Here are a couple of icy views taken in North Georgia this past weekend. When I was in college, I would often drive up to Tallulah Gorge in the summer with friends and float lazily on a raft on this lake. Even in August the water always was icy, and I never understood why. I just reasoned that since we were in the mountains, it was probably “spring fed.” Then one summer, Georgia Power, who controls the dam at the end of the lake, decided to renovate it. The lake was drained revealing a very, very deep gorge with a river running through the middle! This is the same river that rushes through Tallulah Gorge. After seeing the rocky depth of the lake,  I never floated back out on it again. Actually, we never saw the bottom of the lake because it was much deeper. Just standing on the old concrete bridge so I could take this photo was enough to send shivers down my spine.

In 1882, the Tallulah Falls Railway crossed the lake at this point. These concrete stacks—once the foundational anchors for the train’s tracks—are all that is left of an era gone by. Before 1900, thousands of tourists flocked to the gorge. One of the main attractions was the train that traveled from Cornelia to Franklin including the outside rim of Tallulah Gorge. Historical information I read on the Web said that at certain points the track narrowed down to 25 feet in width! This has to be about that size and not much wider. Sending even more chills down my spine at this thought.

Not the best photo, but I posted it anyway. This view just makes my heart race! The top of the column is really leaning. It is not a wide-angle problem. I read online that at the end of the train’s years there were a couple of serious accidents and even fatalities! Ok . . . enough of that sort of thing. Click the link to view the history of the Tallulah Falls Railway.

I grew up drinking Coca Cola or simply what I called Coke. In the south, it is not soda; it’s Coke. As in “Let’s go get a Coke” even when you mean Nehi Orange or something else. A widely known fact is this: Pepsi is a swear word in Georgia, which is the home of Coca Cola. Trust me: true southerners will never say, “I’m dying for a Pepsi.” They just won’t do it. When I was in my teens I thought Coke was its own food group, and if you didn’t have a Coke at least once a week you were in serious trouble. All my family drinks Coke. Cocoa Joy likes Coke but she can’t have it. Dogs can’t have caffeine. So I make sure to keep my “Coke” glass up high where she can’t get it.

The British rarely if ever serve ice with Coke, they put a lot of vegetable extract in, and expect you to drink it at room temperture! (Each nation can “tweek” the Coke that is sold in their country.) Not a good idea! It’s not the real thing! The first time I went to England, I traveled with three “rich” widows, who were going “over” to do some antique shopping. While we were waiting to board our plane in Atlanta, I saw one of them frantically searching her carry-on bag for a package of crackers. Suddenly, out fell a can of Coca Cola. While she quickly retrieved it, I tried not to notice the five other cans stashed in the bag. “Horrible thing about England,” she mumbled. “The Coke is terrible! I always carry my own.” The other nodded in agreement. I looked over at the friend who was with me, and knew we were thinking the same thing: How bad can it be?

Several days into the trip I found out. Square in the middle of Victoria Station as we were scanning the boards to see what train we needed to take to our next destination, it hit me—that weird, crazy feeling that won’t let go—the one that begins as a whisper and builds to a shout:  “I want a Coke!”

Here’s the thing about exchange rates: you never think about them when a dire need is involved. A pound is just a little round thing—a coin that fits into a very small section of your purse. Not paper, not big, nothing you have to unfold—just a little piece of silver and something that fits in the palm of your hand. So when the guy behind the counter says, “That’ll be a pound-fifty,” you don’t stop and say to yourself (in a sane voice), That’s three American dollars for a silly warm beverage. None of that goes through your mind—not one word—until you open the can and begin to swallow. Then somehow as the “Coke” makes its way down your throat, your ability to do math kicks in. You realize what you have done and you know it is just not the real thing.

Last year, I was back to London with a friend. We dropped our bags in our rooms and headed out with the cameras. Suddenly, I saw an old familiar look drift over her face. Oh, no, I thought. She is going to ask: “Can we get a Coke.” But she didn’t (sigh of relief), she simply said, “I’m thirsty. Can we get something to drink?” Sure . . . no problem,” I replied. We stopped at a sidewalk cafe to order lunch. I had no doubt she would ask for tea or maybe even water. But guess what when the waiter asked what he could get her to drink, she looked up at him and said, “I think I will have a Coke.”

I really wanted to drop down to another level to take this photo, but I couldn’t. A small deer had fallen from the top of the falls and died. “He probably slipped on the ice,” one lady told me. Cocoa was at my side and immediately knew something was very wrong. She is such a sweet dog. I grabbed this photo and left vowing to come back in the summer under happier circumstances. There are several really nice waterfalls in the  Pisgah National Forrest. Most of the hikes are short and not extreme.

I saw this church yesterday while driving through Mt. Airy. It’s just a simple little church. And yes, Christmas decorations still graced the doors. Wonder if they were removed this morning?

Here’s another cool place. This one is practically at my back door. It’s Fenders Diner in Cornelia, Georgia. If you are up this way, it is worth a stop. The food is great and the atmosphere absolutely fun.

Tin ceilings and lots of antique tin signs. I saw many that brought back lots of memories.

No words needed for this photo and there I am in the mirror.