Good morning. Welcome back. Spice got me out for an early morning walk. We could actually see the campground as the sun was rising. As she and I walked away from the campsite, we hung a left turn up the hill to see where it would take us. The road led us up the hill to a switchback where the road continued to climb along the ridge. After a ways, we turned around and headed back for breakfast. Later, I found out that we had almost climbed to the summit of one of Mississippi’s highest points; 603 feet above sea level.
While Carol bundled up the inside, I grabbed the step stool, Windex and a couple of rags to clean the windshield. It seemed that on Monday, a couple of thousand ladybugs elected to commit suicide on the front of the RV.
Last night we studied the maps and decided to take US 82 west through Mississippi and southern Arkansas to Texarkana. This route will put us between I-40 and I-20 and should be a pleasant drive. If we stay on Rte 82, we will proceed just north of Dallas, south of Amarillo and into New Mexico.
Saying “adios” to the Trace, we were off on to real roads with real traffic. The road was good, four lanes and smooth (I like smooth). As I have said before, we enjoy seeing the various towns along the way. It is a segment of America that we miss, racing down the Interstates. We do lose the rest stops and we do have the opportunity to catch some traffic, but it is worth the trade off.
One of our first observations was that Mississippi is pretty level. Many of the fields we drove by were wet, evidence of last week’s storms. The ground is saturated and the water is just not being absorbed quickly. Along the Trace and in northern Alabama, we saw pines grown as a cash crop. Here in Mississippi, the pines gave way to cotton. Carol had never seen cotton being grown, as far as she could remember, so we stopped by a cotton field. We waded through the weeds along the road and trespassed into the cotton field for some pictures.
Crossing the Mississippi into Arkansas, flooding of the low lying areas is very much in evidence. We had heard on the radio that one of the National Wildlife Preserves was closed as all of the trails and roads were submerged. Half an hour later, we saw it as we passed by the entry to the preserve. We were west of Greenville, AR in the Ouachita river basin and everything along the road was either wet or underwater. Arkansas is like a runway model, not flat, just enough rise to give a tease of character.
Carol found a KOA in Texarkana. Unfortunately, I couldn’t find it. We made the left turn as instructed by Gigi only to find ourselves lost. As it turned out, the exit off of I-30 has been redesigned. Gigi was accurate for the old exit, but not the new design. A quick call to the KOA and we were back on track. It is a decent campground with only two drawbacks: the RR tracks pass within 500 feet as does the highway. Can you say “road noise”. But they did have a showing of “The Long, Long Trailer” staring Lucy and Desi. It is a great film for those of us who have time in an RV. We can identify with many of their misadventures.
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
November 3, 2009 – Tip of the Hat to Jill
We spent an extra day in Nashville on Sunday. It was basically just to kick back, watch NASCAR/football, and take the dog for a long walk.
On Monday, we buttoned everything up and headed southwest. Our friend Jill had highly recommended the Natchez Trace Parkway, so we wanted to experience it. The Trace runs from Nashville, TN to Natchez, MS. It actually begins some forty miles southwest of Nashville, but we all have some idea of where Nashville is. Few of us can locate the intersection of TN 100 and McCrory Lane, where the Parkway actually begins.
The Trace was everything Jill had said it would be. The only downside was “fall” had peaked a couple of weeks earlier. Combine that with a couple of strong storms and a lot of leaves were on their way to being mulch. All considered, it was a lovely drive. We stopped for some photos and took a couple of walks along the “Old Trace”. Being a parkway, the speed limits varied between 45 and 50 MPH, and there was very little traffic. The drive was relaxing.
Out of Tennessee, through the corner of AL and into Mississippi we drove. Tishomingo is a state park just inside of the MS/AL border. Carol and I had discussed camping in Tishomingo. The description of the park was very inviting, but it was still early in the day when we got there. Regardless, we went in for a look-see. My initial reaction was to stay, but if we stayed Monday evening, I would want to stay another day minimum. I was conflicted because we don’t have anything we really want to see between here and home, so let’s just head on home. I kept my thoughts to myself and asked Carol what she wanted to do. She was ambivalent, leaving the decision to me. We finished our tour and headed back to the Trace. For me, home had won out.
Back on the Trace, I told Carol about my thoughts on camping. She was in agreement. We both acknowledge there are many things we still want to see, but we don’t have the time remaining to visit areas the way we want to. So let’s just have an easy ride home. That being settled, where to go for the night? Carol found another campground about another 100 miles down the road. Jeff Busby campground has 17 campsites, but since Tishomingo was empty when we drove through it, we weren’t worried. Additionally, the campground has no services and no attractions. Why would you want to stay there? It was dark when we reached the campground. And, it was packed. There was no way to see where the campsite were or if they were empty other then to have Carol walk in front of the RV, flashlight in hand, making a visual search. We took the last spot available, an ugly little pull through, but it worked and it was only one night. You can set up really quickly when you don’t have to connect to shore power, run hoses for water and disconnect the Dakota. We just stopped, dropped the leveling jacks and we were done.
Then it was time to walk the dog, eat some dinner, read our books and go to bed. See you in the morning.
On Monday, we buttoned everything up and headed southwest. Our friend Jill had highly recommended the Natchez Trace Parkway, so we wanted to experience it. The Trace runs from Nashville, TN to Natchez, MS. It actually begins some forty miles southwest of Nashville, but we all have some idea of where Nashville is. Few of us can locate the intersection of TN 100 and McCrory Lane, where the Parkway actually begins.
The Trace was everything Jill had said it would be. The only downside was “fall” had peaked a couple of weeks earlier. Combine that with a couple of strong storms and a lot of leaves were on their way to being mulch. All considered, it was a lovely drive. We stopped for some photos and took a couple of walks along the “Old Trace”. Being a parkway, the speed limits varied between 45 and 50 MPH, and there was very little traffic. The drive was relaxing.
Out of Tennessee, through the corner of AL and into Mississippi we drove. Tishomingo is a state park just inside of the MS/AL border. Carol and I had discussed camping in Tishomingo. The description of the park was very inviting, but it was still early in the day when we got there. Regardless, we went in for a look-see. My initial reaction was to stay, but if we stayed Monday evening, I would want to stay another day minimum. I was conflicted because we don’t have anything we really want to see between here and home, so let’s just head on home. I kept my thoughts to myself and asked Carol what she wanted to do. She was ambivalent, leaving the decision to me. We finished our tour and headed back to the Trace. For me, home had won out.
Back on the Trace, I told Carol about my thoughts on camping. She was in agreement. We both acknowledge there are many things we still want to see, but we don’t have the time remaining to visit areas the way we want to. So let’s just have an easy ride home. That being settled, where to go for the night? Carol found another campground about another 100 miles down the road. Jeff Busby campground has 17 campsites, but since Tishomingo was empty when we drove through it, we weren’t worried. Additionally, the campground has no services and no attractions. Why would you want to stay there? It was dark when we reached the campground. And, it was packed. There was no way to see where the campsite were or if they were empty other then to have Carol walk in front of the RV, flashlight in hand, making a visual search. We took the last spot available, an ugly little pull through, but it worked and it was only one night. You can set up really quickly when you don’t have to connect to shore power, run hoses for water and disconnect the Dakota. We just stopped, dropped the leveling jacks and we were done.
Then it was time to walk the dog, eat some dinner, read our books and go to bed. See you in the morning.
Sunday, November 1, 2009
November 1, 2009 – Ribbet, Ribbet One More Time
So it was cool and overcast Saturday morning. The campground had some evidence of flooding, especially the one low area where 12 to 18 inches of water accumulated. But since the rain had stopped and was forecasted to have passed (OK, it is a bad expression. You cannot forecast the past; you can only report what you believe happened. So let me change it.); the weather was forecasted to continue clearing (OK, that’s better); we decided to do make a touristy visit to downtown Nashville. Our first stop was the capitol building. Given that it was Saturday, parking was not a problem, but it also meant the building was closed. The capitol grounds have several statues of famous Tennesseans: Jackson, Johnson, Carmack and Sgt. Alvin C. York.
The capitol building sits on a rise, overlooking the city on all sides. Across the street, to the south of the capitol, sits the Tennessee War Memorial building. The structure is open in the center with plaques listing the war dead from WWI. In the mall area around the building, there are similar tributes to the Korean and Vietnam War dead. I could only assume the WWII dedication is within the building itself.
We left the capitol mall area and walked about 12 blocks to “The District”, an area of shops, restaurants, bars and entertainment. On the way, we walked by the old Ryman Auditorium. Originally built as a church in 1892, it later became a theater, hosting such notables as Enrico Caruso and Sarah Bernhardt. From 1943 to 1994, it was home to the Grand Ole Opry.
The district was just as advertised: live music pubs with country music and no cover; western wear stores; music stores; memorabilia and souvenir shops. The streets were busy with tourists and Georgia Tech fans, in town for the game with Vanderbilt. The music was already cranked up in most of the pubs. It was loud and not always good. We opted for a more traditional Saturday afternoon tradition and grabbed a couple of beers in a sports bar while watching college football.
Carol thought it might be fun to go to the Grand Ole Opry. Our campground is only a couple of miles away, so getting there would not be difficult. She went on line before we went downtown to see about tickets. I was skeptical. After all, it is Saturday, tickets could be scarce. Not to worry, she got two decent seats for the 7PM show. It was a great show. The GOO moved to a dedicated theater in 1994 when the Ryman Auditorium was renovated. As a tribute to all of the performers who had played in the Ryman, a three foot diameter circle was cut from the Ryman stage and placed into the stage at the new GOO music house. The GOO is the longest running, live radio show, still being broadcast on WSM and XM satellite radio. The show ran the gamut of C&W from Little Jimmy Dickens (who must be 80) to some Cajun, a little cowboy music from Riders in the Sky and finishing with Blake Shelton, a contemporary performer.
The capitol building sits on a rise, overlooking the city on all sides. Across the street, to the south of the capitol, sits the Tennessee War Memorial building. The structure is open in the center with plaques listing the war dead from WWI. In the mall area around the building, there are similar tributes to the Korean and Vietnam War dead. I could only assume the WWII dedication is within the building itself.
We left the capitol mall area and walked about 12 blocks to “The District”, an area of shops, restaurants, bars and entertainment. On the way, we walked by the old Ryman Auditorium. Originally built as a church in 1892, it later became a theater, hosting such notables as Enrico Caruso and Sarah Bernhardt. From 1943 to 1994, it was home to the Grand Ole Opry.
The district was just as advertised: live music pubs with country music and no cover; western wear stores; music stores; memorabilia and souvenir shops. The streets were busy with tourists and Georgia Tech fans, in town for the game with Vanderbilt. The music was already cranked up in most of the pubs. It was loud and not always good. We opted for a more traditional Saturday afternoon tradition and grabbed a couple of beers in a sports bar while watching college football.
Carol thought it might be fun to go to the Grand Ole Opry. Our campground is only a couple of miles away, so getting there would not be difficult. She went on line before we went downtown to see about tickets. I was skeptical. After all, it is Saturday, tickets could be scarce. Not to worry, she got two decent seats for the 7PM show. It was a great show. The GOO moved to a dedicated theater in 1994 when the Ryman Auditorium was renovated. As a tribute to all of the performers who had played in the Ryman, a three foot diameter circle was cut from the Ryman stage and placed into the stage at the new GOO music house. The GOO is the longest running, live radio show, still being broadcast on WSM and XM satellite radio. The show ran the gamut of C&W from Little Jimmy Dickens (who must be 80) to some Cajun, a little cowboy music from Riders in the Sky and finishing with Blake Shelton, a contemporary performer.
Friday, October 30, 2009
October 30, 2009 – Adding On with Observations
While driving through South Carolina (I think), we saw a GM plant that was shuttered tight. A few miles later, we passed a Nissan plant with a full parking lot. The same was true of a BMW plant we passed.
I understand dry counties in Tennessee, Kentucky and Virginia, but we’ve stopped at several campgrounds that prohibit the consumption and possession of alcoholic beverages. It seems to me that you could always enjoy an adult beverage within your RV, just don’t display it outside. But these are privately owned campgrounds which prohibit possession.
Large acorns, striking the RV from a significant height, make a considerable noise.
Fall fell. The farther north we came from Atlanta, the more evident it became that the fall colors had peaked and passed. Where we had been seeing scarlet, gold and yellow, we were now seeing burnt orange, brown and some slow to molt, yellow. Late fall has a similarity to early fall. In the early fall, you see the occasional early changer. As we came north, we would see a single tree, surround by trees bereft of leaves, still clinging to leaves bright with color. They seemed to be saying, “no, not yet, the ball isn’t over”.
I understand dry counties in Tennessee, Kentucky and Virginia, but we’ve stopped at several campgrounds that prohibit the consumption and possession of alcoholic beverages. It seems to me that you could always enjoy an adult beverage within your RV, just don’t display it outside. But these are privately owned campgrounds which prohibit possession.
Large acorns, striking the RV from a significant height, make a considerable noise.
Fall fell. The farther north we came from Atlanta, the more evident it became that the fall colors had peaked and passed. Where we had been seeing scarlet, gold and yellow, we were now seeing burnt orange, brown and some slow to molt, yellow. Late fall has a similarity to early fall. In the early fall, you see the occasional early changer. As we came north, we would see a single tree, surround by trees bereft of leaves, still clinging to leaves bright with color. They seemed to be saying, “no, not yet, the ball isn’t over”.
October 30, 2009 – Notes on Things
Betsey, having now driven through this part of Kentucky, I understand why you must have enjoyed going to school here.
We drove south toward Nashville we crossed a lot of horse country. Beautiful farms and magnificent houses are the rule. As we drove through Keeneland, we noticed they have drive through betting. It is not as intoxicating as the drive through liquor stores in Texas, but still could be habit forming.
As some you know, I adopt soldiers. Generally, I receive some note of thanks, but I never expect any. I never received any word from my last soldier. I’ve been sending packages and letters to my current soldier for about five months now and had not heard any thing, but, I’ve never really expected to. While in Elkins, I was able to get on line and check my e-mail. There was a note of thanks from Noah with pictures of his wife and children. What a nice surprise.
Today’s forecast was for strong winds in the afternoon and rain, possible heavy at times, in the evening. It’s all true. I’m getting a bit tired of camping in the mud. We have been thinking about going to southern Mississippi before turning west, but the WX channel is calling for possible flooding, so plans may change.
Spice took all of her antibiotics and it seemed her bladder infection was gone. Then today, Carol saw blood in Spice’s urine, so we were off to the vet once more. Another round of antibiotics and a change to a special urinary diet was the prescription. And, see your vet when you get home.
Hopefully, the rain will end this evening and we will be off to see “Music City, U.S.A.” tomorrow.
We drove south toward Nashville we crossed a lot of horse country. Beautiful farms and magnificent houses are the rule. As we drove through Keeneland, we noticed they have drive through betting. It is not as intoxicating as the drive through liquor stores in Texas, but still could be habit forming.
As some you know, I adopt soldiers. Generally, I receive some note of thanks, but I never expect any. I never received any word from my last soldier. I’ve been sending packages and letters to my current soldier for about five months now and had not heard any thing, but, I’ve never really expected to. While in Elkins, I was able to get on line and check my e-mail. There was a note of thanks from Noah with pictures of his wife and children. What a nice surprise.
Today’s forecast was for strong winds in the afternoon and rain, possible heavy at times, in the evening. It’s all true. I’m getting a bit tired of camping in the mud. We have been thinking about going to southern Mississippi before turning west, but the WX channel is calling for possible flooding, so plans may change.
Spice took all of her antibiotics and it seemed her bladder infection was gone. Then today, Carol saw blood in Spice’s urine, so we were off to the vet once more. Another round of antibiotics and a change to a special urinary diet was the prescription. And, see your vet when you get home.
Hopefully, the rain will end this evening and we will be off to see “Music City, U.S.A.” tomorrow.
October 29, 2009 – We’re in Bluegrass Country.
For some reason, it has been difficult to keep up with my writing over the past few days. Everything seems to be written several days after the fact and this is no exception. So I’m going to not be as wordy or descriptive and just try to hit the high spots as we catch up.
Martinsville, the Sprint Cup race. The race was good. We took the truck and left the dog to guard the RV. We arrived a couple of hours prior to the start of the race and wandered around teams/sponsors trailers where you can shop for items that identify you as a fan. As race time neared, we grabbed a couple of BBQ sandwiches (highly recommended if you ever go) and went to our seats. Martinsville allows six-pack coolers and smoking. Very strange. The couple next to me smoked in alternating shifts. The two guys in front of Carol just smoked. It bothers Carol much more then me, both we didn’t allow it to detract from the race. The most interesting to see was a middle aged woman, a bit chunky and a bit buxom. She was wearing a black sweat shirt and a black hat, both embroidered in pink. The sweat shirt was emblazoned with “Save the Ta-Tas” and a pink breast cancer ribbon; the hat had just the ribbon. Once settled in, she lit up the first of many cigarettes she smoked during the race. It that a mixed message or just irony?
Fate. We had discussed going back towards Elkins, WV for one more visit. We really had not spent time in the Elkins area, just drove through and Carol thought it might be good to spend a couple of days to get the flavor of the town. (Note: if you really want to find out about a small town, just spend a couple of hours watching the customers at the WalMart.) I figured that we weren’t going to waste any realtor’s time, we were going to buy anything and we would probably come and visit again once we were more committed. I suggested we just head west and perhaps visit my brother Dave in Cincinnati. Carol acquiesced and suggested we call Dave and Judy first. Point taken, I called. Judy said that she and Dave would not be home as they needed to be in Elkins the following day. OK then, how about we meet you there? And so we did.
The Visit. Davis and Elkins College hosts several forums each year, most notable is Augusta, a five week session of music, dance and folk art. Over the years, Dave has attended several sessions at Augusta and has become their official photographer. Hence, he was back to photograph classes in fiddle, some jam sessions and the “old time fiddlers” reunion. We had dinner together on Monday evening at a Venezuelan restaurant. It was a surprise to find a Venezuelan restaurant in little old Elkins and it was surprisingly good. The next day, Judy met us at D&E and gave us a tour of some of the old homes on campus. The houses have been renovated and serve the college, providing administrative/meeting facilities and as a small hotel. We met Dave for lunch and then went to a mini concert highlighting various fiddle styles. It was very entertaining as a collection of fiddlers played, sometimes with a guitar accompaniment. Carol and I left to look at some property. Dave was busy the rest of the day, but Judy surprised us by dropping by our RV at the campground. We had a great visit with her.
When Dave and Judy first came by on Monday afternoon, they brought a couple of “gifts”. Dave has help move a cousin of ours into a nursing home. As he went about cleaning out her home, he found several items of pottery that our Aunt Ibby had thrown. So he brought a few to us. The best gift was a photograph of our dad at age 12 or 13. I don’t think I have ever seen a photo of him at that young an age. It’s really special.
Wednesday morning we packed everything up and headed out once more. Just for grins, we headed a bit north through the town of Philippi before turning west to the I-79 south. 350 some miles later, we pulled into the campground just outside of Lexington, KY.
Martinsville, the Sprint Cup race. The race was good. We took the truck and left the dog to guard the RV. We arrived a couple of hours prior to the start of the race and wandered around teams/sponsors trailers where you can shop for items that identify you as a fan. As race time neared, we grabbed a couple of BBQ sandwiches (highly recommended if you ever go) and went to our seats. Martinsville allows six-pack coolers and smoking. Very strange. The couple next to me smoked in alternating shifts. The two guys in front of Carol just smoked. It bothers Carol much more then me, both we didn’t allow it to detract from the race. The most interesting to see was a middle aged woman, a bit chunky and a bit buxom. She was wearing a black sweat shirt and a black hat, both embroidered in pink. The sweat shirt was emblazoned with “Save the Ta-Tas” and a pink breast cancer ribbon; the hat had just the ribbon. Once settled in, she lit up the first of many cigarettes she smoked during the race. It that a mixed message or just irony?
Fate. We had discussed going back towards Elkins, WV for one more visit. We really had not spent time in the Elkins area, just drove through and Carol thought it might be good to spend a couple of days to get the flavor of the town. (Note: if you really want to find out about a small town, just spend a couple of hours watching the customers at the WalMart.) I figured that we weren’t going to waste any realtor’s time, we were going to buy anything and we would probably come and visit again once we were more committed. I suggested we just head west and perhaps visit my brother Dave in Cincinnati. Carol acquiesced and suggested we call Dave and Judy first. Point taken, I called. Judy said that she and Dave would not be home as they needed to be in Elkins the following day. OK then, how about we meet you there? And so we did.
The Visit. Davis and Elkins College hosts several forums each year, most notable is Augusta, a five week session of music, dance and folk art. Over the years, Dave has attended several sessions at Augusta and has become their official photographer. Hence, he was back to photograph classes in fiddle, some jam sessions and the “old time fiddlers” reunion. We had dinner together on Monday evening at a Venezuelan restaurant. It was a surprise to find a Venezuelan restaurant in little old Elkins and it was surprisingly good. The next day, Judy met us at D&E and gave us a tour of some of the old homes on campus. The houses have been renovated and serve the college, providing administrative/meeting facilities and as a small hotel. We met Dave for lunch and then went to a mini concert highlighting various fiddle styles. It was very entertaining as a collection of fiddlers played, sometimes with a guitar accompaniment. Carol and I left to look at some property. Dave was busy the rest of the day, but Judy surprised us by dropping by our RV at the campground. We had a great visit with her.
When Dave and Judy first came by on Monday afternoon, they brought a couple of “gifts”. Dave has help move a cousin of ours into a nursing home. As he went about cleaning out her home, he found several items of pottery that our Aunt Ibby had thrown. So he brought a few to us. The best gift was a photograph of our dad at age 12 or 13. I don’t think I have ever seen a photo of him at that young an age. It’s really special.
Wednesday morning we packed everything up and headed out once more. Just for grins, we headed a bit north through the town of Philippi before turning west to the I-79 south. 350 some miles later, we pulled into the campground just outside of Lexington, KY.
Thursday, October 29, 2009
October 25, 2009 – Stone Mountain NC. State Park
What a great campground! Like many state park campgrounds, some sites have water and electric while others have neither. But each site in this campground has a 20X30 level patio, with the standard picnic table and fire pit. Consequently, the parking areas are fairly level and the sites are well spaced. Some of the sites are wooded as well.
With sunny weather on Thursday, we took a stroll to the top of Stone Mountain . The trail guide stated the six mile hike could be strenuous. Three tenths of a mile from the parking lot, we could go left to the Stone Mountain Falls
Reaching the base of the mountain, we were several hundred feet below where we had begun our walk. The trail was again, a steady rise along a trout stream. After a half mile or so, we arrived at “the homestead”. It is the original farmhouse of the family that worked this bottomland farm for three generations. Some of the outbuildings are replicated in the style of the farmhouse. There is a meadow above the homestead and across from Stone Mountain providing an excellent view of the limestone which makes up Stone Mountain . We sat and watched rock climbers on the face of the limestone. Over the eons, water flowing from the top of the mountain has eroded the limestone to create a ever steepening rock face. Unlike other areas where the freeze and thaw break off large sections of rock creating cliffs, this, from the top, is an inviting down slope. But be cautious; walk too far and it becomes nearly vertical.
Back on the trail, we reach a set of falls. There is a branch trail to the lower and middle falls, but we elected to stay on the main trail to the upper falls. This trail took us above the other falls, which didn’t seem that impressive. Soon we could hear the upper falls as the water cascaded into its base pool. Arriving at the falls, we took a stairway to the base of the falls where we sat to eat a bite of lunch. From the base, we could see the stream roll across and drop down a 50 foot slab of limestone. As it fell, it caught a ledge redirecting to the left where it bounced off another ledge and into the base pool. With lunch over, it was time to begin our ascent of the stairs. Expecting to see the crest of the falls 50 feet above, we were surprised to see the falls actually extending even higher. Like the top of the mountain, these falls begin on a limestone outcropping 200 feet above the base pool. The stream’s waters increasing in speed as the limestone slope increases its pitch until reaching vertical in the last 50 feet.
After climbing over 200 feet of steps, it was back to the parking lot and the truck. A great hike with lots of good views and a little history included.
Monday, October 26, 2009
October 25, 2009 – Boogity, Boogity, Boogity: Let’s go Racin’ Boys.
Well it's race day here in Martinsville. It dawned clear and crisp; should be a great day for a race. We attended the Truck Race yesterday. The track battled the rain all morning, drying the track in between each rain shower. When all was done, the race was only delayed about an hour.
So how did we get here? Our second day in Atlanta, we visited the Aquarium of Georgia. They have a huge central tank filled with various rays, guitar fish, groupers, jacks, barracudas, reef fish and sharks. It is the only aquarium in the world to have Whale Sharks in captivity and they have four. Immense creatures, the Whale sharks dwarf everything else in the tank. Yes, Christy, you can dive with the sharks. It is a 30 minute dive and the aquarium provides everything but a swim suit. We watched a manta ray doing slow lazy loops as if it were some sort of aviator. It is a very well laid out facility with both fresh and salt water varieties of fish, highlighting species from the Amazon River and Lake Malawi. It is certainly worth a visit if you are in the vicinity.
We left Atlanta and headed to Stone Mountain State Park out side of Elkin, N.C. This is not to be confused with Stone Mountain Georgia, a heavily commercialized area on the northeast of Atlanta. Gasoline had been a bit expensive in the Atlanta area ($2.40 gal) and we assumed we would find it a bit cheaper as we cruised north. We had a half tank which was good for close to 200 miles, and I would want a break before then, so off we went. As we drove along, we watched the price climb by nine cents a gallon, but fairly steady around $2.45. Remembering cheap gasoline prices in N.C. we pushed on. Just prior to leaving S.C. we passed a truck stop advertising $2.39, but we saw it too late to stop. Cruising along, watching for gas stations and enjoying the scenery, we watched the fuel gauge slowly drop. Several exit advertised gas, but it was always only one station and never right next to the highway. Finally, I found an exit with two stations. We exited and went towards the first, actually both as they were across the street from each other. The price was $2.55. Bah Humbug, we can find it cheaper. Another six miles down the road (or just under a gallon of travel), I again exited where there were four convenient stations only to see a price of $2.60. To heck with shopping, we just got 15 gallons and hit the road again. A little farther north, we exited onto the state road which would take us towards Stone Mountain SP. About five miles from the SP was a convenience store which sold gasoline at $2.49; time to fill up. When Carol came back from paying the $145 bill, I remembered we needed milk and maybe beer, so I went in to grab the essentials. It is amazing how nice this people were. Maybe it was the big gas sale, but I think they are just friendly.
We spent two nights at Stone Mountain (more on that in another blog). Then it was off to Martinsville. We had tried to get into one campground in the Martinsville area, but it was sold out. The campground owner provided me with a couple of other local campgrounds she thought might have room. The first one we contacted was available and located just 15 minutes east of the track. She gave me directions in the typical style of the south: Com’n from the south, you’ll want to take the 58 bypass towards Danville; now, when the bypass ends it’ll say Martinsville or Danville, you be sure to take it on to Danville; we’s about 12 ta 15 minutes from the track and it’ll be on your left side. Yes ma’am, but I don’t know where the track is. Whell, it’s about 12 ta 15 minutes from here. Yes ma’am, but where exactly is that? Ya’ll never been here before? No ma’am. Whell, you make sure you take the 58 bypass….. Ma’am, do y’all have a sign in the front? Yes, there’s a small sign in the front yard and it’s a brick house. With that, I ended the conversation and hoped for the best.
As we approached Martinsville from the south on Rte 220, it became obvious where the race track is located. It is right where the 220 and the 58 bypass intersect. We stopped to grab a quick bite at a fast food place and get a feel for the area. There were RV’s parked every where. The Nissan dealer offered RV parking. The local residents all offer RV and car parking. The going rate was $150 for the weekend. We opted to check out our campground; it may be a ways off, but it would at least have services. As I dropped onto the 58 bypass, I made a note of the odometer, figuring 12-15 minutes would closely equate to the miles traveled. About five miles after we entered the bypass, it ended with the signs marking directions to either Martinsville or Danville. Now I should tell you that somewhere just prior to here, Carol called the nice lady to see if she could get an actual address and yes they did have one. But not every address is recognized by the GPS, so it didn’t necessarily do us any good, except, we did have a number to look for on “Martinsville Parkway. Off the bypass and onto a four lane with access, we looked for road signs. We were on A.T. Philpott Hwy. But by now we were eight miles along or ten minutes by C’s watch, so we kept going. We passed through the town of Axton, VA, still on Philpott Hwy. About 12 miles into this trek, I was beginning to doubt my directions, when Carol saw the sign in the front yard of a brick home. I got the RV slowed, made the turn, went up the drive and we were there; or, here.
So how did we get here? Our second day in Atlanta, we visited the Aquarium of Georgia. They have a huge central tank filled with various rays, guitar fish, groupers, jacks, barracudas, reef fish and sharks. It is the only aquarium in the world to have Whale Sharks in captivity and they have four. Immense creatures, the Whale sharks dwarf everything else in the tank. Yes, Christy, you can dive with the sharks. It is a 30 minute dive and the aquarium provides everything but a swim suit. We watched a manta ray doing slow lazy loops as if it were some sort of aviator. It is a very well laid out facility with both fresh and salt water varieties of fish, highlighting species from the Amazon River and Lake Malawi. It is certainly worth a visit if you are in the vicinity.
We left Atlanta and headed to Stone Mountain State Park out side of Elkin, N.C. This is not to be confused with Stone Mountain Georgia, a heavily commercialized area on the northeast of Atlanta. Gasoline had been a bit expensive in the Atlanta area ($2.40 gal) and we assumed we would find it a bit cheaper as we cruised north. We had a half tank which was good for close to 200 miles, and I would want a break before then, so off we went. As we drove along, we watched the price climb by nine cents a gallon, but fairly steady around $2.45. Remembering cheap gasoline prices in N.C. we pushed on. Just prior to leaving S.C. we passed a truck stop advertising $2.39, but we saw it too late to stop. Cruising along, watching for gas stations and enjoying the scenery, we watched the fuel gauge slowly drop. Several exit advertised gas, but it was always only one station and never right next to the highway. Finally, I found an exit with two stations. We exited and went towards the first, actually both as they were across the street from each other. The price was $2.55. Bah Humbug, we can find it cheaper. Another six miles down the road (or just under a gallon of travel), I again exited where there were four convenient stations only to see a price of $2.60. To heck with shopping, we just got 15 gallons and hit the road again. A little farther north, we exited onto the state road which would take us towards Stone Mountain SP. About five miles from the SP was a convenience store which sold gasoline at $2.49; time to fill up. When Carol came back from paying the $145 bill, I remembered we needed milk and maybe beer, so I went in to grab the essentials. It is amazing how nice this people were. Maybe it was the big gas sale, but I think they are just friendly.
We spent two nights at Stone Mountain (more on that in another blog). Then it was off to Martinsville. We had tried to get into one campground in the Martinsville area, but it was sold out. The campground owner provided me with a couple of other local campgrounds she thought might have room. The first one we contacted was available and located just 15 minutes east of the track. She gave me directions in the typical style of the south: Com’n from the south, you’ll want to take the 58 bypass towards Danville; now, when the bypass ends it’ll say Martinsville or Danville, you be sure to take it on to Danville; we’s about 12 ta 15 minutes from the track and it’ll be on your left side. Yes ma’am, but I don’t know where the track is. Whell, it’s about 12 ta 15 minutes from here. Yes ma’am, but where exactly is that? Ya’ll never been here before? No ma’am. Whell, you make sure you take the 58 bypass….. Ma’am, do y’all have a sign in the front? Yes, there’s a small sign in the front yard and it’s a brick house. With that, I ended the conversation and hoped for the best.
As we approached Martinsville from the south on Rte 220, it became obvious where the race track is located. It is right where the 220 and the 58 bypass intersect. We stopped to grab a quick bite at a fast food place and get a feel for the area. There were RV’s parked every where. The Nissan dealer offered RV parking. The local residents all offer RV and car parking. The going rate was $150 for the weekend. We opted to check out our campground; it may be a ways off, but it would at least have services. As I dropped onto the 58 bypass, I made a note of the odometer, figuring 12-15 minutes would closely equate to the miles traveled. About five miles after we entered the bypass, it ended with the signs marking directions to either Martinsville or Danville. Now I should tell you that somewhere just prior to here, Carol called the nice lady to see if she could get an actual address and yes they did have one. But not every address is recognized by the GPS, so it didn’t necessarily do us any good, except, we did have a number to look for on “Martinsville Parkway. Off the bypass and onto a four lane with access, we looked for road signs. We were on A.T. Philpott Hwy. But by now we were eight miles along or ten minutes by C’s watch, so we kept going. We passed through the town of Axton, VA, still on Philpott Hwy. About 12 miles into this trek, I was beginning to doubt my directions, when Carol saw the sign in the front yard of a brick home. I got the RV slowed, made the turn, went up the drive and we were there; or, here.
Monday, October 19, 2009
October 19, 2009 – Things
On our way into Atlanta today, we were listening to the radio. The commentator remarked that he did not have sufficient access to a chalk board and consequently discovered that dry erase markers work on window glass. I began to think about the term “chalk board”. As I recall it was in the late 60’s that the black boards I grew up with were deemed offensive to black people. It became politically correct to refer to the hard black sheet of slate as a chalk board. I never really understood the rational, but I suspect that none was needed. I mean we still had black ink, black pencils, and black keys on the piano, but now we had chalk boards. Chalk boards were messy. There were always erasers full of chalk dust, sitting in the chalk tray also filled with chalk dust. Your hands got chalky and the dust got all over your clothes.
It took a while, but the chalk board was replaced by another writing surface. A surface that was easier to keep clean. This surface that could be written on with a plethora of colors that came in pens that never broke or became too short to use. This surface could also be used as a screen for overhead projectors or movies. And by what name do we identify this modern marvel? Of course, we call it a “White Board”. It’s only appropriate.
We are going to visit the Georgia Aquarium in Atlanta. Carol was reading the AAA Guide Book entry on the aquarium to see the particulars. Along with the hours and the costs, they list items which are prohibited in the aquarium. Most of the prohibited items are typical: no outside food or beverages and no gum, each understandable. But it was interesting that guns, knives, matches and lighters are verboten as are fishing poles. Fishing poles at the aquarium? Did Zeke wander in one day with a spinning rod and reel looking to hook a thresher shark on a treble hooked feathered popper bug? Imagine that conversation with the gate guard. I guess if you can’t have a fishing pole you really don’t need the matches or lighter. No sense bringing that camp stove either.
We don’t know where to next. Last week we bought tickets to the NASCAR race at Martinsville, VA this coming weekend. We get to see both the truck race on Saturday and the Sprint car race on Sunday. Tomorrow morning, we will have to check to see about staying another day. The bigger problem is going to be finding a campground within commuting distance of Martinsville. O well, K sirah, sirah.
It took a while, but the chalk board was replaced by another writing surface. A surface that was easier to keep clean. This surface that could be written on with a plethora of colors that came in pens that never broke or became too short to use. This surface could also be used as a screen for overhead projectors or movies. And by what name do we identify this modern marvel? Of course, we call it a “White Board”. It’s only appropriate.
We are going to visit the Georgia Aquarium in Atlanta. Carol was reading the AAA Guide Book entry on the aquarium to see the particulars. Along with the hours and the costs, they list items which are prohibited in the aquarium. Most of the prohibited items are typical: no outside food or beverages and no gum, each understandable. But it was interesting that guns, knives, matches and lighters are verboten as are fishing poles. Fishing poles at the aquarium? Did Zeke wander in one day with a spinning rod and reel looking to hook a thresher shark on a treble hooked feathered popper bug? Imagine that conversation with the gate guard. I guess if you can’t have a fishing pole you really don’t need the matches or lighter. No sense bringing that camp stove either.
We don’t know where to next. Last week we bought tickets to the NASCAR race at Martinsville, VA this coming weekend. We get to see both the truck race on Saturday and the Sprint car race on Sunday. Tomorrow morning, we will have to check to see about staying another day. The bigger problem is going to be finding a campground within commuting distance of Martinsville. O well, K sirah, sirah.
October 19, 2009 – It’s Good For What Ales Ya!
A while back, when we were in Bar Harbor, we visited a brewery. While there we bought some root beer, a six pack of their “Real Ale”, some blueberry soda and a six pack of their “Blueberry Ale”. Over the course of our travels, we partook of the Real Ale and the Blueberry Ale. We gave Christy some root beer on our last visit. We had yet to crack open a blueberry soda. Somewhere else, possibly VA or NC, we bought some blueberry ripple ice cream on a grocery shopping trip. It was still in the freezer.
We stopped for a pizza dinner on our way home from the “World of Coca-Cola” museum today. With the excess pizza boxed, the bill paid, the tip left, we were back on the road to the campground. Carol commented we had enough ice cream left to fix a couple of Blueberry floats. That sounded really good; blueberry ripple ice cream with blueberry soda. Once home, I grabbed a bottle from where we had the sodas in storage and brought it into the coach. Carol, returning from walking with Spice, saw the bottle and placed it into the freezer to cool it down quickly. I gave it about 15 minutes then grabbed the ice cream and the now cold bottle to make floats. Two glasses, two scoops of ice cream in each, pop open the bottle and began to pour. As the concoction foamed up in the first glass, I began to pour the second. With both of them foamed, I sipped some of the foam off the first. It didn’t have the blueberry taste I expected. I gave the bottle a quick glance with part of thumb blocking the label. It says “blueberry”, it must be “OK”. I poured some more into the first and then sipped some foam from the second. Again, there was that strange taste. I reexamined the bottle’s label. What I assumed my thumb had covered was the word soda. On second look, the word was Ale. I had just made to Blueberry Ale floats. And if you have any doubts then let me reassure you: Ale and ice cream do not, DO NOT, go together. It was now painfully obvious that we had not consumed all of the Blueberry Ale. Armed with a real soda, we drained the ale off of the ice cream and replaced it with the soda. The soda was sufficiently strong to over ride the flavor of the ale, so no harm done. Other then a good ale went to waste.
We stopped for a pizza dinner on our way home from the “World of Coca-Cola” museum today. With the excess pizza boxed, the bill paid, the tip left, we were back on the road to the campground. Carol commented we had enough ice cream left to fix a couple of Blueberry floats. That sounded really good; blueberry ripple ice cream with blueberry soda. Once home, I grabbed a bottle from where we had the sodas in storage and brought it into the coach. Carol, returning from walking with Spice, saw the bottle and placed it into the freezer to cool it down quickly. I gave it about 15 minutes then grabbed the ice cream and the now cold bottle to make floats. Two glasses, two scoops of ice cream in each, pop open the bottle and began to pour. As the concoction foamed up in the first glass, I began to pour the second. With both of them foamed, I sipped some of the foam off the first. It didn’t have the blueberry taste I expected. I gave the bottle a quick glance with part of thumb blocking the label. It says “blueberry”, it must be “OK”. I poured some more into the first and then sipped some foam from the second. Again, there was that strange taste. I reexamined the bottle’s label. What I assumed my thumb had covered was the word soda. On second look, the word was Ale. I had just made to Blueberry Ale floats. And if you have any doubts then let me reassure you: Ale and ice cream do not, DO NOT, go together. It was now painfully obvious that we had not consumed all of the Blueberry Ale. Armed with a real soda, we drained the ale off of the ice cream and replaced it with the soda. The soda was sufficiently strong to over ride the flavor of the ale, so no harm done. Other then a good ale went to waste.
October 18, 2009 – Headed South
It was awesome. At first we didn’t know what it was. We couldn’t understand why it was so light, and then we saw it. A large orb in the sky, it was bright orange or maybe yellow and so bright. It hurt to look at it directly. And warmth, it actually made you feel warm. Yes, the sun had returned; the clouds and rain are vanquished for at least a couple of days.
We buttoned up the coach and headed south towards Atlanta. Given the choice of using an interstate or a U.S. Hwy, we chose the latter. It was a very nice drive giving us a good impression of southeastern TN and northern GA. The traffic was light and the speed was easy. It’s fun to not have to hurry.
We got a campsite at Allatoona Landing Campground. It is on the shores of Lake Allatoona and adjacent to the Allatoona Pass Battleground. Once settled in, we went to visit the battleground. I expected a couple of memorial stones describing the battle and participants. We were surprised. The battle of Allatoona Pass took place after the fall of Atlanta to the Union troops. The Atlantic and Western RR ran through the Allatoona Pass and was a major supply route for the Union troops. The pass was guarded by a Union force of approximately 900. The Confederates, retreating from Atlanta, elected to attack the Union force and destroy the railway. The Confederates were unaware of two significant changes which took place just hours prior to their attack. First, the garrison had been reinforced with over two thousand additional troops. And second, the troops had the new Henry repeating rifles. In the end, the Confederates fled, but only after massive casualties on each side. It is considered one of the most ferocious battles of the Civil War. The State of Georgia has done a marvelous job in maintaining the park, the trail through the battle ground and the signage.
We buttoned up the coach and headed south towards Atlanta. Given the choice of using an interstate or a U.S. Hwy, we chose the latter. It was a very nice drive giving us a good impression of southeastern TN and northern GA. The traffic was light and the speed was easy. It’s fun to not have to hurry.
We got a campsite at Allatoona Landing Campground. It is on the shores of Lake Allatoona and adjacent to the Allatoona Pass Battleground. Once settled in, we went to visit the battleground. I expected a couple of memorial stones describing the battle and participants. We were surprised. The battle of Allatoona Pass took place after the fall of Atlanta to the Union troops. The Atlantic and Western RR ran through the Allatoona Pass and was a major supply route for the Union troops. The pass was guarded by a Union force of approximately 900. The Confederates, retreating from Atlanta, elected to attack the Union force and destroy the railway. The Confederates were unaware of two significant changes which took place just hours prior to their attack. First, the garrison had been reinforced with over two thousand additional troops. And second, the troops had the new Henry repeating rifles. In the end, the Confederates fled, but only after massive casualties on each side. It is considered one of the most ferocious battles of the Civil War. The State of Georgia has done a marvelous job in maintaining the park, the trail through the battle ground and the signage.
October 17, 2009 – Shorts and Fires
Just an observation, but Carol and I do not seem as hearty as our campground neighbors. Several of them keep a campfire going from daybreak to bedtime. With the fire going, they will sit or stand around the fire in their shorts and jackets. Understand also, it’s raining here. The attitude seems to be: yeah, I got me a 30 foot trailer with all the bells and whistles, but I’m camping, so here I am in the rain with a fire and I’m not goin’ in till I have to!
Yesterday, we ventured into Maryville to see the vet. When that chore was completed, we drove into town and found the fall festival. There were a lot of vendors with their tents and wares. The usually “stuff” that you see at every “festival”. I had found a parking spot and we, with Spice on lead, went to see what was what. It wasn’t crowded as it was Friday, early afternoon. Carol checked out several of the stalls as we easily moved through the area. Several people stopped to pet Spice. One official looking woman asked Carol if Spice was a service dog. It seems that dogs were not allowed. There weren’t any signs or indications that we could find issuing the prohibition, but having been asked to leave, we complied. Maybe it is the rain, but I haven’t seen any thing positive about this area.
We grabbed a bite to eat and then tried to find a visitors’ center in the Great Smokey Mountain National Park. We wanted to get a map of the hiking trails hoping the sun would be out today (news flash – it didn’t happen). After fifteen minutes and seven miles of bumper to bumper traffic and somewhat unsure of where we were, I bailed. There was a turnout, so I took advantage of it. We didn’t have a detailed map and the best we could discern was there are two visitors’ centers: one in Cades Cove, about 15 miles south of where we enter the park; and at Gatlinburg, about 15 miles north of the entrance. Having seen an information station in Townsend, we elected to retreat and regroup.
Back in Townsend, the information station had all that we wanted. While Carol did a little shopping, I spoke with the ranger. He said it has been an incredibly busy year with virtually no let up. The visitor traffic certainly didn’t give any indication of any economic slump. And I’m thinking, why live with this big park in your back yard, if you can only use it with a couple thousand of your best friends? One of the problems is the terrain of the park limits access points. With limited access and limited trails, it just winds up congested with people. Yosemite in the spring and summer is a probable comparison. Having acquired the much desired trail map, we headed home for dinner, football/NASCAR and to listen to the rain.
This morning dawned cold, overcast and misting. After breakfast we took a four mile walk, but elected to just walk the trail into Townsend. It wasn’t exciting, but we didn’t have to fight traffic, automotive or pedestrian. We’ve decided, tomorrow we’re off to Atlanta. But we’re coming back to Virginia later this week.
Yesterday, we ventured into Maryville to see the vet. When that chore was completed, we drove into town and found the fall festival. There were a lot of vendors with their tents and wares. The usually “stuff” that you see at every “festival”. I had found a parking spot and we, with Spice on lead, went to see what was what. It wasn’t crowded as it was Friday, early afternoon. Carol checked out several of the stalls as we easily moved through the area. Several people stopped to pet Spice. One official looking woman asked Carol if Spice was a service dog. It seems that dogs were not allowed. There weren’t any signs or indications that we could find issuing the prohibition, but having been asked to leave, we complied. Maybe it is the rain, but I haven’t seen any thing positive about this area.
We grabbed a bite to eat and then tried to find a visitors’ center in the Great Smokey Mountain National Park. We wanted to get a map of the hiking trails hoping the sun would be out today (news flash – it didn’t happen). After fifteen minutes and seven miles of bumper to bumper traffic and somewhat unsure of where we were, I bailed. There was a turnout, so I took advantage of it. We didn’t have a detailed map and the best we could discern was there are two visitors’ centers: one in Cades Cove, about 15 miles south of where we enter the park; and at Gatlinburg, about 15 miles north of the entrance. Having seen an information station in Townsend, we elected to retreat and regroup.
Back in Townsend, the information station had all that we wanted. While Carol did a little shopping, I spoke with the ranger. He said it has been an incredibly busy year with virtually no let up. The visitor traffic certainly didn’t give any indication of any economic slump. And I’m thinking, why live with this big park in your back yard, if you can only use it with a couple thousand of your best friends? One of the problems is the terrain of the park limits access points. With limited access and limited trails, it just winds up congested with people. Yosemite in the spring and summer is a probable comparison. Having acquired the much desired trail map, we headed home for dinner, football/NASCAR and to listen to the rain.
This morning dawned cold, overcast and misting. After breakfast we took a four mile walk, but elected to just walk the trail into Townsend. It wasn’t exciting, but we didn’t have to fight traffic, automotive or pedestrian. We’ve decided, tomorrow we’re off to Atlanta. But we’re coming back to Virginia later this week.
October 17, 2009 – Awnings
It took me a while to adapt, but I think I have. Prior to this trip, our camping experiences have generally been in areas with the potential for high winds. Consequently, the awning has been used only sporadically as a sun shade. And, with the uncertainty of the wind, leaving the awning out while you were away from the coach was always a risk. There is nothing more discouraging then returning to find your awning with its arms wrapped across the roof of the coach.
In our travels, I’ve found that you can use the awning to keep the rain away from the door. What a concept. The awning is just not for shade, it can help keep things dry when you’re camped. There hasn’t been any wind of concern, so the awning is out and stays out until we’re ready to leave. The one chore associated with this practice is sweeping the leaves off the awning prior to storing it. But it is a small price to pay for the comfort of a dry stoop.
In our travels, I’ve found that you can use the awning to keep the rain away from the door. What a concept. The awning is just not for shade, it can help keep things dry when you’re camped. There hasn’t been any wind of concern, so the awning is out and stays out until we’re ready to leave. The one chore associated with this practice is sweeping the leaves off the awning prior to storing it. But it is a small price to pay for the comfort of a dry stoop.
Friday, October 16, 2009
October 16, 2009 – Just When You Think it Can’t Get Any Bladder
Spice has been displaying some strange symptoms with regard to her “lady squats”. When we would walk her, she would usually give the grass a good watering and then be ready for an extended walk. But lately, she has been squatting several times after her initial effort, usually with no results. Yesterday morning, the intrepid Carol, armed with a paper towel, did a blot check on Spice’s watering spot and found blood in her urine. Bummer! We inquired about finding a vet when we checked in at KOA and made an appointment for today.
The vet is located in Maryville (pronounced Marvil), which is good as we want to see the town. We were checked in and seated in the waiting room when the vet tech asked if she might get a urine sample from Spice. The vet tech, Carol and Spice are all the same gender, so I thought it best, they conduct this sampling without me. The three of them ventured out to the parking lot; the vet tech armed with what appeared to be a fast food French fry tray. Within minutes they returned. The smiling vet tech commenting on what a “good sample” she got.
The outcome is, most probable, Spice has a bladder infection. The other possibility is bladder stones. And most remote is bladder cancer. The vet put Spice on antibiotics and told us to watch her “habits”. We should see a change back toward normal shortly. If we don’t see a change, we should get her X-rayed for stones.
The vet is located in Maryville (pronounced Marvil), which is good as we want to see the town. We were checked in and seated in the waiting room when the vet tech asked if she might get a urine sample from Spice. The vet tech, Carol and Spice are all the same gender, so I thought it best, they conduct this sampling without me. The three of them ventured out to the parking lot; the vet tech armed with what appeared to be a fast food French fry tray. Within minutes they returned. The smiling vet tech commenting on what a “good sample” she got.
The outcome is, most probable, Spice has a bladder infection. The other possibility is bladder stones. And most remote is bladder cancer. The vet put Spice on antibiotics and told us to watch her “habits”. We should see a change back toward normal shortly. If we don’t see a change, we should get her X-rayed for stones.
October 15, 2009 – So you think it will Rain, Again
After listening to it rain off and on all night, we awoke to another day of dismal skies. On her way to the shower, Carol checked with the office if we might stay another night. While we might be able to stay, we would have to move locations. Another town, another “fall festival” fills up the campgrounds for the weekend. Armed with that knowledge, I made the decision to just move farther west. We wanted to see eastern Tennessee, so why not now. A call to the KOA outside Maryville got us a reservation, albeit, possibly the last spot. Not a good omen. Oh, and did I mention that it cost more then double what we’ve been paying. So we were off on another rainy drive.
Everything was going well. We were making decent time on the I-40 through the mountains. There was a WalMart with cheap gas, which is always good. Lunch at Ruby Tuesdays was excellent. We took a two lane off of I-40 over through historic Dandridge, TN., which is home to Ball Jars and Bush Baked Beans. I really wanted to get a picture at Bush’s, but it was wet with no place to stop. We did out twists and turns and rolled into Sevierville (Severe ville). A left turn put us on a four lane, down town street that was in full congestion. We inched through each stoplight in an effort to not “block the box”. Whatever could cause this amount of traffic? It just seemed endless.
As we moved away from the “Historic Downtown Sevierville” there was no let up in the traffic. No, it wasn’t rush hour, it was early afternoon. Sloth-like in our travels we crawled onward toward Pigeon Forge. Here we realized the problem. Pigeon Forge is to Tennessee as Las Vegas is to, well, Las Vegas. Where Sevierville has the Muscle Car Museum and the Tennessee Museum of Aviation, Pigeon Forge is home to: Black Bear Jamboree Dinner and Show; the upside down Wonder Works building; the Police Museum featuring Buford Pusser’s 1974 Corvette; the Comedy Barn Theater; the Dinosaur Walk; and nearby Dollywood. And then there are the smaller attractions like the NASCAR race park, the mini-golf courses, souvenirs and home made fudge shops. Don’t forget all of the hotel/motels and the restaurants. As we crept towards WalMart, we could see traffic three abreast and ten deep trying to exit the parking lot. What a zoo! After a plethora of stoplights and untold minutes of just idling, we finally escaped. And I was thinking we might relocate here.
The farther we got from “Dollywood”, the better the driving got. The KOA is just outside of Townsend on the edge of Great Smokey Mountain National Park. In the site, we fixed dinner and then sat back to listen to the rain.
Everything was going well. We were making decent time on the I-40 through the mountains. There was a WalMart with cheap gas, which is always good. Lunch at Ruby Tuesdays was excellent. We took a two lane off of I-40 over through historic Dandridge, TN., which is home to Ball Jars and Bush Baked Beans. I really wanted to get a picture at Bush’s, but it was wet with no place to stop. We did out twists and turns and rolled into Sevierville (Severe ville). A left turn put us on a four lane, down town street that was in full congestion. We inched through each stoplight in an effort to not “block the box”. Whatever could cause this amount of traffic? It just seemed endless.
As we moved away from the “Historic Downtown Sevierville” there was no let up in the traffic. No, it wasn’t rush hour, it was early afternoon. Sloth-like in our travels we crawled onward toward Pigeon Forge. Here we realized the problem. Pigeon Forge is to Tennessee as Las Vegas is to, well, Las Vegas. Where Sevierville has the Muscle Car Museum and the Tennessee Museum of Aviation, Pigeon Forge is home to: Black Bear Jamboree Dinner and Show; the upside down Wonder Works building; the Police Museum featuring Buford Pusser’s 1974 Corvette; the Comedy Barn Theater; the Dinosaur Walk; and nearby Dollywood. And then there are the smaller attractions like the NASCAR race park, the mini-golf courses, souvenirs and home made fudge shops. Don’t forget all of the hotel/motels and the restaurants. As we crept towards WalMart, we could see traffic three abreast and ten deep trying to exit the parking lot. What a zoo! After a plethora of stoplights and untold minutes of just idling, we finally escaped. And I was thinking we might relocate here.
The farther we got from “Dollywood”, the better the driving got. The KOA is just outside of Townsend on the edge of Great Smokey Mountain National Park. In the site, we fixed dinner and then sat back to listen to the rain.
October 14, 2009 – Various and Sundry Things
I haven’t written for a while, because there just hasn’t been much to write about. It’s raining today, and the only thing we have planned is to look at a house this afternoon, so why not write a bit.
We spent three days in Wytheville, Va., with side trips planned to Abingdon, Va., and Mt. Airy, NC. Abingdon is a small historical town, which appeared a bit inviting except it is not near anything we like to do. Additionally, the terrain in this area, as it is in southern WV., is a configuration of small streams which have carved narrow valleys from which ridges climb nearly vertically for 300-500 feet. Hence, real bottom land is valued for farming. The narrow valleys are subject to flash flooding, so not necessarily valued. Three strikes and we’re out. We decided to skip Mt. Airy simply because like Abingdon, it isn’t near anything we want to do.
We found a Lutheran Church convenient to the campground and took the opportunity to attend. The building was quite inviting. The Sanctuary had a high vaulted ceiling supported by cross timbers. The windows along each side were of stain glass. Above the altar, in the “A” space formed by the roof line was another stain glass depicting Jesus. After we had entered and sat down, a couple of the congregants approached to welcome us. The service was similar to our home church, but a bit more formal. We were both unfamiliar with the liturgy, but it all flows about the same. While there were probably 20 members of the choir, the attendance could not have been more then fifty, mostly elderly.
Leaving Wytheville, we traveled south to a campground near Asheville, NC. Two of the areas we want to visit are Hickory and Morgantown, NC. Both of these towns are a short commute from the KOA east of Asheville. I’m getting quite proficient at driving in the rain.
We spent three days in Wytheville, Va., with side trips planned to Abingdon, Va., and Mt. Airy, NC. Abingdon is a small historical town, which appeared a bit inviting except it is not near anything we like to do. Additionally, the terrain in this area, as it is in southern WV., is a configuration of small streams which have carved narrow valleys from which ridges climb nearly vertically for 300-500 feet. Hence, real bottom land is valued for farming. The narrow valleys are subject to flash flooding, so not necessarily valued. Three strikes and we’re out. We decided to skip Mt. Airy simply because like Abingdon, it isn’t near anything we want to do.
We found a Lutheran Church convenient to the campground and took the opportunity to attend. The building was quite inviting. The Sanctuary had a high vaulted ceiling supported by cross timbers. The windows along each side were of stain glass. Above the altar, in the “A” space formed by the roof line was another stain glass depicting Jesus. After we had entered and sat down, a couple of the congregants approached to welcome us. The service was similar to our home church, but a bit more formal. We were both unfamiliar with the liturgy, but it all flows about the same. While there were probably 20 members of the choir, the attendance could not have been more then fifty, mostly elderly.
Leaving Wytheville, we traveled south to a campground near Asheville, NC. Two of the areas we want to visit are Hickory and Morgantown, NC. Both of these towns are a short commute from the KOA east of Asheville. I’m getting quite proficient at driving in the rain.
October 15, 2009 – Recapping Continued
While we had rain in Wytheville and rain on the drive to Asheville, our first morning there, while wet, wasn’t raining. We drove back towards Hickory using the secondary roads. You get a much better feel for the countryside when you tool through the small towns, see the shops and the dumps. Morganton seemed like a pleasant place as we drove through. We assumed we could stop there for a while on the way back.
Hickory has a little old town area which has been nicely restored and given ample parking. We stopped there to take a walk around. I found a Real Estate brochure and began to peruse it while Carol purchased some ice cream for us. There was an interesting little house on three acres. A quick phone call and yes, we could see it. So we were off to Lenoir, about 30 miles northwest of Hickory.
The house was built long enough ago that the floors sloped in a couple of areas. The two bedrooms were off one side of the living room, while the full bath was off the other side. Carol wasn’t impressed with the single wide trailer sitting on the adjacent lot. Looking at the aerial view with the plot lines drawn in, the property was somewhat similar to geometry problem. You have 2 minutes to find the surface area of a twelve sided figure where no two straight lines are parallel, or the same length. But the agent had a couple of other listings she thought we might like to see and she would e-mail them to us.
Lenoir is not far from the Blue Ridge Parkway so we elected to do a little “leaf peeping” on the way home. The parkway was busy with traffic. Many of the overlooks have now become “over growns” as the foliage has thicken to block any view that may have existed. But, people stop regardless. Some times the overlooks are also trail heads, which explains the parked cars with no one in sight.
Driving back to Lenoir the next day was accomplished in the rain. It had rained most of the night and continued to rain all day. We met the agent at the house. Another older home, built in 1949, it had been renovated both inside and out. The interior was open, with a couple of quirky little rooms that served as bedrooms. Carol and I really liked the house, knowing there would be some things we would want to do to it right away. It sat on 5+ acres with a small pond and a creek. The property ran to the top of a ridge and was heavily wooded. There was no garage, a definite negative.
Later, after discussion “things” with the agent at her office, we returned to the property for another looksee. We really liked the lot, but the more I looked at the way the outside of the house had been renovated, the more discouraged I became. It was just shoddy. On the way back to the coach, we pretty much talked ourselves out of trying to do anything quickly. Returning to our original plan, we just want to find a place we like; not buy a place while on this trip.
Hickory has a little old town area which has been nicely restored and given ample parking. We stopped there to take a walk around. I found a Real Estate brochure and began to peruse it while Carol purchased some ice cream for us. There was an interesting little house on three acres. A quick phone call and yes, we could see it. So we were off to Lenoir, about 30 miles northwest of Hickory.
The house was built long enough ago that the floors sloped in a couple of areas. The two bedrooms were off one side of the living room, while the full bath was off the other side. Carol wasn’t impressed with the single wide trailer sitting on the adjacent lot. Looking at the aerial view with the plot lines drawn in, the property was somewhat similar to geometry problem. You have 2 minutes to find the surface area of a twelve sided figure where no two straight lines are parallel, or the same length. But the agent had a couple of other listings she thought we might like to see and she would e-mail them to us.
Lenoir is not far from the Blue Ridge Parkway so we elected to do a little “leaf peeping” on the way home. The parkway was busy with traffic. Many of the overlooks have now become “over growns” as the foliage has thicken to block any view that may have existed. But, people stop regardless. Some times the overlooks are also trail heads, which explains the parked cars with no one in sight.
Driving back to Lenoir the next day was accomplished in the rain. It had rained most of the night and continued to rain all day. We met the agent at the house. Another older home, built in 1949, it had been renovated both inside and out. The interior was open, with a couple of quirky little rooms that served as bedrooms. Carol and I really liked the house, knowing there would be some things we would want to do to it right away. It sat on 5+ acres with a small pond and a creek. The property ran to the top of a ridge and was heavily wooded. There was no garage, a definite negative.
Later, after discussion “things” with the agent at her office, we returned to the property for another looksee. We really liked the lot, but the more I looked at the way the outside of the house had been renovated, the more discouraged I became. It was just shoddy. On the way back to the coach, we pretty much talked ourselves out of trying to do anything quickly. Returning to our original plan, we just want to find a place we like; not buy a place while on this trip.
Sunday, October 11, 2009
October 9, 2009- GPS Trickery and Scenic Routes
I had checked out the route I wanted to drive south. The only problem was getting the GPS to take us on the route we wanted. I had chosen the scenic route, using US 219 south out of Thomas, through Elkins and into Lewisburg. This route would keep us on the west side of the Allegheny Front. Gigi wanted me to go south out of Davis on the 32 and intercept US 33 east to US 220 which would be quicker, but longer. We would pick up I-64 at Covington, VA to Lewisburg, WV. So I had to lie to the GPS to get the route I wanted. At first, I put in Elkins as a way point. This worked to get us to Elkins, but then Gigi took us west on US 33 to I-79 south and I-64 east. So I moved the way point south to Marlinton, WV. Gigi now took us the way we wanted to go and we were off.
I don’t know how we did it, but we rolled out of the campground by 9:40 in the morning. The route was indeed scenic. US 219 is a two lane road with some passing zones or truck lanes, but the most important aspect was the road was smooth. I can climb the hills, navigate the 15 MPH turns, ease over to let traffic pass and ease down the 9 degree declines all day long. But, put me on a road that is all chopped up and I’m toast in about 4 hours. The RV on a rough road is a rolling earthquake. Listening to every thing you have stored both in the coach and in the basements just batters you senseless after a while. Somewhere just north of Elkins, Carol asked me if we still needed it as a way point. Not thinking, I said no. I had forgotten that Gigi didn’t want us to take US 219. As soon as Carol removed Elkins, Gigi routed us west out of Elkins and neither of us caught it. As things happen, Jay, who is watching the house for us, called just about then and I was listening in to his conversation with Carol and not paying attention to the road signs. Ten miles later it dawns on me that we’re not on US 219 anymore. A quick consultation with the map and the GPS and we realized what had occurred. A quick U-turn and we were headed back toward Elkins and the road south.
The good part of getting lost was we now actually drove through the town of Elkins. Carol was intrigued with the town. It has a great location with numerous ski areas just north and lakes within a couple of hours. She actually acknowledged that she might be able to live there.
Forty miles south of Elkins, just south of Valley Head, we began to drop into the Greenbrier River valley. We follow this valley south into Lewisburg. I had told Carol that I had hoped to make Wytheville, VA., but didn’t think we could make it. She played with the GPS and said we would be in Wytheville by 4:30. This good news brought about a change in plans. I had considered a swing by the New River Gorge Bridge. It was just a little bit out of the way, but it looks farther on the map. So I took the detour.
The New River Gorge is impressive all by itself. It is one of the prime white water areas in the east. The geology associated with the formation of the gorge is interesting as the river made incisive cuts through the rock as opposed to just eroding the gorge. The bridge, on US 19, is constructed rim to rim and is the longest single span steel bridge in the western hemisphere. Before it was built, US 19 was a torturous descent with numerous switchbacks to a two lane bridge over the river, and then a torturous climb through switchbacks up the other side. Now, US 19 is a four lane highway south into Beckley where it intercepts I-77 southbound.
Leaving the Gorge, it should have been a pleasant drive to Wytheville. The distance wasn’t long. We had just taken a one hour break. So we should be in the camp by 6:30. We rolled down US 19 towards Beckley and all was well. At Beckley, we paid the toll and started down I-77. One would think that if you have to pay a toll to drive on a road, it should be drivable. This section of I-77 was originally the WV Turnpike, built while I was in Jr. HS and has been a toll road for the past fifty years. I believe we were driving on some of the original concrete and asphalt. Remember my comments about a rolling earthquake: it was easily an 8.0 magnitude. There were stretches of road that we couldn’t do the speed limit, not because it was uphill, but because it was just too rough. My patience was going to Hell in a hand basket and going there quickly. Thank goodness it all smoothed out when we reached Princeton. From there, it was the easy drive I expected into Wytheville and the KOA.
I don’t know how we did it, but we rolled out of the campground by 9:40 in the morning. The route was indeed scenic. US 219 is a two lane road with some passing zones or truck lanes, but the most important aspect was the road was smooth. I can climb the hills, navigate the 15 MPH turns, ease over to let traffic pass and ease down the 9 degree declines all day long. But, put me on a road that is all chopped up and I’m toast in about 4 hours. The RV on a rough road is a rolling earthquake. Listening to every thing you have stored both in the coach and in the basements just batters you senseless after a while. Somewhere just north of Elkins, Carol asked me if we still needed it as a way point. Not thinking, I said no. I had forgotten that Gigi didn’t want us to take US 219. As soon as Carol removed Elkins, Gigi routed us west out of Elkins and neither of us caught it. As things happen, Jay, who is watching the house for us, called just about then and I was listening in to his conversation with Carol and not paying attention to the road signs. Ten miles later it dawns on me that we’re not on US 219 anymore. A quick consultation with the map and the GPS and we realized what had occurred. A quick U-turn and we were headed back toward Elkins and the road south.
The good part of getting lost was we now actually drove through the town of Elkins. Carol was intrigued with the town. It has a great location with numerous ski areas just north and lakes within a couple of hours. She actually acknowledged that she might be able to live there.
Forty miles south of Elkins, just south of Valley Head, we began to drop into the Greenbrier River valley. We follow this valley south into Lewisburg. I had told Carol that I had hoped to make Wytheville, VA., but didn’t think we could make it. She played with the GPS and said we would be in Wytheville by 4:30. This good news brought about a change in plans. I had considered a swing by the New River Gorge Bridge. It was just a little bit out of the way, but it looks farther on the map. So I took the detour.
The New River Gorge is impressive all by itself. It is one of the prime white water areas in the east. The geology associated with the formation of the gorge is interesting as the river made incisive cuts through the rock as opposed to just eroding the gorge. The bridge, on US 19, is constructed rim to rim and is the longest single span steel bridge in the western hemisphere. Before it was built, US 19 was a torturous descent with numerous switchbacks to a two lane bridge over the river, and then a torturous climb through switchbacks up the other side. Now, US 19 is a four lane highway south into Beckley where it intercepts I-77 southbound.
Leaving the Gorge, it should have been a pleasant drive to Wytheville. The distance wasn’t long. We had just taken a one hour break. So we should be in the camp by 6:30. We rolled down US 19 towards Beckley and all was well. At Beckley, we paid the toll and started down I-77. One would think that if you have to pay a toll to drive on a road, it should be drivable. This section of I-77 was originally the WV Turnpike, built while I was in Jr. HS and has been a toll road for the past fifty years. I believe we were driving on some of the original concrete and asphalt. Remember my comments about a rolling earthquake: it was easily an 8.0 magnitude. There were stretches of road that we couldn’t do the speed limit, not because it was uphill, but because it was just too rough. My patience was going to Hell in a hand basket and going there quickly. Thank goodness it all smoothed out when we reached Princeton. From there, it was the easy drive I expected into Wytheville and the KOA.
October 8, 2009 – PanCAKE and Rocks
Up early, feed and walk the dog and head off to the lodge for breakfast: a baked apple pancake breakfast. The Blackwater Lodge isn’t fancy, but it is nice. The restaurant is glass on three sides, enabling great views. We were seated by a window. The waitress approach and asked if we wanted the buffet. Carol said no, that we wanted the “baked apple pancake” and coffee. To which the young lady asked if we wanted one each or one to split. OK, that’s a hint. So we asked, “Should we split it?” Her response was yes unless we were really hungry. As it was said, so it was ordered; it would take 20 to 25 minutes.
I had eaten at a restaurant in Minneapolis called the “Pannakukin” which served big baked pancakes with fruit or meat filling. That was what I expected here. Pancake batter would be poured into a heated, oiled pan. The filling would be added, and then more batter on top. Once the bottom was cooked, the remainder would be placed under a broiler to cook the top before serving. What we got was different, but just as good.
The baked apple pancake is actually a cake baked in a pan. The cake is very similar to a cinnamon coffee cake with the addition of cooked sliced apple. Yum! One was certainly enough to stoke our energy for the day.
Seneca Rocks is a large sheer outcrop of limestone ridge rising above the North Fork of the Potomac River. WV has established the area as a state park. It is somewhat historical in that during WWII, the 10th Mountain Division used the rocks to train soldiers in mountain climbing. The site is world renowned as a climbing site with multiple routes to the top and excellent training climbs. The three of us took the four mile round trip hike to the observation platform which is located about 2/3 of the way to the summit. Because of where the platform is located, you cannot really view the rocks. It does provide a wonderful view of the North Fork valley. By now, we knew we were going to have a beautiful day. There was no wind, warm and just a broken layer of clouds.
Next stop is Seneca Caverns. I know, it is somewhat ironic that we get a nice day, so we go underground. With only four of us on the tour, it was very personal. Seneca Caverns are certainly not the immense expanse of Carlsbad, but the displays of flow stone were great. The young man who led us through the caverns was knowledgeable and welcomed our questions.
After a lunch on the patio of the caverns restaurant, we were off to Spruce Knob.
Spruce Knob is the highest point in WV. I had told Carol she would have a 360 degree view from the top and that it should be really good. By the time we reached the summit, it was around 4 PM. With the sun sinking in the west and the broken clouds, the photographic aspects were diminished, but the views were still great. And we got in another quick hike. Spice got to check out even more smells then before, so all was right with the world.
It was time to get back to the RV, we would be rolling out the next day.
I had eaten at a restaurant in Minneapolis called the “Pannakukin” which served big baked pancakes with fruit or meat filling. That was what I expected here. Pancake batter would be poured into a heated, oiled pan. The filling would be added, and then more batter on top. Once the bottom was cooked, the remainder would be placed under a broiler to cook the top before serving. What we got was different, but just as good.
The baked apple pancake is actually a cake baked in a pan. The cake is very similar to a cinnamon coffee cake with the addition of cooked sliced apple. Yum! One was certainly enough to stoke our energy for the day.
Seneca Rocks is a large sheer outcrop of limestone ridge rising above the North Fork of the Potomac River. WV has established the area as a state park. It is somewhat historical in that during WWII, the 10th Mountain Division used the rocks to train soldiers in mountain climbing. The site is world renowned as a climbing site with multiple routes to the top and excellent training climbs. The three of us took the four mile round trip hike to the observation platform which is located about 2/3 of the way to the summit. Because of where the platform is located, you cannot really view the rocks. It does provide a wonderful view of the North Fork valley. By now, we knew we were going to have a beautiful day. There was no wind, warm and just a broken layer of clouds.
Next stop is Seneca Caverns. I know, it is somewhat ironic that we get a nice day, so we go underground. With only four of us on the tour, it was very personal. Seneca Caverns are certainly not the immense expanse of Carlsbad, but the displays of flow stone were great. The young man who led us through the caverns was knowledgeable and welcomed our questions.
After a lunch on the patio of the caverns restaurant, we were off to Spruce Knob.
Spruce Knob is the highest point in WV. I had told Carol she would have a 360 degree view from the top and that it should be really good. By the time we reached the summit, it was around 4 PM. With the sun sinking in the west and the broken clouds, the photographic aspects were diminished, but the views were still great. And we got in another quick hike. Spice got to check out even more smells then before, so all was right with the world.
It was time to get back to the RV, we would be rolling out the next day.
October 8, 2009 – Things She Wants Me to See
Yesterday, Oct. 7th, after we revisited Elakala Falls, I asked Carol to take a look at the lodge interior to see if there was anything interesting. In the meantime, the chick magnet (Spice) and I would wait patiently on the front lawn. There was a tour bus in the parking lot and sure enough, a couple of septuagenarian hotties dropped by to pet spice.
Carol soon returned to break up the fun. She had four things she wanted me to see in the lodge, so I put the dog back in the truck and joined her inside. The first thing to see was back near the conference room. Just off the side of the entrance were several harps: several small ones and one the size of Christy’s big harp. As we were looking/photographing the harps, one of the employees asked if we were part of the group. We explained that we were not, that our daughter plays harp and that I had built a couple of harps. With that, she asked if we wanted to meet John, the harpist. Before we could really refuse, one of the others had already gone to fetch him, saying it would be no problem. John was very personable and interesting to speak with. He had built the small harps, but the large one was from Venezuela and had the distinctive South American sound. We thanked John for speaking with us and moved on to Carol’s second thing to see.
The gift shop had a wind chime that she liked. As luck would have it, neither of us had any money or plastic on us. But, we could come back later. We were on to the third show and tell.
At dining room, she showed me the menu posting with a “Baked Apple Pancake”. We should come back tomorrow for breakfast. I agreed, and then, we could buy the wind chime. With that decision made, we were off to the patio.
The patio was the final thing that Carol wanted me to see. It overlooks the gorge; not that you can see it for all of the foliage. She flipped a couple of chairs upright and we sat down to watch the show. The ridge downriver on the other side of the gorge is in full fall display. We sat and watched the shadow of the clouds race through the trees. Carol snapped some more shots and we just watch nature’s magnificent display.
Carol soon returned to break up the fun. She had four things she wanted me to see in the lodge, so I put the dog back in the truck and joined her inside. The first thing to see was back near the conference room. Just off the side of the entrance were several harps: several small ones and one the size of Christy’s big harp. As we were looking/photographing the harps, one of the employees asked if we were part of the group. We explained that we were not, that our daughter plays harp and that I had built a couple of harps. With that, she asked if we wanted to meet John, the harpist. Before we could really refuse, one of the others had already gone to fetch him, saying it would be no problem. John was very personable and interesting to speak with. He had built the small harps, but the large one was from Venezuela and had the distinctive South American sound. We thanked John for speaking with us and moved on to Carol’s second thing to see.
The gift shop had a wind chime that she liked. As luck would have it, neither of us had any money or plastic on us. But, we could come back later. We were on to the third show and tell.
At dining room, she showed me the menu posting with a “Baked Apple Pancake”. We should come back tomorrow for breakfast. I agreed, and then, we could buy the wind chime. With that decision made, we were off to the patio.
The patio was the final thing that Carol wanted me to see. It overlooks the gorge; not that you can see it for all of the foliage. She flipped a couple of chairs upright and we sat down to watch the show. The ridge downriver on the other side of the gorge is in full fall display. We sat and watched the shadow of the clouds race through the trees. Carol snapped some more shots and we just watch nature’s magnificent display.
October 8, 2009 – Smoked Umbrellas
The History. Carol and I have tried on numerous occasions to have a campfire. It seems that every time we plan one, it rains. Or, some other factor comes into play preventing us from having a fire. In NY, there is a problem with disease and insects in the wood, so you are asked to not move firewood. This helps to quarantine the problems. Consequently, we just never bought any wood. The first wood we bought was in Antigonish, NS. That evening, it rained. So we moved on and the wood move with us. In Bangor, ME (yes, we smuggled the wood into the U.S.), at two in the afternoon, we finally had the fire we planned in Antigonish.
Today’s Event. When we first arrived at this campground in Blackwater Falls, we bought a bundle of wood. After all the things we did that first afternoon, we didn’t have time to enjoy a fire. The next day is when it rained to beat the band and any thoughts of a fire were easily dismissed. Yesterday, the temperature dropped significantly and being the softies we are, we elected to stay inside. There is just something about the inability to enjoy a campfire when you are freezing your butt off. So tonight, knowing we are leaving in the morning, we wanted to have a fire. We had traveled all day and arrived back at the campground around 6:45. I started to build the fire and it began to sprinkle. I thought it might be just a short passing cloud and indeed, it did stop. As I got the fire started, I pour a couple of glasses of wine. Carol got out our chairs and we sat by the fire; and, it began to sprinkle again. I fixed a couple of salads for us to eat by the fire and notice as I was fixing them, the sound of rain on the roof of the coach seemed to be intensifying. Not to be daunted, we began to eat our salads by the fire as the rain began in earnest. Being the resourceful woman I love, Carol fetched the umbrellas from the coach and there we sat; a good fire, a good red wine and umbrellas to ward off the rain. We talked about our day, we talked about tomorrow and we enjoyed each others company. No computer, no photography; just the fire, the rain and us.
It seemed that all too soon the fire ebbed, the rain slackened and the wine ran out. It was time to call it a day, so we retreated to the warmth of the coach for a good nights sleep.
P.S. Umbrellas are not only good to ward off the rain, but as the wind occasionally shifts, they can be use to deflect the smoke away from you. Of course, this may come with the sacrifice of getting wet, but some compromises must be made.
Today’s Event. When we first arrived at this campground in Blackwater Falls, we bought a bundle of wood. After all the things we did that first afternoon, we didn’t have time to enjoy a fire. The next day is when it rained to beat the band and any thoughts of a fire were easily dismissed. Yesterday, the temperature dropped significantly and being the softies we are, we elected to stay inside. There is just something about the inability to enjoy a campfire when you are freezing your butt off. So tonight, knowing we are leaving in the morning, we wanted to have a fire. We had traveled all day and arrived back at the campground around 6:45. I started to build the fire and it began to sprinkle. I thought it might be just a short passing cloud and indeed, it did stop. As I got the fire started, I pour a couple of glasses of wine. Carol got out our chairs and we sat by the fire; and, it began to sprinkle again. I fixed a couple of salads for us to eat by the fire and notice as I was fixing them, the sound of rain on the roof of the coach seemed to be intensifying. Not to be daunted, we began to eat our salads by the fire as the rain began in earnest. Being the resourceful woman I love, Carol fetched the umbrellas from the coach and there we sat; a good fire, a good red wine and umbrellas to ward off the rain. We talked about our day, we talked about tomorrow and we enjoyed each others company. No computer, no photography; just the fire, the rain and us.
It seemed that all too soon the fire ebbed, the rain slackened and the wine ran out. It was time to call it a day, so we retreated to the warmth of the coach for a good nights sleep.
P.S. Umbrellas are not only good to ward off the rain, but as the wind occasionally shifts, they can be use to deflect the smoke away from you. Of course, this may come with the sacrifice of getting wet, but some compromises must be made.
October 7, 2009 – Rain Makes Things Grow
The morning started with a hike along the Balsam Fir Trail. It wasn’t long but it was a nice warm-up. The leaves were swirling all around us. We had six deer browsing in the campground. Spice was ready for the chase, but she walked well with us. Along the trail were numerous puddles, soft areas and just plain mud. Step careful or you will be on your butt. Overhead, the sky which had been grey for the past couple of days, had become a strong contrast: open areas of blue framed by clouds struck brilliantly white by the mid-morning sun. The strong winds aloft had the clouds racing, leaving wisps of white and grey in their trail as the rushed from ridge to ridge. The trees, beautiful enough with the fall color, came alive with the periodic soft kiss of the sun. Like neon on the Vegas strip, each tree ignited its color to catch your eye.
The trail was a loop, bringing us back to the campsite. We gather a couple of things we needed and drove over to the falls. I was hoping the overnight rain might provide some increase in the volume of water over the rocks. The Trading Post was open and required a quick visit to purchase some postcards and to look at the various trinkets. Besides, there was a tour bus in the parking lot, so the observation platforms would be filled with senior leaf peepers. Purchases made, tour bus gone and we were off to view the falls, again. Our first observation was the noise of the cataract. It was much louder then yesterday. We skipped by the mid-trail observation point, choosing instead to head right to the bottom. When the falls came into view, we were awestruck. The falls had nearly tripled in size, giving us an incredible display of water cascading, tumbling, and falling off of and on to rocks, throwing mist and spray; creating rainbows when the clouds would allow the sun through.
Carol snapped pictures from every possible angle the boardwalk and platforms would allow. Next stop was Elakala Falls by the Blackwater Lodge. When we were here yesterday, we crossed a footbridge right above the falls. These are small falls, about 20 vertical feet, on a creek flowing off the mountain into Blackwater River. Last night’s rain had brought these falls alive. Yesterday, it was just an interesting rock formation with some water flowing over it. Today, it is a true cataract, with water pouring over every available ledge, noisily dropping into the shallow pool at its base. We hiked along the creek below the falls in search of vantage points for Carol to take pictures. The change the rain had brought to this stream was dramatic. Yesterday, there was a photographer on the rocks in the streambed, trying to get photos of the falls. Those rocks were wet or submerged today. Is there anything more awesome then nature at its best?
Carol will be posting before and after shots on her Facebook page. We hope you find the difference as breath taking as we did.
The trail was a loop, bringing us back to the campsite. We gather a couple of things we needed and drove over to the falls. I was hoping the overnight rain might provide some increase in the volume of water over the rocks. The Trading Post was open and required a quick visit to purchase some postcards and to look at the various trinkets. Besides, there was a tour bus in the parking lot, so the observation platforms would be filled with senior leaf peepers. Purchases made, tour bus gone and we were off to view the falls, again. Our first observation was the noise of the cataract. It was much louder then yesterday. We skipped by the mid-trail observation point, choosing instead to head right to the bottom. When the falls came into view, we were awestruck. The falls had nearly tripled in size, giving us an incredible display of water cascading, tumbling, and falling off of and on to rocks, throwing mist and spray; creating rainbows when the clouds would allow the sun through.
Carol snapped pictures from every possible angle the boardwalk and platforms would allow. Next stop was Elakala Falls by the Blackwater Lodge. When we were here yesterday, we crossed a footbridge right above the falls. These are small falls, about 20 vertical feet, on a creek flowing off the mountain into Blackwater River. Last night’s rain had brought these falls alive. Yesterday, it was just an interesting rock formation with some water flowing over it. Today, it is a true cataract, with water pouring over every available ledge, noisily dropping into the shallow pool at its base. We hiked along the creek below the falls in search of vantage points for Carol to take pictures. The change the rain had brought to this stream was dramatic. Yesterday, there was a photographer on the rocks in the streambed, trying to get photos of the falls. Those rocks were wet or submerged today. Is there anything more awesome then nature at its best?
Carol will be posting before and after shots on her Facebook page. We hope you find the difference as breath taking as we did.
October 7, 2009 – Oh What a Night
We had walked to the falls, and then drove to a couple of overlooks. At the lodge, we walked down to the Elakala Falls. By the time we returned to the coach and had dinner, the wind had begun to blow a bit. Weather reports of 35-40 mph gusts occurred in the local area. The fall leaves were bouncing off the coach by bedtime. Around 2AM it began to rain. At first it was just intermittent; then steady and soon steady became heavy. Occasionally, we could hear the wind over the rain, but mostly just the constant, pounding precipitation on the roof of the coach.
This morning has dawn with some strong wind remaining. The sky is cloudy, but the sun is breaking through. The weather forecast is for cooling temps, some sun and a chance of showers.
This morning has dawn with some strong wind remaining. The sky is cloudy, but the sun is breaking through. The weather forecast is for cooling temps, some sun and a chance of showers.
October 6, 2009 – The Road to Blackwater or Three States in less than 100 Miles
Yesterday evening, I showed Carol on the map, several places that I would like to visit. These included Seneca Rocks, Spruce Knob and Blackwater Falls. Of secondary interest are the Canaan Valley and Dolly Sods. We discussed a couple of different routes we might take and Carol sampled Gigi (the GPS) so see what route she would take (Gigi, not Carol). I had also found four campgrounds which were near enough to everything as to make easy day trips: Spoke and Hub, so to speak.
Like a Saturn V rocket rising steadily from its launch pad, we rose at the crack of dawn. OK, we crawled out of bed at 7:45. Carol and Spice left for their morning jaunt. I brewed a pot of coffee, fixed Spice’s bowl and whipped up some blue berry pancakes (does Carol have it easy or what?). With the morning TV news on in the background, we ate, uploaded pictures and blogs, and Carol reviewed the available campgrounds. At 30 feet, we were too long for one. Another campground required all dogs to have a copy of their full shot record including kennel cough. The third was closed. That left the state park campground at Blackwater Falls. With all of our chores done it was time to hit the road.
At 11:44, we were out of the campground and headed west on the I-70. After 7 or 8 miles, we turned south through Perryopolis. I only mention this because we stopped here yesterday on our way home from WV to buy some ice cream at the Chocolate Factory. Not knowing when we might pass this way again, it made perfect sense to stop again. I should say here, that if you ever find yourself in beautiful downtown Perryopolis, do stop at the Chocolate Factory for a bit of candy or a scoop of ice cream.
We picked up U.S. 40 at Uniontown, PA and headed southeast. U.S. 40 is designated a scenic highway and it certainly was today. As we moved farther to the southeast, we also began a gradual climb to higher terrain. For my west coast friends, higher terrain doesn’t mean six or eight thousand feet. The mean elevation change was probably only a thousand feet, but that means colder nights and less water: two of the ingredients needed for fall colors. And the colors were beginning to show.
U.S. 40 intersects with U.S. 219 at Kayser’s Ridge. Here we took U.S. 219 south, through the very western part of Maryland. South of the towns of Accident and McHenry is the town of Deep Creek on the shores of Deep Creek lake. It is a resort town with boat dock on the east side of the lake and a ski resort on the west side. Numerous lakeside homes were for sale. I presume that because of easy access from the D.C. metro and Baltimore areas, these are second homes which the owners have elected to sell due to the current fiscal situation. But that is just a haphazard guess.
The farther south we came, the better the color became. The only downer we had was the sky going from cloudy to overcast. The lack of direct sunlight tends to mute the color in the photos. To the eye, it was spectacular. This is as close as we have come to seeing a truly full blown fall and Carol was ecstatic. As I write this, she is going through some 400 photos taken today to sort out the keepers. At one point today, we were at an overlook. The mountains to the west were ablaze in the various fall hues. But as you look, you see the one or two occasional trees that are just a degree brighter then the rest, as if to say, “Hey, look at me! Am I not the most spectacular tree in the forest?”
Blackwater Falls is a WV State Park located at the northern reaches of the Monongahela National Forest. It is about nine miles south of the very southwestern tip of Maryland, where the eastern panhandle of WV begins. The waters of the Blackwater River are renamed several times as they flow north to become the Monongahela and later merge with the Allegheny to form the Ohio. The last time I was here, I was a teenager with a teenager’s interest. Seeing it again is seeing it anew. Even better is seeing the glee and excitement in Carol’s face as she experiences this for the first time and hopefully, not the last.
Like a Saturn V rocket rising steadily from its launch pad, we rose at the crack of dawn. OK, we crawled out of bed at 7:45. Carol and Spice left for their morning jaunt. I brewed a pot of coffee, fixed Spice’s bowl and whipped up some blue berry pancakes (does Carol have it easy or what?). With the morning TV news on in the background, we ate, uploaded pictures and blogs, and Carol reviewed the available campgrounds. At 30 feet, we were too long for one. Another campground required all dogs to have a copy of their full shot record including kennel cough. The third was closed. That left the state park campground at Blackwater Falls. With all of our chores done it was time to hit the road.
At 11:44, we were out of the campground and headed west on the I-70. After 7 or 8 miles, we turned south through Perryopolis. I only mention this because we stopped here yesterday on our way home from WV to buy some ice cream at the Chocolate Factory. Not knowing when we might pass this way again, it made perfect sense to stop again. I should say here, that if you ever find yourself in beautiful downtown Perryopolis, do stop at the Chocolate Factory for a bit of candy or a scoop of ice cream.
We picked up U.S. 40 at Uniontown, PA and headed southeast. U.S. 40 is designated a scenic highway and it certainly was today. As we moved farther to the southeast, we also began a gradual climb to higher terrain. For my west coast friends, higher terrain doesn’t mean six or eight thousand feet. The mean elevation change was probably only a thousand feet, but that means colder nights and less water: two of the ingredients needed for fall colors. And the colors were beginning to show.
U.S. 40 intersects with U.S. 219 at Kayser’s Ridge. Here we took U.S. 219 south, through the very western part of Maryland. South of the towns of Accident and McHenry is the town of Deep Creek on the shores of Deep Creek lake. It is a resort town with boat dock on the east side of the lake and a ski resort on the west side. Numerous lakeside homes were for sale. I presume that because of easy access from the D.C. metro and Baltimore areas, these are second homes which the owners have elected to sell due to the current fiscal situation. But that is just a haphazard guess.
The farther south we came, the better the color became. The only downer we had was the sky going from cloudy to overcast. The lack of direct sunlight tends to mute the color in the photos. To the eye, it was spectacular. This is as close as we have come to seeing a truly full blown fall and Carol was ecstatic. As I write this, she is going through some 400 photos taken today to sort out the keepers. At one point today, we were at an overlook. The mountains to the west were ablaze in the various fall hues. But as you look, you see the one or two occasional trees that are just a degree brighter then the rest, as if to say, “Hey, look at me! Am I not the most spectacular tree in the forest?”
Blackwater Falls is a WV State Park located at the northern reaches of the Monongahela National Forest. It is about nine miles south of the very southwestern tip of Maryland, where the eastern panhandle of WV begins. The waters of the Blackwater River are renamed several times as they flow north to become the Monongahela and later merge with the Allegheny to form the Ohio. The last time I was here, I was a teenager with a teenager’s interest. Seeing it again is seeing it anew. Even better is seeing the glee and excitement in Carol’s face as she experiences this for the first time and hopefully, not the last.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
October 6, 2009 – Moving Day, Time to Catch Up
We’re off again today, so I thought it best to catch up on everything. We really haven’t been that busy, so this should be quick.
We had a short and quiet stay in New Bedford. It was late when we got into the campground, so it was pretty much dinner and bed. In the morning, Carol did the laundry while I tried to catch up on some mail. It was close to noon when we left and headed off to Madison, Pa.
The move south from New England has taken us away from the fall colors we had been seeing. It is as if we took a two step back in time. The trees are just beginning to change. There are reds but not too many yellows or gold. I think it will begin to catch up soon. Today, we will move to higher terrain; hopefully, the colder temps will have brought out more of the fall color.
On Sunday morning we drove down to Fallingwater which is a house built by Frank Lloyd Wright at the request of Edgar Kaufman. Kaufman started the Kaufman Department stores in Pittsburgh and used Fallingwater as a summer retreat. We were more interested in seeing the grounds, rather then the house which was fortunate as all of the tours were sold out. With a grounds pass, we could wander just about everywhere we wanted; we just couldn’t go into the house. The house is cantilevered over a waterfall on Bear Run. We had a chance to speak with one of the guides who told us that during October, 1100 visitors a day come to visit the property. I think that it would be very pretty to see in early spring as the trees are just beginning to leaf out.
Madison is closer to Pittsburgh, which enabled us to see Christy. We drove in Sunday afternoon and met with Christy. She introduced us to roommate Sarah and friend Keith. Her room looks much different from when we just moved everything in last August. All of the furniture is in place, art on the walls and some throw rugs on the floor. After that, we went downtown for a quick tour, then off to Ruth’s Crisps Steakhouse where we were joined by “adopted daughter” Danielle. (A note of explanation: Danielle is a young woman we met through theater. She adopted us as her second parental unit and has been a great influence for Christy. Currently, Danielle is doing post graduate work at Carnegie-Mellon University.) We had a wonderful dinner and visit. Both girls had meetings/study groups that evening, so our time together ended all too soon.
Yesterday, the fifth, we took a short drive down to Morgantown and Fairmont, WV. I just wanted Carol to see part of the country. She liked the drive but not necessarily the two towns. One of the aspects of towns in this part of the country is they are often built along the rivers. This means that with the valleys being very narrow, the towns tend to run long and narrow. This doesn’t make for good traffic patterns. It was a nice drive though. On the way home, I wanted to buy some wine. In PA, you can only buy wine at a wine and spirits store. In WV, there are actual liquor stores. Carol found one in Morgantown, entered the address into the GPS and we were off. Wine purchase made, the GPS gave us an inadvertent tour of the WVU campus, which gave me a chance to recount Christy and my visit to the campus two years ago.
So today were off again. I want Carol to see Seneca Rocks and I think the view from Spruce Knob, highest in WV, should be good. The weather calls for rain tonight.
We had a short and quiet stay in New Bedford. It was late when we got into the campground, so it was pretty much dinner and bed. In the morning, Carol did the laundry while I tried to catch up on some mail. It was close to noon when we left and headed off to Madison, Pa.
The move south from New England has taken us away from the fall colors we had been seeing. It is as if we took a two step back in time. The trees are just beginning to change. There are reds but not too many yellows or gold. I think it will begin to catch up soon. Today, we will move to higher terrain; hopefully, the colder temps will have brought out more of the fall color.
On Sunday morning we drove down to Fallingwater which is a house built by Frank Lloyd Wright at the request of Edgar Kaufman. Kaufman started the Kaufman Department stores in Pittsburgh and used Fallingwater as a summer retreat. We were more interested in seeing the grounds, rather then the house which was fortunate as all of the tours were sold out. With a grounds pass, we could wander just about everywhere we wanted; we just couldn’t go into the house. The house is cantilevered over a waterfall on Bear Run. We had a chance to speak with one of the guides who told us that during October, 1100 visitors a day come to visit the property. I think that it would be very pretty to see in early spring as the trees are just beginning to leaf out.
Madison is closer to Pittsburgh, which enabled us to see Christy. We drove in Sunday afternoon and met with Christy. She introduced us to roommate Sarah and friend Keith. Her room looks much different from when we just moved everything in last August. All of the furniture is in place, art on the walls and some throw rugs on the floor. After that, we went downtown for a quick tour, then off to Ruth’s Crisps Steakhouse where we were joined by “adopted daughter” Danielle. (A note of explanation: Danielle is a young woman we met through theater. She adopted us as her second parental unit and has been a great influence for Christy. Currently, Danielle is doing post graduate work at Carnegie-Mellon University.) We had a wonderful dinner and visit. Both girls had meetings/study groups that evening, so our time together ended all too soon.
Yesterday, the fifth, we took a short drive down to Morgantown and Fairmont, WV. I just wanted Carol to see part of the country. She liked the drive but not necessarily the two towns. One of the aspects of towns in this part of the country is they are often built along the rivers. This means that with the valleys being very narrow, the towns tend to run long and narrow. This doesn’t make for good traffic patterns. It was a nice drive though. On the way home, I wanted to buy some wine. In PA, you can only buy wine at a wine and spirits store. In WV, there are actual liquor stores. Carol found one in Morgantown, entered the address into the GPS and we were off. Wine purchase made, the GPS gave us an inadvertent tour of the WVU campus, which gave me a chance to recount Christy and my visit to the campus two years ago.
So today were off again. I want Carol to see Seneca Rocks and I think the view from Spruce Knob, highest in WV, should be good. The weather calls for rain tonight.
Saturday, October 3, 2009
October 2, 2009 – Mind changing events
After Hershey, we thought we would drop down to Gettysburg Texas
Arriving at the campground we started the check-in process. We weren’t sure how long we might want to stay and asked how long it might take to drive to Pittsburgh Bedford , PA.
October 1, 2009 – Rabbit Rabbit, It’s Moving Day
We had decided it would be good time to visit Christy as we head south. I had not wanted to see the big cities during our travels; instead focusing primarily on the mountains, valleys and the change of color. So I was looking inland for a route towards Hershey, PA.
Our initial planning was to head south from Jack’s and pick up Maine/Vermont Rte 9 west to Albany. There we would head south again on I-87 which would take us down the Hudson River Valley. Near Keene, N.H. Carol expressed a desire to see some of the states we were avoiding. I said that as long as she didn’t take me into NYC, I didn’t care. So just west of Keene, we turned south on I-91. We passed through the southeast corner of Vermont and entered Massachusetts. Continuing south, we passed through Springfield, MA and entered Connecticut. By now the terrain went from low mountains to rolling hills, the color had receded back to green and the farms were replaced by urban sprawl. The traffic was steadily increasing as we passed through Hartford, Danbury and into NY. We skirted around the northwest side of NYC, across the Tappan Zee Bridge and into New Jersey. Sometime just after we entered NY, Carol realized there are no campgrounds along this route. The first campground she could find was in Allentown, PA. So, we pressed on.
It was an ugly drive and Carol felt really bad about her choice. From Springfield on, we had two types of roads: ones that needed repair and those under repair. Traffic was a continuous problem as the closer we got to NYC, the closer we got to rush hour. The best part came when we finally turned west towards Allentown. The traffic began to slacken, the hills began to climb and the color struggled to return. It was dark by the time we reached the campground. We had traveled 420 miles over several hours. Given all of the frustration associated with the bad roads, the traffic and the lack of scenery, I really enjoy traveling with Carol. While it was an ugly drive we took, it would have been absolutely miserable without her.
Our initial planning was to head south from Jack’s and pick up Maine/Vermont Rte 9 west to Albany. There we would head south again on I-87 which would take us down the Hudson River Valley. Near Keene, N.H. Carol expressed a desire to see some of the states we were avoiding. I said that as long as she didn’t take me into NYC, I didn’t care. So just west of Keene, we turned south on I-91. We passed through the southeast corner of Vermont and entered Massachusetts. Continuing south, we passed through Springfield, MA and entered Connecticut. By now the terrain went from low mountains to rolling hills, the color had receded back to green and the farms were replaced by urban sprawl. The traffic was steadily increasing as we passed through Hartford, Danbury and into NY. We skirted around the northwest side of NYC, across the Tappan Zee Bridge and into New Jersey. Sometime just after we entered NY, Carol realized there are no campgrounds along this route. The first campground she could find was in Allentown, PA. So, we pressed on.
It was an ugly drive and Carol felt really bad about her choice. From Springfield on, we had two types of roads: ones that needed repair and those under repair. Traffic was a continuous problem as the closer we got to NYC, the closer we got to rush hour. The best part came when we finally turned west towards Allentown. The traffic began to slacken, the hills began to climb and the color struggled to return. It was dark by the time we reached the campground. We had traveled 420 miles over several hours. Given all of the frustration associated with the bad roads, the traffic and the lack of scenery, I really enjoy traveling with Carol. While it was an ugly drive we took, it would have been absolutely miserable without her.
September 30, 2009 – Whatever floats your boat
Jack and I had discussed taking his 16 foot Tanzer boat out for a sail on Lake Winnipesaukee. Today would be the day. Jack had spent yesterday clearing his calendar so he could take today off. It was partly cloudy without a trace of wind early in the day. But, we were not to be discouraged. Around 10AM, the trees began to stir a bit. By 10:30 all of the final preparation had been completed: the boat trailer was hitched to the truck; the main sail, jib and genoa were stowed in the pick-ups bed; lunches were made and we were off to the lake.
Our initial plan was to sail from Wolfeborough to Alton which we estimated would take about three hours. Carol, having accompanied us in the truck, would hang around Wolfeborough until we were certain that we were on our way; then she would drive Jack’s truck and trailer to Alton to meet us. By the time we arrived at the boat ramp, the partly cloudy had become overcast. The wind was freshening and the temperature was bordering on cold. We were dauntless in our quest and continued preparations. The mast and boom were set. The main and jib were in place, anxious to be hoisted. Lunch, charts, cell phones and GPS were all stowed inside our trusty vessel. Jack backed the trailer down the ramp and into the water. With a little tug on the bow rope, the Tanzer was urged off of the trailer and towards the dock where it was to be tied, while we parked the truck and trailer.
Vehicles parked and last minute items attended to, it was time to hoist the sails and embark on our crossing. We bid Carol adieu and ventured forth into Wolfeborough Bay. The wind pushed nice wavelets across the water as Jack moved us comfortably away from the dock. He knew he would need one tack to get us in position for our run by Little Barn Door Island and into the main body of the lake. This would provide me ample time to get a feel for handling the jib. The land mass, trees and building around inland lakes effect the wind and this lake is no different. As we worked our way to windward the wind became a bit puffy as it fought its way across and through the shoreline obstacles. We made our tack. Climbing higher into the wind we made a second tack and set course for the open part of the bay. The nice wavelets we experienced early on had become 6-12 inch white caps as the wind was now able to race across the water unimpeded. Now, as the walrus said, the time had come for our next course adjustment, a jibe.
Jack asked what I knew about jibing. My response was that jibes with boats and sailboards are only similar in that both are down wind turns. Then with an air of total confidence, Jack initiated the jibe. Within a nanosecond, a whole host of things went wrong. No, we didn’t dump the boat. Let’s just say it was a bit exciting, we took on some water and we didn’t complete the turn. It took just a few minutes to get our act back together. With everything settled down, we waited for a bit of a lull and then as Jack said, just cheated around to our downwind course.
Little Barn Door, here we come. Running just off the wind, we were surfing the waves that were now closer to 18 inches. Jack was quite the helmsman as he rolled the boat down the face of the swell. We were having a bit of fun, so much so that we missed out checkpoint and wound up too far below the island to make it into the lake proper. So we came about and headed back upwind.
Those 18 inch rollers we had been surfing were now coming at us, throwing spray across the sideboards with each one we crested. Jack was constantly working the rudder and the mainsail to keep us righted. And it was fun for about the first three minutes. Then the realization of just how much work it was began to creep in like fog on a damp afternoon. It was about then that Jack mentioned that we could continue our course, make our tack and continue on to Alton. Or, we could head back in and call it a nice day of sailing. To which your trusty correspondent responded that were it mid-August instead of the end of September and were it sunny as opposed to overcast and were it warm as opposed to cold, I would favor continuing. But given that none of those options existed, I thought returning to the dock would be quite satisfactory. And so we did.
Jack maneuvered us downwind of the dock where we tack to a course that would bring us just upwind for a final run in. With that last tack and one last “cheat about”, we were headed in towards the dock; at ramming speed. It was about then that Jack commented he knew only one way to dock the boat; that was to bring it in close and then round up fully into the wind and stall it. However, what he described, what I envisioned and what we actually did had no relationship whatsoever. Picture two docks about 25 feet apart, running parallel into the bay. Then picture us approaching the upwind dock at ramming speed. I, full of both naiveté and confidence, asked what I should do. Jack said be ready to catch the dock. So I prepared myself to do so. At this point the realization came to Jack that running parallel and adjacent to the upwind dock was hindering our ability to turn into the wind, as Carol stood screaming on the dock, “slow down!” His second realization was that with our current course and speed, we were either going to ram the wharf or run aground; the only question being which would come first, as Carol stood on the dock screaming, “slow down!” So without a hint of warning, he threw us hard over into a downwind turn which brought us abruptly into and aside the downwind dock. While I was set to “catch the dock”, I wasn’t fully prepared for the one-eighty we just completed. And “catching the dock” became more of a euphemism for trying to minimize the impact we are about to take. The least of my worries was the boom which had been to my leeward but now was to windward. That was to change soon enough. While I had my hands on the dock pilings and my back to the boom, it began its normal progression from upwind to downwind. The only impediment to its travel would be the back of my head. Fortunately, the swing was minimal and I was low enough that it was only a glancing blow. With no real harm done, we secured the sails. Jack left to get the truck and trailer.
Returning with the trailer, Jack maneuvered it down the ramp and into the water. We tried to get the boat aligned with the trailer without having to get wet. After all, we launched that way, we should be able to trailer it also. But the stern kept drifting off. In an effort to control it, Jack climbed onto his truck on his way to step out on the trailer. At the next look, he was completing a slow reverse somersault/roll off the back of the truck into the water. It was at least an eight on a scale of ten. So much for trying to stay dry. We secured the boat onto the trailer, stowed the gear and then squished off to lunch. Well, Jack squished while Carol and I just walked.
At lunch, Jack stated that Cheryl is sometime reluctant to sail with him. Imagine that. All in all, it was a great day. I had a wonderful time and enjoyed every minute of the sailing. We both have good stories to tell and a great experience shared.
Our initial plan was to sail from Wolfeborough to Alton which we estimated would take about three hours. Carol, having accompanied us in the truck, would hang around Wolfeborough until we were certain that we were on our way; then she would drive Jack’s truck and trailer to Alton to meet us. By the time we arrived at the boat ramp, the partly cloudy had become overcast. The wind was freshening and the temperature was bordering on cold. We were dauntless in our quest and continued preparations. The mast and boom were set. The main and jib were in place, anxious to be hoisted. Lunch, charts, cell phones and GPS were all stowed inside our trusty vessel. Jack backed the trailer down the ramp and into the water. With a little tug on the bow rope, the Tanzer was urged off of the trailer and towards the dock where it was to be tied, while we parked the truck and trailer.
Vehicles parked and last minute items attended to, it was time to hoist the sails and embark on our crossing. We bid Carol adieu and ventured forth into Wolfeborough Bay. The wind pushed nice wavelets across the water as Jack moved us comfortably away from the dock. He knew he would need one tack to get us in position for our run by Little Barn Door Island and into the main body of the lake. This would provide me ample time to get a feel for handling the jib. The land mass, trees and building around inland lakes effect the wind and this lake is no different. As we worked our way to windward the wind became a bit puffy as it fought its way across and through the shoreline obstacles. We made our tack. Climbing higher into the wind we made a second tack and set course for the open part of the bay. The nice wavelets we experienced early on had become 6-12 inch white caps as the wind was now able to race across the water unimpeded. Now, as the walrus said, the time had come for our next course adjustment, a jibe.
Jack asked what I knew about jibing. My response was that jibes with boats and sailboards are only similar in that both are down wind turns. Then with an air of total confidence, Jack initiated the jibe. Within a nanosecond, a whole host of things went wrong. No, we didn’t dump the boat. Let’s just say it was a bit exciting, we took on some water and we didn’t complete the turn. It took just a few minutes to get our act back together. With everything settled down, we waited for a bit of a lull and then as Jack said, just cheated around to our downwind course.
Little Barn Door, here we come. Running just off the wind, we were surfing the waves that were now closer to 18 inches. Jack was quite the helmsman as he rolled the boat down the face of the swell. We were having a bit of fun, so much so that we missed out checkpoint and wound up too far below the island to make it into the lake proper. So we came about and headed back upwind.
Those 18 inch rollers we had been surfing were now coming at us, throwing spray across the sideboards with each one we crested. Jack was constantly working the rudder and the mainsail to keep us righted. And it was fun for about the first three minutes. Then the realization of just how much work it was began to creep in like fog on a damp afternoon. It was about then that Jack mentioned that we could continue our course, make our tack and continue on to Alton. Or, we could head back in and call it a nice day of sailing. To which your trusty correspondent responded that were it mid-August instead of the end of September and were it sunny as opposed to overcast and were it warm as opposed to cold, I would favor continuing. But given that none of those options existed, I thought returning to the dock would be quite satisfactory. And so we did.
Jack maneuvered us downwind of the dock where we tack to a course that would bring us just upwind for a final run in. With that last tack and one last “cheat about”, we were headed in towards the dock; at ramming speed. It was about then that Jack commented he knew only one way to dock the boat; that was to bring it in close and then round up fully into the wind and stall it. However, what he described, what I envisioned and what we actually did had no relationship whatsoever. Picture two docks about 25 feet apart, running parallel into the bay. Then picture us approaching the upwind dock at ramming speed. I, full of both naiveté and confidence, asked what I should do. Jack said be ready to catch the dock. So I prepared myself to do so. At this point the realization came to Jack that running parallel and adjacent to the upwind dock was hindering our ability to turn into the wind, as Carol stood screaming on the dock, “slow down!” His second realization was that with our current course and speed, we were either going to ram the wharf or run aground; the only question being which would come first, as Carol stood on the dock screaming, “slow down!” So without a hint of warning, he threw us hard over into a downwind turn which brought us abruptly into and aside the downwind dock. While I was set to “catch the dock”, I wasn’t fully prepared for the one-eighty we just completed. And “catching the dock” became more of a euphemism for trying to minimize the impact we are about to take. The least of my worries was the boom which had been to my leeward but now was to windward. That was to change soon enough. While I had my hands on the dock pilings and my back to the boom, it began its normal progression from upwind to downwind. The only impediment to its travel would be the back of my head. Fortunately, the swing was minimal and I was low enough that it was only a glancing blow. With no real harm done, we secured the sails. Jack left to get the truck and trailer.
Returning with the trailer, Jack maneuvered it down the ramp and into the water. We tried to get the boat aligned with the trailer without having to get wet. After all, we launched that way, we should be able to trailer it also. But the stern kept drifting off. In an effort to control it, Jack climbed onto his truck on his way to step out on the trailer. At the next look, he was completing a slow reverse somersault/roll off the back of the truck into the water. It was at least an eight on a scale of ten. So much for trying to stay dry. We secured the boat onto the trailer, stowed the gear and then squished off to lunch. Well, Jack squished while Carol and I just walked.
At lunch, Jack stated that Cheryl is sometime reluctant to sail with him. Imagine that. All in all, it was a great day. I had a wonderful time and enjoyed every minute of the sailing. We both have good stories to tell and a great experience shared.
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