People agree that Trailheads are excellent hikers–dedicated, outdoorsy, and rugged as all get out–but they also debate theoretical subjects like “Would Trailheads make good gladiators, noble knights, or courageous cowboys?”
Those people can safely strike “courageous cowboys” from their speculation list.
Trail Master Guy selected the Cascades and Mill Road Trail for this week’s destination. George couldn’t hike because he was under the dermatologist’s scalpel for some dreaded Mohs surgery on his nose. Trailheads keep the dermatology trade flush with cash, thanks to our flesh. We often joke that people don't die, they just get nibbled to death a bit at a time.
Steve tapped out because he had a business meeting. He must not own a calendar or hasn’t yet realized that Thursday is our hiking day––after all, we’ve only been doing it for over three years now. Perhaps he uses the Julian Calendar. It was helpful when created, but the Gregorian Calendar rules today.
But stalwarts Guy, Brad, Roy, and Patrick rallied, assembling in the trail’s parking lot. While we had hiked a nearby trail in 2022 (read about it here), the Cascades and Mill Road Trail was virgin territory for our boots. To Roy, all trails look alike. He's always looking down, watching for roots that trip Mr. Tumbles.
Immediately, we noticed this was a different kind of hike. Sections of the trail allow horse riders to clop along in their saddles, as evidenced by the many horse souvenirs left behind, mementos of their equestrian journey.
We wondered why no signage encourages riders to clean up after their horses. Patrick confessed the last time he rode a horse; it was torture as his arthritic hips straddled the saddle and shot pain up his spine into his bitsy brain. Although he now has titanium hips, the thought of being back in the saddle causes him to wail.
As we thought more about that "courageous cowboy" thing, Brad said he wasn’t a six-shooter guy but felt confident he’d be quick on the draw in an illustration duel with desperadoes. Plus, he likes beans and campfires.
Roy agreed he could clean up the town with a pen and paper instead of gunfire. "I packed heat when I hung out with my duck Daffy," he said. “But that was back in my outlaw days.”
People now often refer to Roy not as a cowboy but as "Judge Roy Bean." Bean was an American saloonkeeper and Justice of the Peace in Val Verde County, Texas, back in the 1800s.
He called himself "The Only Law West of the Pecos." According to legend, he held court in his saloon. As Roy does today.
Guy said he thought he’d be an excellent posse leader with his faithful sidekick Patty but would spend all his time trying to get Trailheads posse members in line. “I’d say follow me, and y’all would start whining, ‘Do we have to––we’re hungry, when’s lunch, anyway?”
But we let Guy have his little boy cowboy dream. We know he’d make a lousy cowboy because he’d have trouble finding a 10-gallon hat for his pumpkin head, and his arm’s not long enough to fit the skullcap in his selfies.
We avoided the horse droppings and hoped we wouldn’t have to dodge them all day. Guy led his posse onto a new path, and off we went into the woods, enjoying the tree canopy on this hot day.
While there were no horse droppings, many evil tree roots were strewn across the trail––a minefield of “trippers.” Be forewarned on this trail; watch your step. It could squish beneath or trip unsuspecting feet.
Trailheads hiked on as the roots retreated. Soon, we came upon the beautiful waterfalls, a picture-perfect place for selfies. We did what had to be done.
Back on the trail, we came upon the remains of an old mill.
The millstone lay there idle, like the spare tire on Fred Flintstone’s car. We wondered if this mill had ground corn, wheat, or the cowboy dreams of a little boy named “Guy.”
Soon, we were traversing a large rock, enjoying the vista of the beautiful stream. Elvis and Fio went for a swim and returned to shake themselves dry on our legs. Horses wouldn’t do something that rude.
Someone mentioned they thought this was the same granite that constitutes Panola Mountain. Maybe even Stone Mountain. We find that hard to believe, but then again, we doubt everything we say. It’s safer that way. Geologists, we’re not.
We continued down the trail and encountered a large fallen tree. It was too high to clamber over, and going around it was dicey as the area looked like snake country. We would have to limbo down to continue.
Watching as we crouched and squeezed under the tree was hardly an Olympics-worthy feat of athleticism, but remarkably, we all made it through unharmed.
Trail Master had his AllTrails app open, tracking our progress. Brad said it felt like we were halfway done and should probably double back. Brad has an odd trail sense. He can determine distance using the moon and stars. Unfortunately, it was daytime.
Guy showed him where we were on the map.
“This trail is a loop,” Guy said. “We just need to continue on.”
“Are you sure?” Brad challenged. “We don’t want to miss lunch.”
At that moment, a woman came barreling down the trail. We asked her what was up ahead (did we expect her to say, “Dragons and dangers galore?”). She replied that there was a steep incline, then a decline, and if we kept going to the Bear Creek Nature Center, we’d be almost back to the parking lot.
“See?” Guy told his pack, glad for confirmation that he knew what he was doing. “I told you.”
But she took one long, judgmental look at us and again said, "There’s a steep incline,” Roy whined. “It sounds like it could be exercise.”
“Exercise bad,” Patrick said, like Frankenstein’s monster, pounding his boots on the ground.
“Quit bellyaching, you idiots. Follow me.” Guy implored.
The woman was right. The incline was steep. And Roy was also correct––surmounting it was exercise. Sweat streamed down our glistening bodies as we struggled forward. But we made it to the Bear Creek Nature Center.
It’s a beautiful facility with a gift shop and a kind woman named Norma, who educated us about Georgia bats. She showed us a bat house and explained it was not used much by the Bruce Wayne crowd.
She said a nice older fellow named Alfred occasionally checked on it. We wondered how one increases demand for the shelter of the bat community. Roy suggested a bat signal that she could point at the sky to draw the bats. Norma stared at him and shook her head.
“It helps if there’s a housing shortage,” Norma said. “I have a new, beautiful, larger bat house we’ll be putting up when I find someone to do it. Bats want a place within a half mile of water. And a good area for guano.” Yet again, we were talking crap. You've probably seen online that if you turn a photo of hanging bats upside down they look like an 80s dance party.
She showed us where she wanted the new bat house placed—right next to a pretty lake. Then she told us about "Bat Fest." It's a yearly event that’ll be held on Saturday, September 21, at 2:00 p.m. We gave her a couple of Trailheads stickers and told her to check out our site.
Norma, if you’re reading this, thanks for your hospitality. As we talked, even with a sign clearly stating, "No Fishing," Brad went fishing for a dog and caught a whopper—a hundred and ten-pounder. It was a keeper.
We had a lovely visit with Norma, who taught us about bats. We walked away a little smarter, but that didn’t last long. Knowledge doesn’t usually stick with this group.
Trailheads saddled up their cars and headed to Ohio Hog Company in Tyrone. Steve was done with his business and drove down to meet us.
We’d eaten at OHC once before, way back in February 2022 (read about that visit here), and were blown away–– it was some of the best barbecue we’ve had, and we’ve had a bunch.
The joint’s located in a large Publix parking lot retail strip.
Gary and Vivian Williams, an incredibly friendly couple from Cleveland, Ohio, own and operate Ohio Hog Co. They began perfecting their barbecue recipes up north, and we’re happy they headed south.
Pit Master Gary and Chef Vivian know their way around the smoker and kitchen. Everything is homemade with quality ingredients and cooked fresh daily. And when they run out, you’re out of luck. So, get here early and often.
We placed our orders, set up tables outside, and waited as our bellies fed on themselves. At Ohio Hog Company, the slogan is “We don’t do fast food, we do good food.” And as our platters arrived, they lived up to the promise deliciously.
Steve had his usual order, a pulled pork sandwich, and gushed like a kid on Christmas morning. “This is fantastic,” he said between bites. “The pork is smokey, tender, incredible. And they toast the buns perfectly. I think they’re buttered. I love this sucker.” He gets excited about toasted buns.
Patrick had the pork platter and raved about how OHC smokes its swine. “The pork is flavorful, and there’s bark with every bite, which is fantastic. This is great stuff.”
He proceeded to stuff his piehole with pulled pork until he looked like the little pig statuette out front.
Roy, Brad, and Guy sampled the big, meaty ribs. They had asked the cashier if she liked the ribs, and she said, “Everybody does.” They agreed with the consensus––Ohio Hog Company serves terrific, smoky, charred ribs. Eat ‘em clean to the bone. Everybody does.
Brad also tried the beef brisket. It’s sliced thin, with no shortage of great taste. He ate like a man on a mission. OHC’s barbecue sauce is excellent. It's not too sweet and not too hot—the kind of sauce even Goldilocks would put on her porridge. Dress your meat and give it a go.
Let’s go to the sides. The collard greens are legit. Although there’s no meat in them, there are onion slices for added flavor. The veggie goodness comes through loud and clear.
The fried okra is also a thing of beauty. Crisp, brown morsels of healthy vegetables made better with batter and deep frying. You’ll pop these babies into your mouth like popcorn.
Brunswick stew is another winner. It's simple and savory, with smoked meat and corn in a tasty tomato base. Two spoons way up on this version of the classic.
The coleslaw is simple—crisp cabbage, carrot, some Bermuda onion, sauced and ready to head down the chute.
The ear of corn was just what you want: a buttery place for your teeth to gnaw and your mouth to revel in delight.
The Texas Toast and corn muffin were fine––just what the doctor ordered for sopping up what little remains on your plate.
Pitmaster Gary came out and talked with us. We gave him props on his cooking and fine feasting establishment. He said finding help is always challenging, so he and Vivian work long hours. Running a restaurant is less glamorous than you might think.
But the Cleveland couple is not bitter. They’re happy so many people enjoy their downhome cooking. And they love dogs—–LOVE dogs. Gary said when he first thought of opening a business in 2008, it would either be one dedicated to dogs or a barbecue restaurant. We’re glad he chose the latter.
Gary brought the dogs a bag of pork shank bones to gnaw on. While the dogs loved them, they loved them too much. We had to take them away since they began breaking the bones. We did the same thing with Brad earlier as he ate his rib bones. He growled.
Vivian joined us from the kitchen, and we laid roses at her feet for the great cooking. The couple is friendly, sincere, and has a great sense of humor.
A customer named Cynthia came by and joined the fun, and Patrick snapped a picture of the festivities.
The next day, Patrick was headed to northeastern Ohio to visit family and friends and play a game that’s a lot like golf but with much higher scores. He talked Cleveland sports with Gary and Vivian. You’ve gotta have a lot of heart to be a diehard fan because Cleveland teams have a knack for inventive ways to blow their games.
Then Patrick went inside to grab some pictures of the interior and the interesting knick-knacks and paddywhacks.
He found a cool poster of Eliot Ness when he ran for mayor of Cleveland. It was appropriate since the barbecue at Ohio Hog Company is untouchable.
Get yourself to Tyrone and discover how good Ohio barbecue can be.
Rating: Four Ribs*
The Ohio Hog Company
1492 Highway 74 N. Suite 6D
Tyrone, GA. 30290
(770) 969-2464
*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.
barbecue
AtlantaBarbecue
bbq sauce
brisket
Brisket
ChattahoocheeChallenge
Chiggers
Elvis Loves Fio
hikingforfood
HikingGeorgia
hiking
North Georgia BBQ
Pierre de Coubertin Medal
Pulled Pork
quicksand
Ribs
Trailheads
Trailheads Approved
White sauce
TrailheadsHike
City BBQ
Summit Coffee
Okra
AJC
Olivia
Glacier National Park
Island Ford Trail
Pulitzer
Chattahoochee National Park Conservancy
Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Commentaires