The Dream, The Challenge, The People
by Bob Kranich
(Excerpt 1)
“The Lodge Called Folkestone”. You may wonder why the first half of the book is about my many adventures throughout the USA. Well, this first part explains just why my interests changed from hot rodding cars to backpacking. How the idea of a lodge came about, and just how the lodge came to be in North Carolina and next to the Smoky Mountain National Park, Deep Campground to be exact.
Introduction
We’re going to go back in time...to 1962. This was when I first heard about the Smoky Mountain National Park. You will be able to travel along with me as many events formed my interest: nature, hiking, environment, and the Smoky Mountains. As a hiker, I experienced their flora, fauna, history, and a very unique topic, the mountain people.
My former wife and I had a short but interesting experience, publishing the first hiking and camping magazine in the USA, “American Hiker”. Then we took up residence for five months in a small house along Deep Creek, near the Smoky Mountains National Park Campground. After this, we went on a three month trip to England, Wales, and Scotland. There, we were introduced to bed and breakfast inns.
When we returned, we had the inspiration to build a country inn in the Smoky Mountains, Deep Creek area. We went to work to accumulate funds. As soon as this was accomplished, we left our occupations back in the big city. We were now ready to find a location, and to start building Folkestone Lodge. The year was 1976.
I Learn About the Smokies
“Take a look at this brochure, Bob. I’m telling you, it’s the greatest, most beautiful, fantastic, nature preserve and national park this side of the Mississippi River! My family just came back from a vacation there. We spent a whole week. We camped in the campgrounds, toured from one side to the other, and went all the way to the top, Clingmans Dome. It is one of the two, if not the highest mountain in the east.”
I had just been called into my engineer’s office. It was the summer of 1962, and I was working at the Tampa, Florida, General Telephone company’s downtown office. We were involved in the inventorying, identifying, and documenting all of their outdoor assets. I had once mentioned to him that I liked the outdoors and car camping. I also had said to him that the summers were too hot in Tampa, and Florida.
“Go ahead and take this brochure. I have extras. Let me know what you think,” Don said.
“Thanks, I’ll take a look. It sounds very interesting, and may be what I’ve been looking for.”
I went back to my drafting desk, took a quick peek, and then put the brochure in my attaché case. I had to be careful because my group leader was always looking over his glasses at us. He was always worried about production. I picked up my Rapiograph pen and got back to drafting with ink on starched cloth, a tough and tedious job.
Lunch time arrived, and out came the brochure. Wow, this was interesting. Let’s see, it doesn’t cost anything to enter the Smoky National Park. I know that lots of national parks have entrance fees, that’s a good start. It’s big, about sixty miles long and twenty miles across.
It has a lot of plants and animals. There are more than four thousand plants. It was very interesting what it said about the trees. Half of the one hundred and forty different species are the same trees that are found one thousand miles to the north, in Canada. It’s because of the elevation. Clingmans Dome is 6,643 feet above sea level! And nowhere is the park lower than 1,000 feet. I also liked the part about the temperature hardly ever being above 80 degrees.
Let’s see what else is there...fishing, horseback riding, and hiking along the 800 plus miles of trails. The park also has almost 3,000 miles of streams and many kinds of waterfalls. There are a couple hundred types of birds, and lots of animals including bears. Oops, bears, I don’t know if I liked that. Maybe I can just look at them from the car. That will do. (Later on, I would find out that this was wishful thinking.)
The park also has preserved the mountain people’s history with many old structures. The Cherokee Indian Reservation is nestled in the central southern part of the park...Oh, oh, it’s time to get back to work. I put the brochure back in my case, and got out my trusty ink pen.
My mind started to turn this information over and over. It was then that I decided I would have to go and experience this for myself. This was early summer. I should be able to take a week’s vacation late summer or at least in September.
First Trip To The Smokies
I took mental inventory of the equipment I would need. I would be car camping. I believe I had the main items. My dad had given me an old umbrella tent that our family used. In fact, his family had used it. He also had given me his Coleman white gas two burner stove and a lantern. My mom had decided that in the future her camping out was going to be in a motel!
At this time, I was driving a 1936 Ford Five Window Coupe. I was a hot rodder. I had bought it in 1958.
It had taken me a couple of years to get it channeled over the frame, the 100 horse power flathead engine rebuilt, and a coat of grey primer paint on it. Now I had my dream vehicle on the road. While I was building it, I first drove a 1937 Harley Davidson motorcycle. After the engine failed, I transferred to a 1947 Ariel 500 cc single.
There are a lot of stories that go with these motorcycles and my early hot rodding days. I’ll give you a couple. When I found the 1937 Harley, it was parked next to a small, old, run down structure on a side street in Drew Park, Tampa, Florida. This was a few blocks from my house. I think the old man wanted about seventy bucks for the cycle. It wasn’t running, but I wanted to get into the big leagues. I sold my Cushman motor scooter for the same money, and gave it to the old man. As I was pushing it away from his yard, he hollered out, “Be careful with that machine son...every time I get drunk, it gets away from me!”
The Harley lasted about a year and one half, and then the motor gave out. I found a 1947 Aerial 500 single. A one-lunger they called it. That means all those 500 cc’s were in one cylinder. It had a sound of its own. A thump-a, thump-a, almost sounded like my motor scooter, but it would go!
This was a real fine machine. When the primary gear socket gave out, I ordered a new one, not realizing that there were all different kinds of gear sizes. I couldn’t get the old one off, and had to go over to a man that had a small shop on the other side of Drew Park. Mr. Stanley Glomp...he was a great guy. He had a lot of patience, and put up with us wild and crazy kids and our hot rods and motorcycles. Not only did he have all of the equipment, he had the knowledge to fix things. He easily got the sprocket off, and we then put on the new one, hooked up the chain and guard, and I was back in business.
Before we leave this topic, I would like to mention a couple of Mr. Stanley Glomp’s famous sayings. “Bob, there is no such thing as a used piece of steel,” and “The last good car that was made was a 1940 Ford.” Now this was in 1960, but I bet he would say the same today. God Bless you Mr. Glomp, rest in peace, and thanks for everything.
The new sprocket was too low of a gear. My Aerial was fast off the light, but couldn’t do very good with top end. On another topic, I was learning to speed shift, and thought that I was getting pretty hot.
One day, I was sitting at a light, and a 1950 two door Ford coupe pulled up along side of me. The two guys looked over at me and smiled. I knew they were going to leave me at the light. A drag. I never before had done any illegal dragging, only legal dragging at the strip. But my bad judgment got the best of me. The light turned green, and I opened the throttle all the way and ran through the gears, speed shifting as I went. Never letting off of the throttle, I just slammed down on the shifting rod with my foot. I was way ahead of them at first, but then I maxed out, and they slowly gained on me. All I can remember is the two smiles as they went by. Needless to say, that was the last of my illegal dragging.
Enough of hot rodding. The day of my vacation came, and I packed up my ’36 Ford coupe with camping gear, food, and headed out.
(Excerpt 1)
“The Lodge Called Folkestone”. You may wonder why the first half of the book is about my many adventures throughout the USA. Well, this first part explains just why my interests changed from hot rodding cars to backpacking. How the idea of a lodge came about, and just how the lodge came to be in North Carolina and next to the Smoky Mountain National Park, Deep Campground to be exact.
Introduction
We’re going to go back in time...to 1962. This was when I first heard about the Smoky Mountain National Park. You will be able to travel along with me as many events formed my interest: nature, hiking, environment, and the Smoky Mountains. As a hiker, I experienced their flora, fauna, history, and a very unique topic, the mountain people.
My former wife and I had a short but interesting experience, publishing the first hiking and camping magazine in the USA, “American Hiker”. Then we took up residence for five months in a small house along Deep Creek, near the Smoky Mountains National Park Campground. After this, we went on a three month trip to England, Wales, and Scotland. There, we were introduced to bed and breakfast inns.
When we returned, we had the inspiration to build a country inn in the Smoky Mountains, Deep Creek area. We went to work to accumulate funds. As soon as this was accomplished, we left our occupations back in the big city. We were now ready to find a location, and to start building Folkestone Lodge. The year was 1976.
I Learn About the Smokies
“Take a look at this brochure, Bob. I’m telling you, it’s the greatest, most beautiful, fantastic, nature preserve and national park this side of the Mississippi River! My family just came back from a vacation there. We spent a whole week. We camped in the campgrounds, toured from one side to the other, and went all the way to the top, Clingmans Dome. It is one of the two, if not the highest mountain in the east.”
I had just been called into my engineer’s office. It was the summer of 1962, and I was working at the Tampa, Florida, General Telephone company’s downtown office. We were involved in the inventorying, identifying, and documenting all of their outdoor assets. I had once mentioned to him that I liked the outdoors and car camping. I also had said to him that the summers were too hot in Tampa, and Florida.
“Go ahead and take this brochure. I have extras. Let me know what you think,” Don said.
“Thanks, I’ll take a look. It sounds very interesting, and may be what I’ve been looking for.”
I went back to my drafting desk, took a quick peek, and then put the brochure in my attaché case. I had to be careful because my group leader was always looking over his glasses at us. He was always worried about production. I picked up my Rapiograph pen and got back to drafting with ink on starched cloth, a tough and tedious job.
Lunch time arrived, and out came the brochure. Wow, this was interesting. Let’s see, it doesn’t cost anything to enter the Smoky National Park. I know that lots of national parks have entrance fees, that’s a good start. It’s big, about sixty miles long and twenty miles across.
It has a lot of plants and animals. There are more than four thousand plants. It was very interesting what it said about the trees. Half of the one hundred and forty different species are the same trees that are found one thousand miles to the north, in Canada. It’s because of the elevation. Clingmans Dome is 6,643 feet above sea level! And nowhere is the park lower than 1,000 feet. I also liked the part about the temperature hardly ever being above 80 degrees.
Let’s see what else is there...fishing, horseback riding, and hiking along the 800 plus miles of trails. The park also has almost 3,000 miles of streams and many kinds of waterfalls. There are a couple hundred types of birds, and lots of animals including bears. Oops, bears, I don’t know if I liked that. Maybe I can just look at them from the car. That will do. (Later on, I would find out that this was wishful thinking.)
The park also has preserved the mountain people’s history with many old structures. The Cherokee Indian Reservation is nestled in the central southern part of the park...Oh, oh, it’s time to get back to work. I put the brochure back in my case, and got out my trusty ink pen.
My mind started to turn this information over and over. It was then that I decided I would have to go and experience this for myself. This was early summer. I should be able to take a week’s vacation late summer or at least in September.
First Trip To The Smokies
I took mental inventory of the equipment I would need. I would be car camping. I believe I had the main items. My dad had given me an old umbrella tent that our family used. In fact, his family had used it. He also had given me his Coleman white gas two burner stove and a lantern. My mom had decided that in the future her camping out was going to be in a motel!
At this time, I was driving a 1936 Ford Five Window Coupe. I was a hot rodder. I had bought it in 1958.
It had taken me a couple of years to get it channeled over the frame, the 100 horse power flathead engine rebuilt, and a coat of grey primer paint on it. Now I had my dream vehicle on the road. While I was building it, I first drove a 1937 Harley Davidson motorcycle. After the engine failed, I transferred to a 1947 Ariel 500 cc single.
There are a lot of stories that go with these motorcycles and my early hot rodding days. I’ll give you a couple. When I found the 1937 Harley, it was parked next to a small, old, run down structure on a side street in Drew Park, Tampa, Florida. This was a few blocks from my house. I think the old man wanted about seventy bucks for the cycle. It wasn’t running, but I wanted to get into the big leagues. I sold my Cushman motor scooter for the same money, and gave it to the old man. As I was pushing it away from his yard, he hollered out, “Be careful with that machine son...every time I get drunk, it gets away from me!”
The Harley lasted about a year and one half, and then the motor gave out. I found a 1947 Aerial 500 single. A one-lunger they called it. That means all those 500 cc’s were in one cylinder. It had a sound of its own. A thump-a, thump-a, almost sounded like my motor scooter, but it would go!
This was a real fine machine. When the primary gear socket gave out, I ordered a new one, not realizing that there were all different kinds of gear sizes. I couldn’t get the old one off, and had to go over to a man that had a small shop on the other side of Drew Park. Mr. Stanley Glomp...he was a great guy. He had a lot of patience, and put up with us wild and crazy kids and our hot rods and motorcycles. Not only did he have all of the equipment, he had the knowledge to fix things. He easily got the sprocket off, and we then put on the new one, hooked up the chain and guard, and I was back in business.
Before we leave this topic, I would like to mention a couple of Mr. Stanley Glomp’s famous sayings. “Bob, there is no such thing as a used piece of steel,” and “The last good car that was made was a 1940 Ford.” Now this was in 1960, but I bet he would say the same today. God Bless you Mr. Glomp, rest in peace, and thanks for everything.
The new sprocket was too low of a gear. My Aerial was fast off the light, but couldn’t do very good with top end. On another topic, I was learning to speed shift, and thought that I was getting pretty hot.
One day, I was sitting at a light, and a 1950 two door Ford coupe pulled up along side of me. The two guys looked over at me and smiled. I knew they were going to leave me at the light. A drag. I never before had done any illegal dragging, only legal dragging at the strip. But my bad judgment got the best of me. The light turned green, and I opened the throttle all the way and ran through the gears, speed shifting as I went. Never letting off of the throttle, I just slammed down on the shifting rod with my foot. I was way ahead of them at first, but then I maxed out, and they slowly gained on me. All I can remember is the two smiles as they went by. Needless to say, that was the last of my illegal dragging.
Enough of hot rodding. The day of my vacation came, and I packed up my ’36 Ford coupe with camping gear, food, and headed out.
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