Leisurely breakfast and then on the road. We stop at Chattanooga to visit the Chattanooga battlefield. This is the first battlefield museum, set up in 1895! This and Chicamauga about 20 miles south are still visited by military people from all over the world to study the tactics, decisions, errors, and successes of these two significant battles. I can’t imagine climbing this mountain under fire, much less firing while climbing this mountain. It is said that the cannon on the mountaintop were essentially useless because they couldn’t be turned downward enough. The cannonballs just rolled out of them and down the hill before they could be fired.
We have decided to push on to Clarksville and have dinner with my cousin Cindy and her husband, Walt. We arrive at 4:45, set a dinner time for 6 and find our campsite for the night. Since it is Ash Wednesday we change our dinner from a steakhouse to Olive Garden. We have a nice, leisurely dinner with Cindy and Walt, give her the coins from Al for her and her sister Peggy, and head back to the RV park for a quiet evening.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Another Battlefield--February 24
We sit around after breakfast talking for hours. About 1:30 we set out for lunch at Paul’s Place, a funky restaurant in a little town near Acworth. Chicken livers! Haven’t had those for years, so Norb, Dale and I all order them. The cole slaw is excellent, cut into miniscule pieces. I look them up on RoadFood.com but they aren’t there. Unbelievable!
We go to the Kennesaw Mountain Museum. Another Civil War site. They abound in this corridor. This was a very important battle in securing the railroad line and cutting off the supply to the South. We check out the museum and then drive to the top of the mountain. We can see as far as downtown Atlanta and Stone Mountain to the south. I try to imagine what it would be like standing on the top of that mountain waiting for a charge by the enemy. Would you see then before they climbed that last obstacle? It’s not entirely clear that you would.
After a late dinner we watch Wall-E. I’ve seen it before but it is even better because I can take in the background so much more.
We go to the Kennesaw Mountain Museum. Another Civil War site. They abound in this corridor. This was a very important battle in securing the railroad line and cutting off the supply to the South. We check out the museum and then drive to the top of the mountain. We can see as far as downtown Atlanta and Stone Mountain to the south. I try to imagine what it would be like standing on the top of that mountain waiting for a charge by the enemy. Would you see then before they climbed that last obstacle? It’s not entirely clear that you would.
After a late dinner we watch Wall-E. I’ve seen it before but it is even better because I can take in the background so much more.
Anderonville and On--February 23
We eat breakfast at the hotel—waffles and coffee. We check out the dining room, pretty spiffy but kind of tired around the edges. We head north out of town to Andersonville and the POW Museum. Wow! Much more interesting that I thought it would be. There are 2 30-minute videos, one on Andersonville and the other on prisoners of war. Both feature lots of personal accounts, the first from letters and the second from letters and actual survivors. We join a walk on the grounds, which explains more clearly what happened at the site during the 14 months if was open. Some 45,000 people passed through the camp, which had 33,000 at its height. About 1,000 died each month from a variety of causes ranging from disease to starving to murder. Only about a third had shelters, which they fashioned out of whatever cloth they had available. Essentially they were marched into the compound, which was surrounded by 15-foot high log walls, and then let to survive as best they could.
While food was short, the most serious problem was water. All the water for the prisoners came from a slow moving stream that ran through the bottom of the hill. Prior to entering the prison area it was used by the Confederate soldiers as their latrine and medical waste was thrown into the stream. In the summer the stream wasted away to a trickle and was seriously polluted by the waste from the Confederates upstream and the latrine area for the prisoners downstream. A mosquito bite could be life threatening if scratched so much that it opened the skin. And Andersonville is below the ‘gnat line,’ that line in Georgia where the gnats in summer are so thick that you have to keep blowing upward to keep them at bay. While there were bad prison conditions in the North, none were as bad as Andersonville where 29% of the prisoners died. In addition, once they were ‘rescued’, thousands of them lost their lives on boats going home.
The POW Museum is set up so that you start with capture and end with ‘coming home.’ It is very well done, with a lot of personal accounts of soldiers and their families. It is very powerful. The greatest fear of the families was that the person that left wouldn’t be the person who came back. I can well understand that.
By 5 PM we are at Jim and Lynn Yates’ home in Acworth. Nice visit. We stay until 7 and then head out for dinner before going to Ann Glendinning and Dale Kelly’s. We are so comfortable with them. They share so many of our values, are interested in the same things, and can discuss it all with tremendous insight.
While food was short, the most serious problem was water. All the water for the prisoners came from a slow moving stream that ran through the bottom of the hill. Prior to entering the prison area it was used by the Confederate soldiers as their latrine and medical waste was thrown into the stream. In the summer the stream wasted away to a trickle and was seriously polluted by the waste from the Confederates upstream and the latrine area for the prisoners downstream. A mosquito bite could be life threatening if scratched so much that it opened the skin. And Andersonville is below the ‘gnat line,’ that line in Georgia where the gnats in summer are so thick that you have to keep blowing upward to keep them at bay. While there were bad prison conditions in the North, none were as bad as Andersonville where 29% of the prisoners died. In addition, once they were ‘rescued’, thousands of them lost their lives on boats going home.
The POW Museum is set up so that you start with capture and end with ‘coming home.’ It is very well done, with a lot of personal accounts of soldiers and their families. It is very powerful. The greatest fear of the families was that the person that left wouldn’t be the person who came back. I can well understand that.
By 5 PM we are at Jim and Lynn Yates’ home in Acworth. Nice visit. We stay until 7 and then head out for dinner before going to Ann Glendinning and Dale Kelly’s. We are so comfortable with them. They share so many of our values, are interested in the same things, and can discuss it all with tremendous insight.
Birthday Day--February 22
We break camp early—for us—8 AM, before breakfast. We find a McDonald’s back on the mainland and get a cup of coffee to tide us over. In Waycross, GA, we look for a restaurant downtown, a local place. No luck. Everything is either closed or, worse, out of business. Pretty sad place. We go back to the highway and stop at a Huddle House. I get another serving of country ham, probably my last. We sit at the counter so that we can watch the show at the grill. It is a delight to watch people move quickly and surely through a job they do so well. We decide that, because of the space, the skinniest person behind the counter is also the most ideal. This place has a smoking room! Haven’t seen that before.
We head for Americus and our hotel—yes, hotel. It is my birthday and I want a bathtub. I’ve had nothing but showers this trip. It’s time for a bathtub. We check into the hotel, an 1890’s Queen Anne/Victorian red stone and brick structure that takes up half of the entire block. It is a wonderful building with a 3-story lobby surrounded by balconies at each level. The lobby floor is the original marble. The hotel was essentially abandoned in the 60’s, after being turned into apartments and rented out for a number of years. Mr. Patel purchased it in the 90’s and renovated it. I wish him much success. It’s a hard business.
We check out the visitor information next door then head for Plains, GA, with a map in hand. The Plains High School now is an historic site, with Carter exhibits throughout the building and a video in the old auditorium. We spend an hour or so there and then go by the Carter house (the one that was built in 1961 and has had only one addition since, a garage to replace the one that Jimmy turned into a workshop). We drive to the Carter family farm where Jimmy lived until going away to the Naval Academy. It is actually in Archery, GA, a tiny town that had 12 black families and 2 white families. The Carters had a farm and a store, so they were relatively prosperous. I admire Jimmy Carter, the man, although I think that Jimmy Carter, the president, was relatively ineffective. I really hate the way he lost the election; I think the hostage crisis wasn’t his fault.
We go back to town, do a drive by of interesting houses, and look for a restaurant. Again, not much choice on a Sunday. The restaurant in the hotel isn’t open and neither is any other eating place downtown. We head out the highway and our choices boil down to Ryan’s Steakhouse and Ruby Tuesday. I choose Ryan’s. It turns out to the one of those buffet places, but they have pickled beets so I decide we’ll stay. We are the only white folks in the place for about half an hour, but then others come in. It’s not a problem, just an observation. I am aware of it and wonder if blacks are equally aware when they are the only blacks in a restaurant. Wouldn’t recommend Ryan’s if you have any other options.
We go back to the hotel, I take by bath, and settle in to watch the Academy Awards. Didn’t think of that when I requested a hotel!
We head for Americus and our hotel—yes, hotel. It is my birthday and I want a bathtub. I’ve had nothing but showers this trip. It’s time for a bathtub. We check into the hotel, an 1890’s Queen Anne/Victorian red stone and brick structure that takes up half of the entire block. It is a wonderful building with a 3-story lobby surrounded by balconies at each level. The lobby floor is the original marble. The hotel was essentially abandoned in the 60’s, after being turned into apartments and rented out for a number of years. Mr. Patel purchased it in the 90’s and renovated it. I wish him much success. It’s a hard business.
We check out the visitor information next door then head for Plains, GA, with a map in hand. The Plains High School now is an historic site, with Carter exhibits throughout the building and a video in the old auditorium. We spend an hour or so there and then go by the Carter house (the one that was built in 1961 and has had only one addition since, a garage to replace the one that Jimmy turned into a workshop). We drive to the Carter family farm where Jimmy lived until going away to the Naval Academy. It is actually in Archery, GA, a tiny town that had 12 black families and 2 white families. The Carters had a farm and a store, so they were relatively prosperous. I admire Jimmy Carter, the man, although I think that Jimmy Carter, the president, was relatively ineffective. I really hate the way he lost the election; I think the hostage crisis wasn’t his fault.
We go back to town, do a drive by of interesting houses, and look for a restaurant. Again, not much choice on a Sunday. The restaurant in the hotel isn’t open and neither is any other eating place downtown. We head out the highway and our choices boil down to Ryan’s Steakhouse and Ruby Tuesday. I choose Ryan’s. It turns out to the one of those buffet places, but they have pickled beets so I decide we’ll stay. We are the only white folks in the place for about half an hour, but then others come in. It’s not a problem, just an observation. I am aware of it and wonder if blacks are equally aware when they are the only blacks in a restaurant. Wouldn’t recommend Ryan’s if you have any other options.
We go back to the hotel, I take by bath, and settle in to watch the Academy Awards. Didn’t think of that when I requested a hotel!
Checking Out the Club--February 21
Lazy morning. Sit around camp, read, play the piano, update the blog. It’s cold out there. Warms up in the PM so we get the bikes off the back and ride to the historic districts. Takes a bit to locate the History Museum, which is located in the old stables for the Jekyll Island Club. Good video. Interesting exhibits. The Club was formed by NewYork and Chicago moneyed folks who wanted a winter retreat. Most had homes in Newport for the summer, Florida wasn’t viable yet (this was the 1880’s), so they bought Jekyll Island for the princely sum of $125,000. They built the club house for something like $65,000, divided the area around the clubhouse into 50 lots, and started building ‘cottages’. Access to the island was by boat; a land route wouldn’t’ be built until the 1950’s.
Most people ate their meals in the club, there was housing for extra servants and chauffeurs, there was lots of island left over for golf and croquet and hunting (it was originally designated a hunting club but hunting decline). By the 1940’s the Club was in dire shape; the depression had hit them hard, Florida was THE place to go, and no one wss interested in putting money into the Club. The State of Georgia took it by eminent domain and made it a state park. They have gradually renovated a few of the ‘cottages’, the Clubhouse, which had a number of additions over the years, is now a hotel run by Radisson, and it is all quite swish. We stop for a drink in the bar and sink into soft leather chairs. Despite the cold there are people (little type people) in the swimming pool.
At night we have a campfire, using up all of our wood we have purchased and scarfed up.
Most people ate their meals in the club, there was housing for extra servants and chauffeurs, there was lots of island left over for golf and croquet and hunting (it was originally designated a hunting club but hunting decline). By the 1940’s the Club was in dire shape; the depression had hit them hard, Florida was THE place to go, and no one wss interested in putting money into the Club. The State of Georgia took it by eminent domain and made it a state park. They have gradually renovated a few of the ‘cottages’, the Clubhouse, which had a number of additions over the years, is now a hotel run by Radisson, and it is all quite swish. We stop for a drink in the bar and sink into soft leather chairs. Despite the cold there are people (little type people) in the swimming pool.
At night we have a campfire, using up all of our wood we have purchased and scarfed up.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Checking out St Simon's--February 20
39 degrees when we got up this morning. Guess we won’t bike today. We decide to check out St Simon’s Island. That means unhooking everything, but since we are not on blocks it’s not as hard as it sounds. The bridge across the intracoastal waterway is stunning. The suspension cables appear to be half there until you get closer. We try to figure out why this happens; it is the way the sun hits the encased cables.
We go to Fort Frederica, the town created by James Oglethorpe. It was part of the English effort to claim land farther south along the east coast and to protect their Savannah interests. The big conflicts occurred between Fort Frederica and the Castillo in St. Augustine. The remains of the town were excavated in the 40’s, and thousands of artifacts have been unearthed. They do a good job of telling the story of the town. It seems that Oglethorpe ruled with an iron glove; he decided who could do what, where they could live, etc. Needless to say, there were many people who found it untenable and moved out. Then, after Spain and England signed a treaty, the troops were no longer needed there and moved it. It spelbled the death of the town. That and fire, of course. Fire must have been the greatest fear of everyone. Here there were tabby houses, built of a mixture of lime, sand, and shells. But then they covered the outside with wood, so it would look like home. Not a good idea. We meet one of the most enthusiastic park workers we have ever met and she does a good job ‘selling’ the place. We recommend it highly.
Next stop is the Coast Guard Station, which, sadly, doesn’t open until March. Doesn’t say anything about that in the literature we have picked up. So then we go to the lighthouse. First challenge is how to get into the building. Every door we go to, and there are many, sends us to another. It’s $6 each for a small exhibit and the chance to climb 129 steps to the top of the lighthouse. We take it. It says that the lighthouse keeper went up to the top of the lighthouse an hour before dusk and stayed there all through the night. I can’t figure out how he kept warm! Perhaps at some time in the past there was a stove at the top level, but there isn’t room there now.
We tour the downtown and check out the hardware store. It is all pretty quiet. I wonder how much is the recession and how much is just the time of year. On our way back we decide to check out Brunswick. It is now a port for incoming cars from Europe and is relatively busy. We see a pizza place and stop for dinner. It’s very good as is the salad. We recommend the place, too.
Once back on the island we tour the southern fourth just to see what’s there. Not much. We get back to the campground and reinstall ourselves in the dark.
We go to Fort Frederica, the town created by James Oglethorpe. It was part of the English effort to claim land farther south along the east coast and to protect their Savannah interests. The big conflicts occurred between Fort Frederica and the Castillo in St. Augustine. The remains of the town were excavated in the 40’s, and thousands of artifacts have been unearthed. They do a good job of telling the story of the town. It seems that Oglethorpe ruled with an iron glove; he decided who could do what, where they could live, etc. Needless to say, there were many people who found it untenable and moved out. Then, after Spain and England signed a treaty, the troops were no longer needed there and moved it. It spelbled the death of the town. That and fire, of course. Fire must have been the greatest fear of everyone. Here there were tabby houses, built of a mixture of lime, sand, and shells. But then they covered the outside with wood, so it would look like home. Not a good idea. We meet one of the most enthusiastic park workers we have ever met and she does a good job ‘selling’ the place. We recommend it highly.
Next stop is the Coast Guard Station, which, sadly, doesn’t open until March. Doesn’t say anything about that in the literature we have picked up. So then we go to the lighthouse. First challenge is how to get into the building. Every door we go to, and there are many, sends us to another. It’s $6 each for a small exhibit and the chance to climb 129 steps to the top of the lighthouse. We take it. It says that the lighthouse keeper went up to the top of the lighthouse an hour before dusk and stayed there all through the night. I can’t figure out how he kept warm! Perhaps at some time in the past there was a stove at the top level, but there isn’t room there now.
We tour the downtown and check out the hardware store. It is all pretty quiet. I wonder how much is the recession and how much is just the time of year. On our way back we decide to check out Brunswick. It is now a port for incoming cars from Europe and is relatively busy. We see a pizza place and stop for dinner. It’s very good as is the salad. We recommend the place, too.
Once back on the island we tour the southern fourth just to see what’s there. Not much. We get back to the campground and reinstall ourselves in the dark.
Friday, February 20, 2009
Amelia Island Sojourn--February 19
Rain started at about 4 AM and sounded wonderful on the roof. I hear it as I slip in and out of sleep, warm, dry. By the time we really wake up the sky is clearing and we can see patches of blue through the fast moving clouds. It is warmer than we thought it would be, but getting ready to go means cleaning things off. Norb takes this opportunity to clean some of the accumulated grime off the RV, we wipe down the water hose before putting it away, we wipe off the leveling blocks and we are off.
We are going a very short distance today, only about 80 miles to Jekyll Island, GA. This island was once owned by French émigrés who sold it to a consortium of very wealthy men who formed the Jekyll Island Club. It stayed in their hands until Georgia bought it and made the entire island into a state park. The ‘cottages’ of the rich are still here as is the Jekyll Island Club House (now a hotel). Over 60% of the island is wooded. There are bike trails covering the entire island and it is surrounded by water—the Atlantic on one side and the intracoastal waterway on the other. On the east side there is a wide expanse of marsh, the result of a hurricane around the 1900’s.
We find the campground, owned by the state but managed by someone else. We find our campsite, not a pretty as our last two and not nearly as private. It is almost like being in an RV park as far as space is concerned. The woman next door is from northern Wisconsin and she and her husband come down here for 5 ½ months each year. The more permanent residents have a plague hanging in front of their campsites with their name and an outline of their state, clearly provided by the management since they are all alike.
We read the many brochures and booklets we have picked up on our way into Georgia and onto the island and then decide to do rather than just read. We unload the bikes and set off down island. There isn’t much commercial activity on the island—a few restaurants, the Club, a small IGA food store, and a ‘shopping center’ that would pass as a tiny strip mall anyplace else. The bike surfaces are widely varied, from wide concrete to rough path with lots of roots, from former roadway to narrow, bumpy blacktop. It’s too bad that we have left our computers at home because I would really like to know how many miles we have biked so far on this trip. We pick up a pound of Georgia shrimp at the store and head home on the other side of the island.
I play my piano while Norb goes for a walk and checks out the campground. Not a single Navion parked here other then ours. How unusual. In fact, there are few small rigs. Dinner—shrimp, baked potatoes, peas, and cucumbers and tomatoes. I don’t have white vinegar for the cukes and so I use balsamic. It’s good. I have a new recipe. After dinner, laundry and reading.
We are going a very short distance today, only about 80 miles to Jekyll Island, GA. This island was once owned by French émigrés who sold it to a consortium of very wealthy men who formed the Jekyll Island Club. It stayed in their hands until Georgia bought it and made the entire island into a state park. The ‘cottages’ of the rich are still here as is the Jekyll Island Club House (now a hotel). Over 60% of the island is wooded. There are bike trails covering the entire island and it is surrounded by water—the Atlantic on one side and the intracoastal waterway on the other. On the east side there is a wide expanse of marsh, the result of a hurricane around the 1900’s.
We find the campground, owned by the state but managed by someone else. We find our campsite, not a pretty as our last two and not nearly as private. It is almost like being in an RV park as far as space is concerned. The woman next door is from northern Wisconsin and she and her husband come down here for 5 ½ months each year. The more permanent residents have a plague hanging in front of their campsites with their name and an outline of their state, clearly provided by the management since they are all alike.
We read the many brochures and booklets we have picked up on our way into Georgia and onto the island and then decide to do rather than just read. We unload the bikes and set off down island. There isn’t much commercial activity on the island—a few restaurants, the Club, a small IGA food store, and a ‘shopping center’ that would pass as a tiny strip mall anyplace else. The bike surfaces are widely varied, from wide concrete to rough path with lots of roots, from former roadway to narrow, bumpy blacktop. It’s too bad that we have left our computers at home because I would really like to know how many miles we have biked so far on this trip. We pick up a pound of Georgia shrimp at the store and head home on the other side of the island.
I play my piano while Norb goes for a walk and checks out the campground. Not a single Navion parked here other then ours. How unusual. In fact, there are few small rigs. Dinner—shrimp, baked potatoes, peas, and cucumbers and tomatoes. I don’t have white vinegar for the cukes and so I use balsamic. It’s good. I have a new recipe. After dinner, laundry and reading.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
At the Beach--February 18
We take a walk to check out Fort Clinch. Didn’t occur to us that there was an admission charge, but the woman in charge lets us in on a promise to return later to pay. We are the only ones in the fort for much of the time. The first weekend of the month there are Civil War reenacters at the fort so it is pretty well ‘furnished’—kerosene lanterns, straw mattresses, etc. The fort was sold to the stay in 1926 and the CCC’s constructed the park and reconstructed the fort. It was built to protect the coast and inland waterways.
We bike into Fernandina Beach for lunch. Charming town. We eat at Café Karibo, one of the slowest service places ever. Good food but we thought perhaps we had been forgotten. We ride up and down streets, admiring the Victorian homes. We try to find a less busy route home, but to no avail. We check out the pier in the park, 2,500 feet long. Surf is up and surfers are out. Fishermen are out, too, but nobody seems to be catching anything. We also check out the beachside campground and rejoice in ours—this campground is wide open and palm trees are the only shade. Another fire and then rain.
We bike into Fernandina Beach for lunch. Charming town. We eat at Café Karibo, one of the slowest service places ever. Good food but we thought perhaps we had been forgotten. We ride up and down streets, admiring the Victorian homes. We try to find a less busy route home, but to no avail. We check out the pier in the park, 2,500 feet long. Surf is up and surfers are out. Fishermen are out, too, but nobody seems to be catching anything. We also check out the beachside campground and rejoice in ours—this campground is wide open and palm trees are the only shade. Another fire and then rain.
St Augustine Tour--February 17
We set off for St Augustine after breakfast. But first we have to stop to check out the coquina quarry. Coquina is a stone made of shells that have been cementered together by silica over the years. When quarried it is still soft and shapable, aged for a year it is hard. It was used in the fort and absorbed the cannonballs rather than shattering. Not much left of the quarry.
Once in St. Augustine the hardest part is finding a place to put the RV. While the trolley tours offer free parking, they don’t offer a space that’s amenable to parking the RV. We find a place on the street where we JUST fit within the lines and can pull far enough forward that we can be sure we can get out. We take the Ripley’s on-and-off tour, hopping off at the Hugenot Cemetery (can’t get in so we circle it) and back on in the middle of old town, off again at the Basilica and back on, off at the Castillo (which we remember from freezing there many years ago). It’s a lovely town but really small.
We head north to Jacksonville on Hwy A1A, which leads us to the St. John’s ferry, which will cut hours off our trip. Sadly the ferry is closed from February 3 to 23. We don’t discover this until we turn onto the final road to the ferry. We turn around and take the long way, which is now much longer because we cut so far inland.
Fort Clinch State Park at Fernandina Beach on Amelia Island is our destination. Nice campsite but not as nice as Anastasia Island. We are within 100 feet of the beach, which is loaded with shells. There are 2 other View/Navions in the campground, so we are among compadres. There is a different set of people who choose to RV in small units; they tend to be travelers rather than stayers, they tend to be more like us, and it’s interesting to discuss where they have been and what changes/problems they have with their ‘rig’. One couple we meet has been to Alaska in their Navion. Both Navions are the same model as we have.
We have our first campfire of this trip. We bought the wood weeks ago but haven’t been in a place that seemed amenable to a fire. We are now officially camping.
Once in St. Augustine the hardest part is finding a place to put the RV. While the trolley tours offer free parking, they don’t offer a space that’s amenable to parking the RV. We find a place on the street where we JUST fit within the lines and can pull far enough forward that we can be sure we can get out. We take the Ripley’s on-and-off tour, hopping off at the Hugenot Cemetery (can’t get in so we circle it) and back on in the middle of old town, off again at the Basilica and back on, off at the Castillo (which we remember from freezing there many years ago). It’s a lovely town but really small.
We head north to Jacksonville on Hwy A1A, which leads us to the St. John’s ferry, which will cut hours off our trip. Sadly the ferry is closed from February 3 to 23. We don’t discover this until we turn onto the final road to the ferry. We turn around and take the long way, which is now much longer because we cut so far inland.
Fort Clinch State Park at Fernandina Beach on Amelia Island is our destination. Nice campsite but not as nice as Anastasia Island. We are within 100 feet of the beach, which is loaded with shells. There are 2 other View/Navions in the campground, so we are among compadres. There is a different set of people who choose to RV in small units; they tend to be travelers rather than stayers, they tend to be more like us, and it’s interesting to discuss where they have been and what changes/problems they have with their ‘rig’. One couple we meet has been to Alaska in their Navion. Both Navions are the same model as we have.
We have our first campfire of this trip. We bought the wood weeks ago but haven’t been in a place that seemed amenable to a fire. We are now officially camping.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Heading North--February 16
We set the alarm for 7:30 because we want to have breakfast with Don before he goes to work at the bike shop. It also gives us a chance to get our things organized for leaving without interfering with our time with Don and Marianne. After breakfast we bid Don farewell, load our things in Marianne’s car, hop on our bikes and head for the RV. We have turned off the fridge, so there are a few things in there that need to be tossed. We do some preliminary tucking away, put the bikes on the back, and head out at 9:30.
We pick up Highway 1 and meander north through town after town for about 80 miles before our patience wears out and we decide to head for I95. While it zooms us north at a much faster rate, it is truly boring. Flat, barren land on either side of it, occasional exits and entrances, construction that constricts the lanes and slows everybody else to our speed—the limit is 70 and we usually go 65. Finally at Daytona Beach we head for A1A. No traces left of yesterday’s Dayton 500, which turned out to be the Dayton 428 because the race was called for rain. Lots of motels along the ocean, but we are once again east of the intracoastal waterway. Much more interesting riding. We stop for groceries. We have a week ahead of us before we stay with Dale and Ann in Acworth, GA.
We pass our favorite campground at Flagler Beach and notice that there are some RV’s there about our size. We’ll have to reserve sooner next time we want to stay there. When we tried to reserve this time, none of the sites open could take anything over 10 feet. We arrive at Anastasia State Park just south of St Augustine at 5:30. It’s a really cool park with a 5 mile ‘private’ beach—you can only reach it via the state park so there are no buildings on it. Private campsites. Level campsites. We are sorry that we are only staying here for one night. There are 3 other Navion/Views on our loop, that’s 4 out of 14 sites, almost one-third.
Along A1A--Feburary 15
Sleeping in. It’s 9:30 before we get up. We skim the papers then decide to go to the clubhouse for breakfast. I get a Southern Benedict—eggs benedict done with a sausage patty. Pretty good. The place is swarming with kids. The long weekend has brought families down to visit. Marianne reports that more young people are moving in. They no longer offer a benefit for new members under 60.
We go back to give Archie, the parrot, fresh water before heading out. We wander over to A1A, which runs east of the intracoastal waterway along some of the most exclusive housing in this part of Florida, past Donald Trump’s place and up to Palm Beach. This is the part of A1A that Don and the Florida Bicycle Association went to court over. They lost the battle but won the war. FDOT now has to include a bicycle lane when they are redoing a road unless there is some overriding reason that they can’t acquire the land. Downtown PB isn’t my cup of tea so we go to the more downscale West Palm Beach and its main street. It is sad to see the empty storefronts and restaurants, but there were a fair number of people out and about. We go home down the Dixie Highway, otherwise known as Highway 1. Much less picturesque than A1A, but much faster.
We sit and talk, watch a bit of TV, eat some snacks and the go to Senor Burrito in Del Ray Beach for dinner, our treat. We had eaten there when we were here 3 years ago and liked it. The restaurant has expanded but it is still good.
Valentine's day--February 14
We sleep in until 9:20! After breakfast, we sit around talking and discussing our various options. We decide to bike around Hunter’s Run, which is a huge complex. We stop at the clubhouse for lunch and you can tell it’s a holiday weekend by the number of children in the pool. It’s warm—80 and a little more—but the ride is easy. We are eating in tonight. Going out to dinner on Valentine’s Day is craziness.
Boynton Beach--February 13
We told our friends last night that we were leaving after breakfast. Flo added, “And it will be a late breakfast.” We pack up and hug. I make Flo promise to take good care of herself. She suggests that we could just move down there. No wonder she has always been my favorite aunt. We have a special bond that probably goes back to my childhood when she was my second mother. She and Mom were a lot like Judy and I are today, so close that we think alike. Judy and I will be traveling and I’ll say, “How about stopping for dinner?” and she’ll say, I was just thinking about recommending that.
We drive leisurely to Boyton Beach, stopping at one point to eat lunch and climb up the dike to look at the almost nonexistent Lake Okochobee. So much of it is gone now that it is more Canal Okochobee. The water level in Florida keeps dropping because of the dual pressures of increased population and decreased rainfall. The springs seep now instead of springing, the everglades are dying because they aren’t being fed, and sinkholes develop where there used to be a water table.
We arrive at our meeting point with Marianne. We have to store our RV because the complex where they live doesn’t allow RVs. They don’t even allow pickup trucks to park overnight! When we stopped for lunch we packed our bags, but because we can’t find a level place to park we need to turn off the refrigerator, which means that we must unload that, too. We put our things in Marianne’s car and we ride our bikes the short distance to Hunter’s Run.
Come evening we go to a party at Tuscany—another complex—on the intracoastal waterway. Friends of Don and Marianne have invited us. Rina was born in Brooklyn and Bernard was born in Algeria and raised in Morocco. Interesting people but the music is too loud to allow for easy conversation. In fact, we sit for quite a while after the music stops because we can finally talk!
Dinner with Friends--February 12
Flo and Ralph take us out for breakfast today. We go to the Farmers’ Market restaurant, an eatery that touts Southern cooking. Norb and Ralph have a mullet breakfast, complete with grits. I have southern ham and the waitress warns me that it’s salty. Good place. I recommend it if you get to Ft Myers. It’s not on any main road so you really have to seek it out.
We come home and Flo has unearthed some early photos, per our request. We spend hours looking at them. On many of them the people are identified; she gets a gold star for that. But there are many that are blank on the back. I take a few. I love old photos. I think about how I should organize my photos and also realize that I haven’t been getting photos from my sons with the regularity that I used to send them to my parents. I think it’s because when we would get pictures developed we would always have 2 made. One went to the parents and the other into our files. Now the photos are all digital so they rarely get developed. Erik used to give me a CD of pictures at Christmas but not lately. He did give us a book of pictures of Ellie last Mother’s Day and that is wonderful, and we got a few pictures during the year, but not that many. And the only recent pictures we have of Shawn’s girls were the class pictures that I scarfed up before I went to India last fall.
We eat a light lunch, Ralph takes a rest, I read. We leave for Giavannone’s in Estero at 3:30 so that we can stop at Frank and Pam’s and see all of Pam and Frank’s grandchildren. Obie’s join us for dinner. Wonderful evening with old friends.
Euchre Again--February 11
We are getting so lazy. We rarely wake up before 8, much less get up. After breakfast Ralph gets a call saying that he can come in for dialysis early if he wants. He wants. Flo drops him off and comes back for us. We go to the public library so that I can get on line and update the blog. We head to south of the river to go to Costco. Can you imagine we have been gone for 2 weeks and haven’t stepped foot into a Costco? We usually check them out along the road just to see what they have that is different. It is early afternoon and most of the tasters have gone home. Darn. I know people who go to Costco to eat lunch! We get beer to replenish Flo’s supply, some low energy lightbulbs (Norb’s crusade) and some lobster salad to leave behind when we leave. Norb forgot to pack shorts so he finds 2 different pairs, we pay for them, he tries them on and returns 1 pair.
We go to the orange juice place that we visit every time we come here. We are running short of time and need to rush, so we grab 3 gallons of freshly squeezed orange juice (1 for us, 1 for Flo and Ralph, and 1 to take as a gift to our friends on Thursday) and 4 large Star grapefruit. The line for the ice cream is too long, so we miss out on the orange/vanilla swirl. Too bad.
We pick Ralph up and go to dinner at Athena Restaurant. It’s 4:30 PM and we have our choice of places to sit. It’s the classic Greek restaurant—a huge menu with a few Greek things on it. They don’t make their own gyros; they are out of a box. So I rule that out. I order feta and cheese as an appetizer and shock the waitress. I don’t think anybody has ever ordered it before. She made me show it to her on the menu. I order the Greek chicken and it comes with soup, salad, potato or rice, and dessert. The soup is okay, the salad is good, the fries are crispy, and I can only eat a portion of my chicken because I want to save myself for rice pudding. By the time we are ready to leave the place has almost filled up. We end up with 3 take home boxes (Norb is the only one that can finish his meal) so we add to the leftovers in the fridge.
We play Euchre again in the evening. I am finally in my groove and manage to be on the winning end this time.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Lazy Day--February 10
Lazy day. Visiting day. Catching up on family and listening to family stories. President Obama is coming to Ft Myers today so that’s the big news. Flo and Ralph had thought about getting tickets—only 1,500 were available. People started lining up for them at 9 PM Sunday night. If you weren’t there by midnight, you didn’t get a ticket. Needless to say, they weren’t camping out there at midnight and thus didn’t get tickets. But we watch it all on local TV. Such a refreshing change from the Bush days. The only thing you needed for a ticket was to wait in line. Protesters were allowed along the route into town and outside the venue.
We go to the flea market at the Shell Factory and score 2 Fire King peach bowls, 2 Corelle cups with the overlapping handles, a Corelle bowl and a DVD. We buy lots of veggies—cauliflower, green beans, tomatoes—for dinner. This is actually a higher quality flea market than Monday’s stop. Guess it’s a function of being in a city.
Frank and Pam come to visit, Charmaine stops by with her son, Connor. Nice visit. Dinner then more Euchre.
We go to the flea market at the Shell Factory and score 2 Fire King peach bowls, 2 Corelle cups with the overlapping handles, a Corelle bowl and a DVD. We buy lots of veggies—cauliflower, green beans, tomatoes—for dinner. This is actually a higher quality flea market than Monday’s stop. Guess it’s a function of being in a city.
Frank and Pam come to visit, Charmaine stops by with her son, Connor. Nice visit. Dinner then more Euchre.
From Mt Dora to Dora's Mom--February 9
Out for breakfast. McDonalds in Mt Dora. They give us soda cups instead of coffee cups! I turn my in and get coffee. Mt Dora is supremely cute and looks like there is a lot of money that flows through here. Hints: a dog bakery, antique stores up the gazotz, fancy tschotke stores. We check out the old downtown (rather than the outlying malls) and the head on.
‘On’ is the flea market at Webster. This was one of the favorite places for Mom and Dad; only runs on Monday. This was where you bought tomatoes and Plant City strawberries and odds and ends and spent a good morning browsing. Norb decides to stop a few miles short of Webster at another flea market and by the time we have surveyed the scene and bought our tomatoes and strawberries (Plant City ones, of course) we are flea marketed out. Webster is a 2-mile traffic jam getting into town and a 5-mile backup on the other side of the road as we leave town. Obviously, Webster is THE flea market to go to. Maybe next time.
On our way to the interstate we pass by Ridge Manor West and cut in to check our my parents’ old home. It’s looking pretty much the same. The community as a whole looks pretty much the same. The crummy house at the corner that has always been a blight on the neighborhood looks pretty much the same. We drive on.
We haven’t been on an interstate in more than a week, so it does take a bit of getting used to having so much space and so much traffic, but we adjust quickly and settle in. We stop for lunch at a rest stop, hoping to pick up a Florida map but all there is in this huge building are restrooms—2 men’s and 2 women’s. We pull off just north of North Ft Myers for the next rest stop because it promises visitor info. Turns out that the rest stop is to the left and visitor info is to the right. Visitor info, and mind you this visitor info is touted on an official Florida sign, turns out to be a dozen pamphlets at the truck stop. I am irate at Florida for pulling my leg in such a manner.
We arrive at Flo and Ralph’s and wonderful odors emanate from the kitchen. The days are longer here, not only because of the coming spring but because we are so much farther south, and I lose track of time. We enjoy some time on the patio, get stuff out of the RV, start our laundry, and help make supper. Luckily, the RV is level so we can leave the refrigerator running and don’t have to bring all that food into the house. This will be our home for the next 4 nights.
‘On’ is the flea market at Webster. This was one of the favorite places for Mom and Dad; only runs on Monday. This was where you bought tomatoes and Plant City strawberries and odds and ends and spent a good morning browsing. Norb decides to stop a few miles short of Webster at another flea market and by the time we have surveyed the scene and bought our tomatoes and strawberries (Plant City ones, of course) we are flea marketed out. Webster is a 2-mile traffic jam getting into town and a 5-mile backup on the other side of the road as we leave town. Obviously, Webster is THE flea market to go to. Maybe next time.
On our way to the interstate we pass by Ridge Manor West and cut in to check our my parents’ old home. It’s looking pretty much the same. The community as a whole looks pretty much the same. The crummy house at the corner that has always been a blight on the neighborhood looks pretty much the same. We drive on.
We haven’t been on an interstate in more than a week, so it does take a bit of getting used to having so much space and so much traffic, but we adjust quickly and settle in. We stop for lunch at a rest stop, hoping to pick up a Florida map but all there is in this huge building are restrooms—2 men’s and 2 women’s. We pull off just north of North Ft Myers for the next rest stop because it promises visitor info. Turns out that the rest stop is to the left and visitor info is to the right. Visitor info, and mind you this visitor info is touted on an official Florida sign, turns out to be a dozen pamphlets at the truck stop. I am irate at Florida for pulling my leg in such a manner.
We arrive at Flo and Ralph’s and wonderful odors emanate from the kitchen. The days are longer here, not only because of the coming spring but because we are so much farther south, and I lose track of time. We enjoy some time on the patio, get stuff out of the RV, start our laundry, and help make supper. Luckily, the RV is level so we can leave the refrigerator running and don’t have to bring all that food into the house. This will be our home for the next 4 nights.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
A Lazy Sunday--February 8
The day dawns sunny, clear and warm—65 by 9 AM. Norb decides to go hear the preacher at the gathering hall; I stay ‘home’ and play my piano. When he reports back I am even more convinced that I haven’t missed anything. We eat the rest of the ribs for lunch, a little cole slaw and then get the bikes ready to ride. We are going to Mt Dora to see the art show. Using the iPhone we plot a back roads route. I put the cue sheet on a piece of paper just as insurance and we set off, first wandering through Umatilla. We get out into the countryside and see tree after tree of blackened fruit, the result of the week’s cold wave. Word is that the tomato crop really got hit bad; only some of the oranges are toast.
The roads don’t match the names on the iPhone so we stop to take a reading. The iPhone will only show us a blue dot in the middle of a gray background—no roads, nada. We move out from under the tree. Nada. I know that the iPhone knows abouts these roads because it sent me here! There are 5 bars so it’s not a reception problem. I check the settings. Nothing there that I can see to change.
When we hit Hwy 44 and turn on to Hwy 44A, which should take us right into Mt Dora, Norb decides that he just doesn’t feel comfortable riding on such a busy road with no shoulder. We stop at a BP, I check out a detailed local map to see if there is a different way to get there, we get some ice cream, eat it and decide to head back ‘home’. I call Shawn to see if he can figure out why the iPhone is not cooperating and he has no clue.
Once back at the RV park, I check out the pool and hear people playing euchre. When we check it out, we learn that a lesson is going on. We ask about bid euchre and one of the men there volunteers to give us a quick lesson. You need 6 people to play and you bid on the number of tricks you are going to take. Looks interesting.
When we get back to the RV I check the iPhone again. Nada on the maps. I do an update and voila! the maps are back again. Grrrr! I also go to mapmyride.com to see how far we have ridden—18 miles. The roads in mapmyride aren’t the same names we saw on the road OR the ones the iPhone used. Really frustrating. We relax, I update the phones and sync them, we take showers, it’s all quite mundane and generally uninteresting. After dinner we play cribbage and go to bed. Not much to write about, but very relaxing.
Most of the people in this park come here for the winter; some have been coming for 20! years. Everyone we talk to assumes that we are going to stay the rest of the winter. They can’t imagine why we would be moving on tomorrow. But, of course, we are the smallest thing here.
The roads don’t match the names on the iPhone so we stop to take a reading. The iPhone will only show us a blue dot in the middle of a gray background—no roads, nada. We move out from under the tree. Nada. I know that the iPhone knows abouts these roads because it sent me here! There are 5 bars so it’s not a reception problem. I check the settings. Nothing there that I can see to change.
When we hit Hwy 44 and turn on to Hwy 44A, which should take us right into Mt Dora, Norb decides that he just doesn’t feel comfortable riding on such a busy road with no shoulder. We stop at a BP, I check out a detailed local map to see if there is a different way to get there, we get some ice cream, eat it and decide to head back ‘home’. I call Shawn to see if he can figure out why the iPhone is not cooperating and he has no clue.
Once back at the RV park, I check out the pool and hear people playing euchre. When we check it out, we learn that a lesson is going on. We ask about bid euchre and one of the men there volunteers to give us a quick lesson. You need 6 people to play and you bid on the number of tricks you are going to take. Looks interesting.
When we get back to the RV I check the iPhone again. Nada on the maps. I do an update and voila! the maps are back again. Grrrr! I also go to mapmyride.com to see how far we have ridden—18 miles. The roads in mapmyride aren’t the same names we saw on the road OR the ones the iPhone used. Really frustrating. We relax, I update the phones and sync them, we take showers, it’s all quite mundane and generally uninteresting. After dinner we play cribbage and go to bed. Not much to write about, but very relaxing.
Most of the people in this park come here for the winter; some have been coming for 20! years. Everyone we talk to assumes that we are going to stay the rest of the winter. They can’t imagine why we would be moving on tomorrow. But, of course, we are the smallest thing here.
Saturday, February 7, 2009
Manatees, Barbecue and RVs--Saturday, February 7
Belgian waffles for breakfast. One waffle maker and 7 people means that it takes a while, but it was free. What the heck. We head south, cross the Suwanee River and go into the Fanning Springs State Park. Two manatees—mother and child—in the spring and mullet jumping all over the place. Exciting morning. Water is down, the bald cypress knees are way above water. Lunch at Mulberry’s Barbecue. While we wait for our ribs we read the various articles posted on the wall. One handwritten sign lists all the things in the US that have been sold—the Congress, the ports etc. But we can’t figure out how they came to the conclusion that the ACLU sold the Bill of Rights. Seems to us that they have been protecting it. The sign (presumably erected by the owner) chides the reader to support the Fair Tax and save the USA.
Reading an article it seems that the Fair Tax is 20% VAT and the logic is that you won’t have all this recordkeeping and a $100 item will cost $100 because the tax will be included. What they don’t seem to realize is that a $100 item will cost $120. And that there will be lots of recordkeeping. But I guess it’s better to keep it sounding simple. At least Florida doesn’t include the rebel flag in their state flag.
As we pass through Ocala we see a sign for a RV Show. Can’t resist. We try to find the route. Ms Garmin can’t locate it, a person we accost has no idea where the Florida Horse Park is, so we stumble on. Lo and behold, there is the road! We go south about 7 miles—the address is still Ocala—and find it. We check out the various versions of our RV, the 24 and 25 foot copycats, to see what they have improved and what isn’t as good. I do like the sealed burners on some of them and a few have granite countertops (1/4” thick but still granite). The best of the lot is by Guest House, but it is $130,000!!! Not likely. We do get some ideas about things we can do to ours, and I manage to sell a couple of people on the Navion before we leave.
It is 6 by the time we arrive at our home for the next two nights and the gate is closed. A woman appears at my window, identifies us, goes to get our information and let’s us know that if we go out, we must have an escort to our site when we come back in. This park is for 55+ and has over 300 sites. We settle in, make supper, and decide on a quiet night.
Reading an article it seems that the Fair Tax is 20% VAT and the logic is that you won’t have all this recordkeeping and a $100 item will cost $100 because the tax will be included. What they don’t seem to realize is that a $100 item will cost $120. And that there will be lots of recordkeeping. But I guess it’s better to keep it sounding simple. At least Florida doesn’t include the rebel flag in their state flag.
As we pass through Ocala we see a sign for a RV Show. Can’t resist. We try to find the route. Ms Garmin can’t locate it, a person we accost has no idea where the Florida Horse Park is, so we stumble on. Lo and behold, there is the road! We go south about 7 miles—the address is still Ocala—and find it. We check out the various versions of our RV, the 24 and 25 foot copycats, to see what they have improved and what isn’t as good. I do like the sealed burners on some of them and a few have granite countertops (1/4” thick but still granite). The best of the lot is by Guest House, but it is $130,000!!! Not likely. We do get some ideas about things we can do to ours, and I manage to sell a couple of people on the Navion before we leave.
It is 6 by the time we arrive at our home for the next two nights and the gate is closed. A woman appears at my window, identifies us, goes to get our information and let’s us know that if we go out, we must have an escort to our site when we come back in. This park is for 55+ and has over 300 sites. We settle in, make supper, and decide on a quiet night.
Friday, February 6, 2009
Florida at Last--February 6
We get up early—7:30. Pack up, say our goodbyes, and pull out. We decide to take the scenic route along the ocean. We join Hwy 98 and ride it all the way. It’s truly amazing how long it can take to go 350 miles! We leave at 8:30 and get to our destination, Perry, at 5:30. Okay, so we do dawdle. We stop to check out a Penny’s along the way; Norb needs some new briefs and there are few Penny’s in our area. I also splurge on some colored socks. Yahoo! We eat lunch in the parking lot, feasting on leftovers. I truly love this RV!
We find a shop on the ocean where they are offloading a boatload of Apalachicola oysters. We aren’t particularly fond of oysters, but we do love shrimp, so we get a pound of the largest. We also splurge on some horseradish in hopes of pepping up the sauce we bought in Gulf Shores. Norb is all for just putting the horseradish in ketchup and giving up, but I think the sauce we have can be redeemed.
We pull into Perry, which has about a thousand motels (some out of the business but many still open; lots of “American owned” signs, which put me off, not that we are their target market anyway but still…) The guidebook says that the only reason to stop in Perry is because you are tired of driving, which is exactly why we are stopping in Perry. We don’t want to drive all the way to Umatilla. You can’t really understand how big this country is until you start driving it. We have driven 320 miles today and that’s essentially the distance west to east in the Florida panhandle (okay, plus a little bit). It got up to 60 today but is going back down to the upper 20’s tonight, they say. Tomorrow, tomorrow, there is warmth ahead.
We find a shop on the ocean where they are offloading a boatload of Apalachicola oysters. We aren’t particularly fond of oysters, but we do love shrimp, so we get a pound of the largest. We also splurge on some horseradish in hopes of pepping up the sauce we bought in Gulf Shores. Norb is all for just putting the horseradish in ketchup and giving up, but I think the sauce we have can be redeemed.
We pull into Perry, which has about a thousand motels (some out of the business but many still open; lots of “American owned” signs, which put me off, not that we are their target market anyway but still…) The guidebook says that the only reason to stop in Perry is because you are tired of driving, which is exactly why we are stopping in Perry. We don’t want to drive all the way to Umatilla. You can’t really understand how big this country is until you start driving it. We have driven 320 miles today and that’s essentially the distance west to east in the Florida panhandle (okay, plus a little bit). It got up to 60 today but is going back down to the upper 20’s tonight, they say. Tomorrow, tomorrow, there is warmth ahead.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Line Dancing and Singing--February 5
We start the day off with a line dancing class. I finally learn the Electric Slide. Some of the dances are easy, some are complex but it’s all fun. And exercise! The teacher, Joe, and Norb are the only men there; most of the people in the class have been doing this for 6 weeks so far and they are patient with us. After an hour and a half we call it quits and o outside to see the new RV’s a dealer has brought in. One of them is a copy of ours by Fleetwood so we compare what we like and don’t like. Not enough better things to make me want to change. Lunch (hot dogs, hamburgers, chips, soda) is provided by the RV dealer so we have another chance to socialize. We meet Tom from Sheboygan, WI and his wife. Tom worked for Kohler and spent half the year in China for about 5 years. We discuss China and other places we have all visited. His wife worked the phones for Obama. Needless to say, we feel like kindred souls.
We take the bikes out again to check out the campsites at the state park. They rejected us last month when I tried to reserve a space for these 3 days, but we count at least 20 open spots, and we don’t even ride the whole park. Maybe people canceled because of the cold? The sites are larger at the state park, they have even more activities, and you can reserve for a whole month. First time I have seen a state park where you can stay more than 2 weeks. We go back down to the seaside highway and check out the dunes again. The sand is so soft and white; it’s like the sand in Cancun. I can see why people love these beaches. On the way home we stop at Waffle House and get crispy, crunchy hash browns (crispy, crispy, crispy ones). Norb gives the cook an additional tip.
Once back in camp after our 20 miles ride, we check out the air in the tires. The Accutire gauge dies on us and we can’t figure out how to open the battery case. I go on line, but they don’t seem to be carrying our model any more. Norb uses another gauge and discovers that the inner tires are REALLLY low. He puts me in charge of finding an RV place that can fill them when neighbors on either side of us ask, “What do you need?” And, of course, they have just what we need. People really are friendly and helpful. We have yet to find anybody in this park who hasn’t been coming here for at least 3 years. And everyone is surprised to find out that we are leaving so soon.
Tonight is jam session night. But jam session means that there are song books and 4 musicians and a program. Everybody (well, at least it seems like everybody) sings along to spirituals, folk songs, country and western songs, and pop songs. Quite a mix. One woman plays the hammered dulcimer and 3 play mountain dulcimers. It’s more a singalong than a jam session, but it’s delightful nonetheless.
We take the bikes out again to check out the campsites at the state park. They rejected us last month when I tried to reserve a space for these 3 days, but we count at least 20 open spots, and we don’t even ride the whole park. Maybe people canceled because of the cold? The sites are larger at the state park, they have even more activities, and you can reserve for a whole month. First time I have seen a state park where you can stay more than 2 weeks. We go back down to the seaside highway and check out the dunes again. The sand is so soft and white; it’s like the sand in Cancun. I can see why people love these beaches. On the way home we stop at Waffle House and get crispy, crunchy hash browns (crispy, crispy, crispy ones). Norb gives the cook an additional tip.
Once back in camp after our 20 miles ride, we check out the air in the tires. The Accutire gauge dies on us and we can’t figure out how to open the battery case. I go on line, but they don’t seem to be carrying our model any more. Norb uses another gauge and discovers that the inner tires are REALLLY low. He puts me in charge of finding an RV place that can fill them when neighbors on either side of us ask, “What do you need?” And, of course, they have just what we need. People really are friendly and helpful. We have yet to find anybody in this park who hasn’t been coming here for at least 3 years. And everyone is surprised to find out that we are leaving so soon.
Tonight is jam session night. But jam session means that there are song books and 4 musicians and a program. Everybody (well, at least it seems like everybody) sings along to spirituals, folk songs, country and western songs, and pop songs. Quite a mix. One woman plays the hammered dulcimer and 3 play mountain dulcimers. It’s more a singalong than a jam session, but it’s delightful nonetheless.
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
A Quiet Day--February 4
The day dawns clear and sunny and cold—30 degrees at 8 AM. We spend the morning doing indoory things—laundry across the street, playing the piano, reading, listening to music. We work on the bikes. Norb wrapped the gears in saran wrap before we left home. Somehow our bike pump doesn’t seem to want to work; it will pump the tires up to 80 pounds and no more. Norb disassembles the pump a couple of times, oils the gasket, swears at the thing, all to no avail. Would you believe that we bought an electric tire pump along with us? Yesterday I asked why and we agreed that there was no earthly reason to have brought it. Today we disagree. We use it to pump up the tires. We lube the chains. We put on the pannier. And we are off.
There is a bike trail right outside the park that takes us east to Gulf State Park. We then go in the direction of the ocean, always tantalizingly close but somehow it seems we are never going to get there. Then all of a sudden the road veers to the right and we are at Hwy 182 which runs along the ocean. All of the buildings along the shore are empty, there are 3 restaurants that are open—Waffle House, Hooters, and Marks Seafood. The sand is white and fine, much like the sand in Cancun. Wonder what it’s made of?
When we stop at a restaurant to see if they sell shrimp, I talk to the manager. He tells me that May, June, July and August are their busy months. Today he served 250 for lunch; during the summer they typically have 800. I suggest it might be a little warm down here in the summer and he heartily agrees and adds, “And it’s really humid!” He says that most of the people here now are the snowbirds and they leave before semester break when the place is inundated with college kids.
We find a seafood store on the way back home and get a pound of shrimp for supper. It’s a day like few others we’ve had—no great site, no special plans. I sew a button back on, mend a shirt, watch a little TV, check things out on the internet. Shrimp for dinner then games at the clubhouse—poker and whatever. For me whatever is more euchre. Four of us play and it’s a chance to learn people’s story. One of the women at the table doesn’t even live in the park; she and her husband have a condo a few miles away. They lived here for a year and a half after selling all their household things in Arizona and planning to full-time in their RV. But they got here and one month turned into two and then three and the next thing you know it was a year and a half and they decided they didn’t’ really want to full-time after all, so they sold the RV and bought the condo. But by this time they had so many friends in the park—and most of these people have been coming here for years—that they spend a lot of time even now in the park. It’s the birthday of another person at the table and she keeps leaving to take calls from family and friends. She and her husband come down in December and will be here until April. The other woman at the table is a newbie—they have only come for the past 2 years.
There is a bike trail right outside the park that takes us east to Gulf State Park. We then go in the direction of the ocean, always tantalizingly close but somehow it seems we are never going to get there. Then all of a sudden the road veers to the right and we are at Hwy 182 which runs along the ocean. All of the buildings along the shore are empty, there are 3 restaurants that are open—Waffle House, Hooters, and Marks Seafood. The sand is white and fine, much like the sand in Cancun. Wonder what it’s made of?
When we stop at a restaurant to see if they sell shrimp, I talk to the manager. He tells me that May, June, July and August are their busy months. Today he served 250 for lunch; during the summer they typically have 800. I suggest it might be a little warm down here in the summer and he heartily agrees and adds, “And it’s really humid!” He says that most of the people here now are the snowbirds and they leave before semester break when the place is inundated with college kids.
We find a seafood store on the way back home and get a pound of shrimp for supper. It’s a day like few others we’ve had—no great site, no special plans. I sew a button back on, mend a shirt, watch a little TV, check things out on the internet. Shrimp for dinner then games at the clubhouse—poker and whatever. For me whatever is more euchre. Four of us play and it’s a chance to learn people’s story. One of the women at the table doesn’t even live in the park; she and her husband have a condo a few miles away. They lived here for a year and a half after selling all their household things in Arizona and planning to full-time in their RV. But they got here and one month turned into two and then three and the next thing you know it was a year and a half and they decided they didn’t’ really want to full-time after all, so they sold the RV and bought the condo. But by this time they had so many friends in the park—and most of these people have been coming here for years—that they spend a lot of time even now in the park. It’s the birthday of another person at the table and she keeps leaving to take calls from family and friends. She and her husband come down in December and will be here until April. The other woman at the table is a newbie—they have only come for the past 2 years.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Finally at the Shore--February 3
As we leave the campground our camp hostess stops us to check if our site was okay. We search for a Napa store; Ms Garmin can’t find it, but the iPhone can. Norb needs a socket to fit over our drain plug for the hot water tank. He needs to know that we can extract it again before we tighten it and fill the tank. We find a Napa in Demopolis and they have just what we need.
We travel the backroads of Alabama to the Mobile area, where we finally connect with an interstate. There is lots of water here! We cross the bay at Mobile and then head south for another 22 miles before we turn west to our RV park. We had tried to make a reservation at Gulf State Park. No go. We did get a reservation at Island Retreat RV Park in Gulf Shores. We check in, get a map, find out about everything going on (euchre tonight, a free cookout Thursday, a bike trail that goes right along the edge of the park) and head for our campsite. When we are ensconced we walk the perimeter and find that there are 2 other open spaces. The man parked next to us has been here since December and won’t head home to Michigan until April.
We go to the community center for Euchre. These people are all from the Midwest—Michigan, Illinois, Indiana, Ohio. There are 7 tables of 4 playing, and 2 ‘leftovers’. It’s a good way to meet the people in the park and have short, introductory conversations. You can tell a lot about people when you play cards with them, and we come away with an idea of who we might want to meet again. We walk home with Ed, our neighbor, and find out about good places to ride our bikes. Tomorrow they come off the back. I don’t care how cold it is. The weather has been a constant source of conversation because the forecast is for 28 degrees tonight.
Home again we play with connecting the TV to the cable, the first time this trip we have even thought about putting it on. But, hey, it’s there and it’s free. Now if only we had headphones for it so that I could read and Norb could watch.
We travel the backroads of Alabama to the Mobile area, where we finally connect with an interstate. There is lots of water here! We cross the bay at Mobile and then head south for another 22 miles before we turn west to our RV park. We had tried to make a reservation at Gulf State Park. No go. We did get a reservation at Island Retreat RV Park in Gulf Shores. We check in, get a map, find out about everything going on (euchre tonight, a free cookout Thursday, a bike trail that goes right along the edge of the park) and head for our campsite. When we are ensconced we walk the perimeter and find that there are 2 other open spaces. The man parked next to us has been here since December and won’t head home to Michigan until April.
We go to the community center for Euchre. These people are all from the Midwest—Michigan, Illinois, Indiana, Ohio. There are 7 tables of 4 playing, and 2 ‘leftovers’. It’s a good way to meet the people in the park and have short, introductory conversations. You can tell a lot about people when you play cards with them, and we come away with an idea of who we might want to meet again. We walk home with Ed, our neighbor, and find out about good places to ride our bikes. Tomorrow they come off the back. I don’t care how cold it is. The weather has been a constant source of conversation because the forecast is for 28 degrees tonight.
Home again we play with connecting the TV to the cable, the first time this trip we have even thought about putting it on. But, hey, it’s there and it’s free. Now if only we had headphones for it so that I could read and Norb could watch.
Aliceville German POW Camp--February 2
We continue to see lines of power trucks heading north and flat beds loaded with telephone poles. In Memphis we talked to a family from Kentucky that had come to Memphis because they didn’t have any power at home. Word is that another bad storm is heading toward the same area. We go to sleep Sunday night with rain on the roof and awake Monday to gray skies. The rain has passed on, but we take our time getting up. It is noon by the time we break camp, heading for Aliceville, AL where we plan to visit the Aliceville Museum, which has a German POW exhibit. Little Aliceville was about 2,500 souls when the POW camp opened in 1943. Some 6,000 Germans, most from Rommel’s Afrika Corps, and 1,000 US guards inhabited the town until the end of the war. The land was then sold off, buildings were carted off, the Germans were sent home, and it settled back to being 2,500 strong again. The museum has the story of the camp, items created by the German prisoners, news stores etc. We spend almost 3 hours there, chatting with the head of the board of the museum and a volunteer. I should say, Norb spends almost 3 hours. I tire after 2 and go out to the RV to read.
We are a day ahead of schedule since we couldn’t stop at our campground in the Missouri bootheel, so we decide to stop short of Mobile. Checking our Good Sam book we find a Corps of Engineers park near Demopolis, AL. Ms Garmin refuses to acknowledge its existence, so we flounder around for a while before stumbling upon it. The couple staffing the gate turn out to be interesting; they bid on the job, which is a year-long stint. They bid on how much they will get paid! Low bidder gets the job. They are leaving at the end of February for a new park because they were underbid on this park for next year. They work 4 days on, 4 days off, 6 AM to 10 PM. We ask how people find out about the park and he says it’s mainly word-of-mouth. It is possible to reserve on line but you need to know the park name to do it. He gives us brochures that show the various Corps parks in parts of the country, but I am puzzled as to how I will file them since they are by area, not by state. They give us a site right on the Tombigbee River, so that we can watch the barges go by. The cold front has moved in and by dark, when we are walking the campground, it is down to 45 degrees.
We are a day ahead of schedule since we couldn’t stop at our campground in the Missouri bootheel, so we decide to stop short of Mobile. Checking our Good Sam book we find a Corps of Engineers park near Demopolis, AL. Ms Garmin refuses to acknowledge its existence, so we flounder around for a while before stumbling upon it. The couple staffing the gate turn out to be interesting; they bid on the job, which is a year-long stint. They bid on how much they will get paid! Low bidder gets the job. They are leaving at the end of February for a new park because they were underbid on this park for next year. They work 4 days on, 4 days off, 6 AM to 10 PM. We ask how people find out about the park and he says it’s mainly word-of-mouth. It is possible to reserve on line but you need to know the park name to do it. He gives us brochures that show the various Corps parks in parts of the country, but I am puzzled as to how I will file them since they are by area, not by state. They give us a site right on the Tombigbee River, so that we can watch the barges go by. The cold front has moved in and by dark, when we are walking the campground, it is down to 45 degrees.
Sunday, February 1, 2009
Elvis, Elmwood, and A&R--February 1
We decide that it is finally time to put water in the RV. Once done we head for Graceland, just next door to where we are parked. It’s not really Elvis Presley RV Park; it’s Graceland RV Park. We could walk to Gracland, if we wished.
We opt for the Platinum Ticket—no pikers, we. It gets us into 6 different venues rather than just the mansion. We bypass the picture opportunity, get our audio guides, and board the bus to go across the street. The tour is done at your own pace; nice. You can move through as quickly or as slowly as you wish. It’s all downstairs, which consists of living room, parents’ bedroom, dining room, kitchen, basement rec rooms, and the jungle room. “The upstairs was Elvis’ private area and we wish to respect his privacy.” The house was called Graceland when he purchased it at 22; at that time it was out in the country. No more. He added on the Jungle Room but in all it is a pretty modest abode, by comparison with what we read about today. Vernon’s office behind the house, the trophy room with yards and yards of gold records and costumes, and the racquetball court are part of the mansion tour. It’s pretty tacky with shag carpet on the walls and ceiling of the jungle room, lots of stained glass and glitter. But somehow you can picture Elvis in these spaces. Boy, did he love mirrors—ceiling, walls, no floors, though. The graves of Elvis, his parents, and his grandmother are also part of this tour. I had read that his middle name was Aron (thanks, crossword puzzles), but the gravestone says ‘Aaron’. Turns out that he thought it WAS Aron but his birth certificate says Aaron. His death certificate says Aron, which led many people to claim that the ‘real’ Elvis hadn’t died.
We also tour the Lisa Marie, the airplane he bought and outfitted for a million dollars. It features a living room, study/bedroom, Elvis’ bedroom, and 2 half baths. Not too shabby. He kept a pilot and crew on call 24 hours a day and once flew to Colorado so Lisa Marie could play in the snow for 15 minutes. He also flew a group to Denver for peanut butter sandwiches.
Roadfood.com recommended A&R for Memphis barbecue; their slogan, “Anybody can take the heat 2 the meat, but only a few can barbecue.” In true Memphis fashion, it comes with slaw on it, but we get a side of slaw anyway. Good barbecue, but Hecky’s is better.
Last stop in Memphis, Elmwood Cemetery. It is noted for its 4 sections: Confederate, Union, black, and white. It is one of thoese arboretum cemeteries with huge old trees and huge old monuments. Lessons learned: don’t try to take an 11’ RV into an old cemetery with overhanging trees. We try to follow the audio tour route (without the audio tour), figuring it was the most interesting but the trees do us in. We think we find a gypsy section because one of the gravestones has this 4 foot high drawing of gypsy caravans and a camp on it. We give up and head for Columbus, MS.
Ms Garmin is talking to us again, thanks to my update last night. My Mac is recharged. The sun is out. It is 60 degrees. Life is good. Once in Columbus, we look for a place to watch the Super Bowl. It is Club 509 on Main St, advertising 2 for 1 beers. Mississippi only allows beer sales on Sunday if you are a bar and not a resort. 509 has a tapas menu, perfect for watching the Super Bowl, and only 3 tables of watchers. And, hey, they have the 3D glasses so we can watch the half time commercial. What more could you ask for?
We opt for the Platinum Ticket—no pikers, we. It gets us into 6 different venues rather than just the mansion. We bypass the picture opportunity, get our audio guides, and board the bus to go across the street. The tour is done at your own pace; nice. You can move through as quickly or as slowly as you wish. It’s all downstairs, which consists of living room, parents’ bedroom, dining room, kitchen, basement rec rooms, and the jungle room. “The upstairs was Elvis’ private area and we wish to respect his privacy.” The house was called Graceland when he purchased it at 22; at that time it was out in the country. No more. He added on the Jungle Room but in all it is a pretty modest abode, by comparison with what we read about today. Vernon’s office behind the house, the trophy room with yards and yards of gold records and costumes, and the racquetball court are part of the mansion tour. It’s pretty tacky with shag carpet on the walls and ceiling of the jungle room, lots of stained glass and glitter. But somehow you can picture Elvis in these spaces. Boy, did he love mirrors—ceiling, walls, no floors, though. The graves of Elvis, his parents, and his grandmother are also part of this tour. I had read that his middle name was Aron (thanks, crossword puzzles), but the gravestone says ‘Aaron’. Turns out that he thought it WAS Aron but his birth certificate says Aaron. His death certificate says Aron, which led many people to claim that the ‘real’ Elvis hadn’t died.
We also tour the Lisa Marie, the airplane he bought and outfitted for a million dollars. It features a living room, study/bedroom, Elvis’ bedroom, and 2 half baths. Not too shabby. He kept a pilot and crew on call 24 hours a day and once flew to Colorado so Lisa Marie could play in the snow for 15 minutes. He also flew a group to Denver for peanut butter sandwiches.
Roadfood.com recommended A&R for Memphis barbecue; their slogan, “Anybody can take the heat 2 the meat, but only a few can barbecue.” In true Memphis fashion, it comes with slaw on it, but we get a side of slaw anyway. Good barbecue, but Hecky’s is better.
Last stop in Memphis, Elmwood Cemetery. It is noted for its 4 sections: Confederate, Union, black, and white. It is one of thoese arboretum cemeteries with huge old trees and huge old monuments. Lessons learned: don’t try to take an 11’ RV into an old cemetery with overhanging trees. We try to follow the audio tour route (without the audio tour), figuring it was the most interesting but the trees do us in. We think we find a gypsy section because one of the gravestones has this 4 foot high drawing of gypsy caravans and a camp on it. We give up and head for Columbus, MS.
Ms Garmin is talking to us again, thanks to my update last night. My Mac is recharged. The sun is out. It is 60 degrees. Life is good. Once in Columbus, we look for a place to watch the Super Bowl. It is Club 509 on Main St, advertising 2 for 1 beers. Mississippi only allows beer sales on Sunday if you are a bar and not a resort. 509 has a tapas menu, perfect for watching the Super Bowl, and only 3 tables of watchers. And, hey, they have the 3D glasses so we can watch the half time commercial. What more could you ask for?
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Checking Out Memphis--Saturday, January 31
The day dawns warm and sunny. We call Marilyn’s, talk to Hannah, and ask her to check for the plug in the outlet in the guest room. Yep, it’s there. We give her Aunt Flo’s address in Ft Myers. A little later Marilyn calls back and says that we have also left a flash drive; should she include in in the package? I’m glad we remembered the computer!
We use the iPhone to locate an RV parts store to replace our water filter so that we can fill up the water. First one is a dud. No filter. I call the second. We are in luck. We put the address in Ms Garmin and head off. While Norb is getting the filter I look for a nearby Radio Shack in hopes of getting a cable to fix the Garmin problem. Just down the street. About 100 yards south of…tad ah! We are in Memphis, after all. Graceland. We’ll come back tomorrow.
No fix for the Mac but we do get a cable for the Garmin and, while we are there, we buy some small speakers for the iPhone for our ocean voyage in March. The young man assisting us has been so helpful, giving us the address of the Apple store, trying to solve our problems, that I feel we owe him something.
Our first museum of the day is the National Ornamental Metal Museum on the banks of the Mississippi. Once part of a military hospital, the brick building has 4 small galleries with a variety of pieces, some large, some small, some abstract, some humorous (remind me to show you the pictures of a few of the Wallys). We watch them making a hammer for a bit, admire a commission of 80 beehive pieces that is being created for a commission, and wonder the grounds looking at various pieces. I liked the place very much.
Then we head for the National Civil Rights Museum, created in and around the Lorraine Motel, where Martin Luther King was killed. There is a special exhibit on important black women that has a very interesting video on Rosa Parks and the background on the bus case. The museum itself starts at the beginning and pretty much ends with King’s death. If you go, I recommend the headsets. It is almost overwhelming to be reminded again of how awful blacks were treated. The motto for the Birmingham sanitation workers strike was “I am a man.” To me that sums up the entire thing—blacks were treated as less than human.
Across the street in the former boarding house where Ray was when he shot King is another exhibit, essentially on Ray, the shooting, the aftermath, and the various theories around him. Did he act alone? How did he finance himself? Why did he do it? Etc. No answers, just a lot of questions.
It was 2:30 by the time we finish so we eat lunch in the RV, call the Apple store and are told that we need to make an appointment with a Genius to get our problem taken care of. So we set up a 6:45 appointment.
Then we head north to downtown Memphis. We find a place to park on the street and walk 4 blocks to the Center for Southern Folklore. Turns out to be a store with lots of CDs etc. The very friendly woman puts a very interesting video on the TV about Beale Street and southern musicians. I have a latte and we watch. Then we check out the Peabody Hotel. Reminds me of the Palmer House and the Drake Hotel in Chicago. Of course, we don’t have any ducks in our fountain in the middle of the hotel. Peabody Place turns out to be a big dud. All of the shops on the second floor are closed and many of the first floor shops are shuttered. It’s a dying mall.
Beale Street, on the other hands, is quite alive. I hadn’t realized that it was originally the center of black social life, but it was. We buy US flag pins at Schwab’s, which is the oldest store on Beale and still reeks of five-and-dime. We cross the trolley tracks to walk along the river for a while. Mud Island, which has a five block long replica of the Mississippi, doesn’t open until April, but we can see it laying out there so close.
We head for Germantown and the Apple store, some 22 miles away! Turns out to be a very upscale area, quite a contrast to Memphis. It’s 5:50 when we arrive, but we go in hoping we can solve the problem easily without waiting until 6:45. No luck. I am 8th on the list of people waiting to talk to a Genius, according to the monitor. We wander around. 45 minutes later, I am 7th. We find out that we need to check in, so we do. Norb is pretty annoyed by the fact that no one told us that we needed to check in. I settle on a stool to wait and he takes the cord and goes to talk to the store manager. To make a long story short, we walk out of there 5 minutes later with a new cord—complimentary. He really is very good.
We make the 22 mile drive back to Memphis and settle in to the Elvis Presley RV Park, right next to Heartbreak Hotel. I kid you not. Tomorrow, barbecue, the cemetery, and Graceland.
We use the iPhone to locate an RV parts store to replace our water filter so that we can fill up the water. First one is a dud. No filter. I call the second. We are in luck. We put the address in Ms Garmin and head off. While Norb is getting the filter I look for a nearby Radio Shack in hopes of getting a cable to fix the Garmin problem. Just down the street. About 100 yards south of…tad ah! We are in Memphis, after all. Graceland. We’ll come back tomorrow.
No fix for the Mac but we do get a cable for the Garmin and, while we are there, we buy some small speakers for the iPhone for our ocean voyage in March. The young man assisting us has been so helpful, giving us the address of the Apple store, trying to solve our problems, that I feel we owe him something.
Our first museum of the day is the National Ornamental Metal Museum on the banks of the Mississippi. Once part of a military hospital, the brick building has 4 small galleries with a variety of pieces, some large, some small, some abstract, some humorous (remind me to show you the pictures of a few of the Wallys). We watch them making a hammer for a bit, admire a commission of 80 beehive pieces that is being created for a commission, and wonder the grounds looking at various pieces. I liked the place very much.
Then we head for the National Civil Rights Museum, created in and around the Lorraine Motel, where Martin Luther King was killed. There is a special exhibit on important black women that has a very interesting video on Rosa Parks and the background on the bus case. The museum itself starts at the beginning and pretty much ends with King’s death. If you go, I recommend the headsets. It is almost overwhelming to be reminded again of how awful blacks were treated. The motto for the Birmingham sanitation workers strike was “I am a man.” To me that sums up the entire thing—blacks were treated as less than human.
Across the street in the former boarding house where Ray was when he shot King is another exhibit, essentially on Ray, the shooting, the aftermath, and the various theories around him. Did he act alone? How did he finance himself? Why did he do it? Etc. No answers, just a lot of questions.
It was 2:30 by the time we finish so we eat lunch in the RV, call the Apple store and are told that we need to make an appointment with a Genius to get our problem taken care of. So we set up a 6:45 appointment.
Then we head north to downtown Memphis. We find a place to park on the street and walk 4 blocks to the Center for Southern Folklore. Turns out to be a store with lots of CDs etc. The very friendly woman puts a very interesting video on the TV about Beale Street and southern musicians. I have a latte and we watch. Then we check out the Peabody Hotel. Reminds me of the Palmer House and the Drake Hotel in Chicago. Of course, we don’t have any ducks in our fountain in the middle of the hotel. Peabody Place turns out to be a big dud. All of the shops on the second floor are closed and many of the first floor shops are shuttered. It’s a dying mall.
Beale Street, on the other hands, is quite alive. I hadn’t realized that it was originally the center of black social life, but it was. We buy US flag pins at Schwab’s, which is the oldest store on Beale and still reeks of five-and-dime. We cross the trolley tracks to walk along the river for a while. Mud Island, which has a five block long replica of the Mississippi, doesn’t open until April, but we can see it laying out there so close.
We head for Germantown and the Apple store, some 22 miles away! Turns out to be a very upscale area, quite a contrast to Memphis. It’s 5:50 when we arrive, but we go in hoping we can solve the problem easily without waiting until 6:45. No luck. I am 8th on the list of people waiting to talk to a Genius, according to the monitor. We wander around. 45 minutes later, I am 7th. We find out that we need to check in, so we do. Norb is pretty annoyed by the fact that no one told us that we needed to check in. I settle on a stool to wait and he takes the cord and goes to talk to the store manager. To make a long story short, we walk out of there 5 minutes later with a new cord—complimentary. He really is very good.
We make the 22 mile drive back to Memphis and settle in to the Elvis Presley RV Park, right next to Heartbreak Hotel. I kid you not. Tomorrow, barbecue, the cemetery, and Graceland.
Friday, January 30, 2009
Leaving Springfield--Friday, January 30
We eat breakfast and help Marilyn and Dennis put the TV credenza back together (Norb and Dennis were up until 1 AM taking it apart last night to take off the doors and stain it and ready it for a new TV today). It is 10 before we are on the road and we instantly notice that Ms Garmin is not talking to us today. Once on I-55 I look at the settings and, voila, it tells me that no voice can be found. In technie tradition, I reboot, hoping that will solve the problem. No go. Using Norb’s iPhone I get the number of Garmin telephone support from their website and call. Seems the only solution is a download. Of course, I haven’t brought the right cables along and we don’t have internet access while driving, so it will have to wait until we are ensconced for the night. We bypass St Louis, crossing the Mississippi at Jefferson Barracks. Diesel is only 14 cents more than regular gas. We are happy.
We keep looking for more information on road conditions south of here and when we stop for lunch they have wifi so I get the computer out. We find out that I-55 is open through the bootheel but all of the sideroads from exit 99 south in Missouri are closed because of downed power lines due to the ice storm. We call the casino campground we were planning on staying at in Caruthersville and learn that there is no power in the RV park. We decide to go on to Memphis.
As we drive north signs by the road warn us that there is no gas or food or services from exit 99 south. Almost like entering a theater, after we pass exit 99 the trees and shrubs are coated with ice inches thick. Thousands and thousands of trees are broken off, some laying near the highway. We stop counting electrical power line repair trucks after we pass 100. Lines lay down all along the road, no lights, desolation. We had planned to stop in Sikeston at Lambert’s, home of the throwed roll, but, sorry, Marilyn, there’s no way they were going to be open. Besides the road is closed.
We pass into Arkansas and the ice gradually diminishes, the temperature goes up, and we only see repair trucks on the road heading north. We decide on the West Memphis KOA, which is really near Marion and about 10 miles from Memphis. It is really in the middle of nowhere. We shop at Kroger, get a roasted chicken and some cole slaw, take it back to the campground and make supper. We are warm and safe and home for the night.
I settle in to write this blog and, when I get the computer out, discover that I have left part of the plug for the Mac in the outlet in Springfield. Curses! We call and ask them to mail it to Aunt Flo. That means that I am going to have to figure out something to do until them to power the Mac.
We keep looking for more information on road conditions south of here and when we stop for lunch they have wifi so I get the computer out. We find out that I-55 is open through the bootheel but all of the sideroads from exit 99 south in Missouri are closed because of downed power lines due to the ice storm. We call the casino campground we were planning on staying at in Caruthersville and learn that there is no power in the RV park. We decide to go on to Memphis.
As we drive north signs by the road warn us that there is no gas or food or services from exit 99 south. Almost like entering a theater, after we pass exit 99 the trees and shrubs are coated with ice inches thick. Thousands and thousands of trees are broken off, some laying near the highway. We stop counting electrical power line repair trucks after we pass 100. Lines lay down all along the road, no lights, desolation. We had planned to stop in Sikeston at Lambert’s, home of the throwed roll, but, sorry, Marilyn, there’s no way they were going to be open. Besides the road is closed.
We pass into Arkansas and the ice gradually diminishes, the temperature goes up, and we only see repair trucks on the road heading north. We decide on the West Memphis KOA, which is really near Marion and about 10 miles from Memphis. It is really in the middle of nowhere. We shop at Kroger, get a roasted chicken and some cole slaw, take it back to the campground and make supper. We are warm and safe and home for the night.
I settle in to write this blog and, when I get the computer out, discover that I have left part of the plug for the Mac in the outlet in Springfield. Curses! We call and ask them to mail it to Aunt Flo. That means that I am going to have to figure out something to do until them to power the Mac.
Out with the governor, Thursday, January 29
As one of the state senators said today, “It’s not that this governor has made Illinois a national joke, it’s that he has hurt the economy of local communities.” We get to the Capitol at 9:20 today and the Senate galleries were packed already. Of course, once you get the press in there and the friends and families of senators, there are 45 seats left for others. There are 12 people ahead of us in line outside the gallery; we have some interesting conversations with those around us; Norb and I are interviewed by Marianne Ayers of WMAQ, Chicago; but we don’t get into the gallery. Word is that the people already in there can stay as long as they want. If they get up to go to the bathroom, they lose their seats. We figure that the chances that 12 people out of 45 are going to do this by the time the Governor speaks are pretty low. So we head down a floor and explore the capitol.
Word spreads that he is going to be coming down the hall and up the elevator to the Senate chambers so everyone takes up a position on the railing overlooking the hall. Next thing you know word comes down that he is in the Senate. We go down to the basement cafeteria where they are broadcasting his appeal to the Senate. We listen and shake our heads in disbelief at his approach—basically, he says, I should be forgiven any wrongs because I did them to help the sick and the children and the elderly. Also, you shouldn’t impeach me because it would be so embarrassing to my children. Amazing.
We leave to go to lunch and out the west door where his SUV is sitting and the photographers are poised to catch Blago as he departs. I have had enough so I head to the car and wait. The SUV pulls out and drives to the south door, with photographers in hot pursuit. As it turns out, we see Blago come out of the building and into the car. Big deal!
We are told that Lt Gov Quinn and the Illinois supreme court justices are standing by to swear in a new governor. Also word is that the governor was quick to get on the plane back to Chicago while he still had a state plane at his beck and call. Each of the senators gets 5 minutes at speak—all 59 of them. We watch the vote on the TV and, I must admit, are amazed that it is 59 to 0.
We watch the Weather channel to see what is going on south of us, trying to figure our where the terrible ice storm has hit and how that affects our travel path. Even on the internet we can’t figure out what is going on. They are predicting anothing big storm coming in next week. We are planning to be south of it all by Tuesday, and hope that we don’t have a rough time getting through the storm area.
Word spreads that he is going to be coming down the hall and up the elevator to the Senate chambers so everyone takes up a position on the railing overlooking the hall. Next thing you know word comes down that he is in the Senate. We go down to the basement cafeteria where they are broadcasting his appeal to the Senate. We listen and shake our heads in disbelief at his approach—basically, he says, I should be forgiven any wrongs because I did them to help the sick and the children and the elderly. Also, you shouldn’t impeach me because it would be so embarrassing to my children. Amazing.
We leave to go to lunch and out the west door where his SUV is sitting and the photographers are poised to catch Blago as he departs. I have had enough so I head to the car and wait. The SUV pulls out and drives to the south door, with photographers in hot pursuit. As it turns out, we see Blago come out of the building and into the car. Big deal!
We are told that Lt Gov Quinn and the Illinois supreme court justices are standing by to swear in a new governor. Also word is that the governor was quick to get on the plane back to Chicago while he still had a state plane at his beck and call. Each of the senators gets 5 minutes at speak—all 59 of them. We watch the vote on the TV and, I must admit, are amazed that it is 59 to 0.
We watch the Weather channel to see what is going on south of us, trying to figure our where the terrible ice storm has hit and how that affects our travel path. Even on the internet we can’t figure out what is going on. They are predicting anothing big storm coming in next week. We are planning to be south of it all by Tuesday, and hope that we don’t have a rough time getting through the storm area.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Leaving Home--Wednesday, January 28, 2009
We started packing on Monday. We have 3 lists: 1 for ‘going away’, includes things like cancel the newspaper, stop the mail, get someone to cut the grass/shovel the snow, etc; 1 for things that are already in the RV; and 1 for things we need to take to the RV. Problem is that we aren’t as neurotic as we should be about the last two, keeping them up to date. So sometimes things that are supposed to be in the RV aren’t, and things that we should take to the RV are already there. For example, we have a thing for our bed called a Travasak. It has zippers along the side; thing a big sleeping bag. But it has sheets that Velcro in on the edges so they don’t slip around. Couldn’t find the darn things. I ended up taking along another sheet but hoping that the right sheets were in the RV. They were, so now we have an extra pair of sheets. Rather have them than not though.
It really didn’t take us 2 days straight to get ready. We had to plan the trip, finalizing some dates and deciding if we needed to make reservations. As it turned out, we couldn’t get into the Gulf State Park Campground in Gulf Shores, AL. Full up. So we made reservations at private RV park. We are also planning to spend 4 days on Jekyl Island and when I tried to get reservations on line they said to call the park and maybe they would have a space. Well, luck held, they did. So we have 4 days on Jekyl Island reserved. The rest we will wing and hope.
We also spent time loading books onto iTunes so that we could load them on to the iPhone. Taking disks and books back to the library. And all the other things that one decides suddenly need to get done because you are going to be gone for a month.
We gather all the stuff in the front room. Got to find a better way, though, perhaps keep doubles of things and put them aside for the RV. We are getting better at it, but we have a long way to go. It is a bit different when we go away for a month than when we go away for a week.
We begin packing. Three inches of new snow means that I shovel the sidewalks before anything else. First the bikes go in. Last thing in are the batteries. We took out one of the seats and collapsed the back. Amazingly we fit everything in. Tucked the open wine in a small space behind the seat. Took along bourbon, vodka, beer, and Baileys. Also took a case of Squirt because it’s impossible to find outside of Chicago.
It’s 32 degrees inside the RV. I’m surprised it’s that high because it’s 11 outside. Norb has devised a method so that we can both lift the truck battery at the same time. It’s the coolie method, a long board that goes through the battery handles and a screw and a screw driver on either side of the battery handles to keep them from sliding along the board as we carry it. We lift, hoist, carry it to the front of the open engine compartment. Next step, we ease the wires out of the way. Ease isn’t exactly the word because everything is stiff from the cold. Okay, we push the wires aside. Ease in the battery. Norb attaches the various wires, climbs in the cab, crosses his fingers, and starts the RV. Yay!!! Next come the house batteries. More of a challenge. Have to pull the RV out of the space because the snow is up to the base of the steps and getting the brackets that hold the battery in place means lying on the ground. Who wants to lie down in a foot of snow? Once we get out into an open area in the parking lot, we are back in business.
We get those in with a comparative minimum of difficulty and that means we can turn on the heat. I start unloading the car and loading the RV; Norb works on the bikes. The foam topper for the bed is hard and stiff. I decide not to try to unfold it for fear it will crack into pieces. I retrieve the Travasak; joy of joys, the sheets are in there. Everything goes into its place. By the time we leave, the house has warmed up to 55. It’s a little space so it warms up fast, folks.We pay for our month’s storage and hit the road a little after noon.
Traffic is relatively light and the only problem is the sun glare off the snow. Once you get out of the metropolitan areas there are fields on both sides, white covered, gleaming in the bright sun. Why does the glare make you sleepy? We stop for lunch at Wendy’s. My usual Wendy’s buy is chili, baked potato, and a frosty—each 99 cents. Would you believe they have raised the prices to $1.39 each?
We change drivers about halfway and I bring us into Springfield and Marilyn and Dennis’ home (Norb’s sister and brother-in-law). Seems that the decision to stay a few days in Springfield is a good one because there are serious storms south of here.
It really didn’t take us 2 days straight to get ready. We had to plan the trip, finalizing some dates and deciding if we needed to make reservations. As it turned out, we couldn’t get into the Gulf State Park Campground in Gulf Shores, AL. Full up. So we made reservations at private RV park. We are also planning to spend 4 days on Jekyl Island and when I tried to get reservations on line they said to call the park and maybe they would have a space. Well, luck held, they did. So we have 4 days on Jekyl Island reserved. The rest we will wing and hope.
We also spent time loading books onto iTunes so that we could load them on to the iPhone. Taking disks and books back to the library. And all the other things that one decides suddenly need to get done because you are going to be gone for a month.
We gather all the stuff in the front room. Got to find a better way, though, perhaps keep doubles of things and put them aside for the RV. We are getting better at it, but we have a long way to go. It is a bit different when we go away for a month than when we go away for a week.
We begin packing. Three inches of new snow means that I shovel the sidewalks before anything else. First the bikes go in. Last thing in are the batteries. We took out one of the seats and collapsed the back. Amazingly we fit everything in. Tucked the open wine in a small space behind the seat. Took along bourbon, vodka, beer, and Baileys. Also took a case of Squirt because it’s impossible to find outside of Chicago.
It’s 32 degrees inside the RV. I’m surprised it’s that high because it’s 11 outside. Norb has devised a method so that we can both lift the truck battery at the same time. It’s the coolie method, a long board that goes through the battery handles and a screw and a screw driver on either side of the battery handles to keep them from sliding along the board as we carry it. We lift, hoist, carry it to the front of the open engine compartment. Next step, we ease the wires out of the way. Ease isn’t exactly the word because everything is stiff from the cold. Okay, we push the wires aside. Ease in the battery. Norb attaches the various wires, climbs in the cab, crosses his fingers, and starts the RV. Yay!!! Next come the house batteries. More of a challenge. Have to pull the RV out of the space because the snow is up to the base of the steps and getting the brackets that hold the battery in place means lying on the ground. Who wants to lie down in a foot of snow? Once we get out into an open area in the parking lot, we are back in business.
We get those in with a comparative minimum of difficulty and that means we can turn on the heat. I start unloading the car and loading the RV; Norb works on the bikes. The foam topper for the bed is hard and stiff. I decide not to try to unfold it for fear it will crack into pieces. I retrieve the Travasak; joy of joys, the sheets are in there. Everything goes into its place. By the time we leave, the house has warmed up to 55. It’s a little space so it warms up fast, folks.We pay for our month’s storage and hit the road a little after noon.
Traffic is relatively light and the only problem is the sun glare off the snow. Once you get out of the metropolitan areas there are fields on both sides, white covered, gleaming in the bright sun. Why does the glare make you sleepy? We stop for lunch at Wendy’s. My usual Wendy’s buy is chili, baked potato, and a frosty—each 99 cents. Would you believe they have raised the prices to $1.39 each?
We change drivers about halfway and I bring us into Springfield and Marilyn and Dennis’ home (Norb’s sister and brother-in-law). Seems that the decision to stay a few days in Springfield is a good one because there are serious storms south of here.
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