Charleston

Charleston, S. Carolina

10/24/10

6:00AM

There’s a full moon coming in through the Airstream’s skylight illuminating the interior with a grey blue hue.  Yesterday we finally came down from the Appalachian Mountains and the Blue Ridge Parkway where we had spent many days.   Coming down from the splendor of the skies with its mist or sun, from the color and back down onto the “flats” was very difficult to do.  The rolling emerald pastures of Virginia on either side of the Parkway were especially picturesque.  One understands why some people spend their entire life up in them thar hills.  Life down here is timed from freeway to freeway and drivers that speed in tailgating packs playing dodge em with no more that  10’ between them!  It’s always a rude awakening and hard to accept this as a reality.  

We are here on James Island County Park in SC where sales tax on everything runs over 12%!  I think Savannah, Georgia and Florida will probably be the same.  Time to tighten up the belts another notch.  Last night (I had promised, swore and screamed and cried that I would not drive at night to find a campsite again) we again pushed it to get to Charleston and had trouble finding the roads in the twilight.  Fortunately the iPhone gives us fairly accurate directions, illuminated at night, that JoAnn has a pretty good control of as navigator.  However it is not perfect.  When you think about it how could it be when you consider every little alley and road in the US trying to show up on a tiny screen.  But when it works its pretty amazing. 

 Anyway we got in late and of course and, after an interminably long check in with a one finger keyboard pecking white haired elderly County employee,  got the bottom of the barrel site that required us to back into (in the utter darkness)  a common drive between two tall screen hedges that were only 8’ apart.  I still get confused with Jo’s vibrating hand signals, one finger pointing up which I still don’t know what it means, and the calls to straighten it out.  Hell, my backing up is never straight in  the first place.  Between looking over my shoulders  then looking in the mirrors then over my other shoulder the whole opposite direction steer backwards, reverse thing is just a fraction away from dissolving into shit.  I’m working on it though but it sure helps to do it in daylight rather than by a high intensity flashlight that that she can only work on one side of the trailer and blinds me in the mirrors as it waves about.  

Then.....

the  trailer jack almost slid forward off the blocks after it was unhooked and with it the potential of the whole front end nose diving into the ground!   We had driven one side’s tires up on two layers of leveling block to level side to side.  The tires were not centered so that when I went to lower the front, without chocking the wheels on the other side of course,  the whole trailer slid forwards and almost off the blocks under the main front hydraulic jack!

The front blocks were tipped upwards and forward and the jack base was half on and half off.  I’m not sure why it stopped and hung there.  If it had slid all the way off the damage would have been at least $600.00 for the jack alone not to mention the damage to the rest of the undercarriage, the steps, the four corner braces that were already down and the water and electrical services that were already attached.  Thousands of dollars we didn’t have.   Just what we needed after a hard days drive and a night time exhaustions.

We calmly, with suppressed panic,  assessed the problem,  shored up the jack base plate, which was half way off the original block, with additional blocks jammed under the front half of the (now bent) base plate, crossed our fingers and raised the jack again.  The two sets of blocks held as did our breathing.  We raised it high enough to re hitch the truck so that we could reposition the trailer and thus the tire levelers.  At some point the campers across the drive yelled,  “off the headlights man!”  Guess we were blinding their campsite with our 20 minutes of backing in and out then our 15 minutes of  panic “adjustments.”  At last we got it all secured, leveled, braced and chocked again but we were so frazzled and depleted that we needed a drink!  But no more brandy!  So we settled for warm beer in a glass of ice cubes.  Hey, when you gotta you gotta!  And we think we wanna go sailing out on the ocean !!!

Deep breathing, deep breathing, and we shall see what today will bring in Charleston.

By the way, our last night up in the mountains we dry camped (squatted OK) in the parking lot of the Otter Peaks Lodge.  It was a sublime day of sun and coolness and color beside the lake.  The only lake I know of dedicated to a Landscape Architect a most noble profession.  At day’s end we watched with binoculars half a dozen military jets write thread thin contrails in the heavenly blue cloudless skies.

On a minor note I would not recommend the Friday evening seafood buffet at $30.00.

An inland mountain lodge 400 miles from the sea ? What was I thinking ?  Again my greedy stomach got the better of me.  A hearty mountain breakfast buffet made more sense the next morning, and smelled better too but I refrained and punished myself for spending so much on so blah a dinner.   God that bacon and maple syrup smelled good in the cold sunny morning air.  Just a cupa joe to go.

Shield lilies

Photos from Peaks of Otter.  Our last day in the Appalachian Mountains:

Otter Peak parking lot

AT - Appalachian Trail marker

Lake at Otter Peaks Lodge

Otter Creek Again

Otter Creek

Otter Creek Redeux

10/20, 10/21, 10/22

Almost in spite of the barking ankle biters and generator addicted campers all around Otter Creek is one of the most beautiful campgrounds on the Parkway.  It’s fairly small and there only about 5 spots that sit along side the creek in one loop and another 6 or 7 in the other loop.  Aside from the scale and delightful sound of the creek it is the  treed grounds with a tall canopy that inspires.  It is late October and Fall is in full flower.  Early morning walks will reward you with the rising sun’s rays coming over the tree filled hill sides with light glowing shafts shooting between trunks and leafy branches.  Foliage is backlit and incandescent.  Ocassionally one can feel drops of sprinkles and looking upward will find a cloudless blue sky through the latticed upper story.  One realises that it was just a high passing breeze with enough hand to shake the early morning dew from the upper leaves that fell like a gentle rain.  

As the weather was grand yesterday we drove for the pleasure without the Airstream to a few local sites including the James River.  The Park Service historical display taught us of the James River’s canal system in the 1800’s that ran for almost 200 miles!

Back at camp we liesurely collected firewood for a full fledged campfire and dinner with wine.  In comfortable sling chairs there was a lot of leaning back to watch the autumn leaves drifting, spiraling and gliding downward.  You just sat still and challenged, invited really, one to land on your person.  Otter Creek chuckled without end as we watched the last climbing embers reach for the full moon sky.

This was such a sweet stay and can only hope that someday soon another stay will be as sweet.  We know there will be.  Lets keep in touch.

Big Meadows 2nd time around

Cotton candy hills

Wet Forests

Big Meadows Camp

Skyline Drive, Virginia

10/20/10

5:00 AM

Bless me father for I have sinned.  It has been almost 4 days since my last blogfession.

On the road, certainly after a few months, one wakes up in the early morning darkness, as is my habit anyway, slightly disoriented.   Where am I ?  Where have I been the last few days ? Where am I going today ?  I believe morning disorientation is normal after being ensconced in some unknown sleepworld for the past 5-7 hours but on the road that sense of disquiet is even  more intensified.  Slowly, normalcy comes around, stirring and a quiet mew from Moochi, a twig from the tree above lands on the trailer and other darkness sounds eases one alert by degrees.  It seems that awakening at 3 - 4 AM is my lot.  I think its a good time for writing.  Still its hard most times to get started in the chill of the trailer. 

A slight change of plans, lately every other day it seems, contributes to disorientation.  Life on the retire man, do what you want when you want.  Yea. This is all well and good for the wanderer but complete lack of direction or goals leaves one anxious and listless.  Fortunately we have a general plan in mind and perhaps we should be grateful that it gives us some outline within which to explore.

After entering the Blue Ridge Parkway down by North Carolina near Cherokee we headed North as per my last blog.   Well we made it as far as Mill Road Campground on th Parkway.  Something about this place looked familiar as we drove in.  Gads!  This is the same place we stayed at on the way down with the bombarding acorns and the ghoulish kudzu vines.  Too late to go on up further to the next one.  Besides we had decided to go into Roanoke to have the truck’s brakes checked out.  Its almost a hundred thousand miles on the original rotors and they need work if we expect to go another ten thousand on this trip.  Since Roanoke is only 25 minutes from this camp it sealed the stay.  The next morning we decide to change plans again.  From Roanoke we will drop West over to 81 and make the run all the way North to Front Royal at the top of the Skyline Drive and work our way back down.  Actually this was our first plan, revised twice now gone back to!  Are you dizzy yet?  Now we are thinking when we get back down to Roanoke, for the third time, we might head West to Nashville and check out the music scene before heading East to Savannah.  As I stated at the beginning, “Where am I ?”

Big Meadows Morning,  Skyline Driveway

We did make it to Front Royal last night after dropping  $1,100.00 bucks at Sears for new rotors and shoes all around a well as an interior tie rod !  Another budget strainer but new brakes feel good on these hills and curves with an 8000 pound load swinging behind.  The weather was not great on the drive from Front Royal down here to Big Meadows Camp with overcast skies and haze in the valleys.  But the trees were in full color anyway and the evenness of light added to softness of their glow. 

We walked up to the Big Meadow’s Lodge for a brew and a sit by the 6’ wide fireplaces.  Walking back to the campsite we were ankle deep in drifts of autumn leaves all brown and crunchy.  Half a dozen campfires were going with people all bundled up beside the grey tendrils of smoke curling through the branches.  It was a fine autumn sight in the greying of the day.  The shuffle and crunch of leaves over my feet reminded me of my childhood spent in the forests of Missouri from the fourth to the seventh grade.  Then parents chased kids out of the house to go almost anywhere we wanted and they did not worry if we did not come back until dinner time.   On the army bases we would take the free shuttle busses to end up miles from home just wandering about.  Often from one soldier barracks to another looking for an empty pool table or to some PX or snack shop to buy a bag of popcorn into which we poured mustard and ketchup.  If we were dimeless we would dump mint flavored tooth picks into a glass of icewater and stir in some sugar before the cashiers chased us away.

It was a time for gastronomic exploration on the cheap!

But the woods were always a free thrill.  As here in the Appalachias, hardwood forests tend to have clear understories.  The deciduous canopy lets in light from above so that one can see deeply into the forest through and around the dark vertical trunks.  This is unlike the evergreen forests of the North West where its darkness is gothic and understory often impenetrable.  Into these open Missouri woods we spent countless hours building leafy shelters to huddle in waiting for Umpqua the Indian to appear out of the mist. 
 In the 6th and 7th grade I was pretty cashy as a kid from mowing lawns and delivering the St. Louis Post Dispatch.  As every boy knows that delivered the paper Sundays were the worst when the thickness of each paper swelled to an inch or even an inch and a half!  The weight and volume of the stacks could not be carried on my Schwinn but had to be trailered in a pull behind wagon.  A little embarrasing at first.  But the money was worth it.  That was when I fell into vice.  Half way through my Sunday route a buddy and I would head down into the woods by trails unseen to our secret spots with a brand new unopened pack of Salem Menthols!  Purchased from the traveling post vendor for 50 cents.  We felt like adults taking a break from our backbreaking work a day world and would proceed to smoke three or four in a row.  “Would you like another?”, “No thanks, lets save them for later.”, “Yeah OK, cool.  Remember, Sail em don’t inhale em.” “Yea cool”  Say you want to hide em at your house?”  “Na you do it.”  “OK”  And dizzily we wuld finish the Sunday paper route.  During the week we tried 4” long twigs of dried vines for smokes.  Pretty harsh, lots of puffing and blowing and grown up gesticulating and furrowed brows but no inhaling!  To do so led to paroxyms of bug eyed, purple faced hacking to the point of sweat.  I think that experiment lasted about two weeks.   Ah the woods.  There was even a patch of stone and gravel clearing closer to home where we played baseball!   Full grown trees served as infield bases and the outfield was behind the trees.  One never knew where  grounders were going to carrome off to as they always hit a rock.  Most fly balls never got to the outfield bouncing off tree trunks and branches instead.   Lots of laughs and bloody knees.  Mint toothpick icewaters with sugar!  Life was good.  Did I ever  tell you about the time I almost burned down the chicken coop in the fourth grade with a flaming arrow?  It would have too if an old man with a cane hadn’t got off his whittling rocker to hose it down!  Caught hell for that one.

Time to blow out the candles for now and turn on a light.

5:45 PM

Rainy mornings southern Parkway

Well we did not get out of Big Meadows untill 11;30.  Pretty shamefull.  But the Camp was socked in heavy with fog all morning.  The Skyline Drive could not be any better so we just schleped about and had a big breakfast and waited for the antsies to  take over.  After  pulling out it was still overcast but we could at least see colors and the deep woods to either side of the road. Occasionally a glimpse of the valleys could be had.  then about an hour later the fog hit the Drive itself.  Now we were into real soup.  speed dropped down to 20 mph or even slower.  On coming vehicles appeared out of the wall of fog 20-30 feet in  front of my windshield.  It was time to drop down 5 more mph and put on the hazzard flashers.  We drove this way for the next two hours.  We needed to make more than a hundred miles to our next stop of Otter Creek.  It was a shame to miss seeing anything but I was concentrating too hard to think about anything else.  Finally in the afternoon about 50 miles from our destination the sun began to break out in two minute spurts.  By that time we had left the Skyline Drive and had entered the Blue Ridge Parkway.  The colors and valleys were just as beautuiful except for the ominouus kudzu here and there.  At last we hit Otter Creek, a very small National Park campground on the parkway with no services but one that we really like as we can set up next to a beautiful splashing creek with the most soothing of sounds.  So here we will sit for two days until we can hit the seafood brunch at the lodge at Peaks of Otter on Friday !  I’ve mentioned this place before and the quality of food is  excellent.  We look forward to a long slow feast.  But tonight its stuffed cabbage and squash with fresh green beans, wine and beer.  It’s rough out here in the wilderness.

For the sake of variety I think I may be straying a bit from this travelogue and with your forbearance talk of other experiences and places.  Perhaps even a little about life’s relationships touchy though it might be.  Nothing ventured nothing gained.  Hm...

Tempted to go in there?

Wet bark

Back to the Parkway's South end

at 6000 feet

weathered silver

Linville Falls Park

 Back to the Painted  Mountains

10/15/10

It is here.  Finally.  The colors we have been chasing for months have come. 

We left Bethune, South Carolina  and a tearful Dottie four days  ago.  JoAnn looks a lot like her mother so say her Uncle Jack in Bethesda and her mother’s friend Dottie in Bethune.  Since JoAnn’s mother, Mary,  passed away a year ago seeing JoAnn was a shock to Jack & Dottie.  JoAnn survived her visit to her childhood home in fair if somewhat somber spirit.  You can go home again.... kind of.

The last last two days, with full hook ups, were  up at Fletcher Lake Resort, North Carolina.  Hooking up to tv for the first time in two months we were reminded why we did not miss it.  It’s just so much flagellation.  In 30 minutes you are bored and tired at the same time!  We also spent those two days visiting Asheville craft shops and the Wedge brewery for some very smooth and creamy lagers and too many peanuts.  Also we tried getting used to the fast drop in  temperatures dipping down to 30’s at night.  So this is why snow birders run for the South in flocks.  Fortunately we are scheduled for Savannah then Florida in a few weeks. We just may stay in Florida for the winter ourselves.

Walk to Linville Falls

But to the main event at hand, we pressed on with our return to the Southern end of the Blue Ridge Parkway.   According to the National Park Service peak Appalachian colors will be October 17th to the 23rd.  Pretty specific but they have the data.  Today is the 15th.    Somehow you suspect nature will have its own clock.  After moving up the Parkway for a hundred miles or so we will leapfrog to the West and US 81 then north up the Shenandoah Valley to  the beginning of the Skyline Drive at Front Royal, Virginia.  Then we can leisurely cruise at 35 mph south down the twisting ridge line at the “peak” of color visiting a few of the campgrounds we stayed at a just few weeks ago.

So, today we headed for the Folk Arts Center on the Parkway east of Asheville for art works of very high quality.  A budget strainer.  As we gained elevation the colors of fall also began to gain intensity while flying cloud shadows dipped and crested in the valleys and on the hills.

Suddenly, where the newly paved black and striped yellow two lane road entered into a tunnel of hardwood trees whose sunny canopy branched  a hundred feet above  with filtered and dappling light, a great wind came rushing up a hidden canyon and swayed the trees ahead and around us with a massive swirling gusting.  Trees moving like tossing ocean waves shook off thousands of golden yellow leaves as we drove into this animated tableau.  With the sunlight bright upon the scene an almost violent blizzard of yellow and red leaves swirled,  twisted, and danced in the air,  skittered across the road,  peppered our cab and crystalized all around us with an effervescent   rain of jewels contained within this arboreal cathedral almost blurring the surrounding forest.  The motions, sight, and sounds, stopped our hearts and caught our breaths in our throats.  Have we entered some other worldly realm?  JoAnn cupped her hands to her face  in utter disbelief and we knew this moment was a magical confluence of all that is beautiful on earth.  We were stunned all the more so because after continuing to move through it for several moments  it tapered away as if our presence, our reactions, meant nothing, that this was the natural course of nature witnessed by only those with some celestial privilege or timing.    

It was the motion of so many elements at once, the suddenness,  the randomness of each leaf yet the logic of each wave’s  form,  the luminescent golden sparkle and envelopment.  It was how it’s current carried us along.  We were given that moment that comes before the final surrender.

I know this borders on the overtly sentimental and maudlin but my meager words leave me helpless to describe what we felt, what we will never forget.   For   many miles afterward  we tried to hold on to the magic in our mind’s eye and asked,

Did we just see that?  Did that just happen to us?

I desist now lest I go too far away and never come back.

Above Erwins Gorge

Down stream of Linville Falls

You Can Go Home Again

Same sky over Bethune that was there 40 years ago

Bethune, South Carolina

10/12/10

It’s 3:AM, dark and cool after a scorching day.   The crickets wall of whirring sound animates the night and sits atop your subconscious mind  a vibrating wash that vies with the 24 hour electric thrum of  a manufacturing plant in the night’s distance.  The plant lies just beyond a stand of piney woods here in Bethune.  It used to be the textile plant that JoAnn’s father managed 55 years ago.  It manufactures something else now

We are camped on the lawn of one of JoAnn’s mother’s old friends, Dottie Hendrickson.

It has been an emotional trip 40 years back in time for JoAnn.  She was reluctant to visit her old childhood haunts as I think we all are to some extent.  Things are never the same and we worry about being disappointed.  Things are smaller than we remember.  As children the world was large and limitless then.  A few trees then could became a glen as mysterious as Sherwood Forest. 

As we drove closer and closer to Bethune I could sense her  increasing nervousness until we came across familiar roads and intersections in the peripheral countryside.  Then curiosity began to take over trepidation as it usually does.  This road was where that accident happened.  This corner was where that business used to be.  Those ruins  were once a gas station but after that faded letters said it might have also been a diner.

JoAnn's Company house for six months

The empty shambles and abandoned structures littered with old rusty equipment did not bode well for a return visit.  Soon we entered a zone of life.  Normal activity, a newer fuel station, railroad tracks, a Dollar store and a small strip of 4 stores.  A couple of streets peeled off to the left and right and we took the right one that said Main.  Oh my,  this was a  town that had seen better times.  The old textile mill had been the only industry here back then but now on Main only every other third or fourth store front showed some sign of marginal activity.  There was clearly an absorption of commerce and human activity back into the sidewalk cracks.  There was so little traffic that a lady with child  in a golf cart ignored the lights and drove languidly across Main.  There was where the old pharmacy was that JoAnn use to hitch up her pony and across the street was where the sheriff made her clean up her pony’s “business.”

We turned right down a side street past a small hardware store with more signage than product and by another abandoned and weathered building with grasses growing tall in front of a side door, past an unpainted peeling water tower and down a residential street .  That lawn of that house was where she played with so and so.  This street was where she rode her horse Pal.  That little white house was where she lived for 6 months while her dad got settled in to his managerial job running the plant.  Finally we pull up to Dottie’s house but no one is home so we decide to tour the rest of the town and neighborhood.  This should be quick.  There are two sets of railroad tracks that run parallel on either side of Highway 1 so both neighborhoods are across the tracks.  But the street of homes on the East side of US 1 are older yet more substantial and quite a few built of brick.  There is a lot more brick construction here in  the south than in our own NorthWest where tall timber was more plentiful.  

Virginia Ann's dad's barn where Jo rode horses

More memories flood back as we slowly creep along the street with the Airstream in silent tow.  This was a street where she also rode full tilt and that’s the old barn where “Skipper” kept his pony.  That white house on the corner with its red barn and 20 feet from the tracks was Virginia Ann’s and that one over there was  Benji’s.  As we cruised past JoAnn says “I could swear that looks like   Benji !”  “Do you want me to ask her if she is?” I ask.  “Oh no,no, I would be too embarrassed !” as she covered her mouth.  What the heck I think, we’ve only come 8000 miles so far to visit Bethune.  So I roll down the window and call out “Excuse me, is your name Benji?” “Why yes it is” she says.  And I say “Well this is JoAnn Staub!”  Immediately recognizing the name she says “JoAnn Staub!” as she walks her dog across the street towards my window.  For the next twenty minutes it was catch up on all the births and passings of small town’s  people.  She was a very gracious and well educated lady recently retired from IBM and I thoroughly enjoyed talking with her and her South Carolina accent.  All this history and family tree stuff has always been interesting to me and to hear more of JoAnn’s past so fleshed out was fascinating.   We were stopped in the intersection for more then twenty minutes the occasional driver just went around us with nary a fuss.  Three other ladies stopped to chat and all tried to talk us into moving to Bethune and retire.  Ah, thanks but no thanks.  After exchanging e-mails we said good bye and returned to Dottie’s house.

Now there was a car parked out front so someone  was home.  JoAnn walked around the back and said there was a Virginia Ann (from her childhood) on the screen porch and she asked us up for a glass of wine.  Sounds good.  Again there ensued an hour of catch up on more history while Dottie’s two cats bounded about.  It was the two cats that Virginia Ann had come over to check on and she was just about to leave when we drove up.  As Dottie was still out of town until tomorrow Virginia graciously invited us to her home to hook up next to her pool house.  We had electricity and water and behind some fences and hedges we were actually right next to the center of town.  

The next morning broke hot again so we stepped into Virginia’s  ac cooled dim living room and chatted more about the past and a little about the future.  later that morning she had to go into Camden so after we called and found that Dottie was back home  we went over to her place.  Thanks to Virginia Ann for her hospitality.  So much Southern hospitality.  It’s true what they say about it.

JoAnn's second Company home

So after more catch up with Dottie a slight little lady that speaks her mind with a testy smile and glint in her eye I prepared a dinner of garlic chicken that I had learned to cook on Maui.  After lots of wine and as I had been up since 3:30 AM that morning I was ready for the Airstream’s cushy bed.  But first we took long and rejuvenating shower’s in Dottie’s place.  The roomy spray was a treat.

Tomorrow we will take Dottie up to Camden for shopping, pick up some steaks on the way back for some grilling. There is one little meat store in town.  

Camden is an inland town known for its horses and steeplechase circuit and use to be the summer playgrounds of people such as the Du Ponts.  It should be interesting.  I hope it cools off a bit.  I’m already starting to think about the Shenandoah Valley next week and the coolness of  Blue Ridge Mountains again.  In some ways though I wish JoAnn could spend more than a couple of days here.  It’s rare that one can walk in the past of 40 years ago and still meet and talk with friends and people that have never left.

Good or bad, it’s a grounding.

North Carolina

View from Airstream's door

10/3/10

10/4/10

10/5/10

10/6/10

Today is Tuesday.  Last Sunday we stayed at Greensboro Campground  near Greensboro North Carolina. Last night, Monday,  we stayed in a gravel parking lot in a Farmers Market facility, one of four owned and run by the state as a venue for local farmers to sell their produce.  Tonight we are in  Spring Hill Camp near Chapel Hill.   How do I keep up with all the places we have stayed ?  I don’t.  If more than 3 days go by then I have to have JoAnn help me rebuild the last few locations.

The drives between were not eventful and they were thankfully short so it’s been a fairly laid back few days.  Actually Monday was spent with the Airstream at Out Of Doors Airstream dealer in Greensboro repairing a few things.  All seems to be working and running well now.  Hopefully this will keep us all together for the next three or so months.

North Carolina is not a state that grabs you quickly with some geological beauty.  There are rolling hillside farms on the back roads but they all seem to be standing away, standing off.

Most of what I know thus far is how the people, with their slow and deliberate accents, engage you in conversations that could possibly continue for a long time.  As well as being interested in who you are, where have you been, where are you going they seem to all bring up their histories including their brother and their other brother’s stories.  As I said these are stories without any apparent end or denouements to give you a clue for a graceful exit.  These are continuous straight line narratives without end.  At first I felt a little guilty at trying to extricate myself in order to proceed with our day.  Soon I got better at moving on without, I think, being abrupt.  In of themselves the stories were all interesting.  It’s just the way the tellings were achingly, slowly drawn out that strained my admittedly impatient non southern nature.  I could learn to slow down and listen more to the nuance of the story.

It was too easy to engage and too difficult to move on.

When we arrived here at Spring Hill there were no spaces available save for one overflow spot with power and water but no sewer connection in the back of the property behind some storage sheds.  This meant we would have to use our newly repaired toilet with its holding tank with no way to clean them out, i.e. no dumps other than a vacated full hook up site where the owner would bring his tractor and pull us to the vacated site to use the sewer then pull the Airstream back to our overflow site.  This seemed like too much hassle.  But we decided to stay as the Camp was centrally located to most of the old friends of JoAnn.  So we followed the owner and his golf cart to the back of the property and behind the storage sheds.  Lo and behold we were isolated with a huge lawn that flowed into a verdant pasture with a few  black cattle grazing beyond a tree lined fence  in the low angled light.  It was spacious and open and private.  Again  being consigned to the overflow spot turned out to be a good thing and the best site in the camp.

Two Lane Blacktops

It has been very relaxing today as we drove the light dappled back country two lanes.  Traffic was almost non existent and we cruised at 40 mph rolling up and down between swelling pastures.  The sun was up, sky was blue but there was a coolness in the air.   We discovered at a crossroads a Mexican restaurant in a plain rectangular building made of sheet metal backing a very small gravel parking lot.   it was in no way pretentious and looked more like an isolated auto parts shop.  Once the doors were open it was filled with locals and a flavorful aroma.  On the wall were a dozen articles and magazine covers including Gourmet Magazine touting this little place.  How could this be?  There was nothing about it to indicate its status in the eating world of North Carolina.  This was in the middle of nowhere.   The dishes were full of flavor and succulent meats and chips that were thick yet light.  The tomato garnishes snapped with freshness and the simple interior was spotless clean.

Fiesta Grill....Who knew food here would be some of best in the county

We had a great lunch with my Carnitas filled with thick juicy shredded chunks of grilled pork that still had hints of fat for sweet flavors.  The rice kernels were thick and fluffy and separated.  A tall glass of ice water filled with limes was all the liquid we needed.  Thanks to the Fiesta Grill for reminding us how good Mexican food can be.

Our fridge back at the Airstream is filled with foam take home containers but this one will be eaten first.

There is still life on the American backroads of two lane blacktops.  If you can cruise along at 40 mph you will not miss them.

hasta la vista

10/6/10

As you might surmise we have been hanging out in North Carolina for several days.  Despite our site here in Spring Hill having no sewer connection its orientation toward lawns, pastures and privacy are so nice we are reluctant to leave.  Today the owner hooked up his tractor and we pulled our Airstream to a temporarily vacated site with a sewer connection and took care of business then got towed back to our special overflow site.  This location is central to several of JoAnns friends so we will stay here thru Sunday morning.  I think it will then be time to head back up to Skyline Drive for the colors.

Last night we went in to Chapel Hill to visit Jackie, one of JoAnn’s friends from Maui.

I can’t believe how long ago that was.  Why must it always seem like just yesterday?  It really collapses our  perceptions of time.  Maui......

Tomorrow we will meet up with George and his wife Harriette.  George and JoAnn have not seen each other for almost 40 years having been childhood playmates.

Again, time moves faster the older we get.  Something about Einstein's law of Relativity and approaching the speed of light.

Early Morning,  Spring Hill Campground

Blue Ridge Parkway 10/2,3/10

Virginia Horse Center & Blue Ridge Mountains

 Blue Ridge Parkway

10/1/10

We said goodbye to the Virginia horse Center after going down the block to the Waffle House again for breakfast.  Jo was in grits heaven,  hot grits with crumpled bacon bits mixed in as well as hash browns.  I had the biscuits and gravy.  not as good as we used to get at Gwennies in Sequim but the biscuits were fantastic.  They were soaked in butter then grilled!

Getting back to our spot on the hill I took the opportunity  to wash the trailer.  It was the first time since the start of our trip and it brought out a lot of the shine we started with.

We also had time this morning to take a couple of very long showers in showers that were large and simple but with plenty of hot water and plenty of dry space to dress.  We then attended the morning session of the Saddle Bred events which ended with a dog show..  The horsey people like their dogs.  Some dog show categories were,  cutest dog, best barn dog,  best non barn dog,  dog that most looks like their owner.  It was non sanctioned of course.  My kind of show.

All in all this has been a very nice spot.  We had privacy up on a hill that overlooked the massive grounds with only two other campers spaced very far away for company. We had power and water but no sewer.  We’ll clean out at the next spot. The power is always good for the lights and the electronic gadgets.  If we’re careful with the use at a non service site we can get by with charging everything with the trucks aux. power outlets as we drive along.

The horse shows were very interesting and I actually got into them and attended three sessions.  Saddlebreds have been crossed between thoroughbreds and gaited horses from Kentucky.  They have pronounced high stepping knee lifting gaits at walks, trots and canters.  And of course the riders all dressed to the “Nines” in formal attire with bowler hats for the ladies and fedoras for the men, tails for everyone.

Otter Creek Blue Ridge Parkway

They did have a Western class for the ladies with showy rigs of silver for the horses and individual styles of glitter for the ladies. The western version of the gaits were more relaxed.  It was tough picking the winners with my unexperienced eye but we got better as the shows continued.   

Later we strolled through several barns looking at the horses and ponies close up and reminding ourselves of when we raised horses on Maui.

I’m glad we came.

The morning was clear and bright and a firm but a continuous mellow breeze came up the hill side and mixed with the sunshine.

This afternoon.

Airstream reflection

We’re back dry camping in the national Parks.  Today we stayed at a small delightful place called Otter Creek.  We got the last pull thru that wrapped itself in an arc around the trees and looked  down into  Otter Creek.  It was just the right size and gave off a soothing chuckle and burble.  We arrived early, we turned in early and we awoke early, my kind of hours.  the trees were tall and thin with a predominance of black locusts.  The canopy was fairly thin and let in filtered light.  Even Moochi ventured out and explored the creek bed.

10/2/10

Light in the canopy

Another  50 miles down the parkway we came to a place called Otter Peaks with a lodge and rooms that overlook a serene lake.  Beyond and above the lake rose Otter Peak, an almost perfectly symmetrical cone densely clothed in deciduous trees save for the very tip peaked by a cluster  of rocks.

The lodge served some of the tastiest food thus far.  Actually Virginia has been so good to us food wise.  Prices are reasonable and quality is off the charts.  Simple things like real southern fried chicken, light and moist and crisp, warm red beets in a sweet syrup, 

By Otter Creek

fruits and berries so fresh and even whip cream you could stand your fork up in.  It was a wonderful meal in a dramtic setting on the shores of the lake.  In the distant rolling grassy hills a civil war enactment was happing and glimples of canvas tents and cook fires added to the interest.   

We will be heading to Greensboro, North Carolina for an appointment in two days with an Airstream dealer to have some service work done on the trailer.  It has been too nice for the past couple of days to go into the problems so I won’t.  Suffice it to say we are thinking about selling this one somehow somewhere and getting a newer one while on the road.  A 27’ with a better floor plan and only a couple of years old would be so much nicer  and dependable.  We still want to spend time next year doing more traveling closer to home say Montana and Wyoming and from Big Sur to Jasper.   So we are not giving up yet but we are certainly finding out what we do not want in an RV.

Otter Creek

Not sure about Mexico anymore.  I’ve heard too many warnings lately to be hauling a nice looking Airstream down that far and deep.

We made it to Roanoke National Park and set up and unhitched beneath a tall overhanging oak tree.  Don’t you think the thousands of acorns littering the parking site should have given us a clue about this spot?  It’s one of those stupid is as stupid does moves.  Every hour or so a big fat acorn drops on top with a bang.  Stupid, but we’re not moving, we deserve this one.

On a not so keen note, kudzu has begun to show up in the park.

See ya.

Roanoke Valley