, then topped with melted cheese. There are sautéed Bermuda onions and jalapeños, accompanied by dill pickles on the side. Dress your sandwich for dinner and go to town.

The fries were perfect sidekicks–unpeeled russets, sliced, fried crisp, and salted, ready to eat naked or dipped in ketchup. 

George loved his salmon salad, although we saw him lusting after our burnt ends. But he resisted temptation and stuck to his healthy choice. Stupid will power!

 After eating, the three men relaxed and reminisced about the early days when they recruited an elite force (Guy, Steve, and Roy) to join their Trailheads crew. They also recalled other notable accomplishments they had achieved: inventing the iPhone, winning the Triple Crown twice, and collecting fourteen Oscars. 

We decided to call it a day. But before leaving the 57th, you’ve got to hit the head, where the inspiring voice of Winston Churchill advises you to never, ever, ever surrender. Stand at the urinal and read the news of yesterday.

On alternate bathroom walls are framed portraits of the British and allied airmen who fought to save the world from the insidious grip of evil. Bravo, chaps!

As you leave the 57th Fighter Group, you feel more patriotic, and with a full belly, perhaps there’s a nap in your future. Well done, troops. Well done!

FOUR RIBS

The 57th Fighter Group Restaurant

3829 Clairmont Rd 

Atlanta, GA 30341

(770) 234-0057

https://www.57threstaurant.com

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