This is the road I lived on for nearly all of my childhood. It’s now called Warrensburg Road, presumably because it ran between Russellville and Warrensburg, a town I never knew existed until the road was named for it. That’s been fairly recently. It was called either Three Springs Road or Fall Creek Road back in the day.
Back before Interstate 40 followed the Pigeon River over the mountains, our annual or sometimes semi-annual trip to the beach started with a trip over a narrow, winding road over Viking Mountain in Greene County. Still known as the Asheville Highway, it is State Route 70 in Tennessee (not to be confused with US70, which crosses the mountains near the French Broad conjoined with US25E) and changes to State Route 208 in North Carolina.
When new roads are built, the old ones need names. In the case of numbered highways, the name often becomes “Old Highway Such-and-Such.” But if it’s prior to the use of numbered roads, and, say, maybe the new road is being built because the old one just isn’t working for automobiles, the old one gets a name like “Stagecoach Road,” because that’s what ran on it.
In the beginning, there were animal trails, and the aboriginal peoples followed those and made their own. Then the white folk came in and drove out the original inhabitants, but kept to their trails, which eventually became roads. This used to be the main road between Greeneville and points west. You can tell because it’s called Old Stage Road.
Before Morris Boulevard or even First North, an aunt and uncle and a couple cousins lived in a small house there on 11E/Main Street just east of downtown on Thompson Creek. It was a favorite stop. I played many a game of baseball there on the oblong diamond the cousins and I created in the side yard, and it was always the stop on Christmas Eve.
Here’s a look at one of the oldest roads in Tennessee and Kentucky — the one that goes through Cumberland Gap. Yes, that Cumberland Gap. The one Daniel Boone used. The Wilderness Road. Of course this is from 35 miles away, but the deep cut in the mountains is pretty clear.
Here’s a video of Mud Creek covering McCullough Cemetery Road beneath the railroad. Captures the scene even better than the photos in Muddy Waters. I thought about trying to drive through. Not.
So I was heading home from my dad’s in Tennessee, trying to avoid the under construction Interstate 40 bridge over the French Broad. I decided to take US25E through Newport and over the mountains, to pick up 40 over in North Carolina, not realizing the Wolf Creek Bridge was being rebuilt and road was closed. […]
The Clinchfield Railroad was considered an engineering marvel, a 266-mile wonder from the coalfields of Appalachia to the mill towns of South Carolina completed in 1915. Just outside Johnson City, Tennessee — which became a railroad boom town when the line opened — one of the line’s many tall trestles crossed Knob Creek.
My dad used to drive a school bus, and part of his route went through this railroad underpass on McCullough Cemetery Road in Hawkins County. Except when it rained a lot.