D n L Honeymoon II - Day 5

Well fed and cozy in the Baptist mountain refuge, we rested well and arose early for breakfast.  There is no other time besides early for breakfast at Ridgecrest which doubles as a camp and a conference center. We then set outward and upward on  a quest to redo  an episode that left us both  with a difficult memory from the first time we were here…we wanted to make it to the summit  of the royal gorge overlook again…with my new and zoomie pain free hips. Three years ago we had needed that summit..in my mind I was afraid I would never be able to attain it.  At the time I didn’t know what was happening to me…only that I could barely walk anymore, and that it had been  getting worse. 

So off we had gone, to remember what it was like to hike to the top of a little mountain together one last time. Today we would conquor that bad memory…replacing it with the invigorating sensations and rythmes of the trails… the joy of new mobility and the promise of many more lovely years of natural discoveries hiking together.  The view from the top had new meaning…and seemed to complete our chapter.

As we left Ridgecrest  after  award winning angus burgers from the camp grill, we decided it might be worth it to try the Jerusalem Garden one more time.  The elusive Baklava had become more legendary in our palate memories as the days wore on.  We arrived just as the Garden closed yet again randomly … in mid afternoon.  Seeing us at the door the young man opened up for us, and proceeded to give us four large pieces of their delectable pastry since we had come all this way four times…on the house.   We blessed him.   Crunch-BAM-BUTTER and such a captivating  and exotic burst of  spices and honey would provide us with a travel log of Middle  Eastern snacking for our journey to Manchester.

The four hour drive to Manchester was on smooth highways that wound around soft, green rolling Kentucky hills.  At the Clay County Line, the roads were becoming narrower, the curves more distinct. 

It was dusk when we arrived at the designated land mark:  the Manchester McDonalds.  I had been trying to pick up any perceptible atmospheric uniqueness from the county line on, as is sometimes noted with transformation communities.  It was indeed there, in the form of a tranqulity much like being at our farm in the evening at that same moment of days end.  We checked in to the only hotel, had dinner at the local Mexican restaurant, watched the Waltons, and slept wonderfully.  Tomorrow we would meet John, our guide to the Transformation history of this American anomaly.  The first, we pray, of many.