Trailheads March On Battlefields, Obey Rules (For Once), And Retreat to Dickey’s Barbecue Pit

Patrick Scullin
May 18
4 min read

Updated: May 19

Patrick Scullin. Very lightly sauced by Brad Copeland. May 17

Trail Master Guy rallied Brad, Steve, and Patrick for this week’s hike on Hardage Mill and Noses Creek Loop Trail in Kennesaw. We hadn’t hiked this Civil War battle site since January 2024 (read about that adventure here).

The missing Trailheads had decent excuses. George was flying back from vacationing in London, where he had been pub crawling with his wife, Carole, and trying to join The Rolling Stones. (Mick blackballed him.)

Roy was on vacation with his wife Karlenne and was caught wandering with a parasol in the wilds of Scotland.

If George and Roy were loyal, they would have flown back to join us. But they didn’t, and yes, we do take it personally.

In last week’s dispatch, Patrick called Trail Master “Evil” (read that gripping tale here), and Guy took great umbrage. Fortunately, Patrick has a stockpile of umbrage and told Trail Master to have his fill––he’ll make more.

It was a glorious morning with a beautiful blue sky, comfortable temps, and low humidity. We began marching along the trail in perfect Trailhead formation.

The trail was bustling with people walking their dogs or hiking. Dog owners faced the Trail Master’s intense interrogation about their pet's breed and disposition, while Fio and Elvis gave the animals a once-over.

As we continued, a woman on a horse came trotting by. It’s always best to give horses the right of way— they have anger management issues.

Be prepared when following the beasts, though. Horses leave land mines.

We walked down to Noses Creek for a selfie.

Trail Master decided we needed to cross the creek and take the path on the other side. He casually crossed the water on stones (some of which wobbled!). The rest of us gazed at the watery expanse as if we were being asked to cross Niagara Falls.

We wondered whether we could get a helicopter to airlift us across or if the Army Corps of Engineers would construct a bridge. Trail Master yelled encouragement: “Come on, let’s go! There’s nothing to it!”

One by one, we carefully made our way across. Brad almost made it; he slipped and splashed his way up to the path. We had bravely completed our mission and survived. We waited for confetti and a parade, but none came. Was this due to budget cuts?

Had we been DOGE-d.

We felt unappreciated for our heroics and journeyed onward. The path featured excellent elevations, and before we knew it, we were exercising! We’d soon be eating barbecue to counteract the effects. We greeted more dog lovers as Fio and Elvis made new friends.

On this trail, you can nerd out on Civil War history with the many markers along the path.

We came upon two canons pointed across an open field. A sign informed us that the area was historic and advised us to keep off. The last time we hiked here, Guy gave us his Trail Master dispensation, and we disregarded the rules and took selfies by the canons. A Kennesaw Battlefield Guide came by and asked us to kindly get the hell off the historic site. We complied.

But this time, we obeyed the rules, proving we were literate.

It was approaching our feeding time, and Trail Master encouraged us to take the long way back to the parking lot. We immediately vetoed that ridiculous idea and demanded the express path, encountering more dogs, who were frightened by our roaring hunger pangs.

We were eager to sample Big Shanty Smokehouse again. We'd visited months ago, shortly after the new owners from Memphis took over, and were impressed. However, when we arrived, the place was CLOSED!!

A sign on the door explained that Paul and Lori, the owners, were in Memphis competing in the World Championship Barbecue Cooking Contest. The couple has won many awards there in the past. Good for them, but bad for us.

Using the internet, we discovered a spot we hadn’t tried yet, Dickey’s Barbecue Pit in Kennesaw.

Travis Dickey, a World War I veteran, opened his first restaurant in Dallas, Texas, in 1941.

His hickory smoked barbecue became a sensation, and over the years, the business has expanded to 866 locations in 44 states and around the globe. They must be doing something right, so we hurried over to see what it was.

There was no outdoor seating, but Renaldo, the friendly pit master, gave us permission to set up a table outside.

The interior is comfortable, featuring a couple of historical pictures on the wall. If Dickey’s Barbecue was good enough for Ronnie Reagan, would it satisfy Trailheads? The menu includes all your favorites, but you won’t find frou-frou designer items here—this is the people’s barbecue.

Two Ole Hickory Pits smokers were hard at work, and we licked our chops in anticipation, ordered, and Renaldo prepared our plates.

Steve was impressed with the toasted bun housing his pulled pork sandwich.

“It’s buttery and toasty, just the way I like it.” He was also pleased with what was inside. The pork was tender, had a subtle smoky flavor, and, when dressed with Dickey’s barbecue sauce, ate like a dream.

Patrick enjoyed his chopped beef brisket sandwich. He especially loved the barbecue sauce.

Brad and Guy raved about their ribs. “The bark is tasty, the meat tender, and they eat clean to the bone,” they reported with full mouths.

They also enjoyed their sliced brisket, as Fio and Elvis looked on eagerly, wondering if they were going to be generous or greedy.

We became fans of all the sides. The slaw is crispy and has a nice tangy flavor.

The French fries were legit. Unpeeled potatoes are sliced uniformly, cooked in oil, and dusted with salt. Eat ‘em up, they’re good for you.

The baked beans are good enough for cowboys, but be careful not to drip the sweet sauce on your six-shooters.

And the green beans with bacon and onion were packed with flavor. POW!

We finished our plates, fed the dogs scraps, and discussed various theories of geothermal dynamics and their implications for ecological sustainability. Oh, and we debated how many times six goes into sixty. It felt like a Mensa meeting without all the obnoxious smart people.