This week, Trailheads were dropping like flies in a thick fog of Raid.
Roy was a no-go due to his continued international illness contracted in London. He coughs with a decidedly Oxford-educated accent.
“The viruses across the pond are so much more refined than ours,” he says, adjusting his new Kersy Bakerboy cap purchased at Lock & Co. Hatters in London, the city’s oldest cap shack. “The British sophisticated culture would never tolerate anything as pedestrian as a ‘common’ cold, would they? Pshaw!”
Steve was also down for the count with a nasty cocktail of illnesses. Steve never opts for one issue; he likes the trifecta.
And George was busy doing his movie production things–negotiating with agents, demoting best boys to ‘not such bad guys,’ sipping Pinot Noir with Nicole Kidman, explaining why she couldn’t be in his film (but she’s in every other movie and series). Nicole was not buying what George was selling.
That left Trail Master Guy, Patrick, and Brad to represent. Guy and Patrick met on time in the Charleston Park Trail parking lot and received a text from Brad explaining he’d be late because a cop had pulled him over.
Uh-oh. We wondered what he was being busted for this time: embezzlement, mail fraud, white-collar crime (Brad loves stealing men’s dress shirts), money laundering (his currency is filthy), or racketeering. The Young Thug trial had nothing on Brad.
Brad showed up with his crime blotter report. He was pulled over for going 85 mph in a 65 zone. The cop told him the police computer showed he didn’t have insurance on his car. Brad showed his insurance card, and the lawman said he should go to the DMV and sort it out. Then, amazingly, the police officer let the criminal go Scott-free. We wondered if money was exchanged or if Elvis’ goo-goo eyes melted the cop’s heart.
Brad was only a few minutes late. “I drove 120 mph to get here quick,” Mr. Lead Foot said. (We're hoping for Brad's sake this post does not constitute an affidavit.)
This hike and our lunch at Socks’ Love Barbecue in Cumming would be a repeat of August 1 (read about that adventure here). This morning was brisk, with 33 degrees and clear skies, as trees struggled to hold onto their last leaves.
On December 27th, Patrick will get a total knee replacement. He has been hobbling like Chester Goode in Gunsmoke. The limping Trailheads wondered if Festus was warming up in the bullpen––that’s what happened to poor Chester. Matt Dillon wasn’t known for loyalty. Just ask Miss Kitty.
Since Patrick’s pre-op meeting is next Thursday, this would be his last hike for a good spell while he recuperates. Trail Master was determined to make sure it would be a memorable hike.
We began by walking along the shores of Lake Lanier, a popular place to go barefoot on the beach. But this day was too cold, so we kept our boots on.
The dogs went for a dip and a drink. They generally don't wear boots.
Trail Master led his troops along the trail blanketed with dead leaves. There is beauty in a loop trail with its symmetry, simplicity, and a defined beginning and end. Loops are why NASCAR drivers rarely use their Waze apps.
Charleston Park Trail is not a loop trail. It snakes about, cuts back, loop-dee-loos, and makes sharp turns as it ascends and descends through the woods.
We crossed bridges, came to the popular Sasquatch sign, snapped a selfie, and moved on.
Then on and on and on.
Fio began limping, and Guy and Brad checked her. After inspecting her paw, they deemed Fio healthy, and we hiked on. Did the medics check Patrick’s knee? No! Humans don’t matter to them. Maybe the dog was delaying the pace for poor Patrick as his knee bone ground on bone. He was already two inches shorter on that side.
Trailheads hiked on and were on the other side of the lake, looking across the water toward a speck on the horizon where we had begun our journey.
“Are we lost?” Brad asked Trail Master.
“No. We’re fine,” he said, looking at his AllTrails app map.
“Does anyone have an extra knee?” Patrick asked. “Mine’s killing me.”
“You sure we’re not lost?” Brad asked again. Panic crept into his voice.
“We are not lost,” Guy said.
“Trailheads are more of a debate club than a hiking group,” Patrick said.
“Quit whining, everyone,l. Let’s go.” Trail Master led on. They looked like American Revolutionary War soldiers marching from battle.
Up and down the trail, we snaked deeper into the woods. Soon, hiking was eating into our feeding time, and Patrick and Brad talked Trail Master into returning. He looked at AllTrails.
“We’ve got to get down there,” Guy said, pointing through the brush and trees to a winding trail below. He descended through the wilderness, and we followed cautiously, hoping that the Georgia snakes wintered in Miami.
We imagined the vipers swilling martinis at The Delano.
Patrick relied on his trusty walking stick to keep him upright. Post-surgery, he’ll need a walker before transitioning to a cane. While he doesn’t plan to hike as he heals, Guy said R.E.I. probably offers a rugged hiking walker with heavy-duty tennis balls, and he should get one. There are actually specialized all-terrain woods walkers. We'll look into one of these for Patrick.
(Please don’t.)
Patrick hobbled along as Trail Master and Brad raced ahead. Lions, tigers, and bears looked at the wounded animal in the back of the pack and considered attacking the easy prey. Fortunately, they didn’t think he looked tasty, so they slept instead.
Trailheads hiked on, following TO PARKING LOT signs like beacons in the inky night. We oohed at every sign, dreaming we’d soon be done, but no parking lot was in sight—only the promise of more signs.
We finally made it. Trail Master sent Patrick’s bum knee out in style––a 5.3-mile hike with more ups and downs than a pogo stick. This week, we earned our barbecue and headed to some of the best in the N. Georgia area– Socks’ Love Barbecue in Cumming.
Pit Master Steve “Socks” Hartsock prepared his smoker for our arrival.
Steve is a friend of Trailheads, and after lunch, Brad picked up a whole brisket and ten cheddar jalapeno sausages for our holiday party on Saturday. Socks smokes some of the best brisket in the business.
We discussed the recent passing of Dave Roberts, the founder and pit master of Community Q in Decatur. Dave was Steve’s friend and much loved in barbecue circles. Socks credits Dave with the mac ‘n cheese recipe he and many others use.
The North Georgia barbecue community is tight, and everyone loved Dave Roberts. Happy Trails to this revered smoking legend. We love his barbecue and look forward to returning and supporting the Community Q family.
Inside Socks’, we bellied up to the counter and gave our orders to the lovely Kea.
Steve gave Brad a lesson on how to carve a brisket. Knowing Brad was a Visual Design graduate from Auburn, he wisely gave visuals for Brad to follow. He doesn't understand words well. To him, words are “just design elements.”
The men posed like champs. Brad looked confused but focused. We hope he took notes.
As they sketched meat, Patrick lost interest and noticed an assortment of hot sauces. Although Socks’ food is always delicious, if you like heat, here’s your arsenal.
Outside, we grabbed a table and dug in.
Guy got the daily special, a brisket sloppy joe sandwich. Yes, it tasted as good as it sounds. No, you’ll never settle for Manwich again. He cooed like a satisfied cat on a sunny ledge.
Brad had the two-meat sampler with pulled pork and ribs.
Patrick also had the pulled pork, it’s some of the best you’ll ever eat. The meat is moist and flavorful, with a smokey kiss. Dress it with Socks’ tasty barbecue sauce, and you’re eatin’ fine.
Brad loved his ribs. They’re meaty spareribs, and he raved about the flavor. While we always prefer baby backs, spareribs are terrific when they’re meaty––but not so good when they’re fatty. Thankfully, Socks smokes the good stuff.
The fire-roasted creamed corn is an all-star side. It makes corn cobs proud and bellies joyful. Don’t miss it.
The brisket chili is also a thing of beauty. You can eat it with a fork (which we did because we forgot spoons). The flavor is incredible. Guy adorned his with some Fritos for a crunchy thrill.
And the fried okra was great. Chef served the healthy green vegetable fresh from the grease, dusted with salt. This is okra is meant for eating. And we did just that.
Being a good husband, Guy ordered some ribs to go for his wife, Patty. Kea came outside to deliver the tasty goods, and she became a Trailheads sandwich.
We’d had a good day with a grueling hike for a bad knee––but it’s going out in style.
Treat yourself this holiday season by feasting at Socks’ Love Barbecue. Just mind those hips and knees.
On Saturday, Roy and his wife Karlenne retraced our steps and went to Cumming to meet a couple of kittens from the Feral Cat Program of Georgia. (Great organization!) Skye and Fig decided to join their family. While their paper work was being put together, K&R decided to go to Socks' for lunch. What else could they do?
Rating: Four Ribs*
Socks' Love Barbecue
1050 Buford Hwy.
Cumming, GA 30041
(470) 302-8383
*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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