Bardstown was voted the most beautiful small town in America. It says so on the sign to the left of that oddly over-the-top
sort of European-looking building in the middle of a traffic circle. Not sure when this happened, or who got to vote, but there it is.

After some angst, I found the Barton's Distillery. Actually I found the shipping and delivery entrance, but the guy let me in anyway.
I had a personal tour--no one else showed up at 9am for the first tour and bourbon tasting of the day--go figure.
This is how it all begins. A truck disgorging its load of corn into a box. I saw many of these trucks on the roads later.

This is the moonshine being disgorged by the still (far right) at, like, 22 gallons a minute. I tasted it and decided that they were making rye today. Didn't taste like corn.

All the stuff at Barton is old. This firetrap warehouse was built in the 30's. Look at that whiskey aging.

After the tour, I left by the normal road and passed the "largest barrel in the world" (bear for scale).

Looking back Barton's. They paint all the warehouses black so that they don't have to power-wash all the black
fungus off them. You can see it on the water tank on the roof of the distillery, and the cedar tree at the left.
The fungus can be found all around all the distilleries, and was a big clue for the revenuers looking for illegal stills
back in the day.

The Heaven Hill distillery is just a few miles down the road. Poor bastards better have some awesome power washers.

Finally freeing myself of distilleries, I headed west toward the Kentucky Railways Museum. I came across these guys. The horses
with glasses were way more sociable than the one with eyes drawn on.

This is pretty much all of the indoor portion is the Kentucky Railways Museum. From this I conclude that Kentucky does not have
a particularly rich railroading history. Also, before I went to the museum, I noticed an engine that looked suspiciously like
one "Thomas" being hauled away on a flatbed. He had a mask over his face. I will forever regret not taking a picture.
Apparently, Thomas was a special guest star here over the weekend. I did not know that he toured.

Transportational decay. This Pullman car is a featured display. I guess the the big draws for the museum are the excursions.

Back on the road. I managed to find a road with the word "creek" in its name--which means it generally follows
a creek and doesn't go up any big hills.

My route crossed over the Bluegrass Parkway. I had several times been tempted to jump on the highway to avoid all the hills, but this
sign seems pretty clear that I am not welcome. Apparently the M60 tank also would not be allowed because of the metal treads.
And I guess horses are not allowed, but fish are permitted due to their lack of feet.

The last few miles included a huge climb on a high-speed road with the asinine rumble strips. It was a joy.
Then I checked in to my hotel and found that I had inadvertently booked a room with a jacuzzi. And there were
no good restaurants near the hotel, so I had to walk a half-mile to the other side of the interstate. Rookie mistake.
Drank an extra beer to carry me through the long walk back.