|On route to an appointment....with death.|
What would you do if a man you hadn't seen in 15 years suggested via Facebook that you meet in a mysterious southeast Georgia town not easily reached by any major highways?
Go, obviously. Right?
Well, you would if you were The Frugal Hostess.
Just to clarify, the guy, Ireland's Dad, is an old friend and a current Facebook favorite, and he was traveling up to attend his brothers' art show. The Frugal Hostess and her loyal swain, FruHubs, decided to go in part because they found out about an unusual bed and breakfast where they could stay. And in part because they wanted to temp fate (and serial killers).
The art was great, and the catching up was lovely. But the best part was that no one got killed.
|The living room of the cottage. Just add Bulleit.|
The other best part was the Old Town Plantation Bed and Breakfast. Located in a rural, wooded area of Louisville (with an S), Georgia, the plantation is really a plantation. Like from back in the day. And they still work it. At least, there were a lot of cows and equipment.
It sits on 4,100 acres along a river and was originally
stolen from the Indians settled by white people in the early 1700s. It got burned to the ground during Sherman's March to the Sea, and then it was rebuilt from 1895 to 1910.
TFH and Hubs had one of the two cottages on the property, which are beautifully decorated, huge, and cheap. Seriously, this was one of the best experiences of their frequent hotel guest lives. Breakfast was all set up in the kitchen, and the fireplace was ready to be lit. After a night of art, bourbon, and the Old South, a blazing fire put them right to sleep.
The next morning, they took to the property, hiking down a long and windy road - perfect for murder. Thankfully, the killers were at brunch, so FruHo and -Hubs got their kicks from fording a river - which was totally worth it! On the other side, they found an abandoned grist mill and mill workers' quarters, just sitting there waiting to be explored. So. Freakin'. Cool.
|Where the magic happens. Magic = sleep, pervs.|
They also saw some deer hauling ass away from them (and probably into the sights of the hunters heard shooting across the property). There were old bridges and a brick structure that FruHubs insists was an aquaduct. (Really, FruHubs? This isn't a Roman plantation. Geez.) They even found an old spoon.
If you are looking for a getaway that makes you feel like you are living in Garden and Gun magazine, book a cottage at Old Town Plantation. And stay tuned for more stories of not getting killed in Louisville soon.
Disclosure: The Frugal Hostess has nothing to disclose except this place was awesome! In other words, this is not a sponsored post, and Old Town Plantation has no idea she loves them so much.