Antisocial Adventures

Posted May 2, 2017 by peepinggator

Two introverts and an Airstream hit the road. This is our travel blog. It reads bottom to top, oldest posts on the bottom

On the Road and Back to PG

Last night was our last night on the road before getting back to clap an eyeball on our seemingly-unscathed-by-Irma domicile. We stayed again at Reed Bingham SP, rolled in around 5, took a nice long walk in the Gopher Tortoise Preserve there, and headed to town for dinner (sick of cooking, didn’t want to mess the kitchen up).

Yelp suggested Don Julio’s Mexican Restaurant as being the best of the cuisine to be had in fast-food plagued Adel, Georgia.

The food and service were very good (yay!), but they didn’t serve alcohol on Sunday in that county, so no margaritas (boo!).

So we went back and rested, then cleaned up the Airstream in anticipation of putting her back in storage when we got home.

The next day, we drove through Florida to get home. As soon as we crossed the state line, we could see wind damage along the highway. Almost all the billboards were shredded-

-which was better than having to see all those strip joint and religious advertisements.We waited so long to get back that we didn’t have any trouble with gas shortages, or restaurants being closed because of no electricity. We saw lots of electric company trucks and even a convoy of tree trimming trucks with Maine license plates on the highway.We dropped off Shiny Thunderfloor. Check out this sign across the street from our storage- FCF11

Then we headed to the house to see what was what. You could see wind damage on some houses. Mostly there were large, organized piles of branches and trees in front of everyone’s house.Luckily, the house really did have no damage, not even the pool cage. but our garden took a beating. We had some downed branches, stripped fronds and leaves, and lost four white Birds of Paradise. FCF12

Here’s our hurricane pile of downed vegetation. A photo doesn’t really capture how huge it is. But it could have been WAY worse.

Kind of a scary reason to tale a camping trip, but we made the best of a bad situation, and we are so grateful we have ST to shelter in, our home away from home.

Fall Creek Falls Fall Birthday

I’ve posted a couple of times about the redundantly named Fall Creek Falls SP in Tennessee before, since it’s on the way home from a lot of places we go.

We booked one of the last full hookup spots online, and were a little concerned since we’ve run into trouble a few times before at this park with steep or grossly uneven sites that require Seussian structures under the tires or stabilizers to level off.

Well, this site in loop D was surprisingly peachy keen. We got in on one go, and only having to use one set of rubber levelers. The site wasn’t spacious, and it was across from the bath house but the way it was laid out was pretty private. The fire ring, grill and awning area were almost gawker proof.

The park had cute little harvest whimmydiddles on all the site signs, which as a Fall freak, I appreciated.

We made Dannyburgers and relaxed that first night, drank Blanton’s Bourbon discreetly from tumblers-

and slept way in the next day, which was my birthday.

We spent the day taking a 3 mile hike, looked at one set of falls, which I suspect I’ve posted a picture of before, but just in case-

There were a lot of people in the park and on the trails, but it always does my heart good to see families out in the woods, without their faces glued to their phones.

When walked back through the campground, there was a large family sitting out by their camper which had a big “Happy Birthday” banner up. We said hi, I told them it was my birthday too and we all exchanged hearty birthday greetings. Sweet. Almost made me feel sociable.

The rest of the daylight was spent reading, relaxing and napping. Heaven after such long drives and worry and hectic times.

Dinner (chicken curry) was prepared at the picnic table in a leisurely way while we built the fire and watched it burn down. Here’s P’s cheerful stirring shot-

I enjoyed consuming my birthday cake, too.

We All Recline Down Here

Sept 13 was our last night in Cincinnati and the night before the eve of my 47th birthday. We went out to eat with family and to see It at the local theater.

It is my favorite Stephen King novel; I’ve read it at least three times. So I was super excited to see this latest film adaptation of Pennywise the Dancing Clown, and the Loser’s Club.

I love movies, but I’m not much of a theater goer, you know, antisocial and all, and I don’t like to see phones shining in the dark and hear people conversing, takes me right out of the story.

Well. This type of theater is a game changer.

Reclining seats with plenty of room between and set up so you can’t see the people in the row in front of you AT ALL. Not even if they wear a ten-gallon hat, not even if they have a phone you can see from space.

My sister in law was in the row above and got this snap of P and me and my BIL Mike.

I think we look like we’re getting fitted for coffins. Which is apropos for the movie we were seeing.It was a lot of fun, the experience and the movie. My antisocial ass would get out to the theater more if we had one of these theaters near us.

Many Little Treasures

Today was the first day since we hit our hometown that we had any downtime at the Airstream. We slept in a little, and took a 5 mile walk. We intended to hike, but the trails were sloppy mud troughs churned up by horse hooves.

So we found a nice new paved bike path off the campground road which was blessedly free of bicyclists and even other pedestrians and had a lovely autumn walk.

It was, as the Irish say, a “fine soft day’, Hurricane Irma effects had made it all the way to Ohio and she kissed our cheeks with an intermittent fine drizzle.

East Fork SP won’t make any top ten lists for natural beauty, there are some mature tree sections of forest that are nice and it’s kind of hilly, but a lot of scrub tree and brush areas too. But there are many little treasures to be found on a drizzly autumn day in SW Ohio.

Such as Black Eyed Susans, otherwise known by the less romantic name Ox-Eyed Daisies-

A few other Florida evacuees enjoyed the lake-

Thistle, which makes me think of my Dad. He loved thistles because of the Scottish legend of the “guardian thistle”, in which a barefoot marauder steps on a thorny thistle and hollers in pain, giving away the position of the band of invaders. I never see one without thinking of Padre.

This busy fellow-

And finally, my prize at the end, this impossibly purple leaf-

There will be plenty of fiddle and fuss in getting back home, so I’m grateful for this respite afternoon with so much beauty, big and small, to fortify us for the road ahead.

No Worry, No Hurry

We pulled into East Fork Lake State Park Sunday afternoon. Site 52, which we have had twice before. As usual, the spot across from it was taken and their vehicle was at such an angle that it made backing in awkward. We have had a lot of trouble in the past with site 52 to get straightened up, usually having to take ten or so back and forths and a blue streak to get in, with “neighbors” sitting outside and watching.

This time when we arrived, the prerequisite gawking neighbors were in place as usual. A Bob Ewell-esque fellow got out of his folding camp chair and stood up, and stared slack-jawedly with a “I’m going to give you advice” stance. He didn’t make the usual gawker pretense of acting like he was reading a book and glancing up over his glasses. He was blatant.

And Pete got it backed in on the first try! Take that, Gawky Gus!

We spent that day with family at their homes, watching Irma advance on CNN on big screen TVs instead of Pete’s phone. There was a lot of mention of that 12 foot storm surge in Punta Gorda, and live predictions of doom and destruction by a saturated Anderson Cooper.

Around 8 pm or so, Irma went down to a category 2, and the eye went over Punta Gorda with only 74 mph winds. Despite Charlotte Harbor being drained early in the day, the water returned gently. The news felt like running for days from a speeding locomotive, and it suddenly runs out of gas and barely touches the toe of your shoe just as you’re cornered against the cliff.

Two weeks of being on pins and needles, and about three days of abject terror, and Punts Gorda was mostly spared. Irma, I apologize for calling you a bitch. But the Caribbean islands probably have some strong words for you.

The next day, our friend Galen who rents our dock texted us and sent us a few pictures of the house, with it looking like any other day, except the canal water was up to the top of the seawall. I’m so grateful to him for sending us those photos. We can breathe easy that the house and our neighbors are OK. I feel so bad about all the damage to other areas. Irma was a big ol mess.

So, Shiny Thunderfloor is ensconced at East Fork for a few more days, while we wait for Florida to get the gas shortages and electric figured out (We have electric at the house) so we can drive home. In the meantime, we can visit with family and friends without the constant nagging worry that our home has been destroyed.

Worry and Worry

Yesterday was spent watching news on our phones. Our data plan is wiped out but Verizon sent us a text stating they would give all the hurricane evacuees free data until 9/11. I hope they do, because between Pete’s obsessive hurricane model watching and my obsessive Farmer Michael and Southern Mama watching to take my mind off the aforementioned news, we’re hitting the data pretty hard.

Irma has stopped vacillating for the most part, now she’s seemingly made up her mind and decided Punta Gorda will be directly hit. P’s news started out saying one foot storm surge, wait, three foot storm surge, oh wait, six, no twelve foot storm surge in PG. Oh, and something about a 15 foot “wave” of water.

In other words, PG is fucked. I hope my few remaining storm braving neighbors stay safe. And since I’m hoping, I hope nothin super bad happens there at all. But when CNN flies Anderson Cooper to Fort Myers, it don’t look good, gang.

Before we left, we installed a little surveillance camera with motion detector in the living room. This morning, we got on the app and listened. I can’t describe how creepy it is to look at your peaceful looking living room and hear bangs and whistles and the wind gibbering like a manic insane conversation outside.

So, we are waiting waiting waiting for Monday morning and hopefully we can learn the extent of the damage, load up on supplies and head back on the long ass drive “home”.

Today we will begin our stay at East Fork State Park in Batavia, OH, which is where most of our families are. And waiting. And worrying. And eating Gold Star Chili.

Worry and Whisky

Irma is one vacillating bitch. P checks the latest models on the path of the storm all day long, and now the eye is projected as going practically right over our city.

Good time for a distillery tour! The Willett Bourbon distillery is just down the road from where we are staying, and as we are good and sick of driving, we thought we’d stick close by.

I know we’ve posted at length about these tours before, so here are a few photos and facts that make Willett distinct-

They have the sour mash fermenting vats wide open. one can lean over, sniff, and even

stick one’s finger in and taste all the different stages of fermentation. This particular vat will have to be thrown out, as P sticking his finger in it has made it way too sweet. 😉

Here’s some barrels and a rickhouse- (I called it a “rackhouse” last post, I’d like to meet this Rick guy)

And the attractive Italian made bottle of single pot still Willett bourbon we bought at the local liquor store ($15 cheaper than the gift shop!).

When we got back to the campground, I explored the abandoned playground and found this creepy clown inviting you to swing, we all swing down here (Stephen King’s It movie opened yesterday so I found this fitting)-

…and if that weren’t creepy enough, you can always climb onto the headless version-

And I guess it’s the bourbon talking, but this big dude on little motorcycle amused me to no end, so I’ll end the post with that- oldkybike

Enjoy!

A Nine Hour Five Hour Drive

Whew, what a day. Siri had our drive to Bardstown, KY today as being 5 hours long. Our head start ran out and the road was packed with Floridians, gas stations had lines, stopped traffic, accidents, and lots of crazy Florida style driving skills were displayed. (No, really. We live 3 miles to the Publix at home and see some kind of crazy, dangerous driving move EVERY time we go to the store. Florida drivers suck.)

Including this self proclaimed crazy cat lady that whipped in front of us and then slammed on her brakes while we were all going 65 mph. We managed not to hit her, but it was close. Here is a photo of the car, that almost killed us, on the world wide web for posterity. May the fleas of a thousand cats infest the driver’s armpits. As I assume they already do.

Yes, I realize we are also fleeing the storm, and are drivers with Florida tags. But that’s different, because it’s us. 😉

Here’s a little sample of slap-happy humor from the road-

Pete (spots a busted up port-a-potty lying on the side of the road) “Someone lost their port-a-potty.” Kellie- “That’s a shitter.” Ha!

Anyhow, we made it to My Old Kentucky Home State Park in Bardstown in nine hours, starved and exhausted. I am grateful we got our spot here, and we love the area, but boy, was it hard to back into the short, tight spot, with lots of LookeeLoos scrutinizing smugly from under the awnings of their already-parked rigs.

You can see better in this pic that the electric and water are super far away, and we are a little in the dirt trying to reach them. The electric cord juuuussst reaches, but we had to use two hoses to get to the water.

We heated up the jambalaya, bolted it down, and are chilling watching the ever running Big Bang Theory marathon that’s the staple of the few channels we seem to get at campgrounds.

Anyway, exhaustion and short sites aside, Irma hasn’t reached our house yet, the weather here is a glorious 68 degrees and clear, and there are bourbon rack houses just over the hill.

Worries and Curries

So, kind of good news, for us, at least, Irma seems to be wanting to turn to the east in most models. We spent the day driving to our next destination, watching Michael the Farmer YouTube videos and tracking that damned hurricane. Oh, and obsessively inventorying our abandoned possessions and trying to hide the fact that we are doing so from each other and putting on the brave face.

After enduring no real traffic issues in Atlanta, only a few text distracted drivers, we arrived at the lovely Red Top Mountain State Park, in Georgia, not Tennessee, as I stated in the last post. (forgive me, my formative geography years were spent in Christian school, which means I can find Jerusalem on a map, but not Bethlehem, Pennsylvania.)RTMSP is only a few miles from 75, but oh, what a difference from that accursed crowded highway. Mature forests, a crystal clear lake, friendly staff, and every RV camper’s favorite phrase, “pull through”.

Here is the obligatory shot of Shiny Thunderfloor in her spot, #10-

You’ll have to imagine the piney scent for yourself, I assure you it is wonderfully pungent.

The temperature was in the seventies, which felt positively crisp to our Florida blasted sensibilities. I was unreasonably excited to open the windows in ST, and as my late father would say “blow the stink” off the Airstream.

We got settled in, and went for a hike on the 3.5 mile Sweetgum Trail, which was a “true moderate” 😉 undulating gently through mature forests with peeps of the lake and a byway leading to historic structures, which you know I love. Here is a “dog trot” cabin-

named for the fact that a dog can trot unimpeded through the center. Here is a shot of a broom on the porch, just because I liked it-

Later, we cooked a shrimp, Andouille, and chicken jambalaya in the Dutch oven.

OK, it’s not curry. But it rhymed with worry, and it’s really difficult to rhyme “jambalaya” with anything.

Evacuees

I haven’t blogged on Antisocial Adventures in a long time. Shiny Thunderfloor was being repaired for months to fix the crappy range hood and “popping” metal plate under the floor (thunder floor). Then we had some family and business issues and most of our travels were related to non happy events.

Welp, this trip is an adventure, and more than likely just as antisocial as usual, but the purpose for this one is- FullSizeRender (6)

Meet Irma. A category 5 hurricane with 185 mph winds, and four hundred seventy miles wide. We watched the projected paths for a few days and when it seemed inevitable that we would be impacted hard in SW Florida, we gathered some belongings, sentimental, valuable and practical, put stuff high up in the house, pulled the hurricane shutters and bugged out six days before the first real storm effects will be felt.

We went to Walmart the night before we left to pick up some plastic bins, and entered on the pharmacy side where the bins were. As we walked toward the grocery side, I remarked to Pete- “They’re out of water”. He asked how I knew. I said “I just saw a family of four walk by with an eight pack of Evian”. Sure enough, all that was left in the water aisle was a few bottles of Voss. Times weren’t that desperate in Punta Gorda to start hoarding designer water.

It was easy to pack the valuables and practicalities, a lot harder to pick one bin of my sentimental stuff. I can’t believe I only took 5 books, two that my parents had inscribed to me, and my signed copy of Angela’s Ashes. And, no squeakers were left behind-

I know one shouldn’t get attached to material things, but oh, I SO hope the contents of the house will be spared. All of Pete’s paintings, my old hickory rocking chair, so many memories attached to those material things. Irma, feel free to bash the hell out of the outside of the house, but please don’t trash the inside stuff!

That being vented, I am so grateful for Shiny Thunderfloor, our home away from home we can take with us almost anywhere. Our first stop is Reed Bingham State Park in northern Georgia, about which is the last blog entry I made on here.

We settled in easily, due to level pull through, and headed to Walmart to pick up groceries. Not super crowded, but also out of water! I thought when we crossed the border out of Florida, the panic would be over.

Our plan is to spend one night at Red Top Mountain SP in Tennessee, and then we have five days booked in Bardstown, KY. We plan to drown our sorrows in bourbon, and not our bodies in storm surge.

Repose in Reed Bingham State Park 8/25/2016

Today was a long drive, six hours or so, and we accidentally got a late start because we were in a different time zone and didn’t realize it.

We selected Reed Bingham State Park near Valdosta, Georgia from the ReserveAmerica website based on its closeness to 75, it cut the mileage back home almost exactly in two, had full hookups and glowing TripAdvisor reviews. It’s our last night of the trip, but we were pretty much looking for a practical place to crash on the long drive back.

I must say we were pleasantly surprised. RBSP is charming. There’s a big lake-

-volleyball court, horseshoe pit, trails, a gopher tortoise preservation area, bikes to rent, snack shop, and a real miniature golf course-

(Obvious Internet photo) -like I remember from when I was a kid, with little barns and wishing wells and loop-de-loops. Not like those boring green putt putt courses with no obstacles. Unfortunately, we were in too late to get the balls and clubs to play.

Our reserved site was up a little hill, and we had to try four times to back in. Our neighbors across the way were sitting out and watching the whole process. I bet they said “That boy sho’ is a backin’ in fool”.

Once we got up though, the site was level and clean, and had a splendid live oak shading all-

Right outside of the park entrance was The Catfish House.

We had to give it a go. Inside was surprisingly posh compared to the bayou style exterior-

-with lots of animal heads staring down at you.

We were greeted by our server and this delight was set on the table before us-

HEL-lo! Color me happy! We each got the salad bar, which was small but immaculately clean and the veggies were all freshly cut. The tomatoes, what can I tell you, so, so ripe and wonderful.

Pete ordered Southern Fried Quail-

-of which there were three, and I got shrimp and grits-

Each entree was around $15, and the portions were HUGE. We were both stuffed from the salads already and I’m sad to say, ate less than half of our entrees.

When we got back to the park, we walked the gopher tortoise trail in twilight, but saw neither gophers, tortoises, nor gopher tortoises. But it was pretty, with Longleaf pines and live oaks overhead and sandy pine straw underfoot.

We are now sitting in TS,

I’m doing the blog and Pete is watching MeTV in the bedroom. Sounds like the Happy Days episode when the Fonz jumped the shark.

Tomorrow is our last day out. It’s a five hour drive according to the map, which means at least six hours with stops. If anything interesting happens on the way, you’ll read about it in Antisocial Adventures!

Camping Hiking Camping in Fall Creek Falls 8/25/2017

So the journey toward home began in earnest yesterday. We have tried to make our overnight stops in interesting parks, but we have done all the sightseeing that we planned on.

We picked the unimaginitvely named Fall Creek Falls State Park in Tennessee for our next to last night. It’s a pretty park, and large, but the site we selected online was a real bear to get into. The angle was weird, and lots of obstacles in the way including a non movable stone picnic table and an 8 inch drop from the blacktop if you come in crooked.

We did get in after about 5 goes. It turned out the blacktop was slanted so despite our parking boards, we were tilted a little.

Still, it was a spacious site. And lots of deer wandering around-

We drove around to check out the rest of the park. FCF has a general store, a snack bar, a lake, a pool, a restaurant and lodge, which is one of the uglier buildings we have ever seen-

(Internet photo), zip lines, playgrounds, gorges, and, you guessed it, a creek and falls.

Here is the Fall Creek Falls from the observation point-

And the gorge-

And the sign about them if you want to read it-

Then we spied the “path” to take you to the bottom. I use quotation marks because it was more like an ankle bending boulder scramble, .4 miles straight down-

The view at the bottom was pretty sweet though-

Even with our mugs in the photo-

Steep, rocky paths make P happy.

As does big climbing boulders-

I have to say, we passed two young ladies at the bottom who were on their way up, and two young ladies near the top going down as we were going up. The descending ladies told us we “made it look easy” (they saw P first, then my sweaty ass ten paces behind), then at the top, we ran into the other pair of ladies who said “Did you guys run up? We’re about dead!” . Now, I only mention this because it’s the first hike I’ve ever been on where someone didn’t say (to me, as I sweat and pant) “you’re almost there! It’s worth it!” Maybe I’m getting a little better at the uphill hiking. Or maybe it was a fluke. At any rate, I’m going to pretend they were talking to me too and not just Pete. It might be true!

The hike to the second falls, Piney Creek Falls, was similar but way shorter. Here they are, all 75 feet feet of them-

Then we hiked to the suspension bridge over Piney Creek Gorge. We both dearly love a suspension bridge.

It’s higher than it looks.

Imagine either one of those lurching figures coming at you from across a dark wooded bridge.

Of course we ran on the bridge and rocked it and did the Short Round “safe bridge Dr. Jones!” impersonation from Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom.

Here is a codependent couple from the trail-

And a giant stone foot-

Then we stopped at Millikan’s Overlook, named in honor of Dr. Glen Millikan, Vanderbilt physiologist, who fell to his death in a climbing accident in May , 1947. Cheery. But very pretty-

The overlook is also called Buzzard’s Roost. Which also makes one ponder what might have befallen the unfortunate Dr. Millikan post-fall.

Back at Shiny CrookedFloor, we made Chicken Tikka Masala in the Dutch oven. I took the photo just as P was removing a spatula, and you can see the ghost of it in the upper left of the pan-

An speaking of spirits-broke the seal on Pete’s bourbon baby-

Notice the liquid is going slightly uphill. That’s how slanted we were. Which makes bourbon drinking and the aftermath a tad more challenging. But we soldiered on.

Fall Creek Falls turned out to be pretty awesome despite the poky name and slanted site. We would go back. And bring bigger leveling boards. Or just more bourbon so we don’t care about being crooked.

Bourbon! 8/23/2016

Today we set off to tour some bourbon distilleries. We plugged Maker’s Mark into SIRI, and the roads she took us down got narrower and narrower.

SIRI took us out in the boonies, we found out later there was an easier way, but we were whiskey-bent and we got there eventually.

Just roll that on down to Punta Gorda.

Maker’s Mark is remote, in a beautiful holler with a creek running through it. The visitor center incorporates the founder’s house-

I could sit on that verandah for eternity. I think it would benefit from a coat of haint blue on that ceiling, though.

Our tour guide was Lee.

Lee had a good speaking voice, and led the tour like he had enthusiasm for the product, and without seeming fake or like he was reciting a script. What a difference a good tour guide makes.

Bottles being filled with sweet, sweet bourbon-

This one’s a corker-

Every bottle is hand dipped in red wax-

And sent through a little cute house-

That’s a picture of Margie Samuels, her husband Bill Samuels Sr. came up with the whisky recipe, she came up with the name, bottle design, individual red wax seal, label design and even the font used on the label. Margie rocks.

We hit the week where the distillery room is closed for maintenance, of course. Here’s a photo of the outside-

And one of the barrel houses, built in the 1930s, where the bourbon ages and soaks up white oak barrel goodness-

The grounds and buildings are all beautiful, notice the bottle shapes on the red shutters-

And here is the gorgeous glass sculpture ceiling that they had renowned artist Dale Chihuly do for the distilleries 60th anniversary.

But nothing’s as beautiful as that tasting sampler at the end of the tour-

On our drive out, we passed a big bunch of huge MM barrel houses. I tried to take a photo on the fly, and ended up with this kinda cool photo (unfiltered)-

We were on our way to the Jim Beam American Stillhouse, but since we didn’t have time for a singing tour of Federal Hill at My Old Kentucky Home, stopped in to take a couple of snaps.

Here’s one with the sign if you want to read it-

And took another step toward rounding out Pete’s Bardstown experience-

-though we didn’t spill any on the car seat.

We arrived at Jim Beam-

-and joined a distillery tour. Here’s our guide Kayla

fixing to let us try the “white dog” (whisky before aging), named because it will “bite you in the ass”. It’s basically moonshine. We got to run our finger under the tap in that barrel then lick it. I’m assuming the alcohol sterilizes your finger…

We were invited to stick our face in a fermentation vat-

WHEW! It cleared your sinuses and stung your eyes. We all took turns sniffing and laughing at the faces everyone made when they sniffed. I thought “yeah right, they’re all being dramatic for a laugh” until it was my turn. LAWDY. It’s like when you have a sudden belch when you drink something highly carbonated and it burns your throat and eyes. I made just as bad a face as the rest!

Kayla had one of the tourists pour some Knob Creek bourbon right out of a barrel-

-and passed around a cup of it to smell and stick in a finger to taste it. Neither Pete or I stuck in a finger, although I assume the alcohol kills the germs…

We went on to the bottling area, where you can bottle your own Knob Creek bourbon. Pete opted in. Bourbon makes him a team player, and he didn’t have to say “knob” to get to do it.

First, you wash the inside with bourbon-

I’m looking into having this sink installed in Shiny T-

Here’s P’s bottle getting filled-

Then getting sealed with wax-

And Pete putting his thumbprint on the top in the wax, like all the cool kids were doing-

Kayla asked if he’d done this before. Ha!

Here’s a huge spider web we noticed in the bottle locker building-

-and a huge bottle that is sold overseas because the US won’t allow such a big bottle to be sold-

Pete’s hand is for scale. And he wanted to touch the forbidden bottle.

Boarding the bourbon bus to go to the tasting room. All smiles.

A baptist church slap in between two bourbon barrel aging houses-

Holy spirits!

Mila Kunis’ barrel-

And the high tech tasting room! We got three samples apiece and you used a little card to get them out of the dispensers-

Both tours were highly informative and educational. I could spout bourbon facts until the cows come home but I’ll spare you. Allow me one factoid-there are six million barrels of bourbon in Kentucky at any given time. That’s more barrels than people. That’s 1.5 barrels per Kentucky citizen. They need it more here, with all those Ken Hamm museums in this state. 😉

Maker’s Mark was more about the painstaking process, history and exclusivity of the bourbon. Jim Beam was more industrial but the tour was hands on, dip your finger in this, inhale the fumes from that, etc. We enjoyed both tours equally.

We relaxed back at the trailer for a while, and made a new friend, a friendly yellow kitty-

He made himself at home-

So, in conclusion, Pete got really close to experiencing what I did on my first trip to Bardstown, bourbon, mild sauce, but a cat instead of a bat. Close enough.

Queen City to Bourbon Capital 8/22/2016

After four days of visiting family and taking care of business in Cincinnati (some of said business being stocking up on Kroger’s oval cut dill pickles and Grippo’s Barbecue chips), we headed to Bardstown, Kentucky.

First, we gave Shiny ThunderFloor a bath, with magic rays of sunshine contributing.

She was looking rather unshiny and dusty. Better now.

It was a little less than three hours drive. We made it to My Old Kentucky Home State Park without a glitch. It’s a small campground, and about a third full. I’d say there are twenty RVs here and five Airstreams among them. This is the first time in 22 days we have not been the only Airstream in the park.

Behind our site is the first tee of the MOKH golf course,

which looks beautiful. You can hear the THWACK of all the old duffers teeing off pretty constantly. If they hit Shiny with a ball, you will hear the THWACK of my fist upside a visored head.

I walked up to the clubhouse to have a look, and sat and rocked on their porch in an excellent heavy rocking chair. It is a beautiful day.

My Old Kentucky Home that the park is named for is the state song of Kentucky, written by Stephen Foster.

He likely composed the song after having been inspired by the narrative of popular anti-slavery novelist Harriet Beecher Stowe’s Uncle Tom’s Cabin. It’s believed he was referencing imagery witnessed on his visits to the farm called Federal Hill in Bardstown.

The mansion is the centerpiece of the park, and they offer daily tours with singing tour guides. I haven’t tried yet, but I feel P will draw the line at a tour with singing guides. I may have to solo on that one.

Bardstown is the Bourbon Capital of the World, and was also voted Most Beautiful Small Town in America (their capitalization, not mine). Internet photo!

I have been here once for a haunted tour, this is the town where a bat flew into the side of my head and landed stunned on the street, and where I also had a little too much bourbon and spilled Taco Bell mild sauce on the back seat of my friend Amanda’s new car. I love Bardstown! I’ve been waiting to take Pete here so he can have his own bat, bourbon, and mild sauce experiences.

After a little rest at the campground, we drove up to the Old Talbott Tavern. It dates back to 1779, and is the “oldest western stagecoach stop still in operation” (Bardstown is a town of superlatives, oldest this, biggest that, drunkest this, etc). Lots of famous people visited there, including Daniel Boone, and Jesse James. They got around. Another internet photo alert!

We went into the bar to get a bourbon flight-

This is Pete’s excited-about-bourbon face.

We tried Bow & Blade, Jefferson Ocean, Old Fitzgerald 12 year, and Woodford Reserve. I liked the Old Fitz best. Pete liked the big clear drink you drank in between best.

We went to eat at the restaurant there, and there was a 15 minute wait, so we looked around upstairs. I had been up there on the ghost tour years ago, and our group got some words on an Ovilus and the lights had flickered in this room-

This is the Jesse James room, it used to have murals on the walls but I think they were damaged in the fire in the 1990s. There are bullet holes in the walls.

This is me in the no doubt haunted loo-

We got seated, and shared a Sidecar –

Pete got the local favorite, Burgoo, which is a spicy stew. This is his eating-burgoo face-

I got Kentucky Hot Brown, toast points with turkey, ham, and bacon smothered in mornay sauce (Bechamel sauce with Gruyere cheese). When in Kentucky… I did remember to get a snap before I inhaled it.

When we got back to the campground, we could hear some live music in the distance. We walked through the golf course to try to get closer. Here’s some shots from on the way-

The closer we got, the clearer the music became, it was fifties and sixties standards, some of my favorite music in the world. We found our way to the venue, and it was The Monarchs playing at the Stephen Foster Ampitheater-

We walked back to a soundtrack of Roy Orbison and Johnny Mathis covers.

It’s another gorgeous night, cool and not humid.

Tomorrow we will tour some bourbon distilleries. Then we will only need to find a clumsy bat and hit up a Taco Bell to round out Pete’s Bardstown experience.

Cincinnati and Airstream Factory Tour 8/19/2016

We are back in our hometown, Cincinnati Ohio for a few days to visit family and get a little business done. There are no viable campgrounds in or near Cincinnati. Except for East Fork State Park in Afton. The park has tons of spaces, with electric, but only about 20 full hookup sites. The ladies at the office are super friendly and helpful, which is a far cry from the “service” we had in Geneva.

We could only book two nights with full hookups. The hookups and picnic table are new, but that’s the only good thing I can say about the shadeless, narrow site. The blacktop is barely wider than the trailer. And it’s a cicada year, so they were waiting.

We had a late dinner at El Coyote with family. El Coyote is an eastern Cincinnati institution, serving huge portions of TexMex food. I ate way too much and was awake half the night, listening to the cicadas beating their heads against the trailer windows.

Today we are headed to the Airstream Factory in Jackson Center, Ohio with Pete’s parents, Dan and Debbie.

I had a stop to make first. I haven’t had a new pair of running shoes in 6 years, and there’s no better place than Bob Roncker’s Running Spot in O’Bryonville.

They measure both feet, film you on a treadmill to study your gait, they are very, very thorough. A young lady named Taylor helped me. It takes some patience, as anyone who has ever shoe shopped with me can attest. My left foot is a size 8EE, my right foot is a 9D. So yes, Taylor deserves a medal. I scored a perfect pair of New Balance shoes, and we had a $20 reward in the computer from when we bought shoes over four years ago. Run, don’t walk, to The Running Spot if you need new kicks!

It’s wonderful to be in Cincinnati for a few days, and no one loves their hometown more than I do. I wish I wasn’t allergic to it. We walked through fields and valleys of goldenrod and ragweed for the past 18 days, in six states, with no usual seasonal allergy effects, but as soon as we hit the Ohio River Valley, both of us got sore throats and drainage issues. Oh well, nothing a little Gold Star Chili won’t cure.

It was a long drive to Jackson Center, about two hours. When we got to the Airstream factory and walked in to sign up for the tour, we were directed to a cute little bar-

and I got excited thinking we were going to get an Airstream themed cocktail, but alas, it was only for filling out tour forms.

The tour lasted an hour and fifteen minutes, and while the guide was agreeable enough, the spiel was a tad dry. Also, we had once again hit a tour on a non production day. The most exciting part was when a lady got stung by a wasp before we went into the factory. Still, it was interesting to see some of the process of making these fine campers, and hear some of the history.

Here are a few vintage trailers they had outside,

the silver one on the right was the first one manufactured, the guide didn’t open it because it was boiling with wasps inside and we’d had plenty of wasp drama. The gold one

is one that the inventor of Airstream, Wally Byam designed during the 1956 Airstream Wally Byam European Caravan. His wife Stella collaborated on the design. The floorplan that they came up with was christened “Stella’s Dream Trailer.” They took it on a publicity caravan all over the world.

We were allowed to take photos on the outside, but none in the factory. I totally didn’t try to be slick and break that rule and totally didn’t end up mostly getting a photo of my alleged finger-

A shot of P with an International that’s the same model as Shiny ThunderFloor-

We were required to wear closed toe shoes, so pardon my low top hikers/skirt combo here.

They had a pretty sweet gift/parts shop, and I stormed that castle, oh yes I did.

After a dinner at one of our old haunts Hibachi Master and some MSG and sake fueled family fun assembling a desk at Dan and Debbie’s condo, we headed back to our assembled-with-pride-in-Jackson-Center-Ohio gem, where the full moon

and the cicadas awaited.

NY, Interstate 90 to Geneva State Park, Ohio 8/17/2016

All but eight miles of our trek today is on interstate 90, which is speedy but boring to look at. I read Facebook articles to Pete, read billboards, we curse at the erratic or slow drivers. I try not to use my phone too much for my own entertainment because It’s not fair to Pete and you know, there’s reality outside the windows. The mind wanders, though.

We were passing Buffalo, NY, which made me think of Buffalo Wings, which led to thinking about Frank’s Red Hot Sauce, our all time go-to hot sauce. When we had our tall Victorian house in Cincinnati, we had three big bottles, one for every floor, with a gallon jug in the basement to refill them. I got to wondering about the origins of FRH. Was it invented in Buffalo? Or Louisiana?

Nope, it was invented right in our hometown of Cincinnati. Not five miles from the aforementioned tall house, at the Frank Tea & Spice Company.

So there’s another Cincinnati-bred export besides Skyline Chili, ice brewed beer and Charles Manson.

We have passed several signs reminding us that we have been driving through the Erie Canal region, provoking the earworm of the day -🎧 I’ve got me a mule and

her name is Sal, fifteen miles down the Erie Canal 🎧. You’re welcome.

Another sight was a couple of kids standing in front of the window of the pedestrian bridge over the highway at a travel plaza, waving and using the childhood universal “blow your horn, truck driver” gesture. Every time they’d get a truck to honk they were so happy and excited. I didn’t know kids did that anymore. Cute.

We drove through Pennsylvania and then to Ohio, lots of vineyards, and you could just make out Lake Erie on the horizon sometimes.

We pulled into the parking lot of our next reserved park, Geneva State Park in Geneva-On-The-Lake, Ohio. We walked up to the office to register, and this older woman was just locking the door. She avoided eye contact, and there was a list posted of what site belonged to whom taped to the window. I ignored her back and started to skim the list. An older gentleman behind me expressed dismay that the office was closed and asked the lady how they would know what cabin was theirs (he obviously didn’t see the list). She snapped at him, saying “The one that’s open with the keys on the table inside”. He was asking more questions when she said “If you’re going to a place like this, you should know the information.” They bantered back and forth for a minute, with the old man being as reasonable as she was being hostile. I thought “damned if I’m going to ask her anything and ruin my day”. I still have PTSD from LoLo Mai in Arizona and their resident bitch.

I found our name on the list and we got to our spot with little trouble. Thank goodness because there was no one to ask for help.

What it lacks in beauty, it makes up for in levelness. It was a one-try back in too. Yay us!

Interesting neighbors in the tree beside us, too-

It’s about 14×12, our neighbors house, and hangs above the picnic table.

We walked to get a gander at Lake Erie-

That’s a Great Lake.

We drove into Geneva On The Lake to see what’s what. It’s a vintage little tourist trap town, lots of fried food, game rooms promising skee-ball and “foosball”, tiny water slide parks, zip lines over parking lots.

This photo doesn’t nearly represent what the town looks like. It’s kind of like a permanent state fair midway.

There is a place to get an Effin Burrito if you’re so inclined-

And some entrepreneurs trying to establish a classy new brand-

They also had an arcade dedicated to “Fascination”. I remember being at an amusement park near Cincinnati called Lesourdsville Lake when I was a kid, and they had a barker outside a building trying to convince people to come in and play Fascination. Apparently, it’s something like skee-ball but smaller and played seated. Here’s a photo I ripped off the internet to illustrate Fascination-

Apparently it helps to have a mullet haircut.

Here’s one of those kinky sounding Ohio ice cream places I was blogging about yesterday-

So now we are settled in for the night in our level yet hornet-y spot. Hell, at least it has full hookups.

New York, Adirondacks, Green Lakes State Park 8/16/2016

I feel a little sheepish sometimes as a travel blogger because I am not quick enough on the draw with the camera. We see some cool sights but rolling along at 55mph isn’t conducive to getting that quick snap. Also, when we are hauling Her Shininess, we can’t stop on a dime or pull into some places because we might not fit or be able to turn around. So I’ll mention some stuff we saw or nearly saw in New York State today and we can use our imaginations/photos ripped from the ‘net to fill in the details.

In Lake Placid, we flashed by a sign that pointed out how to get to the famed abolishionist John Brown’s burial place. Despite deep interest by half the parties in the truck to see his final resting place, we didn’t have the chance to stop. So we didn’t get to see where John Brown’s Body lies a mouldering in the grave, but I understand his truth goes marching on anyway.

In Chittenango Falls, NY, we drove by this faded and rusty sign-

We were barely getting Shiny T though the narrow streets, but even if we could have made it to the Oz Museum, today is Tuesday and they are only open on Friday and Saturday. Skunked again. I kept my head on a swivel to try to see other Wonderful Wizard of Oz references in the town, a statue, a park, something, but alas, they don’t seem to celebrate Mr. Baum much in his hometown. To be fair, we didn’t get to go all over, and maybe he was a jerk when he lived here, I don’t know. We did see this wonderfully tacky tribute to the man on the outskirts of town.

We drove through the Adirondacks again today, through towns next to mountain lakes. So many lakes. At some point, they must have ran out of names to rip off from the Native Americans and started naming them stuff like Fourth Lake, Seventh Lake, Blue Lake, I don’t know, Wet Lake? They were all beautiful, and looked something like this-

The towns were cute, and full of dregs of summer tourists. They lacked the charm and tidiness of the Vermont towns to me, but I’m totally prejudiced.

We haven’t seen many wild animals on this trip, but today we saw a deer, several flocks of turkeys including babies, and a sodden woodchuck in the rain on a grassy median. The woodchuck was not holding a cider like the ones in Vermont would have been. But he was really cute.

No moose, naturally. I don’t think they exist.

Here’s a random note about ice cream. In Cincinnati, they call the ice cream that comes twisting out of a machine “soft serve” or “dairy whip”. In Vermont, they call it “creemee”, and the signs on the ice cream shops in New York read “soft and hard ice cream”. Now you know. In case you’re ever on Jeopardy.

So anyway, we arrived at Green Lakes State Park around three. We were here last October and I blogged about it then, so I’ll spare you most of the fundamentals. This is the park where the Canadians invaded when we were cooking and our dinner got really burnt.

The park has added a whole new section to their campground, and it’s really nice, with new picnic tables and full hookups.

We got the rig settled and headed out to hike around the green lakes. This is one of my favorite attributes of the trails at Green Lake-

And the lakes are really really green and clear, of course.

I kept looking for that ginger merman who appeared last time here but he didn’t show.

Here’s an underwater photo, because we can-

Some more green lake photos-

I wish they’d let you swim in the lakes anywhere you want. It’s so inviting. They have swimming at the “beach” but it’s the ugliest part of the lake. They fine you $100 and up to five nights in jail if they catch you anywhere else. It might be worth the fine but I don’t want to go to jail. Although that would be a great story.

We got back to Shiny before a huge thunderstorm hit. It rattled the whole trailer and vibrated in the floor. Shiny was truly ThunderFloor at that point. I’m not sure how secure we should feel in a metal tube during a storm? But we weren’t worried. S. T. is stout, and has weathered some of the worst storms in Florida…

Until tomorrow (hopefully), adieu.

New York- Meacham Lake 8/16/2016

Three hours drive from Dorset, Vermont through drizzly Adirondacks-

-and we were at our next home for the night, Meacham Lake State Park. We had been here last October, and there was hardly anyone else camping then. Not the case this time, We got the last lakeside spot, only because someone left a day early. Of course there were plenty of spots that were wooded, but the lake spots are the best. M.L.S.P. doesn’t have any hookups, but it has the most spacious camping spaces we’ve seen.

We set up-

-which didn’t take long since there was nothing to hook up. It was in the low seventies, so we opened the windows for once, and most of the curtains and shades-

Usually we don’t open the shades because there’s nothing to look at but the side of the trailer next to us.

We couldn’t see the group next to us, but we totally could hear them. They were like North Woods Here Comes Honey Boo Boo. They shrieked and hollered and “conversed” like town criers. They belched lustily and hacked loogies loudly. I kept expecting to hear “ALANA!!! ” or PUMP-KIN, PUMP-KIN, PUMP-KIN!!” Made me homesick for my favorite show. They were having their bit of fun, and they got quiet when it got dark. I guess they went in their camper to holler.

There were some mallard ducks swimming by. We TOTALLY didn’t throw them pieces of hot dog bun-

I sat outside and read, and Pete took a nap. While I was reading, I saw a movement near my feet. It was a chipmunk. He was so close I got a little creeped out in case he ran up my leg. Cute little bugger.

Then we chopped up some wood with Sven (the hatchet)

And roasted hot dogs with Dorset farmer market sweet onions, pickle sliver and mustard laid on. Danged good.

Word got around about those hot dog buns we totally didn’t feed those ducks, because there were a couple of sea gulls that kept dive bombing around our picnic table and had to be shooed away.

Brace yourself for several sunset photos, trust that I held back from posting them all. It kept getting prettier and prettier-

Sunset with monkey-

When we toured the maple farm in Vermont, we got a little jar of maple cream.

This is like spreadable syrup. I’ve been contemplating what we have in the trailer to put it on. Besides a spoon. So hmmmm… We have a fire, what can I roast on a stick to use the cream on?

A bananer! Left in the skin so it would stay on the stick. The heat made the nanner sweet and sticky, then we popped it into a hot dog bun that had been toasted on a stick, with lashings of maple cream and some walnuts.

Necessity is the mother of invention, which is the catalyst for yumminess! After we inhaled it, I thought peanut butter might have been a good addition too.

Since we had no electric, we couldn’t run the air conditioner, but it was lovely and chilly, probably in the low sixties. You could hear loons on the lake all night. (the bird ones, not the ones next door). Cozy.

I woke up to rain drizzling outside and Pete making us egg, ham and cheese muffins. Not a bad way to start the morning.

Since there was nothing to unplug, we got started pretty much on time to work our way to the next park.

Vermont Day 9- Lye Brook Falls 8/14/2016

Our last day in Vermont. Sigh.

We spent it in Manchester, hiking to Lye Brook Falls. It is a 2.3 mile hike with a 900 foot elevation gain. This time we were prepared with water and rain gear in the little backpack Pete bought me last year. I have yet to wear it. Pete carries it or we go thirsty. He’s my pack mule. Mama don’t like to tote shit uphill. And the hikes are always uphill. In fact, I think Pete should write a guide book/start a guide service called Uphill Both Ways.

Anyhow, the trail. It was fairly gradually uphill, with medium rocks and scree.

Because of the rain last night, parts of it were like walking in a little creek. Wet scree. There were four creek crossings, nothing too strenuous.

There were a few people on the trail, but only one “you’re almost there!” from a nice lady. We weren’t past the hallway point yet.

Then we got to the falls. The photos won’t do it justice, as usual. –

It’s about 125 feet tall. I’ve seen a lot of waterfalls, and I’d have to rate this one in the top three for beauty. It’s hard to tell, but the rocks make little steps and the water looks, I don’t know, lacy.

Pete and falls-with my little pack-

On the way back, it started to rain. We were smug because we remembered our raincoats this time.

This is my favorite pic of this trip so far-

Here is a random stone wall up on the mountain for seemingly no good reason-

And the creek/trail going down-

A satisfying hike.

We did some chores back at S.T. to prepare for the move tomorrow, and had dinner (pizza place again, nothing open on Sundays).

On the way back we drove by my favorite sign again-

After dinner we took a walk to the quarry. It was spontaneous, so we didn’t bring the camera. We walked/scrambled over boulders and chunks of marble all the way around, and watched the last two kids of the day jump off the cliffs.

Here’s a closeup from the photos we took last week, though. Pete pointed out the old dude action shot-

Along the marble slab “fence” we saw four snakes. They were pretty little, about 12-16 inches long. I looked it up, it was a garter snake, like we had in Cincinnati that all the kids call “gardener snake”. They looked like this-

Cute little guys.

So we are leaving tomorrow. 😕. We have some cool stops to make on the way home and we are going to take our time, but I’m always sad to be pointed toward the end of the trip.

Vermont Day 8, Stratton, Jamaica, Rain 8/13/2016

We ran down to Stratton today to check out the ski village there. It was pretty, but had a snobby, trust fund baby vibe.

We were going to ride the gondola to the top, but there was a storm moving in so they shut it down.

We drove down Pike Falls Road toward Jamaica, Vermont. It’s named for the Natick word for beaver, not the Caribbean island.

Still, they must have colorful citizens there, even if they aren’t Rastafarians-

The rocky West River runs all down the gap and through the village. It was so hot and humid, I remarked that I wanted to wade in it.

Moments later, we saw the sign for Jamaica State Park, and pulled in. The friendly, tattooed ranger in the booth gave us some suggestions for trails. We chose the West River Trail, 2 miles beside the river on a converted railroad track.

There were “swimming holes” along the way. Vermonters are very into swimming holes, there are whole books written about the best ones and where to find them.

The first one on this river is called Salmon Hole, the site of the Salmon Hole Massacre where a group of French men and Native Americans ambushed British soldiers in 1748. Now have fun swimming, ya’al!

At the end of the trail is the Ball Mountain Dam, which is 265 feet high. We took all the dam pictures we wanted. Pete climbed and jumped across these boulders-

To get this picture-

See those switchbacks on the right? Pete can’t resist a switchback. Up we went. Here’s the other side-

And some views on the way back down-

As you can see, there was a thunderstorm rolling in. It started to sprinkle when we got to the bottom of the dam.

It was so hot and sticky, we decided to wade in the river under a bridge a little way from the dam. We were in the river trying to catch the rain sprinkles in our mouths and having a fine time, when KACHOW! A HUGE lightning bolt flashed and the thunder was deafening.

This might have been the last photo ever taken of your ol pal Kelle-

Wouldn’t it be ironic to be struck by lightning in Vermont, when Florida is the lightning strike capital of the U.S.? And I’m always warning our guests that “the lightning in Florida is no joke”.

Some underwater photos I took before our near death experience –

I know they’re boring, but I like to use the underwater feature. Because I can.

Then it started to rain and storm in earnest. We were two miles away from the car. We slogged along, soaked to the skin. It was kind of fun, really, and at least it wasn’t hot.

Soaked selfie.

It has stormed all the rest of the evening in Dorset. Should make for some good sleeping to hear the rain hitting S.T.’s roof.

Vermont Day 7- Merck Forest and Farmland Center 8/12/2016

Today was another “local” day, we wanted to give P a break from driving and explore around Dorset and Manchester. There is always something new to discover.

We started out our day with breakfast at Little Rooster Cafe in Manchester.

It is ADORABLE. It does have a few little signs with rules posted, such as “turn your cell phones off”, “credit cards not accepted” and “breakfast ends at 11:30 SHARP”. Seemed a little stringent. But oh so worth it. We both ordered the corned beef hash with poached eggs and béchamel sauce . It was excellent. I sneaked my phone out to take a photo, documentation at all costs, folks-

I wanted to take a picture of the interior, which has a French country feel, yellow walls, red floral curtains, and just enough of a rooster theme to be cute, not cheesy. But I was afraid they’d snatch my hash away for breaking a rule. Really, though, the ladies running the place were pretty OK. Pete’s phone rang right as he got his plate. He ran outside to talk to our boat broker and our server offered to keep his plate warm in the oven.

We went to the Orvis outlet, just to make sure we really still don’t want to fly fish (we don’t). Afterward, we sat in the parking lot to find a day hike in our little vague day hiking book.

Pete found Merck Forest and Farmland in the book. It has a 62 acre working farm, certified organic maple syrup sugar house, and 30 miles of trails in managed forest land. There are cabins and primitive hiking lean-tos, also.

The young lady at the visitor center was kind and informative. She gave us a map and highlighted a trail to a cabin with a panoramic view.

Here are the resident cozy kitty and drowsy doggie in the visitor center-

Can you beat a border collie next to a shelf of organic maple syrup? Viva Vermont!

We stopped by the farm, first. Pete set the timer on the camera so he could be the farmer-

He set it up so meticulously. He didn’t make it the first time. I wish you could have seen him sprinting across the road! That’s why the dog is laughing…

We made some new chicken friends-

I kind of had to tear myself away from chicken gazing so we could do our hike.

Some views from the trail (farm road)-

One of the rentals is powered by solar-

Vermonty green goodness.

Here are some lines that bring sap directly to the sugar house-

Efficient, no?

Maple trees are such multitaskers. They give shade, sap for syrup, and make incredible fall colors to look at. Here a little preview leaf-

Here’s the ridge cabin from behind,-

And in front-

And its view-

Pete got into the cabin first, and when I walked in, did he whole “close the door” speech from The Hateful Eight. This is why I keep him around.

Here’s Pete trying to figure the cost of installing granite and quartz counters –

Then we headed back through maple and pine woods back to the farm. I couldn’t stay away from the chickens that long-

The rooster was crowing and all were making that conversational creaking noise like my ol’ rooster Chunky used to make.

We consulted the farm map and looked for the pig area, which was pretty far from the rest of the farm. We saw the fenced in area but at first couldn’t find the pigs. I called “SoooooWEEEE!” a few times and here they came!

They were so clean and beautiful. They let us pet them.

The sheep were in a nearby pasture, and we could hear them, but barely see them in the distance. A storm was rolling in, so we didn’t have time to search them out.

We did see some lovely sweet onions, all in a row-

And the destination for all those sap lines-

Pretty prosaic looking tank for all the future joy within, no?

We reluctantly left Merck and drove toward Rupert to try to find some sweet corn for tonight’s dinner. We passed the precious Rupert post office-

-And finally found a farm stand-

As I was putting my money into the jar, the proprietress crossed the street from the cornfield with a basket full of more corn to replenish the stand. A basket. I shit you not.

Because this area is farm country-

Back at Shiny ThunderFloor, the designated growler handler broke the seal-

And we had some cheese and maple mustard to go with the cider-

Porky looks excited.

Then we grilled some Arcadia filets and had that fresh from the field sweet corn.

Ah, Vermont!

Vermont Day 6, Cider, Coffee, Klutz 8/12/2016

Well, I’m blogging, so you know I didn’t meet an untimely but happy death at the Woodchuck Cidery. Or as SIRI says “whooodchuck seedery”. Though there were a few mishaps.

We wanted to get a good base for our stomachs before we cider guzzled, so we stopped in Middlebury for lunch. We ate at the Two Brothers Tavern, where we had that fab hash in October.

The food is great there, but they sat us

at an odd table that had a pendant light that wasn’t centered over the table but kind of beside it, resulting in Pete hitting his head on it twice when he got up. Turns out I shouldn’t have laughed at that…

We walked around town a little, which we didn’t do last time. It is a sweet town, with a river running through it (the Middlebury River, of course).

If you zoom in, you can see someone standing in the river. Beside him there is another guy snorkeling yet fully dressed. I have no idea.

There’s a Morgan horse museum that I wish we would have had time to check out. Almanzo Wilder’s family (Little House books) raised Morgan horses.

You didn’t think you’d get through a whole blog without a shout out to my homegirl Laura Ingalls Wilder, did you?

The other side of the river had Canada Geese swimming and snorkeling-

and a sign for the first Indian restaurant we’ve seen in Vermont –

I told Pete to give the thumbs up for the picture and that’s all I got. I think he hit his head one time too many on that light.

So then to the moment I’ve been waiting for, the wonderful world of Woodchuck Cidery!

I have seen my death.

We wanted to go on a production day this time, but, skunked again-

Still, there was the wonderful smell of fermenting apples in the air.

We bellied up to the bar to get our four samples. They have twelve ciders on tap. Heaven! The coolest one was Campfire Pancake Cider. It has, you guessed it, MAPLE SYRUP in it! They didn’t have bottles to sell, but you could buy a growler and get it filled. So we did. Now, this is our first foray into growler culture, and we felt very young and hip carrying out our amber jug with the cute woodchuck on it full of pancake cider. And a t shirt for me, a hat for Pete, and a six pack of a semi-dry.

Since we had an empty cooler in the car, I suggested we get a bag of ice to keep our growler cold since we would be gone all day. We found an obliging gas station five minutes away. We went in to get a coffee and a bag of ice.

I got my coffee, and was standing in line with P to pay for it, it felt like it wasn’t too hot so I took a big swig. I felt a warm liquid splash down the front of my neck and white tank top. The lid wasn’t on tight, you see. I emptied about half of the coffee down my front. I ran to the bathroom to try to rinse it out of my white top. This is why I don’t wear light colors. I’m not goth, I’m a klutz. I walked out holding my purse in front of my now transparent tank top. It was the first time I saw the dour old lady at the counter smile since I walked in.

“Well, fiddle dee dee” thought I, “I have a new Woodchuck shirt I can put on, and never mind that my crotch is also soaked in coffee”. I opened the back door to get the shirt out of the back seat.

Our growler jumped out of the truck and shattered on the ground. It had been on the floor, and had leaned on the door when we turned into the gas station. The heady bouquet of pancake maple cider steamed up from the blacktop. And from my foot and sandal, which had been baptized also. I stood sputtering in my transparent shirt, coffee crotch and cider sandal.

Oh, the humanity. Pete cleaned most of it up and I picked up the little glass shards that were all that was left of my boss growler, embarrassed and sad and mad.

I said “We are going back and getting another one right now. I’ll change in the parking lot at the Cidery”. We got there, and I changed into the shirt in the truck. I had bought the largest women’s size and it was mega tight. I always found it striking that they stock such teensy shirts there and yet cider is one of the more fattening drinks you can consume.

Anyway, I limped into the shop with my too tight shirt, coffee crotch and cider sandal and the faithful Pete by my side. We told the bar man who had waited on us before that in the past five minutes I had spilled a coffee on my front and broken my growler and he laughed good naturedly and sold us another one. He said he admired our dedication.

I sputtered and spat and sneezed for the next half hour or so because I was so mad and embarrassed. Pete said there was no use crying over spilt cider. But I did a little, like you would over any fallen soldier.

We went to Waterbury to check out the Green Mountain Coffee Company visitor center. We thought that there would be a factory tour, but were mistaken. It was a coffee counter in an old train depot. I had already had enough coffee for the day. So we moved on to Stowe.

On the way we went over the Appalachian Gap-

From the informational plaque we found out that the road is named the McCullough Turnpike (McCullough is my maiden name).

There goes the neighborhood. 😉

Stowe is one of those Vermont towns that should be on a picture postcard. It frequently is. It’s a popular ski area. The inn that was the exterior for Newhart is here somewhere, too. Lots of traffic, lots of tourists. I took this one dull photo-

You really need a helicopter to get a decent picture, so here’s one from the Internet-

Since we were so close, we thought we’d stop in at the Von Trapp Family Lodge. We drove by it last time, but didn’t stop in. Pete had read that they have their own German style brewery on site, so we stopped to have a beer.

It looks so cool from the outside-

-But the inside was disappointing. I had expected it to look rustic and I don’t know, Austrian? It kind of looked like a 1990s Wendy’s. I was expecting Climb Every Mountain, but it was more like Cross Country Inn. Maybe it was remodeled at some point? To be fair, I only saw the lobby, lounge and gift shop.

The dunkel was good, even if the decor wasn’t.

Here’s Pete at the lounge bar-

There were chickens on site, though-

And sheared sheep-

We motored on over to Burlington, where we hoped Bernie would be hanging out on Church Street

(he wasn’t), we shopped a little, and had dinner at the Church Street Tavern (not good, but I’ve bitched enough on this post).

Look at that sunset over Lake Champlain-

Almost made up for my series of unfortunate events today.

Pete was a real trooper. He drove over five hours, and put up with my cider sulking. Tomorrow we will have to stay local and give the poor fellow a break. But he has to do all the handling on the new growler. We don’t want to take any chances.

Vermont Day 5-Dog Chapel, Syrup & Cheese 8/10/2016

One of our goals on this trip to Vermont was to check out Dog Mountain in St. Johnsbury in the “Northeast Kingdom”. It was a 2-1/2 hour drive. But there are no ugly drives in Vermont, so the time passes quickly.

Pardon my lazy almost total Wikipedia C&P, here’s the scoop on Dog Mountain-“Vermont artists Stephen and Gwen Huneck were married for 35 years. He taught himself to carve wood and started carving images of dogs, which he loved. He dreamed of building a chapel for dogs in St. Johnsbury, Vt. They finally built their chapel on 150 acres and they envisioned that Dog Mountain would be a place where dog owners could come to have time with their pets. They also hoped that it would be a place where people could mourn for the dogs in their lives that had died and find comfort by leaving notes and remembrances.” There are trails and trout ponds, too.

Here’s the chapel-

And some shots of the inside and stained glass windows-

I’m guessing the artist had black Labrador retrievers.

It was a beautiful chapel and setting, but having lost three elderly dogs in the past four years, I found the drifts of memorial notes and photos overwhelming and I had to depart quickly for the gift shop.

I love this carving of a super Jack Russell Terrier-

-that’s how all JRTs feel all the time. It also looks like he’s escaping those nuns. I can’t blame him there.

The flying JRT is on this buildings vane-

Meadow Flowers on Dog Mountain-

We had planned to visit the Maple Grove Farms Maple Museum (& shop, of course) but when we stopped in, the “museum” was mega lame- a few photos and implements and a crackling TV showing a video about the syrup making process. Disappointing to say the least, so we took off for our next leg of our trip, the Cabot Cheese Creamery Visitor Center and tour.

We missed our turn, and cursing, tried to find a place to turn around. We stumbled on to Goodrich’s Maple Farm. And instead of turning around, we stayed for a tour. We had a good enthusiastic tour guide, here he is, with Pete-

and learned a few facts about maple syrup that we didn’t know. Like- it keeps indefinitely in the freezer or refrigerator, and it doesn’t crash your sugar like refined sugars do, and it takes 40 gallons of sap to make one gallon of syrup. And it takes one good tour to make Pete and Kellie buy another quart of syrup. Here is where the magic happens-

And here’s a random horse on the maple farm that has an obsession with a pole-

We made our lost turn, and found the Cabot Creamery-

We went in and found out that the next tour was in twenty minutes, and lasted a half hour. We weren’t sure we wanted to wait that long, so the nice counter lady suggested we sample a bunch of cheese in the little gift shop while we thought about it. We had tried two samples when a family of five, mom,dad, three boys under the age of say, ten came rolling in like a booger and cootie cloud and crowded around us and surrounded the little sample table in the cramped shop. They were using he same toothpick over and over to stab the samples. And one special snowflake kept opening his mouth and showing his masticated cheese for everyone’s benefit. They were waiting for the same tour.

Suddenly the cheese tour lost its appeal , and we left. No place for antisocial people.

Here’s a random interesting house in Cabot town-

We drove the 2-1/2 hour drive back. On the way, Pete spotted a bald eagle sitting in a boulder in a creek. We stopped and gawked at him. We have no photo proof because he flew away as we walked a little closer to get a shot.

We got a pizza and salad again from Sam’s Wood Fired Pizza. Lazy.

Tomorrow we go to the center of the universe (for me) Woodchuck Cidery in Middlebury, VT. If the blog posts suddenly stop, you’ll know I drowned in a fermentation vat and died happy.

Vermont Day 4 -Freedley Quarry Hike 8/9/2016

Today we wanted to utilize our new Vermont day hike book. We selected a hike to Freedley Quarry, which is right here in Dorset.

The book said that there were no markers on this trail, basically it started on a farm road described as “across from a big barn”. Hel-lo, there are tons of big barns in Vermont. We drove around Dorset Hollow Road a few times trying to find it, which was OK because it was so pretty. Here are some sights we saw being lost along the way-

We finally found the trailhead, which was unmarked as advertised, and set out to find the quarry. The “trail” was a rutted farm road that led through mostly woods, but also two gorgeous alpine meadows with wildflowers and surrounded by velvety green mountains-

The book had two paragraphs describing the trail and how to get to the quarry. Too simple with the directions. It mentioned two intersections, but there were about eight intersections. So we had to guess and try to figure out from the topo map on the phone with barely any signal. We turned wrong once and went almost a half mile out of the way. Uphill, of course. Speaking of uphill, the book said the 900′ elevation gain was gradual. My Aunt Fanny. If it was much steeper in spots, it would have been stairs. Did I mention I don’t do well on uphill? Poor Pete would scout ahead to try to see if we were on the right path as I gasped my way up the “gradual” two mile hell, I mean hill, hike.

Two paths diverged in a wood, one with a yellow slime pond and one with a green slime pond. I took neither one, and that made all the difference-

Eventually we found the quarry. Fifty feet away on the approach you could feel the cold breeze coming from it-

It was different than I pictured, but interesting in its way with its small subterranean lake and loads of graffiti-

A little ways from the quarry was this overlook-

Then the hike back. All downhill now, With lots of scree. This was not a Vermont Country Store trail with pine straw and tickly fern fronds. My ankles and knees are toast. It’s hell getting old. The whole hike with wrong turn and all was about five miles, but it was a pretty strenuous five miles. For me. It was longer for Ten Paces Ahead with the jogging ahead and the backtracking, and of course he was unfazed, but to be fair he got more rest while he waited for my slow struggling ass.

We see some really spectacular sights when we day hike, and lawd knows I can use the exercise. I have to take a moment though to give a shout out to SW Florida for hiking, yes it’s hot, but it’s FLAT. And surprisingly, there are not a lot of bugs in your face like there are in other states. I had a face gnat entourage the whole time hiking today, and kept having to use my hard-won breath to blow them away.

No post would be complete without the details on dinner, now would it? Here is how you make a Vermont Danny Burger- Arcadia ground chuck with Pete’s secret Danny Burger Spice Dust on it, grilled over charcoal in the PeeWee grill, Arcadia bacon cooked on the grill and then dipped in Greens SugarHouse Very Dark Vermont maple syrup, Dorset grown beefsteak tomato with truffle salt, red onion, local goat cheese from HN Williams Store, mayo, on a Kayem hamburger bun. Hot damn, it was good.

Serve with horseradish bacon red potato salad and cucumber fennel salad from Rumney’s Deli if you possibly can.

And wash it down with a Citizen’s Cider (or two) made in Burlington, Vermont, of course.

So much for those calories burned on that mountain.

Vermont Day 3, Over to Weston 8/9/2016

Today was kind of a chill day. We slept in after a night of having the fans on instead of the air conditioner. It was nice and chilly, with temperatures bottoming out in the low fifties.

Pete had some phone and email business to tend to, so I sat outside under the awning and read, pine cones dropping from the heights occasionally and scaring the shit out of me. Reading Uncle Stevie contributed to my jumpiness.

After eating leftover stuffed peppers (even better the next day) for lunch, we set out for a casual drive. We didn’t want to go too far, since we had been in the car so long yesterday.

Our first stop was Manchester Center, back to Northshire Bookstore to pick up a Vermont day hike book and a cup of coffee. It really is the loveliest bookstore, with lots of little cozy nooks and everything is arranged and organized beautifully. The only downside is that the staff is cold and impersonal every time we go, which has been about six times or so if you count October visits. I’ve had several salespeople walk by and make unsmiling eye contact and never say hello or ask if they can help find something. Pity, that. It’s such a great local bookstore.

Their outside garden is beautiful, though-

A little tidbit about Manchester, you know the Most Interesting Man in the World guy from the Dos Equus commercials? He lives in Manchester. Maybe he should work at the bookstore. Stay friendly, my friends.

We had a drive over the mountain to Weston, home of the Vermont Country Store, you know, that catalog that sells flannel nightshirts for men, quilted bedjackets, cleaning and cosmetic items you thought weren’t made anymore, galoshes, maple syrup, and the kind of candy you found stuck in one giant glob in your grandma’s candy dish when you were a kid. If you haven’t flipped through one of their catalogs, I recommend it. But don’t blame me if you suddenly find yourself wearing a striped nightcap with Ponds Cold Cream on your face and eating spiced gumdrops.

The store has been owned by the same family since 1946, and it was the first restored rural store in the nation. It’s a big tourist draw for the Summer People and the Leaf Peepers. They have tour bus parking in the back.

Looks wholesome and innocent enough, doesn’t it? But enter and tread those creaking wooden floors to your peril, eat all those samples of button cookies, Vermont cheese and crack, I mean, Vermont Common Crackers,

wash it down with sample shots of all three grades of maple syrup, fondle the retro replica tablecloths and shearling slippers, and you’ll find two days of your vacation have passed, you’ve maxed out your Visa and have to panhandle the tourists in the rocking chairs on the porch to support your syrup habit.

Here’s the side view, you can see how huge it is-

After we staggered back out, blinking in the bright sunshine and buzzing from the maple sugar rush, we discovered a sign pointing out a “nature trail” on the hill behind the store.

This little trail was so gorgeous and unexpected. It led up a hill through mature forest bordered with the remnants of old farm stone walls and soft pine straw underfoot-

Then transitioned into a meadow dotted with impossibly blue gentians and feathery ferns brushing your ankles-

It was about a third of a mile long, but packed in a lot of beauty. And we may have walked off at least one or two Common Crackers worth of calories.

We headed back to Shiny T in Dorset, but stopped by H.N. Williams again for some local cheese first.

Now we are watching the Olympics, with that fresh chilly breeze coming in through the ceiling vents. Tonight we’ll sleep with visions of Common Crackers and amber maple syrup dancing in our heads.

Stay hungry my friends!

Vermont Day 2, Up to Hancock 8/7/2016

…and all points in between. We made a big loop around Green Mountain National Forest, and poked our noses into all the little towns on the way.

First, we stopped less than a mile from our camper to check out the H. N. Williams General Store, and the Dorset Farmer’s Market, which is in the field beside it. Here are two pics I ripped off the internet of the store (mine were shite)-

-kind of looks like a run down barn, right? WRONG. It’s the coolest store, with the latest brand outdoorsy and Vermont-y clothes (Muck Boots, Kuhl, Ibex, lots of awesome Vermont made duds and accessories), local artist prints, local honey and (yes) maple syrup, seed packets, farm implements, candles, souvenirs, hardware, camping supplies, local wine and booze, and a counter with baked goods and ready-made meals. There was an upstairs and a downstairs and a main floor. Every corner we turned there was more cool stuff. We do have to resist the temptation to buy cozy, wooly clothing, because you know, Florida.

The farmer’s market- I should have taken photos. But I was too mesmerized by the beautiful polished looking veggies and their artful displays. Here’s a photo I ripped off the internet though.

Here’s all the produce we bought, I arranged it into a still life because it’s so purty-

That sweet onion makes me want to weep tears of joy. Not onion tears. TEARS OF JOY, I SAY!

Then, the matter of lunch. Most important. We tried the McDonald’s Lobster Roll. We HAD to see what it was like. Despite being consumed in a totally NASCAR themed McDonald’s in Rutland, it was a pleasant surprise. I’ve paid more for a less tasty lobsta roll a couple of times. It was $8.99 for the roll, and $2.49 more for fries and a drink. I can’t recall having spent $25 for a lunch for two at McD’s ever, but…it’s LOBSTER. Real North Atlantic lobster.

After, we wound through tiny towns with their general stores and B&Bs and 19th century farmhouses and barns and even some painted ladies.

We also stopped by Texas Falls in the national forest. I know I blogged about it in October last year, and I didn’t think it would be half so pretty without the fall foliage. I was wrong about that too.

And a Texas Falls selfie, as my friend Marge would say- “why not”?

We arrived back at our campsite, and I started prepping to make stuffed peppers in the Dutch oven. Yes, I just chopped stuff, Pete’s doing the actual cooking, mama didn’t raise no fool. Here’s the start-

Here’s a better photo of ST & BB in our spot while we wait for the peppers to cook-

Big Black is shamefully dusty. We went down a fair amount of dirt roads today, and are likely to do so every day, so we will give him a luxurious bath when we leave Vermont. I do hate when he’s dirty though.

OK, the peppers are done!

This may be the most successful meal we’ve ever done in the Dutch oven. That’s local goat cheese sprinkled on top. Pete’s Aunt Cathy made us some stuffed peppers once when she was visiting, and I ate the leftovers for breakfast and snacks the next day because I loved it so much. We tried to remember Cathy’s recipe, and it turned out great!

Well, I’m in a stuffed pepper coma now. Until tomorrow, then, good night!

Vermont Day 1 Art Festival, Manchester, Dorset 8/6/2016

Day 1 started at the Southern Vermont Art and Craft Fair in Bennington. We didn’t get any arts or crafts, but we did score our first quart of maple syrup (very dark). We looked around for a long time in the vast labyrinth of the on-site antique shop-

Where I discovered this 1950s Sun Rubber Porky Pig-

-slumming it in a basket with bunch of naked baby dolls and Kewpies. For my readers who don’t know, I collect mid century rubber squeaky toys, especially the Sun and Arrow rubber varieties. So you can imagine I was pretty chuffed to snatch Porky up from his illicit basket of doll nudity. I’m not sure how he feels about it.

We walked around Manchester Center, Pete’s favorite town in Vermont-

– resisted the temptation to pick up some Bernie Sanders paper dolls at the fabulous Northshire Book Store, and browsed around the town’s sidewalk sale for a bit.

We popped into The Dorset Union Store, in my favorite Vermont town, Dorset. We got four cans of Citizen’s Cider’s Unified Press and a little wedge of goat cheese. Dorset has such a sweet village green, with the store near one corner of it. I was too hellbent on the cider to remember to take a snap, but I will next time.

We went back to Shiny then decided to walk down the road to a quarry we remembered from the last time we stayed here. I blogged about it last time, it was eerily quiet and still in October.

Not the case now-

There were over a hundred people there, kids dropping from the cliffs, corgis swimming with sticks from their mouths, parents applying sunscreen, this is where the action is in SW Vermont. It looked like a blast. Maybe later this week if it isn’t too crowded we will jump off a cliff. All the cool kids are doing it.

Dinner was a pizza and salad from Sam’s Wood Fired Pizza Company in Manchester. I had to call and order it because Mr I-Don’t Say-Silly-Words refused to say “a Rainbow Salad and a large Donnie B pizza, please” on the phone to a stranger.

Sam’s has an impressive pizza oven-

It’s way more imposing than the photo shows, that’s an 18″ pizza in there. The oven took up half the kitchen at least. The pizza and salad were pretty danged good, too.

Long Days Journey into Vermont 8/5/2016

Just started on our looonnngg drive to Vermont. The weather is overcast and a balmy 74 degrees.

We passed the exits for Hershey, Pennsylvania. I cracked the window and tried to smell the chocolate, but it pretty much smelled like exhaust fumes.

Boy, the bad New Jersey driver reputation is no joke. Brakey Brakensteins! We stopped to get gas at the Mahwah, New Jersey exit (makes me think of The Impressive Clergyman in The Princess Bride-“mawwige”) and it was the most effed up exit I’ve ever seen, 1.6 miles to the gas station and odd exits and on ramps to get to it. A nice attendant came around to take the pump out of the tank for everyone, puzzlingly. I would have asked him what the deal was but his Jersey accent was so thick I anticipated difficulty communicating.

We are on 87N to Albany, NY right now for 100 miles. It’s a toll road, and not bad scenery as it runs along the Hudson River Valley. There aren’t any real rest stops, just travel plazas. We pulled into a travel plaza to eat and there was not one space left to park. We are starved. I remembered I had a smashed protein bar in the bottom of my purse that I keep for “hangry” emergencies. We split that. The irony is that we are hauling a trailer full of food but can’t find a place to pull off to eat it.

We ended up stopping at a “text stop” (which is like a rest stop with no facilities at all) to make some sandwiches.

I grabbed some Veggie Straws to throw into the truck cab for future food emergencies.

We saw this McDonalds in Troy, NY,-

We HAVE to try a McLobster Roll! I hope they have them in Vermont!

We made it!

Here’s more proof, Green Mountains with two Subarus in the foreground-

We rolled into Dorset RV Park around 4:30. We backed into our spot without a lot of trouble, which was good because we had an audience of four beer swillers watching from under their awning.

Since we will be here for ten days, we wanted to put the awning out. This began the latest installment of the Battle of Pete vs the Zip Dee Awning. We’ve always struggled with getting the awning up, despite reading and re-reading the manual and watching YouTube videos. I usually step aside so I can catch any parts that get slung in the process. The battle is rendered even more comedic from the muttered cursing and the fact that the awning has a silly name like “Zip Dee”.

We are worn out from the drive and the awning, so we opted to stay in and eat spaghetti and loll around watching Jeopardy and the Olympics opening ceremony.

Looking forward to sleeping in tomorrow!

Devil’s Den and the Devil’s Own Chip 8/4/2016

This was a respite day in Gettysburg before our big seven hour haul to Vermont tomorrow.

After a morning cuddle with the baby goats-

-we headed out to explore Gettysburg a bit. I had been to Gettysburg this past November with my cousin Grace for spooky tours with history thrown in. I wanted to show Pete a couple of places that I enjoyed the most.

One was the Little Round Top battle area, and Devil’s Den, which is close by.

I was picking my way prissily across this little bridge when I felt a breeze beside me. It was Pete, who had jumped across the chasm. In his flip flops. Show off.

Here are some perfect mushrooms hidden by the “sharpshooters home” area-

I then took him to town to eat at Sweney’s Tavern, which is part of the Farnsworth House restaurant and B&B. I ate here twice when I was here in November, because it’s all about the Goober Peanut Soup. That is a soup made from peanuts. It’s fantastic. I bolted it down before I could get a snap, so here’s one I ripped off the internet-

Don’t be fooled by its commonplace appearance, it’s effing MAGICAL.

Pete ordered the Pennsylvania Dutch Slippy Chicken Pot Pie. When he ordered it, he said “I’ll have the chicken pot pie” and I said “No! Don’t bring it until he says ‘slippy’!”. He refused and she brought it anyway. Pete doesn’t like to say silly words before strangers. He would never say “biggie size” at Wendy’s, either.

After that, we had seen enough history and were sitting at a Sheetz gas station looking at our phones for activities in Gettysburg that didn’t involve monuments or battlefields. I suggested getting a real life tintype made with both of us in Civil War era regalia.

But wily Pete found the one activity that would distract me from squeezing into a corset for a photo. 11 miles away was an Utz potato chip factory tour.

In case you missed some of the past Antisocal Adventures blogs, I am obsessed with Utz “The Crab Chip” (their quotation marks, not mine). I discovered them in Maryland where we had our sailboat docked. Nothing topped off a stressful day of docking at the poo pump and then re docking in our slip quite like a crab chip and Bud Light Lime treat. (Don’t judge me on the beer; I was a neophyte).

So we sallied forth to the factory tour. You weren’t supposed to take photos on the factory, but all the other young tourists were and there were no obvious security cameras so I risked a few. Here is a rare peep into the top secret world of Utz chip production-

Here’s the full line of Utz products, try to contain your excitement-

Me trying on the round football helmet Utz Girl ‘do-

After spending twenty minutes or so of being hypnotized by conveyors of beautiful chips and wishing I could stand under them in a golden shower (shut up pervs), we left and went to the Utz factory outlet store.

Here is the biggest bag of “The Crab Chip” I’ve ever seen-

I didn’t buy that, because I don’t want a Richard Simmons intervention and/or having to be cut out of the trailer at the end of this trip. But, clever Pete found kettle cooked crab chips, and this marvel of the modern world-

What could possibly be better than crab chips? CRAB CHEESE BALLS.

To round out the whole chippy goodness experience, Utz makes Zapp’s chips, which we enjoy when we are in Louisiana. Could there be a more enticing variety than this?

Swoon!

Yes, we spent the day in an area of America that is arguably the richest in historical sites and spent the afternoon at a potato chip factory. In fact, if you’re keeping score, the food photos outnumber the history photos 8 to 6 in this post. And one goat photo, which defies categorization. Priorities, people.

We stopped back at the RV park to take a nap (Goober Peanut Soup is a sedative) before dinner. Here’s the most horrific thing we saw all day, and remember, we saw a fair amount of dead soldier Civil War photos-

It’s interesting how often I see Trump signs paired with Confederate flags. This flag said “The South will rise again”. Charming.

We drove to Abbotstown, PA to Center Square Brewing for wings and awesome German style local beer. They were doing trivia night, and we played, but had to leave in shame when I missed an easy question about The Thompson Twins. I blame the 13.5% alcohol German beer.

Tomorrow is a long hump to get to Vermont. Good thing we have plenty of chips to sustain us. You can’t eat memories of battalion memorials, can you?

Gettysburg Farm Follies 8/3/2016

I-95 N again today to reach Gettysburg Farm RV Park, which was chosen because the website showed pictures of goats on site. To hell with hookups, goat visiting potential covers a multitude of potential problems.

We are driving through Virginia now. We just went through Richmond, and I felt compelled to regale Pete with the story of an altercation I had in the Edgar Allan Poe museum in Richmond many years ago. A woman on the tour kept interrupting the tour guide with declarations of her desire that Edgar be exhumed and DNA tested to determine his cause of death. After the third go round, I felt I had to intercede on Edgar’s behalf and for the comfort of us all on the tour.

Pete seems unimpressed with my tale of literary aggression. So I feel compelled to propose a debate on the subject of NFL team names and mascots and their origins. Like the Baltimore Ravens. So far the debate has been one sided, with P only giving droll side eyed looks now and again.

It’s been three days of long drives, folks.

We opted to listen to some Bill Maher Real Time on YouTube for a while.

We passed through Frederick, Maryland, headquarters of Roy Rogers restaurants. What’s better than a flame broiled burger on a greasy bun? Said burger with roast beef on top and potential pickle overload from the fixins bar and a paper holster filled with French fries! YeeHaw! That’s some rootin’ tootin’ artery cloggin’ going on there!

We hit some pretty heavy traffic near DC, of course, then got off on to 15, which winds gently through pastoral scenes, old stone farmhouses, Civil War battlefields.

Here’s the spot we picked at Gettysbjrg Farm RV Campground. Slap up against the cornfield.

We explored the campground a bit, out of 200+ campsites, we are the only Airstream. Most of the residents don’t return a smile or wave, and find something interesting to look at on the opposite side of where you are walking.

But there were SOME friendly residents-

Turkey futbol-

The guilt never ends-

A mule, a donkey and a horse walk into a paddock-

While we were petting the goats, a little girl around 7 years old came hobbling up wearing one skate and one gym shoe. She struck up a conversation with Pete right away. Dogs and little kids always love Pete, they don’t register his Resting Asshole Face disease. He asked where her other skate was and she said she was sharing it with her friend. I told her my cousin Kim and I used to do that and she ignored me and started chatting to Pete again about how all broken leg casts should have skates on them. They made a business plan then she one-skated away.

We cleaned up a bit, then drove into East Berlin, PA to eat at Sidney Tavern. They had local cider and one of the best cocktails we’ve ever tried-

We had burgers and drinks on their patio, which was surrounded by their herb garden. It was so novel to sit outside at a restaurant and not sweat to death like you do in Florida.

We came back to camp and took a walk at dusk-

The Goat Circus takes a rest-

If you’re sick of goat photos, too baaaaaadd.

This horse has bitten me twice. No pettins for him from me! But of course he loved Pete!

So we are snug in Shiny ThunderFloor for the evening, tucked against that not-scary-at-all cornfield.

Oh yeah, the fridge started working again. The Arcadia meat is saved! For now! Fingers crossed!

We are looking forward to exploring Gettysburg tomorrow for as long as Pete can hold out listening to my battlefield and ghost trivia monologue.

I 95 & Medoc Mountain Musings 8/2/2016

Medoc Mountain State Park in northern North Carolina is our destination today. It’s going to be another one night stop-over. I called today to find out whether they have water hookups, and discovered that Medoc is pronounced “MAY-dock”, not Med- DOCK as we’ve been saying it. Or else it was the lady that answered the phone’s accent, I’m not sure.

Also, we will be one of three parties camping tonight, so we may be able to commandeer one of the eight community spigots all for ourselves and our long luxurious shower needs.

The down side to sparse campground population is that if an axe murderer goes on a spree, no one can hear you scream. Which is a plus if you’re the axe murderer.

Almost all of the drive (350 miles or so) is on 95N. Which is an improvement over I-75 in my book because there are more trees and the billboards are mostly advertising Glory Soul Food, Bruce’s Yams and local boiled peanuts. Lawdy, I do love the Low Country.

UPDATE- I just looked up Glory Foods. It started and is headquartered in COLUMBUS, OHIO! Well north of the Mason-Dixon line! Imposters! Well I swanny!

More notes from 95N:

We are now passing through Dunn, North Carolina. Dunn is the Dump Truck Body Capitol of the World. In case you were wondering where that is, it’s in Dunn. But I didn’t see a single dump truck body when we were there. Perhaps they’re really manufactured in Columbus, Ohio.

I saw one of those truck trailers full of pigs again. I hate seeing those, it always makes me sad to see their little snouts sniffing the air through the holes. But, I’m sorry to say, never sad enough not to eat bacon. #imawful #butbacon

Despite Siri trying to lead us astray in to what looked like “squeal like a pig” country, (wouldn’t that be just, though?) we muddled our way the last non 95N ten miles to Medoc Mountain S.P.

Since we didn’t want to stretch three hoses across the street from the community spigot, we filled the tank at said spigot. We exchanged greetings with our nearest neighbor. He seems friendly and normal, but wouldn’t any axe murderer? 😁

After we hooked up (the electric, pervs!), I got us both a beer out of the fridge and noticed they weren’t really that cold. Turns out, the fridge is malfunctioning. I won’t bore you with the details. But there is a real chance we might lose all our Arcadia meat. We (Pete) tried everything we could think of to fix it. The super helpful manual said to not try to fix it, but take it to an authorized Dometic dealer. Sure. They’re thick on the ground in rural North Carolina at 6 pm. Might I mention we bought Shiny ThunderFloor new in November of last year? Come on. Did you know Airstreams are made in Ohio? 😉

So, we cooked the steaks we had thawed (after I texted my cousin Becky and asked her if the broken fridge steaks would kill us) and had a nice potentially last Arcadia meat meal anyway. Or potentially last meal PERIOD. (Just kidding, Becky)

The parks grill is the cleanest one we’ve ever seen-

But we used PeeWee Grill anyhow-

We took a walk, too-

We looked for a reliable refrigerator at the end of that, to no avail. But it sure was pretty.

Here’s your obligatory S.T. – B.B. shot-

We are settled in for the night, watching America’s Got Talent on a surprisingly good signal.

Bright side, you see.

And wine doesn’t require refrigeration.

Cheers, and goodnight!

Rory’s Reincarnation 8/1/2016

When I got on to my Facebook news feed today, there were pictures and video of my late jaunty little dog Rory on my history feed. Because August 1 is his birthday. So he’s been on my mind all day. It’s been 3 years since he left and I still miss the hell out of him.

When we were pulling into our (pull through!) spot in Skidaway, I saw a man walking a Jack Russell Terrier. This dog looked JUST LIKE RORY. I know, I know, I’ve been known to say every animal from a hippo to a donkey looks like Rory. But this dog was all white, and had the same brown patch over one eye and ear. What are the odds? Most JRTs have symmetrical markings on their face.

Resisting the urge to tackle said doggy and kiss its face off, I asked the man if I could say hi to it.

He reeled her in closer to him and said, “well, she’d be so happy to meet you, but she would probably bite your leg as you walked away”.

SEE! I told you it was the reincarnation of Rory!

Happy birthday, Rory!

Green Mountain Getaway 8/1/2016

Today we begin our excursion from the land of breathtaking humidity and sweat to the land of Subarus, syrup, and Sanders. Where you’ll Feel the Bern, but not from sun exposure. Vermont, yo!

Yesterday the car temperature read 110 degrees. So I think this is the perfect time to go.

Shiny ThunderFloor is packed with Arcadia meat and cases of wine from Costco. Pete installed an RV outlet in our garage so we could plug her in at home and get the fridge running early so we don’t have to risk putting all the Arcadia meat into a cooler for the first day and potentially die of food poisoning.

We aimed to leave by 9 am this morning, and headed out at 10:01. Lots of fiddling.

We are staying tonight at our beloved Skidaway Island State Park in Savannah. I’ve posted many times about this park, so I’ll spare you the repetition. But, I have to rejoice again in the fact that the park has pull throughs! And oaks dripping Spanish Moss…

So far, typical highway driving, alternating strip club and Jesus billboards to look at.

I am looking forward to blogging again. I miss it when we’re home. And many thanks to faithful friends who read my ramblings.

Wrap Up and Randoms 5/24/2016

We have been home for a few days now, and have been stupidly busy. The laundry is *almost* done, Shiny ThunderFloor has been washed inside and out and put back in storage. I always hate that part. She looks so forlorn with her little white wheel covers on.

Hopefully we can take her out a few more times this summer. We are going to take her up to Vermont for the month of August, if everyone can stay healthy.

Some random thoughts from the road-

STF came with a large white cover like a cutting board that covers her round sink. We were putting it on the sink when we were underway but quickly learned that it would fly off and become a demonic discus of destruction. Just because the peg fits don’t mean you should use it.

Most of the women in downtown Santa Fe looked like Georgia O’Keefe, Jane Goodall or Emmylou Harris, any of which had been outfitted head to toe in the western couture shop in the Plaza.

The tattoo shops in Jerome, AZ don’t post their hours, nor do they answer their phones on a Tuesday afternoon.

There are no rattlesnakes in Durango, CO. It’s too cold. In fact, we ran into the most snakes in our home state of Florida.

One can always drive further to Sedona to avoid staying at a closer campground where they have a golf cart Nazi.

High altitudes make for breathless altercations.

Your horse doesn’t have to like you for you to have a great ride, in fact, it only makes it more fun.

So, ta ta for now, and thank you to all the constant readers, sometimes readers, fish feeders at home, fish pond fixers at home, mail getters, and all my phone buddies who kept me in texts and phone calls when I felt remotely homesick (well, girlfriend sick, anyhow).

I’ll be blogging for the Vermont trip in August, watch this space…

Home 5/21/2016

Well, we made it home without the hitch blowing up. 7, 440 miles. Big Black and Shiny ThunderFloor are champs.

I didn’t know where I was when I woke up in the big bed in the house this morning.

Coming home is bittersweet. I would love to keep on going and going. But it’s nice to have a full sized kitchen and a washer and dryer handy.

Speaking of washing, I’ll write my wrap-up post in a few days when I can hike my way down from Mount Launderest.

And when my I-Miss-Trailer-Life malaise wears off.

I Don’t Recall… 5/20/2016

Today is our eight hour push for home. 😦

We called the GMC dealer in Punta Gorda to arrange for an oil change for Big Black. They informed us that our hitch assembly has a recall and needs to be replaced because towing might cause cracks in the welds that attach the towing assembly to the truck.

Good to know, since we will have towed Shiny ThunderFloor almost 7,500 miles.

Livin’ on the edge!

It Woulda Been a 5 Mile Hike 5/20/2016

Our last day at a campground. Sigh. What better way to utilize our time than to sleep in until ten, then go on a hike?

It was a novelty to hike on totally level ground. And to be able to breathe regular oxygenated air (though humid). We found a trail of indeterminate length that wound through pine savannahs and a little bit of damp forest.

We saw these Flowering White Top Pitcher Plants on the way. So we thought we’d take a pitcher. (Joke credit-TPA) Pretty, huh?

Unless you’re an insect. If you land on that waxy lip, drawn in by the intoxicating nectar, you’re likely to slip down into that throat, where hairlike appendages prevent your escape and you will slowly be digested by the enzymes in there. Much like Boba Fett in the Pit of Sarlaac.

Did you know that more species of carnivorous plants flourish in the Florida wetlands than in anywhere else in the country? That’s because of the copious amount of BUGS always to be found, sometimes even in one’s bed.

We enjoyed about a two mile hike and were going to continue on, but this gorgeous specimen was guarding his/her stretch of damp woodland trail-

Meet the Eastern Diamondback Rattlesnake. Pete was vigilant about looking ahead, (proof- I kept up with TPA easily) but almost stepped on our little buddy as it was crossing the trail.

P backed up in a hurry and yelled something like “Whoa, I almost stepped on that” and I said “What!!?” And saw it. My first reaction was Feets Don’t Fail Me Now, as I flailed back down the trail a few yards. Pete maintained what he considered a respectful distance, and the snake coiled up and started a-rattlin. Pete was observing and taking photo and video. In the video, you can hear me hollering “Get away from it, you dumb f*cker!” or something like that over the rattling.

We estimated our new friend at over 36″ long. We made a mutual decision that we didn’t necessarily have to see where the trail went, and back-tracked, reducing the hike to 4 miles. And looking ahead at every crooked stick with suspicion.

Camp as it Should Be 5/19/2016

We’ve stayed for so long on this trip in very windy places, or only set up for a night sometimes, so we haven’t been properly setting up camp.

We are spending our last two nights in Blackwater River State Park in the Florida Panhandle.

It’s not windy, but it’s-

We bought this chili pepper light bundle in Albuquerque, (there’s a name for pepper bundles in the American southwest but I’m too lazy to look it up. You know, pepper bundle…) but haven’t had a chance to hang it.

Here’s how camp looks properly done-

All that’s missing is that “The Assholes” cedar sign.

There’s no fire ban here like there was out west, so we grilled out on PeeWee. That’s the name of the tiny grill.

I think Pete grows weary of my “Pete and PeeWee” photos.

Anyhow, we are going to try to relax and sit under the awning and make S’mores and gaze at our pepper lights and be campy for the last days of our trip.

Andouille, Armadillos and Alligators 5/18/2016

The drive from Huntsville SP in Texas to Tickfaw SP in Louisiana is supposed to be about 5-1/2 hours. But we were stuck in traffic for about 40 minutes in Baton Rouge.

On this bridge. Real high up like. With the bridge trembling. Surrounded by semis.

I ripped the photo off the internet. Mine would have had semis and been real shaky like.

We finally made it to the park, and while we were backing into the same spot we had last time, an armadillo casually strolls past me and squeezes under our deck.

There is an armadillo under that deck. I never saw him exit.

We had “Yelped” for nearby restaurants, because we didn’t want to dirty a bunch of dishes when we have no sewage. The town of Springfield, where the park is, ain’t much of a going concern. We wanted a decent sit-down meal because we’ve been eating so much fast food on the road.

The first restaurant that came up was Roux and Brew in Ponchatoula. We decided to give it a try.

First of all, Ponchatoula is adorable-

(Internet photo)

Here’s my hastily snapped photo of the restaurant-

Now, I have to tell you, that with the exception of Coops Place in New Orleans, I’ve never had an impressive Cajun meal in Louisiana. Welp, I can’t say that anymore. Delicious chicken roulades, fried green tomatoes and crawfish etoufee. Cute young staff that say “yaal”. If, for whatever reason, you find yourself in Ponchatoula, do give it a try. OooEEE!

When we got back, we put on our rubbers and hiked in the dark around the little lake where we saw the alligator (in the daytime) a month ago when we were here. The path to the lake was flooded, and it was muddy in spots, thus the rubbers.

There were owls hooting, peepers peeping, that bird that sounds like a woman screaming well, screaming, and the distant baying of hounds.

Here’s a little toad in the darkness with a spotlight-

I kissed him, and look what happened!

We heard a big thrash and a splash, which was my ‘gator friend jumping into the lake from about 6 feet in front of us.

If you look real hard, you can see his eye glinting from out in the lake-

We had debated briefly before starting on our hike about the likelihood of cottonmouths being out at night. I thought they would only be out in the day, when they could be in the sun.

I was wrong-

He had crossed the path a little ways in front of us, and was in no hurry. I think he figured once his head was in the brush, we couldn’t see him.

There was another thrash in the brush but no splash, and this fine fellow lumbered into view-

Probably headed for our deck.

It was a fun and spooky hike.

But not nearly as scary as a sight from about a mile from the park entrance earlier-

🙂

Birds and Dogs 5/18/2016

Since I’ve already blogged extensively about Caprock Canyons, and since we only spent one rainy cold night there last night, I’m going to leave all these photos of birds and prairie dogs that we saw yesterday evening here-

You’re welcome.

Shiny Earns a Trail Name 5/17/2016

It’s official, Tiny’s trail name is Shiny ThunderFloor.

There is a metal pan in the undercarriage that runs underneath the floor between the sink and the dinette. This is a high traffic area. When you step on it, it goes “boomBOOM”. That’s the sound of the sheet of metal popping down and then up. It does sound a bit like thunder.

It makes the song I learned in Girl Scout camp “Boom Boom, Ain’t it Great to be Crazy” earworm into my head constantly, which makes me crave S’mores.

Hearing my tread booming like Godzilla walking prevents me from eating the S’mores. Not flattering.

Cadillacs and Cowboy 5/15/2016

The road from Santa Fe back to Caprock Canyons is long and pretty dull. But sometimes you get to partake in quirkiness.

Welcome to Cadillac Ranch, a public art installation of ten Cadillacs, models ranging from 1949-1963, buried halfway and nose down just outside of Amarillo, TX. They are at an angle corresponding to the Great Pyramid of Giza in Egypt.

Folks are encouraged to spray graffiti on them. They are repainted from time to time to make a fresh canvas.

I’m not so sure folks are encouraged to throw the cans and their litter down on the ground beside the art installation. But TWMRE.

It was 55 degrees and that famous Amarillo wind that drove my dad to lie in a ditch and wish for death when he was stationed here in the Air Force was gusting.

Just a little ways down the road is the Cadillac Ranch RV Park.

Note the mascot The Second Amandment Cowboy. Just in case that public art installation might make you forget for a moment that you’re in Texas.

More Santa Fe Scraps 5/15/2016

Today was our first backtrack day. We drove 4.5 hours from Durango to Santa Fe. I didn’t realize how close we were to New Mexico in Durango. Funny, too, how quickly the terrain turned desert-y after we crossed that NM seam in the road.

We arrived at Santa Fe Skies RV Park around 2:30. This is the windy park, remember? This time we got a weird losery back in spot where we are butt to butt with another RV and share a picnic table deck. Oh hell, I’ll just run out to take a picture, it’s easier…

That’s what that looks like. We set up quickly and went to town for another super late lunch at Whole Hog Barbecue. Which was good, like before.

REI juuuussstt happens to be in walking distance of Whole Hog. Pete cannot resist the REI magnet. We shopped around a little bit.

A word about REI, in case they stumble upon this post from the tag- it’s such a socially conscious, green, crunchy granola goodness store, with a wonderful selection on most items. But take a note-chunky girls want good hiking clothes too. Now, I understand your demographic is teensy, wiry, athletic gals, and if one hikes/rock climbs/mountain bikes enough one can become one of the teensy gals. But us stout Viking type women like to do these things too, and would like some cool/technical items to wear. Let’s stock more than two styles of shorts in bigger sizes, okay? /consumeropinion

When we were in Albuquerque weeks ago, we stumbled on this great oatmeal called Field Day at a co-op grocery. It was on sale, too. We inhaled that box, and have been searching for more at any Whole Foods/natural grocery store we stumble across, to no avail. So when we discovered the co-op in Albuquerque was a local chain and had a store in Santa Fe, we made a beeline and bought all the oats I could reach on the shelf without asking for help-

Score! We picked up a few other things, and I grabbed two ears of corn. They rang up at $1.99 each. Uh, no. I had the clerk take them off. I’ll take my chances with the pesticide corn at WallyWorld for fifty cent. Moonchild, PLEASE.

We drove through the historic downtown and couldn’t find a place to park so we headed back to Shiny, sitting pretty in her jank spot. P took a nap and I walked twice around the .75 mile walking trail. I was hoping to stalk this black and tan chihuahua I had seen being walked around the park but only ran into two bunnies-

And a blue jay. This is zoomed way in but he was so pretty I couldn’t resist-

We grabbed a pizza at Pizza Centro and some wine and GMO laden corn on the cob at WallyWorld for tomorrow’s dinner and watched the two channels we could get that weren’t Christian stations and relaxed.

Tomorrow we go back to Caprock for one night.

TTFN!

Done in Durango 5/13/2016

Happy Friday the 13th! Our last day in Durango was a chill day. P had some stuff to do on the computer, and I finished the copy of The Lovely Bones I found in the campground laundry room, sat by our roaring stream and shared popcorn with some ravens and a chipmunk. (Aside- autocorrect always capitalizes ravens, like I’m sitting here with Ray Lewis and Joe Flacco)

We went to town for an extremely late lunch to El Moro Spirits and Tavern. We kind of stumbled on it. A little hipster-y, but excellent food, the kind of menu that tells you what farm each individual ingredient comes from and makes liberal use of the words “house made”. Which I love. There were clever lights made of mason jars and all kind of other whimmydiddles on the ceiling. Kind of steampunk meets localvore. At one point one of the kitchen staff played a fanfare on some kind of a horn through the pass through window, presumably replacing a bell to let the server know the food was ready. Just quirky enough. And you’d want to motorboat the “hand cut” fries.

After lunch/dinner we walked along a city path that runs by the Animas River. There were cute bridges to cross, cuter puppies to pet, it was lovely, and I only had to mutter curses at six or so rude bicyclers.

The chill day continued when we got back to Shiny and I waded in the creek while P finished up his work. Here is an angelic photo of Shiny from creek level-

And I tried out the underwater feature on the new camera-

Lightner Creek is cloudy.

Tomorrow we start the melancholy trip back home. We are retracing our steps and staying in the same parks that got us here. Hopefully I’ll have something interesting to report, yaal know I always have something to say… 🙂

Indifferent Trails 5/13/2016

A few days ago we reserved places on a trail ride here in Durango at the Rapp Corral.

But cow folk have to have a hearty breakfast first. I had quickly Yelped for a good place and came up with Oscar’s Cafe, which had good ratings for breakfast. Such a cute little diner, with that fifties feel that I love, young and friendly (not mutually exclusive always) servers and an interesting menu. The portions were HUGE. You know if P and I leave food on the plate, it’s a gut buster.

Beardos eat here, too.

Then on to the corral, in all its scenic beauty.

Our two guides, Christina and Noah, were sincerely friendly, and there were only two other people joining us, a couple from Australia.

Christina told us the names of our horses and said they’d bring them out one by one and we’d get on them. Aussie couple had Joker and Cochise, mine was named Marshall. Then she said “Dan, you’ll have Preacher”. Hahaha! The staunch atheist gets Preacher!

We both love animals, and I expected to immediately bond with Marshall, like he was My Friend Flicka. In my mind, we would look like this-

I had approached him confidently and talked to him and petted his neck. He seemed indifferent. So we ended up a little differently than I pictured, with Marshall’s ears laid back and him looking bored with my baby talk as I grin gleefully.

I think he misjudged me because of the pink hat. But I felt a kinship with him, he was antisocial, like me.

Christina told me that Marshall was her favorite because he had a big personality and that he would test me to see if I was paying attention. I said it figures I’d get the rebel and she laughed and said they liked to match the horses with the rider. He demonstrated early by stopping on an uphill set of switchbacks every time we turned and eating some plants. They kept telling me to kick him but I clicked my tongue at him and told him to come on. He did. I also called him my Slim Shady and sang snatches of Eminem songs to him. Which explains why he went off the path to walk through the scrub oak because he liked it to scratch his belly. I reigned him back on the trail. He did this a lot, I didn’t let him get away with it and he straightened up some. He did take me off the path a few times under low tree branches, and through a scrub oak area that bashed my right foot against some trees. I used the reins to get him back on the path and praised him for being such a hard head. He kept me on my toes. I loved him, despite his troublemaking, or perhaps because of it.

Christina said I did well with him and that a few times people couldn’t handle him and she had to switch horses mid trail.

Preacher was Steady Eddie. And flatulent (we were right behind him). No troubles from Cochise or Joker either.

We stopped to pose on a ridge like in a John Ford film-

Here’s Pete’s view-

And some random trail shots. I felt bad because P had the camera so we didn’t get many pics of him and his Preacher friend.

At the end, Christina told me that Marshall has been in a number of movies. She said among others, he’d been in The Missing, and The Ridiculous Six, with Adam Sandler, although they weren’t proud of that one. He knows he’s a star and that’s why he has an attitude. The owner helped me off Marshall at the corral. I told her I loved him and that he was a riot. He tolerated me for a few minutes more so we could pose for a couple of pictures.

He’s totally rolling his eyes.

I bonded much more easily with the corral doggie Lily. In fact, she leaned on me and stayed so close I couldn’t get a decent picture of her-

It was all I could do not to snatch her up and run off with her in the truck. If my saddlesore ass could have run.

We took one more brilliant mountain picture because the weather was so fine-

Then headed back to Shiny to rest for a little while.

There is a little photo-opportunity diorama in our campground, and we’ve wanted to take a picture of me with my new hatchet in it since we got here. So after our nap, we walked through the campground to take it-

I have to say, nothing eases the process of being antisocial more than walking through a bustling campground carrying a hatchet.

Marshall would be proud.

Forks 5/12/2016

We spent the morning shopping for a new cheap-o coffee pot (we grow weary of the fussy French press) at Wally World in Durango, and a little metal ash can for our charcoal ashes at Tractor Supply (I think there should be a candle that smells like Tractor Supply).

Then we drove a little ways to Honeyville, where we bought honey (duh!) and sampled honey whiskey and honey wine. We bought those too. Buzz buzz buzz.

The lady at our campground told us about a trail nearby, so in late afternoon, we gave it a go.

The Dry Fork trail is a 8.7 mile loop that includes part of the Colorado Trail. The Colorado Trail is a long-distance trail running for 486 miles from the mouth of Waterton Canyon southwest of Denver to Durango.

Did I mention the thin air here? The trail wound gently upwards around a mountain, and I wasn’t physically tired, but I panted and mouth-breathed all the way up. At mile 2, two men in their thirties passed us. Running. Uphill. I saw them coming and tried to pant through my nose so I wouldn’t look like a loser. I don’t think I succeeded.

The trail was narrow, and mostly dirt and pine needles. It smelled wonderfully of the Ponderosa Pine trees along the way. When I could breathe through my nose, anyway, for me, it would be more accurate to say it tasted like that. Beautiful groves of Aspen were on the way, and snowcapped mountains in the distance-

We encountered probably ten or so mountain bikers along the way. Six of them were nice and warned us they were coming and thanked us for stepping off the narrow trail. Two were super nice, and friendly in addition to basic trail etiquette. One sneaked up behind me and if I hadn’t heard the faint squeak of his brake, I think he would have tried to squeeze by me on the 24″ wide trail. I had to holler to TPA because he was hard on his heels too. Fair warning, if you ride a bike and brush by me with any part of it without warning on a trail, I might be so startled as to stick one of my trekking poles in your spokes. Okay, Pumpkins? Love yas!

There was no trail map, so when we got to the top and got to clap eyes on the Colorado Trail-

(I don’t know what’s with the angelic trail sign light) we started back down instead of risking taking a wrong turn and having to hike in the dark.

Here we are at about mile 7-

Nothing angelic in that photo.

So we hiked 8.4 miles, and since there’s no charcoal fire ban in Durango, we grilled out on our tiny, tiny grill.-

Arcadia pork chops and beef tenderloin filets taste mighty fine, despite the cold temperature plaguing the chef and the stature of the grill.

There wasn’t a dry fork in the place.

Million Dollar Highway 5/11/2016

Our goal today was to drive the 50 or so miles to Silverton, a town that used to be, you guessed it, an old silver mining camp. There’s a scenic train ride that takes you from Durango to Silverton, but that would involve being crammed on a train with a bunch of people, so that was out, obvs.

The drive was fantastic. Sometimes sunny and in the fifties, sometimes rainy and snowy in the forties and thirties, but even the foggy bits were stunning.

Prepare yourself for photos that won’t capture the magic, but I’m posting them anyway.-

We arrived in Silverton in one of the sunny spells. The truck read it as 38 degrees, but the sun beat on my black hair like I was in southwest Florida. Kind of a weird feature of being 9,318 feet high.

We had a great lunch at Mattie & Maud’s, a tiny diner with the friendliest lady cooking danged delicious food. I got the Navajo Taco, and risked green chile sauce for the first time since my Lowes incident in Santa Fe. Suhweet Jaysus, it was so good. The fry bread melted in your mouth. Trust.

And fortunately, the green chiles agreed with me, because the next 25 miles of road looked like this-

I ripped this one off the internet. I didn’t like P to take pictures while he was driving.

This stretch of 550 is called the Million Dollar Highway because of the fantastic scenery. It climbs up three mountain passes, the highest of which is 11, 018 feet high.

This stretch ends in Ouray, “The Switzerland of America”.

A little river ran through it, and there were a few narrow waterfalls plunging from way up the mountains.

I was inspired to play the soundtrack from The Sound of Music. And sing along, natch. But the air was so thin that I was vanquished by The Lonely Goatherd- “yodelay-heee *gasp*wheeze*”. Pete likes high altitudes.

Then on to Telluride, which was as old west as you could want and not as ski snobby as you might think.

There was a store with the correct spelling of my name. It happens so seldom, that I thought it was photo worthy-

There was a herd of elk outside of town, too-

The ride from there back to Durango was over two hours. A lot of it was pretty, but not Million Dollar. And it seemed even longer because we were headed to Pete’s favorite restaurant in Durango- Himalayan Kitchen and we were starved.

We had this appetizer called Bhaktapurae Chhoila (easy for you to say), roasted lamb with a bunch of spices, herbs and vegetables too numerous to list. Now, normally, I’m like that wolf in the Tex Avery cartoon that hates lamb. I don’t know what they did to this lamb to pull the wool over my eyes, but it wasn’t baaaad. In fact, it was so good. I know ewe would like it.

Ok, I’ll stop now. I feel sheepish.

Destination Durango 5/9/2016

A two and a half hour drive from Moab got us to the part of the trip P was looking forward to the most, Durango, Colorado. He’s a mountain man. He has some major uphill spriking to do.

We checked into Lightner Creek RV Park. The lady behind the desk was sweet, and a fellow on a utility vehicle led us to our spot and helped us back in. The spot was spacious, and it only took two tries anyway. We are kind of getting used to it. I hope.

And what a spot! We are on the end, with Lightner Creek bending around the site on two sides.

It’s so private, and the joyful roar of that creek, heaven! We can have a charcoal fire, too! This is my favorite park so far.

We went to town and ate at the Irish Embassy Pub, which we pretty much lived at the last time we were in Durango. Because fish and chips.

And Magners! Ireland’s Dry Cider! They have a Bluegrass Jam every Wednesday night. HELLO! We are going!

We went back to camp and did laundry and settled in for the night.

More Durango Goodness to come, we are here for the next five nights!

Arch and Axe 5/9/2016

One of the most popular trails near Moab is the trail leading to the Morning Glory Bridge. It’s a moderate, sandy, and sometimes rocky trail that winds along and across a clear little stream to a natural bridge, 2-1/4 miles away.

At first we were a little apprehensive because being popular means crowds of course. We decided to leave it to fate. There were cars parked along the roadway in addition to the parking lot. Fate intervened, we got the last spot in the lot.

There were a lot of people on the trail, but they were almost all friendly. That’s the odd thing about Utah that I noticed on the last trip, on a trail, the young people who in other states would look away or stare blankly when you say hello, are actually courteous. They return salutations and even thank you when you yield to them. It’s disorienting, but pleasant.

This trail had sections of shady trees, something we haven’t had in weeks of desert hiking. It smelled wonderful, sharp and juniper-y in the rocky parts, and like that juicy green stalky smell like a florist shop in the shady stream bottoms.

Ten Paces Ahead, in response to being around lots of people on the trail, sped up even more than usual. I coined a new term for this behavior, “spriking”. Sprinting and hiking combined.

I kept up pretty well, I must say.

There were a lot of cute dogs on the trail, and one retriever mix that zoomed by leashless, owner giving chase. When the older couple that was behind us caught up, the man told us the dog had jumped on him and then bit his arm! Fortunately he had a long sleeved shirt on and it didn’t break the skin, but you could see the teeth marks. That’s why dogs should be on a leash, folks.

Later I asked P why he thought the dog singled that guy out. He said probably because of the guys outdated denim shorts.

I know, we’re awful. But you like us anyway.

Here’s the arch at the end-

And one more trail scenery pic, thank you for your patience.

We got done (in record spriking time!) and headed into Moab to eat at one of the top rated restaurants, the Quesadilla Mobilla food truck. It was the best meal we’ve had in Moab. The ratings didn’t lie on this one.

We walked in town a piece, where we discovered this strange custom. At one of the first roads in town, there isn’t a crossing light. So they suggest this to make sure you don’t get run over by a jeep with bikes on the back and being driven by a dude with a man-bun-

I, for one, don’t want to suffer vehicular hipster homicide.

We discovered a great outdoor store called Gearheads, good selection, good prices, and most importantly, good, friendly service. P bought a few shirts, and I found my perfect Mother’s Day gift-

It’s a hand forged axe made in Sweden by Gränsfors Bruks. It called to my 47% Scandinavian Viking blood.

Isn’t he a beaut?

There are twelve smiths at the factory, and each one stamps his initials into the head of the axe under the company logo. Mine was made by Anders Magnusson. He is one of the few smiths not pictured in the accompanying Axe Book, but in my mind he has a long red bushy beard.

Pete may use it, but he has to ax nicely.

Since we didn’t explore much of Canyonlands yesterday because we veered off onto the Shafer Trail (I had a hard time even mentioning veering off in that sentence), we drove back to see some more sights.

It was a little rainy and chilly, but there’s not much you can do to this kind of scenery. –

We went to both Shafer trail overlooks. Yes, we are a little obsessed with it. I forgot to mention yesterday that the elevation of that first 6 miles drops 1700 feet.

We even got a couple of raven shots-

And overlooked the Green River-

We asked a ranger how to see Bighorn Sheep and he said that there are only about 300 in the 500+ square mile park, and only about one in 50 visitors will see one. Pete showed him the picture of what I called Pronghorn in yesterday’s blog, and he said they were female Bighorn Sheep. So we are one in fifty! Yay! It’s almost worth my being wrong about them being Pronghorn. Almost.

So tomorrow we say goodbye to Utah and Moab. We will miss the polite young hikers. And the quesadillas.

Canyons, Cliffs, Cantina 5/8/2016

Today we chose to explore Dead Horse Point State Park and Canyonlands National Park, because they are not as wildly popular as Arches, and thus not as crowded. We passed the entrance gate for Arches around 12:30, and the line was about twenty deep, so yay, us!

The charmingly named Dead Horse Park is stunning. It looks like a miniature Grand Canyon, and has stood in for the real Grand Canyon in a lot of movies, including Mission Impossible 2 and Thelma and Louise.

Legend states that the park got its name because the cowboys would herd the wild mustang horses onto the point and close the gap with brush. Then they would cut the desirable horses out of the herd and leave the other ones penned in to die of thirst in clear view of the Colorado River, 2,000 feet below. Seriously, this is in the state-issued brochure. Which leads me to say-say it with me- the White Man Ruins Everything.

The views of this canyon of equine death were pretty sweet-

My bangs are jacked up in this one, but I like it of Pete, so here it is-

We like the “microscope” feature on the new camera-

Prickly but occasionally sweet, like me.

That’s the Colorado River. Thirsty? Tough shit.

I could have watched this cliff dweller for hours-

So fluffy! Want to squeeze him just a little!

Beautiful park, ravens were circling in the wind currents, but they’re almost impossible to get a snap of.

We then ventured to the more pleasantly named Canyonlands National Park. This is a huge, huge park that would take a month to explore thoroughly. We were a tad confused as to where to begin. We consulted the map, and P saw Shafer Trail, which was a dirt road for high clearance four wheel drive vehicles. Big Black is kind of that type of vehicle, so we thought we’d try it. It is 34 miles long, and ends in Moab, where Shiny is.

It’s going to be really difficult to convey in photos, but the first six miles are one lane dirt switchbacks with cliffs hundreds of feet high inches from your tires. No guard rails, or boulder barriers. And sometimes another vehicle is coming up so one of you has to find a little turnout and the other has to inch by with the canyon yawning inches away.

Here is a photo I ripped off the internet-

Here is a photo from the bottom. Pete has added a yellow arrow. The little speck it’s pointing to is a black truck.

I was trying to be cool, and not show how terrified I was and how close I was to getting out and scooting the whole 6 miles down on my ass. My hands were sweating so much that they slid constantly off the door handle and console they were death gripping on. I gave myself away when I casually said “I’m so glad this road goes all the way to M-M-M-Moab.”.

What you need to know about Pete if you don’t already, is that he is freakishly fearless. He’s not a fretter about things like hanging off a cliff, or any outdoorsy hazards like that. Cool as a cucumber. So, if he acts concerned about anything, prepare for the apocalypse.

Here he is in the unusual posture of sitting up super alert with both hands on the wheel-

On about the first hairpin turn, he laughed and said “I guess I better stop looking out at the scenery and concentrate on the road”. To which I replied “YOU ARE NOT TO EXPRESS ALOUD ANY INDICATION THAT YOU ARE NERVOUS”. He promised he wasn’t nervous. But hyper alert, all the same.

Of course we made it to the bottom. After we made it, it was fun in a sick way.

Here’s Big Black gloating about conquering the canyon-

We had 28 or so more miles of four wheel driving to go, some of it a little high or sketchy, but nothing compared to the 6 miles of horror in the beginning, and just the coolest scenery.

Did I mention how enamored I am with my truck?

Proof of how much I like Pete more than a friend. I have so, so, many opportunities to shove him off of a cliff.

Pronghorns!

This huge boulder was supported on about 24″ of loose rocks. I so wanted to Wile E Coyote this rock.

That’s a lot of pictures, but you would know I used restraint if you saw the 50+ photos I chose from that we took today.

We got back to Moab in time for dinner at Baja Mexican. Pete had the M.O.A.B., the Mother Of All Burritos. When it was served to him, a woman at the table next to us asked what was the prize for finishing it.

He didn’t finish it. You can lead a horse to water, but… Oh wait. Too soon.

We hit the state liquor store for some contraband vino, and headed back to Shiny for the night.

Such a super fun gorgeous day in Utah. I wasn’t sure I really liked Moab at first because it is choked with bicycles and man-buns, but some fabulous scenery and a little brush with death has made me come around.

Arches, No Apples 5/8/2016

It was a relatively short drive from Monument Valley to Moab, Utah today, 2.4 hours. Pretty scenic though.

This is a formation called Mexican Hat. Because it looks like a guy in a Mexican hat. The town near it is named, you guessed it, Mexican Hat.

This is my favorite sight I saw all day. I don’t know the real name of this huge rock, but I like to call it BB-8 with a Pillbox Hat-

See? Right?

We checked painlessly into the Spanish Trail RV Park in Moab.

Great views from Shiny’s window-

We had lunch in town, and headed for Arches National Park. We drove all the way across the park.

Some arches and rocks and mountains and stuff-

The Devil’s Garden-

Delicate Arch- It is the most widely recognized landmark in Arches National Park and is depicted on Utah license plates and on a postage stamp commemorating Utah’s centennial anniversary of admission to the union in 1996.

Pretty breathtaking park. But CROWDED. In fact, all of Moab is crowded. Lots of young Beardos, Lumbersexuals and hipsters. It’s so foreign to our SW Florida eyes. We barely got a parking spot at the grocery store.

Speaking of the grocery store, we bought some stuff for dinner, and were going to stock up on wine and cider, since we are almost out.

Welp, they had beer, but no wine, and NO CIDER. You heard that right. NO CIDER. I’ve never been in a grocery store, or for that matter, even a covenience store that didn’t at least have some Angry Orchard or Hornsby’s. What manner of town have we settled into for the next two days? Has the world gone mad?

P looked up this no wine phenomenon on the Internet. Turns out wine can only be purchased at state liquor stores. Because Mormons. I don’t know if the cider falls into the same category because it’s fermented, but damn.

Nice arches and rocks, now where’s the state liquor store?

Monument Valley Trail & Tour 5/6/2016

Today started with sleeping in a little, then having an early lunch at Goulding’s Stagecoach Dining Room. They had Navajo Tacos listed on the menu online. Ever since I hit the powwow circuit with my cousin Kippy years ago, I have been a fry bread girl in name, appearance and reputation. Navajo tacos are usually some kind of chile con carne and fixings on Navajo fry bread.

I am sad to report that although the fry bread was good, the fixings were canned chili and bagged shredded lettuce and salad toppings. We each ate a little less than half. We will have to hit up a roadside stand tomorrow and hope for the best.

Then we hiked the Wildcat Trail in the Navajo Monument Valley park. The trail is 3.8 miles of gently undulating sandy path leading through all kinds of fragrant native plants. It goes around this-

Which is either the east or west Mitten Butte. I have no sense of direction.

Enjoy that blue sky. That’s the last photo of it for the day.

A couple more from the trail-

After a brief rest at Shiny, we embarked on the “Deluxe Monument Valley Tour”. This was our ride-

Our Navajo guide was Dedrick, a friendly young man who kindly repeated the names of the sites twice through the speaker, which helps when you’re in pre- hearing aid phase like me. He used the phrase “Pretty nice, huh?” a lot, whether the rain was beating in your face or you were seeing a particularly gorgeous view.

There were eleven in our group. It seems like the same types on almost any tour you go on, you know, New York retiree couple who wants to brag about their grown kids, aging hippy chick that likes to ask all the locals their names, Germans, the quiet couple from North Dakota, people who dawdle and get to the bus late, antisocial assholes (that last one is us). We sat in the back like cool kids always do.

Not long after we started off, it started to rain and blow heavily. We helped Dedrick unroll the isinglass curtains. It let up. We rolled them down. It started to blow again, and I looked over at P, and my sunglasses blew off my face. It had to look comical, but those who know me know that I’m a freak about my Maui Jims. The hippie lady found them two seats and across away from me. Believe it or not, they had landed that far away and probably skittered across the dirty metal floor, and not a scratch. Hippie juju!

The rain came and went. We rolled the curtains up and down probably four times. I kept my glasses in my purse just in case.

Two buses of Asian tourists joined us at the first stop. Dedrick gunned it past their buses on the road shortly after.

The Totem Pole formations

There were a lot of horses loose in the park. Hippie Lady and a couple of new friends she met on the bus kept trying to get near enough to touch one. P used up a lot of camera memory filming this effort, in case they got kicked. Sorry to disappoint, but they didn’t.

Some rocks and pictographs and horses and formations and stuff-

Yoda rock-

Me holding my hat on. She did pretty well for a $15 hat, despite high winds and rain.

Pete formation-

John Ford Point. There’s usually a kid with a horse that will pose or let you pose with the horse but he must have been driven off by the weather.

Loads of movies are filmed in Monument Valley. Lots of westerns starring John Ford’s favorite actor John Wayne. I’ve only seen two John Wayne movies, The Quiet Man, filmed in Ireland. I thought I was a John Wayne fan, but I really just loved Sean Thornton. And True Grit, which has one of my favorite movie lines -“Fill yer hands, you sonsabitches!”. It wasn’t filmed here.

But Back to the Future III, Wild Wild West, Thelma and Louise, and A Million Ways to Die in the West were all filmed in Monument Valley. We’ve seen those.

We learned a little about the Navajo, too. One fact I found interesting was that Navajo only own and ride solid colored horses. That way when they used to see a paint or Pinto or Appaloosa horse ride up with someone on it, they knew it was a Ute or Comanche from a distance.

We were mucho dusty when we got back. Dust crunching in our teeth, and you could plant potatoes in our ears. I used my neti pot and the water that came out of my nose looked like the Missouri River. Sorry, but it paints a picture, doesn’t it?

Despite dust and rain and blowing glasses, we enjoyed our tour. It was pretty nice, huh?

Of Monuments and Mutts 5/4/2016

We had to leave my beloved Arizona today for Utah. But Monument Valley, where we are staying for the next two nights, is within sniffing distance. It’s about a mile past the Arizona border.

Here’s a cool shot of the San Francisco Peaks north of Flagstaff. We didn’t want to stop to take a proper photo-

Something else we saw on the way out of Arizona was a youngish fellow riding a bike and pulling a little trailer behind it on the highway. He had a rifle slung across his bare chest. Unfortunately I was too slack jawed to grab the camera, so you’ll have to use your imagination.

We found Goulding’s Lodge and Campground pretty easily after our eyes adjusted to the dazzle of the surrounding scenery-

We set up and explored the area a bit.

Space Cowboy in stage coach-

When we returned, we found a visitor under Shiny-

And nearby, six of the roly-polyest puppies you’d ever want to clap eyes on-

Sadly, all we could do was clap eyes on them, because they skittered away when approached, and Daddy was tied up nearby. Big teases.

But Mama was friendly-

I love that angelic beam of light.

I’m going to spare you all the info about Monument Valley and Goulding’s until tomorrow. We are taking a tour. There will be facts and photos galore.

Don’t say we didn’t warn you. 🙂

Montezuman Meanderings 5/3/2016

Today we decided to have a look-see at Montezuma’s Castle National Monument. We got to use our nearly expired National Park Pass, which was a bonus.

Montezuma’s Castle is not a castle, nor does it have an affiliation with Montezuma. Early American settlers came across these ancient cliff dwellings, and after plundering them of artifacts, named it that because they thought the Aztec might have built them, and I guess it sounded catchy.

You can’t go in them because the white man ruins everything. But you can stand underneath and take photos-

It’s a neat little park, with a 1/3 mile paved trail with interpretive signs about the plants and rocks. There were beautiful huge trees and a creek running by.

A pretty little verdant, peaceful park.

Montezuma’s Well (nothing to do with Montezuma, kind of a well) was fairly close, so we checked it out too.

It was even more remarkable than the castle. It’s a limestone sink fed by many springs.

Some of the dwellings here date to 1050-

1.5 million gallons of water emerge from the spring every day. 1.5 MILLION.

Imagine you’re a artifact swiping settler, wheeling along in your creaky, bouncy prairie schooner. Your mouth is full of dry dust, you haven’t bathed in weeks, your armpits smell like chili and your hair lies in greasy hanks. You come across this ridge, and there’s this blue bubble of a lake. You can’t believe your luck. Your crusty ass staggers to the edge and you plunge into the cool water. You surface gasping and trying to scream…around the leeches in your mouth.

Yes, the “well” is chock full of leeches. Serves you right, you smelly pottery plundering bastard.

Read about it if you dare-

The water has traces of arsenic, too. If you were patient or knowledgeable enough to drink the water as it flowed and filtered into the local creek, you’d be safe.

After our park visit, we found a wonderful public recycling dumpster area in Beaver Creek. Due to a sad lack of recycling opportunities at the parks we have stayed at, we have been toting three big Rubbermaid bins and two garbage bags full of glass bottles and cans across seven states. Some of the parks had cardboard recycling, but that doesn’t do us much good since all the wine and beer and cider and water we drink doesn’t come in cardboard. It was lovely to lighten our load. Nothing makes you feel like the Drunky Drunkensteins like taking almost ten minutes pitching your bottles. Now to fill up again.

We had to drive through Cornville, where our good buddies at Lo Lo Mai Springs are. We stopped for lunch at the Grasshopper Grill, where the lunch was tasty and the service sweet, but I admit we kept a weather eye out through the window for a golf cart screeching into the parking lot, or maybe some flying monkeys preceding this event.

We spent the rest of the afternoon in town at Sedona. It still amazes me that you can pop out of a souvenir shop or public restroom, and see all that spectacular scenery in all directions. I can’t imagine ever getting used to it.

Also, the arches in Sedona aren’t golden. They are turquoise arches.-

We drove back through that wonderful Verde Valley, surrounded by those Black Hills. Somewhere on one of those hills is Jerome. Last look-

😢

We explored Quail Ridge RV Park when we got back, taking in the 360 degree mountain views, checking out the neat little bath/laundry/clubhouse. I always check out the book borrow selection, and among the usual Robert Ludlow and James Patterson was a much loved copy of Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil. That tipped the balance favorably.

We enjoyed a rousing game of putt putt golf-

We tied exactly. There will be peace in the Valley tonight.

Devil’s Bridge 5/2/2016

You know how we were angry and were going to cut Sedona out of our trip? Yeah. We are too close to the awesomeness to not go.

Sedona is so gorgeous that it defies description. Pictures don’t capture it. Even when you’re there it’s so dreamy that it looks fake.

Because of the natural wonders, it’s always crowded. Not a great place if you’re antisocial.

We hiked to Devil’s Bridge today. We just liked the name. It starts on a rough road where you dodge the occasional tourist Jeep tour-

Some call me the Space Cowgirl-

Some purties we saw along the way-

He’s my purty.

It was about 2 miles in, and fairly flat, then the last 7/10 mile was rock steps to the top.

Those specks are people near the top.

The bridge-

A word about me and hiking- I am not in shape, obvs. But I love to hike and be outside. I will always make it to the top. In my time. My way. Sometimes if there’s scree, or I’m on a narrow ledge with a 700 foot drop on one side, I have been known to scoot on my butt or crawl (Acadia National Park, Precipice Trail). I have a middling fear of heights and falling. But I don’t care what other hikers think, and by key-rist I will get to the top and see that view.

I’m great on a flat or undulating trail. Not so hot on climbs. There is always a nice lady coming down a climb that tells me I’m almost there and it’s worth it. I must look and sound a fright, pale and panting.

But there’s almost always someone having a worse time of it than me.

Pete, on the other hand, is a machine. He’s nimble as a mountain goat, leaping from rock to rock as his bride scoots on her ass. He’s abnormally quick, too. As some of you know, his trail name is Ten Paces Ahead.

This is usually my view, and why I look breathless in the selfies-

Not a bad view though , I must say.

Here’s his view of me-

Here’s one more purty-

I like cacti.

When we got back to the trail parking lot, a car of young assholes sat a beer bottle on the pavement and closed their car door to leave. A fellow across from them saw it, and said “You’re not going to leave that.”. They opened the door back up and took it with them. Good on that guy! I can’t stand litterbugs.

We drove back to Jerome to see about a haunted tour but it was booked for the evening. 😦 I have to settle for my Haunted Hamburger experience.

I have been craving a steak and salad and baked potato like the York Steakhouse meals of my youth. On a recommendation of a fellow camper, we ate at Leff-T’s Steakhouse and had just that. As I told the manager, it was damn good. The top sirloin was cooked to a perfect medium rare. SW Florida, it CAN be done! Pete had ribs and they were yummy too.

I like the sign-

We got back to Shiny right as the sun was setting in the Verde Valley-

We have one more day in Arizona tomorrow. I always hate to leave it. New Mexico may be Enchanting, but oh you kid!

To Jerome We Roamed 5/1/2016

After our two unplanned days in Sun City, we looked on the Internet for a place to fill the three night gap in our reservations. We found Quail Ridge RV Park. It had one review, but the review was glowing, especially in terms of friendly customer service. We called, and they found a space for us.

The review was right. The owners are super friendly and welcoming, the park is neat as a pin and has full hook ups, and that favorite feature of mine, pull throughs. Quail Ridge is located an hour from Sedona and an hour from Flagstaff.

After settling in, we decided to drive an hour to Jerome, a former ghost town situated on the side of a mountain.

There were beautiful views along the way-

As we approached the town, one of the first businesses we saw was this establishment-

As Annie sang- I Think I’m Gonna Like it Here!

We parked on the main drag-

There was live music pouring from bars, quirky art and clothing stores, Old West-y architecture, a hole where a building used to be where people throw coins into various commodes-

I bought a nifty tank top from a store called Puscifer, which is a side project band from a dude from Tool, and a clothing line.

We walked up the hill to have a drink at Haunted Hamburger. I mean, I HAD to. My spooky ass couldn’t pass that opportunity up.

We didn’t see any spirits, but check out the ones we drank-

That’s a Hauntarita and a Haunted Bloody. The Haunted Bloody is the drink that eats like a meal.

Great lighting for terlet selfies, too.

Have you ever been somewhere and felt like this is exactly the perfect kind of place you want to be? I’m sure I’m not the first person to fall in love with Jerome. But if loving Jerome is wrong, I don’t want to be right. I was telling P when we first got there that it seemed like the people there were of my tribe. You know, like kindred spirits. And not just the ghost kind.

A young lady told me she loved my Bettie Page hair. Then I discovered Amore Pin Up Boutique, with all the rockabilly clothing and accessories you could want, with super cool sales ladies who let me try on as many dresses as I wanted and chatted to P so he wouldn’t be bored.

Jerome, AZ. Sigh. An old copper mining town once known as the wickedest town in Arizona, clinging at 5200 feet above sea level to the side of Cleopatra Hill, teeming with sweet and cool people, awesome shops and restaurants, killer views and I’m sure all kinds of ghosties.

If I can talk P into taking me back for the haunted tour, I’ll try to confirm the ghosty part. The other parts are confirmed.

Random photo time!

This one I ripped off the internet-

Sedona Shitstorm 4/30/2016

Yesterday, according to Siri, we had a six hour drive from Santa Fe to our campground in Sedona. You know how it goes, you stop for lunch, stop to take photos of a statue of Jackson Browne, stop for gas and whatnot, and it becomes an eight hour drive.

As we descended near Oak Creek Canyon in our last hour of driving, the car in front of us kept slamming on their brakes and was going twenty miles under the speed limit. There was a fair amount of traffic on the highway, so it was challenging to get over to pass him. Having to suddenly brake while hauling a trailer is dangerous, and we both kind of threw up our hands in the universal “what the hell are you doing” gesture, to which Slow Brake-happy Guy responded with jabbing his finger to the left in the univeral “pass me, asshole” gesture. When we were finally able to pass, I glanced over and this fine citizen was giving me the old, but tried and true, Italian chin flick.

This was an omen for how things would go in Sedona.

The campground where we had reservations for the next five nights is called Lo Lo Mai Springs. It was not our first choice, but was recommended by our first choice when we couldn’t get in. We read the reviews on TripAdvisor, which had 57 excellent and 27 terrible reviews. The complaints were mostly about rude staff.

Well, I labored in the trenches of retail for many years, dealt with many rude people, and thought I could probably overlook a little rudeness for a rare campground spot near Sedona. And maybe those people on Tripadvisor were being babies. I would be extra friendly, and things would go fine.

Wrong. Dead wrong.

As we drove down the narrow dirt driveway to the campground, we had to pull aside into the bushes so at least three other cars could get by us going the opposite direction. As we get to the bottom, there is a SUV and trailer and another big pickup truck pulled off to the right, with kids and adults exiting them. We can’t see what’s ahead, and we don’t want to get in their way, so we intended to pass them on the left. We don’t want to park in the road, because it will completely block it for anyone wishing to exit the park, so we pull ahead a little and park alongside a fence.

No sooner than I had my hand on the door handle to get out to register, a golf cart whips alongside us and an indignant woman in her fifties (I guess) greets us by reprimanding us for not parking behind the signs. No greeting, no smile, she just barked “You were supposed to park behind the signs, there are two signs and I know you saw them.” After a brief shocked silence, P tried to tell her we didn’t see them and didn’t want to block the road, but as soon as he got a word out she cut him off and asked for our last name. Then she brought up again not stopping behind the signs. P again attempted to explain that we didn’t want to block the road, only to be cut off again with the command to “go check in, then follow me to your spot so we can get you out of here”.

I went to check in, slightly dazed by the rudeness, and figuring, ok, we’ll get settled in our spot and try to avoid this harpy the rest of the time, everything will be fine.

Wrong. Wrong again.

I went in and paid the balance to a polite but miserable looking woman behind the counter. As I finished, P came in with the camera with photos of our vantage point when we pulled in, one sign on the right was barely visible with a tree and boulder in front of it and the other was hidden by the parked truck. He told the woman behind the counter that he was given the “what for” for parking past the sign and the counter woman shrugged and said “That’s Suzy, she does that.”.

Suzy (I think that was her name, Suzy, Susan, Satan, whatever) popped her head back into the office and tells us to get in the cart so she can show us our spot. We get in, and she says “I’m the wrong person to complain about.” And something about how she was perfectly nice to us (!) and we shouldn’t have complained about her. P asked her if she was threatening us. She said no, but repeats herself about how she’s the wrong person to complain about again.

P, for the third time, attempts to explain why we didn’t see the signs and that we didn’t want to block the road. AGAIN he was cut off and not permitted to talk. AGAIN we got her tired spiel about there are two signs and no way we didn’t see it.

At this point we are by the truck and she says to get out of the cart and follow her in our truck instead. P again said we were doing the right thing by not blocking he road and she’s interrupting him the whole time and he tries to show her the pictures but she says she didn’t have time to look at pictures and were we going to follow her to a spot or get a refund and leave.

As we both tried to reason with her she kept repeating you can either follow me to your spot or get a refund over and over interrupting anything we were saying.

We went to the front desk and got a refund, told the office people how dreadful this all was and how we were going to spread the word about this place on social media, and the desk woman sleepily said she was sorry and we left, shaken.

I seriously wish I had thought to videotape the altercation. You wouldn’t believe your eyes and ears.

Golf Cart Nazi had now caused us to be without a spot, near Sedona, which has very few options for RVs even when you plan in advance. And it was a Friday night.

We tried one place, they were very nice but booked solid. I told them about our experience at Lo Lo Mai and they were shocked but said if we wanted to avoid being yelled at again not to go to this other certain park because the guy that ran it was a mean drunk.

We tried the nearby state park but it was booked too. Long story short (too late!) we ended up in Sun City, a suburb of Phoenix, an hour and a half away, in a 55+ community that takes in RVs during snowbird season.

We had been ten hours in the car at this point. We were exhausted, hungry, shaken and upset. The security guard, Rudy at this park (Paradise RV Resort) was the kindest, warmest fellow. He signed us in, then another sweet fellow named Dan showed us to our spot. Although the PTSD did twitch when we saw his golf cart. 🙂

Dan helped us back in. I could have fell on his neck weeping with gratitude.

Although we are now parked on a gravel lot with no shade and probably the dulcet tones of shuffleboard and bingo awaiting when we turn off the A/C, we are comfortable here in No-One-Is-Bellowing-Nonsense Land. “Better a dinner of herbs”, right?

We are cutting the Sedona leg out of our trip. We have no idea where we’ll be for the next few nights. But I imagine anything is better than Lo Lo Mai and the hostility there. I think we dodged a bullet by leaving. That bitch practically told us she was going to torment us the whole time. I’ve never been talked to like a dirty dog like I was there, while trying to give them money. We are going to light up Tripadvisor and Yelp, so maybe someone else can be spared the treatment we got.

Driving Around and Around a Corner… 4/29/2016

…in Winslow. Arizona, such a fine sight to see, it’s a middle aged woman sprinting down the street to take some photos.

I’m sure that was NOT a fine sight to see.

But my sister Tracey is the World’s Greatest Jackson Browne Fan. And loves The Eagles just as much. So in an act of fangirl solidarity, I simply HAD to get a photo of the statue on the corner of Winslow, Arizona for her.

The statue and mural commemorate the Eagles song Take it Easy, in which a fellow is “Standing on a corner in Winslow, Arizona, and such a fine sight to see, there’s a girl, my lord, in a flatbed Ford slowing down to take a look at me”. Tracey’s main squeeze, Jackson Browne wrote the song.

They even have a flatbed Ford parked out front, albeit sans girl.

The flowers are for Glenn Frey of The Eagles, who died earlier this year.

Note the eagle in the window.

Winslow has a great debt to pay to The Eagles and Jackson Browne. Even before the statue and mural were there, fans made pilgrimages to take a photo on this corner.

Otherwise, Winslow ain’t what you’d call a going concern. In fact, there was no place to park our 42′ rig, so Pete dropped me off a little ways from the corner and drove around the block.

Thus the sprinting. I booked it to the corner, arrived sucking wind, got dubious looks from some German tourists, took my snaps, and leaped into the car as P slowed down to pick me up.

When it comes down to getting some snaps for my sis, no way I’m going to Take it Easy.

Santa Fe Scraps 4/28/2016

Kind of a quiet, uneventful day today. I did three loads of wash for $11 at the RV park laundry, met a precious wire haired Fox Terrier named Zen who’s staying in the RV next to us, went to town, bought a cheap pink cowgirl hat. I left Prima, my good hat at home. Then my nose got burnt. So I had to get another hat. I dub her Secunda.

We took a drive up to Hyde Memorial State Park, located 8 miles northeast of Santa Fe in the Sangre de Cristo Mountains. Sounds kind of like a hospital in a state park, doesn’t it? We took Big Black up here on his inaugural trip in November of 2014, and there was packed snow on the road. He did great. I love my truck.

There wasn’t any snow today, but it was 42 degrees and spitting flurries. Time to bust out the Woodchuck hat!

Representing! Cider hooligan in da house!

Here are some random last shots of Santa Fe-

Performers in the Plaza-

Tractors and engines at the campground-

And that’s it. Ate dinner downtown, folded laundry and got some work done in the trailer toward leaving tomorrow morning.

For Sedona! Yay!

That Left Turn at… 4/27/16

…Madrid. On the way to Albuquerque. Come on, one simply does not approach Albuquerque without the old Bugs Bunny schtick.

Our goal today was Albuquerque, via the scenic route that goes through Madrid (pronounced “MAD-drid”) the quirky little artist colony that was featured in the movie Wild Hogs.

This is our second time in Madrid. The first time we were here, we had the award winning and famous Mine Shaft Tavern Mad Chile Cheeseburger. We were so impressed that we had them again this time.

I had to rip this photo from the Internet, because our burgers had big bites taken out of them by the time I thought to document-

It is a half pound burger with roasted green chile and a lightly battered and fried whole green chile, aged Cheddar and Chipotle Dijonaisse on a Brioche Bun with garnish (pickles, tomatoes, lettuce). And another fried chile on the side for good measure, along with hand cut fries.

Pete had ordered a beer, and I got a Sprite. I guess their water is sulphurous, because my Sprite smelled funny. I didn’t want to complain, because I figured it was the ice and any other iced drink would taste the same.

The burger was so delicious, yet so painful. I have to rank those chiles as being in the top ten hottest things I have ever eaten. In an attempt to quench my tongue, I sucked that fart-smelling Sprite down like it was Perrier in the desert.

As we were sweating and burning our gums off, there was a table next to us with three stereotypical old bikers, leathers, grey goatees, you can picture it.

One of them was a tad louder than the others, and eloquent with the use of the F-word. He must have said it, with various suffixes and prefixes, as adjective, adverb, noun and verb, about every third word or so. As Connor says in The Boondock Saints, “Well, that certainly illustrates the diversity of the word”. It didn’t bother us, and it was striking to listen to.

Then Loud Biker started in on politics. We exchanged a look. Here we go, NOW he’s going to be an asshole. Imagine our surprise when his politics aligned perfectly with ours. Never judge a book by its goatee.

Personal glimpse about the burger, we have been eating chiles steadily for two days. A few hours after the inferno that is the Mad Chile Burger, let’s just say I had to have an emergency stop at a blessedly convenient Lowes. She who lives by the chile, dies by the chili. Pain. I’ll just leave this paragraph here…

Annnnywaay, on to Albuquerque, home of wrong left turns, Heisenberg, and my favorite art gallery evah, The Stranger Factory. We found this gem last time we were here, and I stormed that castle again.

I have had a recurring dream for the last thirty years or so. In it, I am in a store that has everything I love in it. I am delighted, and start to grab as much as I can, but something always prevents me. I don’t have my wallet. The store is closing. Natural disaster. I wake up disappointed and unfulfilled.

The Stranger Factory is like that dream store. It fits my kinks precisely. It’s overwhelming with quirk and kitsch. And I have my wallet!

Last time I wanted this little Japanese made devil baby, but I bought so much other stuff that I talked myself out of it. Not this time! He was still there! He went home with KK!

My store is in the Nob Hill district, which has Route 66 running through it, and thus lots of cool mid century motels and signs are sprinkled amidst the quirky little boutiques and galleries.

We spent some time poking around Nob Hill, then headed back toward Shiny. We had to pick up a few items, so we headed over to Wally World in Santa Fe, which has that local pueblo aesthetic-

Look at the pervy piñatas behind that bland exterior, though! And one even serving as lookout (or pimp).

Strange Factory, indeed! 😉

High Road to Taos 4/26/16

After our successful shopping in Santa Fe, we embarked on a little road trip to the Rio Grande Gorge Bridge and Taos.

We took the “High Road to Taos” on the way there. Very pretty scenery. And 40 degree weather and sleet. –

We stopped in Chimayo and ate at the Restaurante Rancho de Chimayo (Steve at Red River Outfitter’s suggestion). They serve authentic northern New Mexico cuisine. We both had Carne Adovada, marinated pork cooked in spicy red chile sauce, served with rice and posole. And sopapillas with honey to dip them in. Sweet. Jaysus. So, so good.

I didn’t take a photo because I bolted it down so fast.

But here is a lovely photo P took of the peppers hanging on the building for your consolation.

Then we got to the bridge. It is 565 feet above the Rio Grande, the seventh highest bridge in the Unites States, and if you don’t think my palms weren’t sweating while we were driving or walking across it, you’d be dead wrong.

There have been lots of movies filmed here: Natural Born Killers, Twins, White Sands, She’s Having a Baby, The Signal, Paul, Wild Hogs and Terminator: Salvation.

And lots of suicides, too, apparently.

But still a good place for selfies-

After a brief stop in Taos, which was delightfully hippie and friendly, we took the “Low Road to Taos” back. It runs alongside the Rio Grande for a long way.

We got back to the RV park in time to see the sunset-

And scoped out the spotless bathrooms and laundry facilities. I had to share this photo I took in the ladies-

I don’t know when the last time I saw one of those was. I might have to try it out before I leave!

We saw this awesome vintage trailer, too.

All in all a very good second day in the Land of Enchantment.

Santa Fe Shopping 4/26/16

I don’t know about ya’al, but sometimes when we go into a restaurant we’ve not been to before, it can be a little awkward. If there’s not a sign or a person standing at a podium, you kind of don’t know whether to seat yourself, or approach the bar, or what. Sometimes, you’ll get servers or greeters who look at you like you’re inconveniencing them.

This happened to us twice last night in Santa Fe when we were looking for a place to eat. We ended up at a touristy place that serves a medium burger well done. And by that I don’t mean done well.

This morning we wanted to try Tia Sophia’s, a restaurant downtown that is famous for their breakfast burritos. We went in wincing a little, waiting for more of that awkwardness.

Instead, we were greeted promptly and warmly by the two fellows at the front counter, and told to “make ourselves at home”.

We ordered the breakfast burrito, sausage for P, and bologna for me (bologna, breakfast of champions!), both with red and green chilies (Christmas).

Here’s mine-

As I told the nice man at the front desk, it was damn good. No wonder it has been featured on a bunch of Food Network shows.

I was so impressed that I took the first terlet selfie of this trip in their loo.

Then I hit up one of my favorite toy stores in the world, Moon Rabbit. It’s not a huge store, but they have the cutest selection of plush animals, and a whole wall of cool card games, and lots of Cthulhu items. Something for everyone! And the staff is always friendly. We picked up a card game called Fluxx that is appropriate for two players.

Then on to Red River Merchantile. Or as I like to think of it- A Bunch of Stuff Pete Likes Under One Roof.

Let me tell you. Shopping for clothing with P is an odyssey. He is a picky ass. We drive an hour at home to get to a metropolitan Nordstrom and go home empty handed most of the time.

But in this little store, about the size of our living room, we usually score three or four items that he really likes.

Steve, the proprietor, is one of those increasingly rare small business owners that really know their merchandise inside and out. Who makes it, where it’s made, how it fits, what its made of, he seems to love what he does and that makes all the difference. And he has great taste as a buyer.

My favorite Steve attribute, though? While P is trying on half the store in two different sizes, Steve and I chat like old friends while we wait for P to emerge from the dressing room and do his turn on the catwalk.

I’ve waited in many an upscale fitting room, with only my smartphone for company. I appreciate real life conversation, I can tell you.

We bought some earrings from Lloyd (easy name to remember) at the Palace of the Governors.

And took the obligatory Burro Alley photo.

Insert jackass joke here.

Fun fact – Santa Fe is where we got the name for this blog. On our first trip here in 2014, the dude at the Rainbow Man shop asked us where we were from, then asked us what we were doing traveling in November, and I said there were less crowds and we got a lot of the attractions to ourselves. He kind of glared at me, and said “So you’re antisocial”. At first I was indignant, but quickly realized he was right.

We owned it. And Antisocial Adventures was born.

Wuthering Heights 4/25/16

The whole time we were in west Texas, the wind constantly blew. Most of the time it was a nice breeze, but sometimes it was really strong, like walking in slow motion against it strong. I began to understand why some Texas ladies have big hair.

We left for Santa Fe today, had a wonderfully uneventful 6 hour drive. We arrived at Santa Fe Skies RV Park, and were thrilled to be able to pick a pull-through spot.

Santa Fe Skies RV park is on top of a big hill about 20 minutes from downtown Santa Fe. The views are very pretty, the park is clean and friendly, but boy, that wind WHIPS up here. Puts west Texas winds to shame. To put chairs out is folly. No one considers putting out their awnings for fear it would be ripped off. Although the evil part of me would love to watch Pete try to unfurl it.

The wind shakes and shivers Shiny and howls through her vents and fans. We have to use both hands to open and shut the door so it doesn’t slam open.

I finally can grasp what “wuthering” might have sounded like wailing through the eaves of that wind blasted Earnshaw ancestral home. If that ancient pile was made of aluminum and had rivets.

But instead of the moors, we get this view-

Totally worth the wuthering.

A Few Last Shots of Caprock 4/25/16

Here are a couple more random photos we took while hiking and whatnot. I realized I never showed what the canyons look like-

Here are some Cliff Swallows fighting the strong wind and trying to build their nests on the visitor center. The rangers have to chase them away because the tourists complain about being pooped on. That’s the great outdoors sometimes, baby. Bird shit happens.

And forgive me, one more prairie dog shot. I can’t be helped-

A burrowing owl couple-

This photo has inspired me to get a real camera. ASAP. Sometimes the phone camera doesn’t cut the mustard.

Some goats with a unique plaything we saw on a little drive we took today-

And that’s it with the merciless Caprock photos and posts. We depart tomorrow. But any time I see goats or prairie dogs, I gotta share the joy!

A Word About the Herd 4/25/16

Fun facts about the herd of bison at CCSP-

Local “legendary cowman” Charles Goodnight owned a massive cattle ranch in this area. There are a few books about him at the visitor center.

My first thought when I clapped eyes on Charles was “But I AM smiling!” Good night!

Anyway, Chuckles’ wife Mary Ann noted the declining numbers of bison (the white man ruins everything) and asked him if he’d round up a few to save them from extinction. So he did. Scowling all the while, likely. But a very cool conservation effort, nonetheless. Mary Ann Goodnight rocks!

The herd in the park is descended from that handful of bison that Mary Ann saved. There are about a hundred head in the herd now. They are unique because they were kept isolated from other bison gene pools. They are the last remaining members of the Southern Plains bison herd.

They have metal sculptures of them all over the park (and in Quitaque. I think producing metal bison sculptures and barbecue wraps are the main industries there). Sometimes you see one of the metal bison out of the corner of your eye and get excited that you have finally located the herd. There are bison chips all over the place, so they have a big range. Even the metal ones poop, it would seem-

We finally caught up to the real ones at the Visitor Center-

They didn’t pay us any mind.

According to the bison brochure, when bison become disturbed or agitated, they tend to hold their tails up in a “question mark” shape.

Supposedly, when early settlers saw an agitated bison with its tail raised, they knew to get out of there quickly, or “high tail it”.

Fire Ban is the Mother of Invention 4/24/16

We had leftover fajita chicken from last night, and we spotted a jar of Trader Joe’s Thai Red Curry simmer sauce in the pantry, so we were going to make some rice and throw in some frozen veg and make a curry for tonight.

We had the rice and veg cooking, when Pete uncharacteristically checked the expiration date on the sauce. Use by January 2015. A year and four months.

Now, I’m one of those intrepid (cheap, lazy, gross) souls who look at expiration dates as guidelines, or dares. But even I have to balk at over a year past expired.

What were we to do? We scanned the remnants of our pantry and fridge. We found an advantageous packet of tandoori spice, and some Ro-tel tomatoes. So we are cobbling together a curry with chicken, butter sautéed onion and garlic, sour cream, almond milk, garbanzo beans, rice and California mix with a Ro-tel tandoori sauce. Just like an episode of Chopped!

Fortunately we still have lots of wine, so if dinner is gross, we might not remember.

UPDATE- here is how it looked-

And damn, it was delicious. Better than when we attempt a curry at home with all the splendors of Publix at our feet.

Not being able to grill has expanded our culinary imaginations. Still, looking forward to real wood flamed S’mores.

Quitaque Day 4/24/16

Well, Quitaque half hour, anyway. There’s not enough to see to warrant even half a day.

Quitaque, population 411, is the closest town to CCSP. There is a feed and farm store, and a dry goods store, both which appeared closed, and the Caprock Cafe, which was a nearly windowless, dismal looking little building that seemed like it ought to be.

But Quitaque could rival Turkey Texas when it comes to murals. We counted three in two blocks. Here’s my favorite-

Didn’t notice the “country club”, but I imagine the entire population would probably fit in it.

The two most going concerns in town are the Allsup’s gas station, where you can take a dozen tamales home for $5, (I’ve had them, they’re good) and Dad’s Barbecue. Well, when all your Arcadia meat is languishing in the freezer due to the fire ban, you seek your meat in town if you can.

I went up to the window and ordered two pulled pork sandwiches from an attractive young lady. She asked if I wanted sandwiches or wraps, so I asked which is better? She frowned, and replied that one is on a bun, and one is on a tortilla. Stupid question, I guess. We ordered one of each.

Now, we were not in a hurry, but for some reason it took ten minutes to get the food. It was pulled pork in sauce on a bun and on a tortilla. No crazy requests from us , and no time consuming fixings. There was no one ahead of us. Again, I don’t mind at all, but I’m curious as to what could have taken so long.

It was pretty good barbecue. We’ll probably go back tomorrow if we have time to kill to wait for our food. Maybe we can check out the country club while we wait. .

Caprock 2 4/24/16

The next morning, P got up early to go register for our site, and I slept in a little. When he got back, he told me that we were in a 50 amp site instead of the 30 amp site we had reserved. He asked if he could pay the extra money to stay there, but they said it was all booked. So we would have to pack all the outside stuff we had put out, find another spot and BACK IN AGAIN.

I am not a morning person, and my famous blue streak hovered over Shiny for a while. But it couldn’t be helped. The only silver lining was that we could take long showers and do the dishes from the night before in a normal way, then go to the pump out before we BACKED INTO our new spot (CCSP doesn’t have sewage hookups).

So we did that. And P ACED the back in to the new spot! One try, I shit you not. I asked what he did different, but he said nothing was different. So, maybe a fluke, but maybe not…

Another piece of news that P brought back form the visitor center was that what the fire ban meant was that you could use charcoal, but only in a grill,

Which we didn’t bring, and have no means of buying out here in the wilds of Texas without a two hour drive. And no place to store it in the truck. Even though this area recently had heavy rains and flooding, and there is mud on the trails and around the fire rings, we can’t make a fire or have charcoal in the fire rings.

But at least we can cook in the trailer on the stove. We have Febreeze. And microwave S’mores ain’t half bad.

After we got re-settled in, we hiked the Canyon Rim Trail, and caught the Wild Horse trail, a pretty, not-too-strenuous hike of around 7 miles. We didn’t see any people, but we did see some toads hopping out of the mud on the trail. No bison yet, but evidence of them everywhere.

Later we cooked chicken fajitas in the trailer, then went for a little walk. We ran into an older couple with two French Bulldogs, a white one and a black one, both females, both rescues. Pete had pointed out earlier today that today was his late, beloved, English Bulldog Sheba’s birthday. So it was sweet that we got a little bully cuddle. They loved P, they were all over him. Maybe he will contract Puppy Fever…

There is a wonderful cool wind at night here, and we gave the AC a break. The wind flapping the awning and the light string around sounds like someone dismantling the truck, for some reason. Eventually we learned to ignore it and slept pretty well.

Today is sunny and cool. Our intentions are to hike, and check out Quitaque, the closest little town.

Caprock Canyons Capers 4/24/16

We pulled into the Caprock Canyons State Park visitor center around 5:30. The office was closed, so we followed the late arrival instructions, which was to fill out an envelope, go set up in the site of one’s choice, and come back before 9 a.m. the next morning to register.

We picked site 35, which seemed the best for antisocial folks like us, being the last site at the end. It also had a great view. And an only mildly worrisome drainage gully on one side.

We backed in probably six or seven times before we got it just so. But since the sites right around us were empty, no one could gawk or judge, so it wasn’t super stressful. Good thing, because we are out of electronics to sling out the window.

We settled in, pulled out the awning, got out the rug and chairs to put under it. We were getting really comfy, since we are going to be here for four nights.

We walked to the bathhouse, through the surrounding prairie dog colony. When they see you coming, they chirp out a warning and their neighbors come out and answer. It always reminds me of what Loretta Lynn writes in Coal Miner’s Daughter about how when an outsider comes up the holler, the cry of “Stranger comin’!” passes from house to house.

There were several babies, but they were too quick to get a photo of. So so cute! You’ll have to take my word for it.

There was a road runner hanging around too. They are so cool! But I’m always a little surprised that they aren’t blue and purple like Chuck Jones drew them.

We also spotted a Burrowing Owl. No Bison, but lots of bison poo. A pack of coyotes howled and yipped in the distance.

All this fauna just by the bathhouse!

We started the charcoal in the fire ring in our little chimney so we could cook our steak kebabs.

And P made us Sidecars. We don’t want to get rickets, right?

We were sitting around enjoying our drinks under the canopy and waiting on the charcoal to get white, when we were approached by a couple in matching park uniforms.

We casually dropped our garnishes into our cups. Texas has a State law that you can’t be seen consuming alcoholic beverages in their parks. You can drink them, you just can’t be seen drinking them. I’m sure I could have displayed a big chrome revolver across my lap with impunity, though. Texas.

They said hi, and told us they saw our smoke and that there was a fire ban. We were aware of this, but understood by the posted sign that we could use charcoal. I explained that it was charcoal and it was in a chimney. There was some confusion, as the man kept saying you couldn’t have it on the ground. Well, it was in a fire ring. Anyway, they left without sniffing our Sidecars and we resumed cooking.

We enjoyed our sunset views-

And the full moon-

We had a nice evening and a good first night’s sleep at CCSP.

Things we saw on the way to Caprock 4/21/16

Eight hours of-

Pastoral, rolling fields of bright spring green dotted with cows

Oil drills rotating

Rare but much appreciated goat farms

A red pickup with an Airstream sticker on the rear window tooting its horn and the driver giving us the thumbs up

Lots of local barbecue joints

Lots of local Mexican food joints

Prickly pear cactus

Turkey, Texas, where the proud locals honor their local celebrity, Bob Wills, of Bob Wills and the Texas Playboys with murals of his face and fiddle, and stores and bars named for him

Historic markers in fields where thriving towns used to be

Mesmerizing ploughed furrows of red earth awaiting planting

Dust devils

A crop dusting plane making seemingly impossibly low passes and banks

Puffy white clouds in that huge Texas sky

Pink, yellow, and white clusters of wildflowers along the roadside

What in the Sam… 4/21-16

…Houston??

As we left Huntsville State Park, it was pissing down rain so I figured there wasn’t much to look at, so I started working on the blog.

Then P said mildly “Look at that statue “. I looked up, and was startled at seeing a HUGE fellow leering down at the cars on Interstate 45.

I was too stunned to get a snap, and it would have been blurry and rainy anyway. Here’s one I ripped off of the Internet-

Ol’ Sam Houston is the worlds tallest statue of an American Hero at 67 feet tall on a 10-foot sunset granite base.

Kind of puts Big Butter Jesus in Cincinnati to shame. (may he rest in peace, he was taken out by lightning a few years ago).

Everything is bigger in Texas!

Those Magical Two Words 4/21/16

Pull through!

Also, let’s not discount those other two words every camper loves to hear, full hookups.

Huntsville State Park was chosen for its location to split up that long drive to get through Texas. It’s a very pleasant park, with a lake and horseback riding and lots of trails. And did I mention PULL THROUGHS?

Our site was on Raven Hill.

I want yaal to give me props for not making a Poe reference here.

The rain had stopped about two hours before we got there, and the weather was beautiful.

We had a walk by the lake, cooked dinner in the fire ring, and rested up for our longest drive, which is to Caprock Canyons, near Amarillo, TX.

Last time we were in Caprock, there was no phone or Internet service unless we hiked up a mountain. So more than likely, you won’t hear from us for four days. Two of which will be spent backing in, I’m sure. 🙄

Blinding and Bouncy 4/20/2016

Traveling Interstate 10 from Tickfaw S.P. has its scenic or interesting points, rivers and bayous and what I’m guessing were rice fields. But it’s difficult to enjoy the scenery (or your breakfast or your phone) because a long stretch of it is like driving on a washboard and your head and eyeballs and typing thumbs bobble and jiggle until your teeth rattle. I thought corduroy roads went out in the 1890s. On a positive note, I had some killer vibrato for singing along with the radio. You should have heard me warble some Aaron Neville.

Because we are limited as to where to park, we stopped for lunch at the Pilot Travel Plaza/Pelican Point Casino/Arby’s in Iowa, Louisiana. As I was getting our fountain drinks, a young man of about ten years old wearing a button down shirt, shorts and a trucker’s cap was waiting for me to get done so he could get his drink. I said “I’ll be out of your way in a second”, to which he replied in a soft southern accent “No problem ma’am I don’t mind to wait”. I had but a second to think “aww, a well raised little southern gentleman” before noticing the word “murder” emblazoned on his forearm in a ball point pen ink tattoo. Charming little psychopath.

We enjoyed our meals as well as one can enjoy greasy Arby’s the second day in a row, while eavesdropping on a trio of men pontificating on politics with pronounced Cajun accents. Those who know me know I’m a collector and appreciator of accents; my favorite thing in the world is to hear a real southerner say the word “here” (hyah, as Margaret Mitchell interpreted it). When I got up, my experience was complete when I saw that one of them had on bibbed overalls. Ah, Louisiana!

As we bumped and bounced across the Texas state line, rain started sheeting down in earnest. For real, one second we were in Louisiana in sprinkles, and the next we were in Texas in a deluge.

There has been flooding around Houston for the past four days or so. For those who read our last blog, you know that floods always follow the Lloyds. California should have hired us for drought relief.

So hopefully we won’t have to float to our next destination, Huntsville State Park.

Tickfaw Ya’al! 4/19/16

Today when we left BRSP, we noticed that there was a helicopter flying school right down the road. So, uh, I guess the helicopters that flew all day and night around the park weren’t looking for that escaped convict. Wasn’t that a more exciting explanation, though?

The journey toward our next destination, Tickfaw State Park in Louisiana was uneventful, highways through Alabama and Mississippi, the usual mixture of casino or hellfire and brimstone billboards.

When we got off the interstate, the sign said 7 miles to Tickfaw State Park. The closer we got, the more sketchy the “neighborhood” became. Let’s just say any deed restrictions or zoning laws on the books were decidedly relaxed, and “keeping up with the Jaunxes” is a battle to see who can fly the biggest Confederate flag. At one point we passed the turn off and had to turn around, which ain’t easy in our big ol’ rig. I told P if anyone approached us, just whistle Dixie.

When we arrived to Tickfaw after our Wrong Turn, it was a real surprise to see what a cool little park it is. But before we could explore, we had to BACK IN.

We had decided to try to use the walkie talkies again so I didn’t have to bellow like a fish wife to ” Stop. STOPPPP!”. Well, they didn’t work so well and ended up suffering the same fate as the monitor. That is, being flung out the truck window. I slang mine forth also . Needless to say, it was a struggle to back in. But eventually we got it, and the park is pretty empty this time of year, so no one could gawk and we could sling equipment and bellow all we wanted.

You’d never know we struggled, would you?

The sites are pretty, spacious and private with cute little decks.

And look at this ADORABLE vintage Shasta neighbor!

We explored the park, which has a nature center (closed by the time we got there) and miles of boardwalk trails winding through lovely cypress swamps and by the Tickfaw River.

Cypress trees and knees-

We spotted a little brown water snake from the safety of the boardwalk-

Amid the flowers by the nature center is a cat with the best mulch-camo ever-

A flooded trail was marked by a sign that said “Grandmother Tree”. We didn’t want to wade, but peeped down the trail a bit to see if we could spot the tree. That’s when P made a funny noise and jumped back. Right by the trail entrance lay this little beauty-

It’s difficult to say because he’s muddy, but we looked him up and we think it’s a Cottonmouth. P was about a yard away from him, and he (the snake) was unconcerned.

After dinner in the camper, we took a walk around the fishing pond, where Pete spotted this gorgeous specimen chilling by the edge of the pond-

He/she was about 6 or 7 feet long. The path we were walking on was right by him/her. P wanted me to stand in the picture with the ‘gator, but despite my fervent desire to rub a little ‘gator belly, Mama didn’t raise no fool. But I stuck my foot into the frame for your amusement.

TSP is a nice little park in the wilds an hour north or so from New Orleans. It has a “water pad” and big playground for the kids, air conditioned bathrooms, lots of trails and boardwalks, and some pretty laid back reptiles. Just try not to take a Wrong Turn on the approach.

First Book Nerd Narrow Miss 4/18/16

Anyone who knows my previous antisocial adventurers blog knows I’m always cajoling Pete to visit literary waysides on our trips, especially Laura Ingalls Wilder sites. My sister T and I are obsessive LIW nerds, our bonnets are huge. I’m a die hard book nerd. P knew this when he married me. So, he’s extremely patient with trudging 3 miles through Manhattan to see where Frank McCourt taught high school, or touring the House of the Seven Gables in Salem, Mass. Bless his black heart.

On our last trip out west, we were in Kansas, and he deigned to visit the LIW log cabin in Independence, KS, the site of the Little House on the Prairie book. (NOT the T.V. show. Your bonnet shrinks when you mention Michael Landon) Granted, there’s not a whole lot else to do in Kansas.

When we went to New England, he gamely endured a 1.5 hour private tour of Almanzo Wilder’s home in Malone, NY. He didn’t blink when I told the tour guide I thought Almanzo was a “stone cold fox’.

So when I found out there was a historical marker in the Florida Panhandle in a spot where Laura and Almanzo lived briefly, I immediately started to wheedle. I mean, this is my current home state, and P is thoroughly Proud Floridian only four years after moving here from Ohio. He wears a down jacket in 65 degree weather.

Alas, we were so late in getting here to Blackwater River S.P., that we didn’t legitimately have time to stop and see it. Or, P conveniently “forgot’ as we were passing the exit.

But, my nerd-dom requires me to share some details about this site. Laura and Almanzo were encouraged by a cousin to move to Florida so the hot weather would help with Almanzo’s failing health after he had diphtheria. They arrived in October, 1892. They left in August, 1893, because Laura couldn’t handle the humidity.

Having lived through four Florida Augusts myself while having the benefit of modern underpinnings, I can’t imagine trying to live through the heat and humidity of a Florida August in a corset and leg o’ mutton sleeves. October is one thing, but August is a thoroughly steamy hell. Laura was probably like “Diphtheria be damned, get me back to DeSmet, South Dakota!”.

I See the Lights, I See the Trailer Lights 4/18/16

One of the more important decisions facing Airstream owners is what kind of lights to hang along the awning? What is the message we wish to convey to our neighbors?

In vain I searched the Internet for red devil lights. I thought they’d have a rockabilly feel, cute, yet scary enough to dissuade evangelicals from knocking. Apparently these lights don’t exist.

For the brief time we had Tiny Shiny, I looked for red, white, and blue rocket lights. I thought they would fit with the mid-century atomic aesthetic I was going for. They don’t exist either. Good thing , because we only had Tiny for about two months.

I considered skull and crossbones (too pirate-y). Little Coleman lanterns (too rustic). Beer bottles (too redneck). Wine bottles (too snooty) There are TONS of options, from cutesy to disco to cheesy.

Then I thought chili peppers would be perfect. We love spicy food and the southwest. But I thought red would look too much like caution lights. Or “red light district-y”.

Then I found turquoise chili peppers. I have a lot of turquoise items in the trailer. Perfect!

At least until devil lights become available. 😃

Old Blackwater, Keep on Rollin’ 4/18/2016

…Florida moon won’t you keep on shinin’…

Sounds better with that extra syllable, I guess.

Blackwater River State Park is tiny, about a square mile in area. There are a couple of nature trails with boardwalks, and several “beaches” on the river, some complete with sand castles.

I can’t say I was tempted to swim in the very clean but tannin stained water, I did waver when I saw the signs warning of alligators in the river and what to do if you saw one (get away from it). Since tickling their bellies seemed prohibited, I forbore.

I thought with the cypress swamps close by that it would be mosquito city last night, but it wasn’t bad at all. We cooked Green Chili Chicken in the Dutch oven over a charcoal and wood fire. Since the dish itself isn’t pretty, here’s a picture of it cooking-

Btw, that was the cleanest fire ring I’ve ever seen. The whole park is tidy as hell.

Here’s a fetching photo of Shiny at twilight-

Today we stocked up on more groceries at the closest Publix, which was thirty minutes away. Campers cannot live by meat alone, we need booze and veggies, and tomorrow we are headed for the wilds of Louisiana, where presumably one can only buy okra and corn cobettes.

When we returned, we explored the park some more, nice sandy trails, but with recent heavy rains, some trails were flooded in spots. And we encountered a naked human turd close to one “beach”. #seewhyihatepeople

Also, there was a news report this morning that a prisoner had escaped in Mobile, Alabama. I think that’s fairly close to here. At any rate, helicopters have been circling ALL DAY around the park and I don’t think they’re tourist tours of the cypress swamps.

We found a few winding trails amongst the pines that were delightful, though.

We retired back to site 29 for Sidecars, citronella candles, blogging with a real computer and the fire burning down in preparation for cooking our DannyBurgers. (Recipe to follow sometime, damn, you ain’t LIVED until you’ve had a DannyBurger).

Our neighbors are playing their TV loudly, first Andy Griffith then Dancing With the Stars, which I can hear clearly from here and was hoping to catch up with on DVR when I get home.

So, hopefully we have a signal from the wilds of Louisiana tomorrow. Until then, good night, and good luck to Paige VanZant on DWTS!

Backing In 4/17/16

Despite a late start (laziness), we arrived at our next park, Blackwater River S. P. on the panhandle of Florida at about 4 p.m. because we gained an hour when we moved into the central time zone.

This park is kind of in the middle of nowhere (no problem, because we have meat!) in a piney forest. The campground is smallish, but has big sites with meticulously raked gravel.

We almost always have trouble backing in. I tell myself that everyone has trouble once in a while, but maybe we are morons, I don’t know. I sure feel moronic with all the neighbors watching and often coming over to intervene.

Before the last trip, we bought a back up camera for the back of the trailer. It’s never worked right. It’s fuzzy like a TV in the ‘seventies that has tin foil rabbit ears for reception. We tried to get it to work today before we got here, nothing but blue screen. If we only had some tin foil and rabbit ears.

There weren’t too many neighbors a-gawking when we pulled in. That’s a mercy, because we got off wrong footed and backed up fifty times (about ten), me shouting STOP and trying to point to where the bumper needed to go. A swarm of mosquitos attacked, making my movements and flailing all the more confusing for P.

I’d run to the truck , approach P’s scowling face, explain what was going on, run back, flail, point, swat. I observed a black item with a tail sail though the truck window on to the gravel. It was the monitor for the back up camera.

Eventually, we managed to get in straight and enough to one side. The picture looks so serene, doesn’t it?

Notice the skid marks by the picnic table. At one point I ran over and shoved it to one side when Shiny got too close. Also, you might be able to make out twenty or so tire tracks in the gravel. Those are all from us.

Alls well that ends well, as Ma Ingalls would say. I say it’s time for a cider.

Go West, Young(ish) Man! 4/16/16

This adventure will take us out west, on a similar path to the first trip with the tent. But with AC. :). We have six weeks worth of reservations so far for parks, that will get us to Colorado, then we’ll see where the wind blows us.

After we returned from our New England trip, we decided to upgrade to a 25ft Airstream. Shiny Tiny was adorable, but oh, the difference 3 feet makes.

There’s double the storage space, more room to stretch out, and a tad more privacy. She doesn’t have quite the retro feel in the interior that Tiny had, but Pete whipped up some new throw pillows that have just the right mid century aesthetic.

We haven’t named her yet, as you know, trail names cannot be forced, they just have to happen. For a while I called her Medium Shiny, then just Shiny, which will have to do until circumstance provides another name. Hopefully it’s nothing like Leaky or Smelly. Or Denty! 😱

Since we will be gone longer than we ever have been, I suspect that we have overpacked on some things. Like my clothing. And toiletries. And books. But all that storage space makes it OK, right? With my fickle nature, I don’t know if I’ll want my Vampira shirt or a Bengals jersey, or want to read Dickens or Uncle Stevie. So I brought it all, in case.

And we won’t starve, that’s for sure. We hit up that cheap meat store in Arcadia, and filled the freezer. The meat is always good, but so reasonable that I half expect to find a human finger. Nah it’s because it’s in farm country. Right?

In our haste to remember all the meat, we forgot the beer. Woe. But the cider was already in the truck. Trust.

Today we drove to Salt Springs State Park near Ocala, Fl, about four hours from home. It’s usually our first stop when we take off anywhere, nice roomy sites, bubbling springs, full hookups, Pygmy Rattlesnakes. You know, all the necessities.

After setting up with the usual gawkers watching our back up efforts from under their awnings, and an hour hike through the palm tree woods, it was time for dinner.

Arcadia beef tenderloin filets wrapped in bacon and cooked to perfect rare over charcoal. Sweet Jaysus.

Paired with an appropriate wine, of course.

Gawd I love not tent camping.

Welcome to Antisocial Adventures! 4/16/16

(Here is the seam from where we switched from WordPress to Blogger)

We are Dan and Kellie Lloyd , and this is our travel blog. We started out two years ago with good intentions of camping in a big tent, but after the first trip, bought a 22′ Airstream. We like AC. After our second trip, we traded that in and got a 25′ Airstream. It’s perfectly sized for the two of us.

We came up with “Antisocial Adventures” as a name because we don’t like crowds or hobnobbing too much with the campground neighbors. Camping folks are some of the friendliest in the world, and we always say howdy, but we keep ourselves to ourselves, mostly. We are not the Kumbay-ya communal campfire type.

Fun fact- one friend and one family member told us independently that they almost had made us wooden camp signs that say “The Assholes” in fancy script. Ha! Perfect!

Our travel blog has moved to Blogger from WordPress. WordPress drove me nuts because the photos were so hard to load, causing a permanent blue streak that followed our vehicle everywhere we went.

If anyone wants to look at the old blog, which was our first two camping trips, the link is – www.antisocialadventurers.wordpress.com

Anyway, on to the adventures! To friends and family that read the blog before- love yas! To new readers, thanks for checking us out so far. We hope you all enjoy the new blog!

Love,

The Assholes

P.S. I mostly call Dan “Pete” or “P”, in case there’s any confusion.

*********************************************************************************

Editing

Posted October 10, 2015

I just looked at the whole blog on a laptop-there was some really sketchy editing and a weird double posting of the Frost poem paragraph. My only excuse is that WordPress froze up a lot. And cider.

A Very Few Final Musings

Posted October 10, 2015

Some final thoughts from the road-

Every building is improved by sitting a pumpkin in front of it.

If you walk in step with Pete, you will not be hit by a car. But don’t cross the street 2 steps behind…

If you hear rustling around in the underbrush in Vermont, it’s probably not a gator, despite what your instincts tell you.

Avoid talkative Canadians when you have your dinner cooking on a campfire.

Almost everything is better with maple syrup on it.

Back Home

Posted October 10, 2015

We made it back a few days ago to the damp oven of Punta Gorda. I held a vain hope that the weather would be cooler when we got back, but alas, it’s in the upper eighties and inbreathably humid. Yes, I made up that word. WordPress didn’t correct it, so in it stays.

I was glad to see my neighbors, plants and fish, however blanketed in humidity they were.

This was a good inaugural trip for Tiny Shiny, 28 days residing in the camper and 5757 miles on the ol’ odometer. No real problems, honey spills and New Jersey Turnpikes notwithstanding.

Savannahversary

Posted October 7, 2015

I got to spend the last day of our road trip, which is our 25th anniversary, in my favorite city with my favorite husband.

We arrived last night at Skidaway Island S.P. (Ha!) again, and parked in our original spot, sweet 16.

We spent the morning at Wormsloe Historic site, which is an ugly name for a gorgeous place. It’s right here on Skidaway (ha!) Island, so it was close to get to. It is the remains of Noble Jones’s plantation, he was one of the original settlers that came with Oglethorpe to found Savannah. Wouldn’t Noble Jone’s be a great name for a dog, or an alternative band?

Here is the driveway, the longest Live Oak lined driveway in the world (who comes up with these distinctions?) with 400+ trees spanning 1.5 miles. Look familiar? That’s where the “Run, Forrest, run!” scene was filmed!

The ruins of Noble Jones’s house, built in 1736 and made of tabby-oyster shells mixed with lime and sand. I picture all these colonial types eating oysters and sitting on a mound of shells saying “what the hell are we gonna do with all these things?!”.

Inside a little colonial “wattle and daub” constructed house-

Us in the estuary

Then on to my city-

Then dinner at our favorite spot, the dark, dank bar in the basement of the Olde Pink House, where our server surprised us with a little dessert-

Some shots of Moon River on the drive back-

Then the Big Ferry hike by our campground-

So, a great last day of our trip and anniversary, too. We walked about ten miles today. Good thing, since we’ll be stuck in the car for 8+ hours tomorrow to get home.

A Few Clicks on the Ol’ Odometer

Posted October 5, 2015

Not much interesting to report, we got through 300+ miles toward home, and camped in the quiet little Medoc Mountain State Park campground in North Carolina; just over the Virginia state line.

Though it seems boring, sometimes it’s good to have nothing noteworthy happening, like problems.

Here is a reward for reading this dull post.

Some dragons being hauled along route 95.

Leaving

Posted October 4, 2015

We departed our dear Vermont today, and headed down 95. This is how close Tiny Shiny got to Manhattan-

The traffic wasn’t horrific for a Saturday, but it made me nervous nonetheless. Pete was unfazed, as proven by that blasé snap of him on the Jersey Turnpike.

We found Elk Neck State Park in Maryland a few hours later. It is located in North East, Maryland (that’s the name of the town, not the direction it’s in). This town has a perverse rule against selling beer or wine at their grocery stores. We tried two. They have tiny liquor stores where they mark everything way up. Singular, to say the least.

Maryland was our second home for a few years because that’s where Bodhi was docked, in Rock Hall, on the Eastern Shore. Two things I miss about Rock Hall, the biscuits and gravy at the puzzlingly named Pasta Plus restaurant, and Utz “The Crab Chip”, perfect with a cider after wiping down all that damned real brightwork. I was pretty pumped to see the maniacal looking Utz chip girls face and her perfect ‘fro at the weird alcohol-less grocery store, I can tell you.

The Last of the Vermonty Goodness

Posted October 2, 2015

We head toward home tomorrow, so I’m going to post these photos to sustain me when I get back to the 90•+ weather down in Flahrida.

This is one of the coolest bookstores I’ve been to-Northshire Bookstore in Manchester, Vermont. It has all kinds of nooks and crannies, and tons of books, of course, a coffee shop, and Bernie Sanders t-shirts for sale. Uncle Steve calls it a “special place”. He’s right. We went two days in a row.

Good terlets too!
Manchester is a cool town.

We took lots of drives in the area, here’s an abondoned quarry we found. People swim there in the summer.

Imagine diving down into that dark water and feeling a cold, slimy hand grab your wrist…

Some locals along scenic route 30-

We went to an arts and crafts fair, where we topped off our maple syrup supply and had excellent red curry dumplings at this food truck-

Pete in festival mode-

Here is a lone bubble floating through the atmosphere-

A view from the back of our campground-

Some shots of Dorset,

my favorite tiny town in Vermont-

The Dorset Union Store. I bought some unions rhere.

Oh my gourd!

I am sad to leave Vermont again tomorrow, but grateful that Joaquin gave me two extra days!

Waiting Out Joaquin

Posted October 1, 2015

We were going to start heading back to Florida today, and had plans to visit the Cheaapeake, Annapolis and Savannah on the way, but with Joaquin likely on the move to those areas, we decided to hunker down in Southern Vermont for a couple more days to see where the storm heads.

Portland is a Wash

Posted September 30, 2015

Today was our day to spend in Maine, checking out Portland, which is supposed to be a quirky harbor town.

When I am “leaf peeping” in Maine, I always think of what happened when Brian went to Maine to “leaf peep”-

Seth MacFarlane is so in my head it’s scary. But I digress.

It rained fish hooks and hammer handles most of the day. I mean sheets of rain, obscuring that mythological New Hampshire scenery once again.

We stopped to get cider doughnuts at Meredith, NH’s number one rated “restaurant” on TripAdvisor, the Cider Bellies doughnut stand at Moulton Farm. I risked drowning to go in to obtain these doughnuts, but was informed that they only sell them Thursday through Saturday. Skunked again. I did get this soggy pumpkin photo, so all was not lost-

When we got all the long way to Portland, they were in the middle of a record rainfall and flash floods. Lots of streets were closed, and Big Black had a nerve wracking wade through about 18″ of water covering the road.

We managed to get to Becky’s Diner to have lobsta rolls, tried to drive around to see the lay of the flooded land, gave up and headed back to our campground in N.H. We took this photo in Portland before we left-

Hey, look, the Lloyds were in Portland! Pestilence! Famine! Economic downturn! Nah, just a little flash flooding. You’re welcome, Portland!

Foggy Mountain Breakdown

Posted September 30, 2015

Years ago, back in the dark ages before the Internet, P and I took a New England road trip. When we got to New Hampshire, we couldn’t find a hotel anywhere, and it was dark. We saw the Mount Washington Hotel blazing light in the darkness. When we inquired, desk clerk sniffed that they didn’t have any rooms. I was so aggravated I stomped my white trash ass to their infused water stand and drank my fill, then used the lobby restroom, then we departed, drove all the way through the White Mountains in the dark, and found a hotel in Maine. That was our New Hampshire/White Mountain experience.
This time, we drove through the White Mountains in the day. The foggy, foggy day. So, the first time we were in the White Mountains was a blackout, this time was a whiteout. Still, the changing leaves were pretty where you could see them.
We stopped for a very late lunch at the Mount Washington Hotel. We were ignored by the bar staff for fully three minutes before we caught someones eye and asked permission to sit down. If it hadn’t been 3:45 and being desperate for food, I would have walked out. Hell hath no fury like me when I’m hungry and slightly inconvenienced. As we sat and waited and waited for our food and drinks, every Buffy and Biff that came up to that bar was greeted within seconds and had their asses duly kissed. Irritado.
The hotel is said to be haunted by Caroline Stickney, the wife of the dude that built the hotel. More likely, it’s a bar patron who passed away waiting to be served.
Here’s a reenactment of how Mt Washington looked the first time we saw it years ago-

Here is this time-

Here is what it’s supposed to look like (ripped from the Internet)-

I’ll never set foot in that hotel again, rain or shine or fog, I know that. As far as historic hotels go, the Stanley in Colorado beats it cold, anyhow. And the Mount Washington Hotel has no Stephen King connection. So there.

Leaving Vermont

Posted September 29, 2015

Upon reluctantly leaving Vermont, here are some random observations about the Green Mountain State:

Sure there are plenty of old timey general stores, wood shingle houses and quaint villages, but they are side by side with lots of solar panels, parking spots everywhere with plugs and ample public recycling dumpsters.

There are tons of hiking trails and lots of clear rivers flowing around huge granite boulders.

Too many people on bicycles for my taste.

Billboards are forbidden in Vermont, so you’re more likely to see a moose on the highway than alternating pro-life and strip club advertisements.

There are moose here!

The people are friendly but seem like they keep themselves to themselves.

Maple syrup is sold at almost every farm, general store, roadside stand and gas station, much to our delight. We even found maple flavored lip balm!

This is Bernie Sander’s state! Feel the Bern! 2016!!

There are Subarus EVERYWHERE. People on street corners stared after our GMC in confusion.

It looks just like you want it to look. But in my mind it is always fall here.

In Randolph, the little town we camped near, the high school team is called the Galloping Ghosts. I don’t know why. But I like it!

There are a lot of local breweries, distilleries and cideries in Vermont. They grow their own apples and hops, too.

The cheddar cheese is awesome here.

According to the last census, Vermont is the least religious of all 50 states.

So, pretty much Vermont fits our kinks amply. We kind of hate to leave.

Stopping by Woods on an Autumn Day

Posted September 28, 2015

We’ve been driving around for days, agri-touring and gawking and shopping, so we wanted to spend some time outdoors and not just riding in the truck.

There was a sign we passed a couple of times yesterday in Green Mountain National Forest that said “Texas Falls”. On a whim, we decided to stop by today. The pictures don’t do it justice. It is a clear, clear stream that falls through huge grooves In stone and boulders. I can’t figure why they call it Texas Falls. It isn’t oversized, over the top, or wearing boots.

We walked the nature trail by the falls,too. Here is a typical TSA view during my hikes –

I like trees.

We stopped near Ripton to walk the Robert Frost interpretive trail.

This is Robert Frost country. and who wouldn’t be inspired, in such a landscape!

I have to thank S. E. Hinton, because of her book The Outsiders, most American kids of a certain age are exposed to at least one of Frost’s poems- Let’s see if I can remember-
“Natures first green is gold-Her hardest hue to hold-Her early leaf’s a flower-But only so an hour -Then leaf subsides to leaf-So Eden sank to grief-So dawn goes down to day. Nothing gold can stay.”
“Stay gold, Ponyboy”!
The trail is really beautiful and well done, with benches and poems posted that relate to what you’re looking at.

I know I’m generic, but this one has always been my favorite.

I hadn’t read this one before, but it struck a chord with me, so I share it with yaal-

We drove through Lincoln Gap, and stopped to hike the Sunset Ledge trail, which is part of the Vermont Long Trail, which runs the length of the state. I salute those hardy souls that do that whole hike; they must have ankles of steel. There were roots and sheets of rock all the way up. UP. Now I know why Frost was always waxing thoughtful and poetic, the bastard lived and hiked in the VALLEY.

At any rate, it was a really pretty hike, and the view from the ledge was outstanding.

Ten Paces Ahead even let me catch up, briefly!

Vermont Part 2

Posted September 28, 2015

Today we drove through Randolph Gap and Middlebury Gap. Gorgeous views again of mountains and farms. It was glorious. We took a wrong turn that ended up taking us past these beauties-

We had lunch at the Two Brothers Tavern in Middlebury- this is sweet potato, onion, carrot, maple bacon hash with eggs. Sweet lawd.

You know what else is in Middlebury? THE WOODCHUCK CIDERY! This is in all caps, since I have been enjoying their cider since 2000. It like a Mecca for cider freaks, since they were one of the first hard cider operations in modern times in the U. S. We took the self guided tour, and then had a tasting at the bar, served by disappointingly dour bartenders. But even the sour apple servers couldn’t dampen my apple ardor.

This is where the magic happens.

I knew there was something I liked about that Ben Franklin fellow-

And it’s even a GMC.

Then on to Manchester, an upscale town with the original Orvis store and fly fishing school.

We drove back to Abal Mountain via 100 north, a scenic byway. And was it ever. We stopped briefly at the oveewhelmingly huge and tourist packed Vermont Country Store, and bought more syrup. Because you know, maple.

We made a campfire and watched the super blood moon lunar eclipse.

After this day of cider and goats and maple, we may never leave!

Vermont Part 1

Posted September 27, 2015

We have settled at Abel Mountain RV Park in Randolph, Vermont for the next three days or so. The park has full hookups-hello long showers!- and is in a little valley with a small river running through it. Tiny Shiny is backed up to the river.

This location is right in the middle of Vermont, we chose it for a home base so we can fan out in a different direction every day and explore the Green Mountain State.

The road to get to the park was, well, …interesting. We had to go over Lake Champlain -and didn’t want to pay $75 to take TS over in a ferry, so we routed over a bridge in a narrow part of the lake. We ended up going over a mountain, on a twisty, turny, steep road that was paved one minute and gravel the next. Poor Shiny chugged along, though.

Today, we explored the Ben & Jerry’s ice cream factory in Waterbury. We are not really ice cream eaters, but the tour was interesting, and we thought we should support and learn more about such a politically liberal and socially responsible company.

There was something for everyone, even morbid folks like me! They’re so inclusive!

This photo proves that Pete will do just about anything to make me happy.

We visited the Cabot cheese annex store and scored some Vermont cheddar and a Tiny Shiny-sized cheese board.

On to Stowe, a ski resort town and exactly what one pictures when envisioning the word “Vermont”. All of these quaint towns have a gorgeous church with a steeple-it’s like it’s required. Here’s a picture I ripped off the Internet of Stowe-

We drove by the Von Trapp Family Lodge in Stowe. Pete tolerated exactly three The Sound of Music songs. He wouldn’t join in on the Lonely Goatherd, even when I offered him the plum part of the Girl in a Pale Pink Coat.

On the way to Burlington, we went through an area called Smuggler’s Notch, and I thought the road was curvy yesterday! This one has boulders to contend with too. TS would not have made it. Driving through this area was my favorite part of the day. I tried in vain to take a photo, but here’s one I also ripped off the internet that illustrates it pretty well.

We stopped at a maple syrup store and bought a pint. You HAVE to. They check for it at the border.

Burlington is the most populated city in VT. It sits on Lake Champlain. Very cool. Lots of nifty shops and restaurants and young people.

Church Street Marketplace

Cool public art
This danged adorable baby waiting for his mommy to get done shopping.
Lake Champlain (which allegedly has a monster in it), Adirondacks behind it.

Obligatory steeple with full moon, Burlingron.

There was no coat factory in Burlington that I could tell, though.

I realize this is a mercilessly long post. I really like it here. Believe it or not, I held back a lot!

Pete, Me, and Meacham Lake

Posted September 25, 2015

After my LIW nerdsplosion we drive about 40 minutes into the Adirondack mountains to Meachem Lake State Park. We were a bit wary of staying here because it has no hookups for TS, not even electric, so we have to be totally self sufficient on battery power and water tank.
Turns out, this is one of the best spots we have had yet. It is very private, wooded, and has a great view.

I waded in the lake, which was clear and very shallow. My cider came along for the ride.

A leaf I liked. If I kept all of them I would fill the truck!

Sunset.

Sunset and Pete

S’mores were danged delicious. Kind of looks like a s’mores sacred heart.

If this place had at least electric, we’d have stayed here longer. But Mama has to be able to charge the iPad.

Patient Pete Meets Farmer Boy

Posted September 25, 2015

When we left Green Lakes S.P. today, we stopped at Dunkin Donuts. After a pumpkin cheesecake doughnut and a black coffee, I was wired for sound. I debated both sides in the gourds vs. squash debate, wondered aloud about how there are still Shakers when thsir religion requires the members to be abstinent, and plumbed the depths of pioneer hardships. Pete flatly refused my offer to describe how to thresh wheat by hand, however. Enough is enough.

Part of my hyperactivity was fueled by the caffeine and sugar but the other part was fueled by the fact that we were headed to the Almanzo Wilder Homestead. My inner nerd was dancing a jig, let me tell you.
Pete needs to read the map more carefully to avoid these Laura Ingalls Wilder nerd traps. The Ingalls’ got around. There are like nine home sites to visit, ranging from Florida all the way to South Dakota.

This site is a LIW geek dream, because it’s the only homesite mentioned in the books that is not a replica. Laura’s husband Almanzo lived here until age eighteen, and stories from his childhood are recounted in LIW’s book Farmer Boy.
It looked JUST how I pictured it. This is quite a feat, considering LIW had never been there and was going solely from Almanzo’s recollections.

The barns, which figure prominently in the book (FARMER Boy) burned down years before the homesite was rescued. Almanzo described them in detail and with drawings so they could be rebuilt, he was 75 and hadn’t been there in 57 years. He was so accurate that the rebuilt barns fitted exactly on the foundations.

It was just P and I on the tour. Our tour guide was Donna and she did a wonderful job. The tour was over an hour long. That’s a lot of talking. She let me pump water into the trough and feel the raw wool in the sheep shed. I “confessed” that I took a leaf from the yard and she laughed and said take as many as you want, and help yourself to as many apples as you want before you leave, too.
Pete did remarkably well during the tour. He stood stoically by as I pontificated on the differences between Father Wilder and Pa Ingalls, and didn’t bat an eye when I told the guide I thought Almanzo was a “stone cold fox” when he was young.
I could write ten pages about what we saw, but I’ll have mercy on you if you’ll tolerate a few more geek photos-

The maple tree is about 250 years old.

The sign and fence

Pete picking Almanzo apples

I sneaked and took a picture of the shingle scraper apparatus, painstakingly described in FB.

Me in the loo

Green Lakes S.P. Lives up to its Name

Posted September 23, 2015

…Because there is more than one lake, and they are green in color.

We had planned to only stay one night here, but a mishap with a breaker tripping and draining Shiny’s battery caused us to stay another night so it could charge. Which was a happy accident, because we got to explore the park today.

The weather was perfect, and the scenery was very pretty. We hiked around Round Lake and Green Lake. Green lake is 195 feet deep! Bodhi could almost not run aground in that!

The water is mega clear. It was so tempting to jump in and swim down, down, down into those blue depths, but there were signs everywhere prohibiting swimming. Boo!

Here is an informative sign telling about the lake and why it’s unique if you care to zoom in and read it. Saves typing for me.

One more lake shot and I’ll stop!

We are sitting next to the fire pit now, waiting for the paella to cook. And having our turn gawking at other couples backing their trailers in. Judging from what I’ve seen tonight, me and P don’t do half bad.

The Empire State

Posted September 23, 2015

It must be noted, for the cause of fairness, that the Pymatuning Lake Campground didn’t resemble Camp Crystal Lake as much in the daylight, and one of the other latrines was cleaner and smelled of bleach, though still in dire need of an updating.

We departed for the foothills of the Adirondacks, a five hour drive according to the GPS. The rest stops in New York state were labeled “Text Stop”.

We arrived at Green Lakes S.P. Campground at about 4:45, which meant we got to register for a spot with a real life human. And it was early enough to be able to shop for and cook dinner like proper campers.

On tonight’s menu-grilled asparagus and zucchini (we are trying to make up for days of fried garbage fast food) and huge Dannyburgers. I wish they sold ground beef in packages less than one pound.

Grippo’s Barbecue Chips were the appetizer. You know, to balance out those veggies. For you non-Cincinnatians, these are potato chips coated with loads of hot and sweet barbecue powder.

I don’t think it’s a coincidence that my hot ginge quarterback matches Cincinnati’s signature chip. He’s hot and sweet too.

Right now we are sitting by the campfire, each of us fiddling around on our cellphones. Tomorrow we are headed into the northern Adirondacks. Hope we can get a signal there!

Of Pymatuning and Pickles

Posted September 22, 2015

We left East Fork State Park today, and headed out of Cincinnati to Pymatuning State Park, which is on the border of northern Ohio and Pennsylvania, deep in farm country. The drive to it was long and mildly scenic, with cornfields being harvested and cows dotting rolling hills.

We called ahead to the park, and I told the lady that answered the campground phone that we were looking for a space for one night with full hookups. She assured us there were plenty left, and since we were arriving after office hours to pick a site and fill out a little form and slip it under the door. Well, there were no little forms, and apparently on the Ohio-Pennsylvania border “full hookups” means “just electric”.

So, we finally found a spot and backed in T.S. with only middling difficulty, giving little entertainment value to the obligatory gawking neighbors.

The campground has a lake view, which was kind of pretty with the sunset colors on it. I explored the “latrine”, which was so decrepit and dirty I kept expecting a raccoon to leap out of a hole in the wall and wrap itself around my head. So grateful for the tidy, non-bubonic-plague carrying bathroom in Tiny Shiny.

There is a little random cornfield in the campground, where presumably Isaac and Malachi can conveniently sacrifice unwary campers to He Who Walks Behind the Rows.

The closest town is Andover, Ohio, and since we were starved and it was 8 o’clock, we headed there to find some eats. The town ain’t what you’d call a going concern. The few open restaurants seemed of the buzzing fluorescent lights and dead flies on the windowsill variety, so we opted to visit the grocery store, called Sparkle, which is a misnomer. They had some gorgeous “slicing tomatoes” though, I’ll give them that. We made some sandwiches and soup and feasted on the first of the jars of Kroger’s Oval Cut Hamburger Dills, the jar being opened by me with great fanfare. I am obsessed with them. I always stock up on them because you can’t get a decent pickle in Florida.

So if we survive the night, we are heading hellbent for leather to the Adirondacks. If we don’t survive, please bury me with the remaining jar of pickles.

Getting Hitched

Posted September 21, 2015

There is always a little tension when we back the trailer into a spot. We use the walkie talkies, so there isn’t any hollering, but usually there is some scowling from both parties.

It’s not like that when we back he truck to the hitch. I was pretty prideful that I could direct P to within a few millimeters of where the hitch needs to be.

I found out today that he’s been using the back-up camera more than my skillful pointing. Pride goes before a fall.

Dishes

Posted September 21, 2015

Wasn’t it nice of Ree Drummond, The Pioneer Woman to design her new kitchenware to match Tiny Shiny’s decor? #pioneerwoman

The Trials of Small Town Living

Posted September 18, 2015

Our road back from running some errands in the ‘Nati took us through the village of Bethel, Ohio. My family moved there from the suburbs of Cincinnati when I was starting my freshman year in high school. It is a one horse town in farm country, populated by a particular kind of clannish, narrow minded brand of farm folk. People born in Bethel rarely leave to live elsewhere, and if they do, come back to marry someone from their high school. I abhorred my time there.

But enough eye-twitching from me, there is a chapter in Bethel’s history that IS interesting. In 1805, the only witch trial in Ohio (and one of the last in the U.S., Bethel was always behind the times) was held there.

Two young ladies, the Hildebrandt sisters, accused poverty stricken 70 year old widow Nancy Evans of witchcraft. The sisters reported bouts of hysteria (boredom) and “seeing evil objects in the air”. Since Mrs. Evans had a black cat that she sometimes talked to in her cabin, it was assumed she naturally was the witch responsible. She also had been arrested and fined once for selling moonshine.

A trial was held, hundreds attended. There was a festival atmosphere, the Bethelonians have always loved spectacle. A scale was constructed in the pond behind the accused’s cabin to weigh Mrs. Evans on one end and a bible on the other. She plunged into the pond, and promptly sunk. Since Mrs. Evans weighed more than the bible, it didn’t keep her afloat. The only rational conclusion was that she was not a witch.

The crowd turned on the drama queen Hildebrandt sisters for wasting everyone’s time when all were looking forward to attending a nice witch barbecue. A band struck up a lively tune, and the sisters were chased out of town by an angry mob.

Nancy Evans promptly moved out of Bethel. She must not have been born there.

This gas station sits on the site of Nancy Evans’ cabin. There are lots of rumors of merchandise being thrown around, especially in the cooler. I guess Nancy is angry that she doesn’t get a cut of the beer profits.

Behold, the Cleanest Rug in Christendom

Posted September 17, 2015

When we pulled into our campsite tonight, I opened the door and smelled a pleasant apple fragrance, REALLY strong. Like having an apple cart upset over top of your head. My fears were confirmed, my Dollar General apple scented hand soap that P picked out because it was pink to shut me up had fallen on the floor and leaked out all over my pink rug P relented on to shut me up. All FIFTEEN OUNCES of it. It took me half an hour to rinse that rug.

But it’s clean now, by golly! And the apple smell isn’t too shabby either. All’s well that ends well!

Now to pick up some more pink hand soap with a better lid. Project!

Elkmont

Posted September 16, 2015

Today we hiked in an area of Great Smoky Mountains National Park called Elkmont. Elkmont was a logging camp turned wealthy folks summer camp turned national park campground. The camp houses the rich folks built around 1919 and their clubhouse was called The Appalachian Club.

(Can’t you see the flappers cutting a rug to a big band at the Appalachian Club? Or more likely a Bluegrass band.) When the government refused to renew the leases on the houses in 1992, they were abandoned and fell into decay. There has been a 15 year fight over what to do with them. The clubhouse is still preserved.

So there are a lot of derelict houses being reclaimed by the forest up there, which makes for a wonderfully spooky hike past them all.

This is one of my favorites, the roof is caved in-

Now, look how sinister it looks with the “Tales from the Darkside” B&W treatment-

Here’s a Pan’s Labyrinth-esque stone pathway I was in love with.

We hiked on a trail called Jakes Creek that was all uphill and had neither a Jake nor a creek before switching to the correctly named Little River trail, because it’s a trail beside a little river.

i will admit I ripped that photo off the internet because I like it better than mine.

After our invigorating hike, we descended back into the Bible-Belt belly of Pigeon Forge and picked up some supplies at Walmart, where it was apparently Squalling Kids Get Something Free Day. Tales From the Darkside doesn’t compare.

Gateway to the Smokies

Posted September 15, 2015

It got into the high forties last night at our campsite. After a horrible hot and humid summer in SW Florida, it felt mighty fine to be chilly. Then that thin Floridian blood kicked in and we ran the little heater all night. Cozy!

We headed into The Gateway to the Smokies, Gatlinburg, Tennessee. For the uninitiated, if you want an old timey, fudge eatin’, T-shirt airbrushing, putt-putt golfin’, fly your rebel flag with impunity if you’re so inclined kind of resort town with a “hillbilly” (their word, not mine) flavor to it, Gatlinburg is your kind of town. It is THE place all Cincinnatians vacationed with their families. 5-1/2 hours away, just enough to feel like you really got away. If you lived in Cincinnati in the 70s and 80s and didn’t have a cedar box with a plastic bear on it in your room, you were a pariah.

We were headed up to the park but had to stop at Crockett’s 1875 Breakfast Camp. This place makes Cracker Barrel look like a bunch of city slickers. The food is delicious and abundant. If loving their grits is wrong, I don’t want to be right. Here is a proper touristy photo of the sign. I’m not ashamed.

If you’re ever in G-burg stop and get ya some cat-head biscuits and gravy. Don’t forget the grits. They are magical.

We headed on into Great Smoky Mountains National Park. It boasts the highest visitation of any of the 59 national parks. The second most heavily visited national park is Grand Canyon. The Grand Canyon needs more Cincinnatians. It is beautiful, with cold creeks rushing around boulders, lush green forests, lots of black bears and of course, smoky mountains.

We intended to hike, but we are still kind of weak, so we drove through, gawked at scenery, cursed slow drivers and stopped at the park’s farm museum.

It has lots of farmy buildings, like a corn crib, apple houses, molasses press, a farm house, etc. We were discussing how impressed we were with the ingenuity the farmers had for getting jobs done. If I were dropped back in time to the 1850s, I might complain about the lack of indoor plumbing and no service on my cell phone, but any Laura Ingalls Wilder devotee’ worth her salt pork would know how to butcher a hog, make soap, cheese, and straw hats, pail break a calf, and dig a well without the benefit of Google. If you think you might travel back in time to that era, I’d recommend preparing by reading the Little House series. You won’t starve. Or go hatless.

As we rounded the corner to the livestock barn, we spotted him!

A larger version of my best bird friend Chunky. There were about a dozen chickens running around.

To top it off, these friendly little piggies were the last stop on the tour. We were reminded briefly of the buffet line at The Lady and Sons restaurant in Savannah…

Puking and Parking

Posted September 14, 2015

Both of us were up and down all night being sick. Had to be food poisoning. I suspect the stew we made. Let’s just say I need to write a glowing review to Airstream about the capacity of the black water tank. TMI, I know.

Still, we had reservations in Pigeon Forge, TN, for tonight. It was a 7ish hour drive from Savannah. So, green faced and queasy, we soldiered on. it is a beautiful ride through the foothills of the Smoky Mountains, and after a couple of Gatorades we felt a lot better.

It was dark when we arrived at the Up the Creek campground in Pigeon Forge. The campground was pretty crowded, there was a car show in town this weekend. So lots of people watching us back in. The walkie talkies don’t work so well when the driver can’t see. We went back and forth a few times, getting ever more crooked. A nice lady in an embellished sweatshirt came and handed me a big light and said “Here, try this”. Then a fellow that kind of resembled the singer from Alabama came over and talked Pete back in properly. I was so grateful I could have kissed him. I think he saved our marriage.

We ended up using the Hercules remote to straighten up, and got a flashlight from inside to use to hook up everything. The battery faded out right away to a dim glow. I heard the other next door neighbors (who have a 32″ TV, rope lighting paths and fancy blue up lights ) saying “look at that little bitty liiiight, get them a biiggg liiiight!” in lovely southern accent. They brought us over a proper bright work light.

The campground seems nice, from what I could tell. The neighbors certainly are.

Not sure how being anti-social is going to work out in the world of campground RVing. In true Cincinnati-bred manner, we are suspicious of anyone being nice to us. We need to get over that. Maybe the neighbors will let us watch the game on their big TV.

Pete’s Solo Skidaway Hike

Posted September 13, 2015

While I writhed in discomfort in the camper, Ten Paces Ahead took a three mile hike in the park. He was gracious enough to take some photos so I could see it, and we’ll share a few with ya’al.

These are barrels from the “still site”. A sign nearby pointed out the axe marks from the revenuers chopping them open, dang their black hearts!

Gorgeous scenery. I wish I could’ve gone!

Savannah Smiles

Posted September 13, 2015

Bonaventure Cemetery was our first stop. I’m a confirmed taphophile, and this cemetery is one of the biggies to visit if you loves you some graveyards. Though I have to say, and Pete agrees, it doesn’t hold a pyre to Spring Grove in Cincinnati.

Bonaventure was the name of a huge mansion for one of the wealthiest families in Savannah. Legend has it that during one of their lavish dinner parties, the butler ran in and whispered into the host’s ear. The host told his guests that the party would continue in the garden, and to bring their plates outside and the servants would bring the tables and chairs. They did, and they all dined by the light of Bonaventure mansion burning to the ground. The roof had caught fire, you see, and nothing could be done about it. Being the consummate southern host, he didn’t want to end the party too early. They didn’t rebuild, and the land was donated to make the cemetery.

We visited Johnny Mercer, the Savannah native songwriter that penned Moon River, Hooray for Hollywood, Jeepers Creepers and dozens of others.

Red Fox also is there.

Then we went to the historic district of my beautiful city. We ate lunch at The Lady and Sons, Paula Deen’s flagship restaurant.

Then a walk to Forsyth Park, where we took the obligatory fountain photo. You HAVE to. It kind of slaps you in the face.

We tromped around a while, but I got a really upset stomach and we had to go back to T.S. Damn you Paula Deen! Only the severest fried chicken induced stomach pains could drive me away.

I think this guy had the buffet too.

Skidaway State Park-More Than Just a Funny Name

Posted September 12, 2015

If our road to any destination gets anywhere near Savannah, Georgia, we MUST stop. Pete knows that even though I suck at reading a map, he can’t sneak me by it. I will smell the shrimp and grits a hundred miles away. It’s my favorite city in the U. S. of A.

It so happens that there’s a gorgeous state park right near it to park Tiny Shiny! Skidaway (ha! Skid!) is the shadiest, most sit-under-your-awning-and-sip-a-mint-julep campground you could ask for. I mean, the approach to the park is even gorgeous-

We set up T.S., cooked up some stew, and rested up for our big day tomorrow in the Hostess City.

Nightmare Fodder

Posted on September 11, 2015

On a hike near Saltwater Springs, we encountered this beauty lying in the middle of the trail.

It’s a Pygmy Rattlesnake, on the big side for being a Pygmy. It was about 24″ long. It didn’t want to give up its spot, but eventually it kind of rolled its eyes and moved slowly away. This is the first rattlesnake either Pete or I have seen in the wild. He was beautiful! After we walked on, every crooked stick I saw caused me to do my special snake dance, though.

This cutie was peeping at me from the cover of our propane tanks. He was HUGE. I wanted to put a quarter next to him for scale but I was scairt. It would have looked like an enormous grasshopper next to a little quarter. Pete let him crawl on to his hand and moved him to the picnic table. The table bent under his weight.

Then we spotted this fellow in the black water drain. He’s weaving in and out of the holes there. It’s some kind of slimy, shiny millipede. It gave me the willies even more than the snake! He has lots of legs! He moves super fast! HE LIKES TO EAT YOUR POO!

Happy nightmares!

Antisocial Anniversary Adventure

Posted September 11, 2015

Yesterday we embarked on another antisocial road trip. Barring unseen circumstances (ya’al stay healthy, hear?), we are going to aim for Maine and back down the coast. Since our 25th anniversary is October 6, we are taking this trip to celebrate alllllllllll those years of marital bliss.
Here’s a shot of the truck bed, all packed with our camping supplies. Looks kind of half empty compared to last time, eh?

That’s because the rest of our stuff is packed into THIS!
Meet our silver anniversary gift! We call her Tiny Shiny (it sounds best if you use Luanne’s voice from King of the Hill when you say or think it). After the last trip in our worthy but toilet-less and hot tent, we thought we’d take measures to insure privacy and um, climate control.

Today was our first time setting her up in a campground. We are staying at Salt Springs campground in Ocala National Forest. Our site has a fabulous huge Live Oak tree that we managed not to hit with the trailer. We have successfully backed this baby up twice! I consider it one of the greatest successes of our marriage. The walkie talkies made the difference. Kept the shouting and flailing to a minimum.

We made green chili chicken in the Dutch oven. It took a long time because it rained and put out the charcoal so we had to start again.

Here’s our itty bitty table set for dinner.
More on the park tomorrow. I am fixin’ to go to sleep. On a real mattress. With air conditioning.

********************************************************************

Notes From the Road

Posted July 14, 2014

So, we arrived back in Punta Gorda two days ago. Due to myriad situations, we decided to shave off the entire northern part of our trip.

It was a grand adventure, and I am so grateful to have had the opportunity to go and to see some amazing sights in this great country.

Permit me to quote the Godfather of Soul, who sums up how I feel –

“Super highways, coast to coast, easy to get anywhere

On the transcontinental overload, just slide behind the wheel

How does it feel

When theres no destination-that’s too far

And somewhere on the way, you might find out who you are

Livin’ in America-eye to eye, station to station

Livin’ in America-hand to hand, across the nation

Livin in America-got to have a celebration!”

I feel good! Anyway, a few random thoughts from the road:

If you find a partner that will tolerate your singing a song for almost all the towns and states you pass, keep him or her!

You only need three pairs of drawers and a travel size Dr. Bronners peppermint soap for any length vacation.

Be courteous. It doesn’t demean you to think of the convenience or comfort of others.

Be careful with the user ratings on Tripadvisor. Sometimes a real rathole will get 4-5 stars on virtue of being cheap and fairly clean. They should have called it Cheapadvisor.

Summertime is a shite time to travel because of the crowds. November may be cold, but you’ll have Graceland practically to yourself

Most crowded trailheads and attractions clear out a lot around 5 o’clock.

Almost everything tastes better with green chile sauce.

There is a cowboy boot to fit every foot.

Aieeee!

Posted July 14, 2015

That’s what it seems like the stick men are hollering in these signs.

These are signs I saw on our trip that amused me. Hapless stick men make my day. Especially ones flying over the handlebars of their bikes for being dumbasses.

Walking in Memphis

Posted July 12, 2015

After a two day, three state slog, we made it to Memphis, the last hurrah of this adventure.

When you have a place named after an ancient Egyptian city which was a regional center for commerce, trade, and religion. you have to celebrate your namesake by building an awe inspiring, cultural icon.

A pyramid!

What would tie the local culture to the ancient name? Put a Bass Pro Shop in it!

Really, this place is amazing. It has a cypress swamp, three alligators, real live ducks, a 106 room luxury hotel, 13 lane bowling alley, three restaurants, and of course all the Realtree camouflage merchandise you can handle.

Truly a wonder of the modern world. I’m sure Imhotep would be proud.

We walked to the pyramid from our hotel, about 1.4 miles. It was hot. Hot and humid. I don’t recommend walking in 95 degree heat after eating a nasty meal of red beans and rice. Just sayin’.

We went back to our room to await darkness. Because Killer business must be conducted after dark.
Around 9:30, we wended our way through the drunk tourists, babies in strollers and sign weilding religious zealots of Beale street to hang out at Jerry Lee Lewis’ Cafe and nightclub.

For me, the Killer, the Ferriday Kid will always be the REAL King of Rock n Roll. Not to mention, the Last Man Standing.

Well, he didn’t show up. But the house band did a great job with the covers, from Howlin’ Wolf to the Kinks and everyone in between.

They played my request-Big Legged Woman- within minutes of me asking. Usually you wait all night for your request to be played. How I do love that Southern Hospitality.

They even pulled some of the Killers tricks! Mercy!

What a fun night, and a great cap to the end of our journey!

The next day, we stopped in Tupelo, Mississippi to eat at one of our favorite restaurants. I know someone famous was born in Tupelo, but I can’t quite think of whom…. Anyway, Kermit’s Outlaw Kitchen is reason enough to stop. Organic, crunchy granola localvore goodness!

An aside- I don’t know about ya’al, but I can’t type or write the word “Mississippi” without chanting “M-I-crooked letter, crooked letter- I- crooked letter, crooked letter-I- humpback, humpback-I. That’s how my mama was taught to spell it, way down in Biloxi, MS, and that’s how she taught me. Even though I was born 4 miles north of the Mason Dixon line, I identify strongly with southern culture. Only, I can’t stand iced tea and can’t abide the Confederate flag being flown on government buildings.

There’s No Place Like Not Kansas

Posted July 10, 2015

That, my friends, is what Central Kansas looks like. It’s like that horrid soybean farms section of 71N between Cincinnati and Columbis. Except hours and hours longer.
They do attempt to make things funsy at the Kansas Welcome Center, though.

We spent the night at a hotel east of Wichita, trying to burn the images of Central Kansas out of our eyes by watching hours of hotel TV.

One attraction that Kansas does have, at least for me, is the Little House on the Prairie Museum. It is a replica of the Ingalls’ family log cabin, built on the plot of land the original cabin stood on.

Now, if you can’t tell by my folksy maxims and gingham apron collection, I am a Laura Ingalls Wilder fangirl. Like my sister before me. Don’t even get us started on quotes or debates about whether or not Mary was a real pill to be around. So imagine my excitement to know that a real-life LIW site was two hours away from where we were staying! Poor Pete!

The cabin, from a distance. The cabin from behind. Pete kindly illustrating the size of the doorway.

The interior. How Baby Carrie ever got made in that close of proximity to the sleeping Laura and Mary, is anyone’s guess.

A replica of Ma’s China Shepherdess! Swoon!

The sign in front of the house.

The sign by the road. The well, hand dug by Charles Ingalls himself. The real Charles Ingalls. Do you think Michael Landon would risk a blister digging a well? Even if he could remove his shirt for the shot? Hell no. But all’s well that ends well! Oh come on, I HAD to.

So, after I had my geekgasm and stormed the gift shop, we got back on the road for our second day of long rides to get out of these middle states.

At the Oklahoma Kansas border, we celebrated leaving Kansas behind. Did I sing the first ten stanzas of the main theme to Rodgers and Hammerstein’s Oklahoma? You bet your sweet waving wheat I did!

In Bartlesville, Oklahoma, we stopped for a quick snap in front of Price Tower, a skyscraper designed by Frank Lloyd Wright.

Dan G. Lloyd is so not Wright.

We passed by Oklahoma City, where my dad served in the Air Force. He’s right, there’s not much there.

We passed by Tulsa, which makes me think of The Outsiders by S. E. Hinton. I didn’t even check to see if there were any sites from the book. Pete is a patient man, and after an afternoon of Little House fun facts and in-jokes, I figured he deserved a break.

We drove by Muskogee, Oklahoma, but didn’t stop because Merle Haggard makes it sound like a drag. There was a tornado warning while we were driving through, and the sky was black with purple streaks of lighting. I asked Pete if we should stop and take shelter in the Dollar General or something but he said he could always take shelter under my pile of souvenirs from the Little House on the Prairie Museum. Wiseacre.

At the Arkansas Visitor Center, we were disappointed that they didn’t have a cardboard standee of Bill Clinton.

When I think of Arkansas, I always think of Vance Randolph, too. He wrote books of Arkansas Ozark folklore from the 1930s through the 1970s. I’m a huge fan. Whenever I’m in Arkansas, I can’t find any information on him at any museums or information centers.

Pete must be living right.

Stanley Ghost Tour

Posted July 8, 2015

The Stanley Hotel in Estes Park, Colorado has a rich history. It was built by E.O. Stanley, inventor of the Stanley Steamer car, and many other useful inventions. He also recovered twice from tuberculosis, and lived to be 91 years old. Here is a picture I ripped off from the internet-

But what the Stanley is most famous for is for being the inspiration for a little novel called The Shining by Stephen King. Uncle Stevie (as I like to call him) stayed for a visit in the Stanley in the seventies, he and his wife Tabitha were the only guests there on the last day before they shut it down for the winter. They stayed in room 217, which figures prominently in the novel. The Stanley Hotel became the Overlook Hotel, and Estes Park became Sidewinder in the novel.

We stayed at the Stanley when we were in our twenties, there are many fetching photos of me in the elevator and tub (clothed!) and lots of other nerd photos lost to posterity. They didn’t offer a haunted tour back then, though…

This road trip was going to feature several The Shining locations, both from the book and the movie. The part of the trip we cut off due to time constraints was to include Going to the Sun road in Glacier National Park (the opening shot in the movie), the Timberline Lodge in Oregon (exterior of the Overlook from the movie), and I found out too late that the inspiration for the interiors of the movie Overlook came from the Ahwahnee Lodge in Yosemite, which we were right by, dang it.

Still, the Stanley is the Mecca for mega nerds like me. Pete gamely joined me on the haunted tour, which was heavy on historical ghosts and light on the King.

Of course there are still a lot of nods to the Master of Horror. The hotel knows which side their bread is buttered on.

Here is the maze they’re growing on the front lawn.

And of course all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.

We had a great tour guide, and not too many nimrods on the tour. In “Lucy’s Room”, the door would creak slowly shut at the request of our guide, but not later when we went back by ourselves. I took tons of photos to check later for orbs and anomalies.

There are lots of tunnels under the foundation that the staff used to use to get from place to place.

This is allegedly the bar where Uncle Stevie conjured up the characters of Grady the Caretaker and Lloyd the bartender, by meeting a bartender named Lloyd Grady. Sounds shady to me.

This image of E.O. Stanley appeared in this flag that flew in the Gulf War –

After the tour, my personal Jack Torrance joined me for a drink in the Cascades Whiskey Bar. I had to settle for Whiskey, because they didn’t serve red rum. Get it?

He was also very comfy in the lobby chairs.

But you’ve always been here, sir!

Come play with us Danny! Forever, and ever…

Wringings from Rainy Rocky Mountain National Park

Posted July 7, 2015

Yesterday we wended our way toward the rooftop of the United States, Rocky Mountain National Park. 2015 is the centennial for the park.

We had to drive through the entire park to get to our hotel in Estes Park, on the twisty Trail Ridge road. It was rainy, and the temperature dropped from the mid fifties to the mid forties on the way up. This was a view from the valley, before we started up-

And there were elk, doing their bit for the tourist industry-

As we ascended to 12,000+ feet, we ended up being in the clouds. Which obscured most of the view, but what can you do to mess up this kind of majestic scenery? But the fog , the wet road and the lack of guardrails in crucial areas made for a real nail biter of a ride.

We drove back through the park today, rain and fog doesn’t deter us, or the inevitable crowds, of course.

Highlights-

Estes Park is a sweet tourist town in a gorgeous setting. A river runs through it.

Here’s a pic I ripped off the internet, because any picture I would take from this vantage while we are here would be of a valley full of fog.

We have one more night here, which should be fairly eventful. Details in the next post!

Edited to add- here are some pics I took from the local library’s parking lot in Estes Park tonight-

A Minor Miracle- and a Happy Trail

Posted July 6, 2015

We chugged into Steamboat Springs, CO on Friday, to stay for Fourth of July weekend. Yesterday (the Fourth), we walked into town via a really nice bike trail that had a rocky little river running by it. It would have been nicer if there had been no bikes.

So, we ate lunch and shopped around a little bit. Now, all the way on the ride from Utah into Colorado, we kept seeing signs for F.M. Light and Sons western store alongside the road, kind of Burma-Shave style.

When we spotted the store in town, we had to go in. Here’s where the minor miracle occurred. They had ONE pair of boots designed for Sharecropper Foot!

It was the cheapest pair of boots in the place, too. This is in accordance with what I call the Payless Shoe Source Law – the cheaper the shoe, the wider it is. At any rate, I got my boots! And they’re PINK!!!
We waited until about 4 o’clock, when we were sure most people would be at the rodeo to check out Fishtail Falls, which is super popular and close to town. Our plan worked like a charm, there was hardly anyone there.

Dinner was at Low Country Kitchen. Low Country cuisine is my favorite food in the world, you will recall. Daaaang, it was so stinkin’ good! We had the “24 Hour Buttermilk Fried Chicken”, collards, Mac & cheese and mashed potatoes. Ooowee!

Then, in true antisocial manner, we stood in the parking lot of our hotel to watch what we could of the town fireworks display, which was passable.

Today we went back to Fishtail Falls to hike the Upper Falls trail, 2.7 miles with a 2400 foot elevation gain. In other words, uphill. The park was PACKED. We started up anyway, figuring the steepness would filter out all but the hardiest. Hardly. We probably passed over a hundred people on the trail.

Usually when we pass people when hiking, we say “hello” and they act like there’s something really interesting on the side of the trail, or look at us like we’ve got two heads, and ignore us. Here’s where it got just plain strange. The other hikers said “hello”. Sometimes, they said it first. Young kids and teenagers, teenagers! making eye contact, and speaking in a loud, clear voice. Thanking us when we would yield to them on the trail. Encouraging us to keep going. I’d estimate 75% of the people we ran into on this trail were nice. I thought at first the altitude was making me hallucinate, but it was real. Faith in humanity temporarily restored.

Here’s some trail shots-

Ten Paces Ahead always having to wait for my slow ass.

And the prize at the top-

I kind of run out of words to describe beauty, and the photos never do it justice. We’ve seen so many beautiful things on this trip, sometimes I want to pop out my eyeballs and wring them out.

So that’s the scoop on Steamboat Springs. A successful stop, certainly.

Dinosaurs!

Posted July 4, 2015

Whenever I see that word, I always hear the DNA cartoon guy from Jurassic Park pronouncing it-“dahn o sawwr”!

My neighbor/BF Josh Parrott and I were dinosaur freaks when we were about seven years old. He and his family went to Utah one summer, and they brought me back a “Dinosaur Hunting License”, which I treasured. Utah was always where the dinosaurs lived for me.

So I was so excited when we stopped at Dinosaur National Monument yesterday. To get there, we passed through Vernal, Utah, which makes up for being in a kind of ugly desert by doing this-

all through town.

And a town can be forgiven anything if there is a pink dinosaur present.

As for the national park, it was very well done, what little we saw. We took a wham-bam tour in about 40 minutes, though I understand the park is huge with a lot more to explore. It was too hot and we had too long a drive ahead of us to do much.

We took the shuttle to the Quarry Exhibit Hall, which has a wall chock full of real life dinosaur bones still in the ground.

They find a lot of Allosaurus intact skeletons. They look kind of like a Tyrannosaurus Rex, but with more useful looking “arms”-

They also find Apatosaurus, which kind of looks like the dinosaur on the Sinclair gas station signs, though probably not green, and Stegosaurus, the one with the plates on its back.

The Stegosaurus is the one not wearing a hat.

Here’s some shots from the ride back on the tram-

The tram driver was a hoot. When we went through an electric gate, she exclaimed “Our version of Jurrasic Park!”.

Then a long drive through eastern Colorado’s cattle ranches to get to Steamboat Springs, where we will be spending the Fourth of July.

Park City Continued

Posted July 3, 2015

Today was spent hiking on the Tombstone Trail in the Canyon ski area we are staying at. It was one of the few trails that are hiking only, because you know mountain (or any kind of) bikes and I don’t mix. To get to the trail, we had to ride the gondola, which despite my vague memories of watching a ski gondola disaster movie in the ’70s, was hilariously fun. It moves almost comically fast, and is pretty high in spots. And of course the views are great.

At over 8,000 feet in elevation, the air was pretty thin on the trail. I gasped like a fish all the way up, but totally enjoyed the babbling brook, aspens, pines and gorgeous views.

1.6 miles up, up, up, we reached an abandoned ski lift. Sounds very Scooby Doo, doesn’t it? I opted to hang out there while Ten Paces Ahead hiked another trail, Fantasy Ridge, that was strenuous and technical and ended up at 9,990 feet in elevation. He graciously took some pics so I could see what it was like up there. As soon as I saw the pics of these signs, I knew I had made the right choice. Hayl no!

Here are some of the technical parts with sheer drops on either side-

And a stretcher at the top, which I doubtless would have needed, had I gone.

Pretty blue flowers, and views of snowcapped mountains-

I met him down by the trail junction, and snapped a pic of him emptying his boots of rocks. When I saw it later, I called it the “Angel Pete” pic-

Look at that light anomaly pointing right at him! Kinda like The Omen though…

We got cleaned up and went to town to check out the ghost tour. The website stated that no reservations were required, “just show up” at a little park at 7:45. We sat on a bench and observed for a while. A couple with an infant and a toddler showed up for the tour. We opted out. I am a little hard of hearing, and don’t want to strain to hear past an infant or toddler pitching a fit because their parents dragged them on an hour long walking tour. Also, the guides usually tone down the stories for the kiddos. No thanks.

Instead, we took a stroll around Canyon Village in the perfect 76 degree weather. Check out Venus and Jupiter together-

You were expecting a photo of Pete and I, right?

And I’ll end on a moon shot-

You were expecting..,;)

Some additional notes about Park City- I’ve never been in a place that had more redheads, or more pregnant women. Lots of big families, too.

Utah, Yeehaw!

Posted July 2, 2015

Today we embarked from Elko, Nevada, our mid-way stopping point between Lake Tahoe and Park City, Utah. Not much to say about Elko, besides it was a stop on the Pony Express and it has no Starbucks or Cracker Barrel.

We then drove many miles over the Bonneville Salt Flats. That is where they have a race track, and if you want to break a land speed record, you take your vehicle there to do it. The Pontiac Bonneville is named after this area, and several movies were filmed there, including Indpendence Day and Pirates of the Carobbean-At Worlds End. The area is as ugly as it sounds.

We drove past Salt Lake City, rolling up our windows tight against the Lake’s signature dissipated fart smell, and also to avoid contracting any manner of Mormon cooties.

We rolled into Park City, Utah about three o’clock. After checking in and a brief nap, we explored the town. The 2002 Winter Olympic Games were held here, we plan on exploring the Olympic Village tomorrow. Also, the Sundance Film Festival is held here. If I spot Robert Redford, I’ll snap a pic.

Park City is a really cute, cool town. It has quality tourist stores and restaurants, no fudge shops or discount tee shirt shops here. It also has a cowboy feel to it. I stopped at Burns Cowboy Shop and fondled a few pairs of beautiful B width boots.

There is a really sharp theater built in 1926 at the height of the country’s fascination with King Tut. A real Egyptologist was called in to help with the design.

Tomorrow evening we are doing the Park City Ghost Tour! Pete’s so excited, he can hardly bear it.

TTFN!

BuhbuddabuhbuddabuhbuddaBUHBA!

Posted June 30, 2015

In case you couldn’t sound it out, that’s the theme to Bonanza, spelled out phonetically. We are in the Lake Tahoe area, where some of the series was filmed. I totally crushed on Adam back inn the day. Until he took off his cowboy hat.

We drove all the way around the lake today, looking for somewhere to hike. As usual on the second half of this trip, there were hordes of people and not one parking space to be found by any of the trailheads. The scenery was gorgeous of course, and all the more tempting because we couldn’t get at it.

We drove to Carson City and had lunch. I tried cowboy boots on at the Boot Barn. There are no cowboy boots made that will fit a sharecropper foot. Cow-folk must all have narrow feet. How in the hell do they root and toot atop B width feet?

We decided since it was going on four o’clock to try again at the trailheads. Boy, were we glad we did! We did the Eagle Falls/Lake trail, which is only a mile long but uphill the whole way. The wheezing (on my part only, Ten Paces Ahead had no problems. I suspect he’s a robot) was totally worth it. A lot of bang for your buck in that mile. Beautiful panoramic views and waterfalls leading to a crystal clear alpine lake with baby ducks swimming across.

Two asides about Lake Tahoe- the pollen is off the hook and turns my nose into a faucet until I can grope in the truck for the Nasonex.

Even Big Black (the truck) was sneezing.

Also, I kept smelling faint odors of butterscotch. Were we near a candy factory? No. The smell was coming from the bark of the abundant Ponderosa Pines in the area. Seriously. That shit smells like butterscotch. I could be spotted all day unabashedly snorting trees, nose to bark.

We closed out our day walking in town before dinner, and catching a rainbow over the ski area.

Then a bright 3/4 moon through the Butterscotch Trees.

San Jose, San Francisco, Sacramento

Posted June 28, 2017

After leaving the splendors of the Yosemite Valley, we headed to San Jose. The cliffs and stony Merced River scenery gave way to farms and farm stands selling avocados as cheap as six for a dollar, to a curious landscape of smooth, rounded hills with long brown grasses blowing on them. The hills were dotted with dark, gnarly trees. If the hills had been green, it would have looked very like Ireland. Or if a centaur or huge lion had been walking on them, it could easily have been mistaken for Narnia. I wasn’t going to bother trying to take photos from the car, I was busy looking for Aslan) but here’s just one.

Here’s one I stole from the Internet, taken when there hasn’t been drought, obvs.

We spent the night in San Jose, to rest up for today, which was … WINCHESTER MYSTERY HOUSE DAY!!!

About 35 years ago, my cousin Jennifer lent me a copy of this book-

I must have read it ten times before I gave it back. There was a story in it about the Mystery House, how Sara Winchester built a crazy, 160 room house with doors and staircases to nowhere, and lots of innovative and eccentric designs to appease the spirits of those killed by the Winchester firearms.

All my life I wanted to see it in person, and today saw the fulfillment of that wish.

They wouldn’t let you take photos inside the house, but I sneaked one from a balcony.

We took an hour tour, and when we were done, we had viewed 110 rooms and had walked over a mile inside the house!

Even the water bottles were cool!

The WMH was everything I had dreamed of as a kid, and more. Many thanks again to the ever-patient Pete, for getting me there and tolerating that tour with all of its Spiritualism and not-to-code house design.

Afterward, we were going to stop in San Francisco, but after failing to find parking under $40 (what the what?) we drove on through and took a thrilling drive over the Golden Gate Bridge. Warning, typical touristy photos following-

We continued on to Sacramento for the night. After we got here, I found out that we had been just a few miles from the Jelly Belly jelly bean factory earlier Dang it.
We had the best Indian food we both have ever eaten at Pooja Indian Grill in West Sacramento.

A good day today.

Edited to say- I think I deserve a medal for not referencing the song Do You Know the Way to San Jose in this post. Oh wait, I just did. Dadgum it!

But Some Sights are Worth Running the Gauntlet

Posted June 27, 2015

We knew Yosemite is always crowded, and with the Sleepless in Sequoia experience not three hours in our past, we debated not even going.

But we had never been, and it seemed a shame to let a load of tourists deprive us of the privelege, especially since we were so close.

The sight of Yosemite Valley opening up after a long tunnel helped the nightmare of the night before start to fade-

And standing at the foot of El Capitan cured us of all remaining ills.

There is a climber in a red shirt on it, about halfway up the “nose”. Kind of puts the size in perspective. I am in love with this mountain. It’s worth getting elbowed by a few German tourists for.

This seems like a good meadow to spin around in and sing the title song of The Sound of Music. With a Swiss tourist.

We want to find out a season when it’s less crowded to thoroughly explore this park.

But after the night we had, a taste was as good as a feast!

Unhappy Campers

Posted June 27, 2015

Yesterday we arrived at Sequoia National Park. I had been there once; Pete had been three other times. We were excited to camp there for three days so we could day hike and see the big trees again.

But oh, the humanity. The park was PACKED with tourists. We could barely find parking spaces for anything. We did manage to get a spot at one of the campgrounds, which was pretty wall to wall people, too. After rejecting one spot for being too cramped, we settled for this spot.

Notice the tent is on the asphalt parking pad. Because the spot meant for the tent was on an angle, and we didn’t fancy rolling downhill all night.

Still, despite crowds and tent issues, it was a pretty spot, the weather was perfect, and the air scented with pine. The nearest neighbors at that time were fine, cute kids and quiet adults.We settled in and then cooked chicken with green chiles and rice in the Dutch oven.

It was delicious. We got ready to settle into the tent to read then go to sleep. All the neighbors settled down and it was peaceful.

Until about 930 pm. Then a group of about eight adults and a couple of kids pulled in and proceeded to noisily set up camp, shine their headlights of their truck directly on to our tent, converse loudly and roughhouse with the screaming kids until after midnight. FINALLY they shut the hell up.

Then around 230 am, another group of loud assholes shows up and sets up camp, these genuises keep getting in and out of their truck and beeping the horn with the clicker when they locked it.

In the meantime. I had to get out of the tent to pee with the spotlights of the first party of town criers blinding me. On my way back into the tent, I tripped over this curb-

and fell onto my right knee and the top and ankle of my left foot. Both are bruised and swollen today. Yee haw. Makes for awesome hiking and sightseeing when you can hardly walk.
We left this hellacious situation today, after being denied a refund for the two extra nights we paid for. Ain’t no big trees worth all that turmoil.

Notes From the Road

Posted June 25, 2015

After leaving Las Vegas, we spent yesterday driving through the Mojave Desert, trying to get a good leg under us toward Sequoia National Park.

Not much on the drive to report on, sand, rocks, and sandy rocky hills. We passed through Barstow, seemingly their only claim to fame is being mentioned in the Route 66 song.

Our goal was Bakersfield, CA, and we stopped for the night there. Bakersfield is famous for being the home of the “Bakersfield Sound”, the main artists representing being Buck Owens and Merle Haggard. Other than seeing Buck Owens Avenue, there is no monument or museum to Bakersfield’s claim to fame.

We saw Jurrasic World 3D at the local theater, are some Indian food, slept at the Comfort Inn Suites and are now on our way to the part of the trip we’ve been looking forward to the most-camping at the big national parks.

Luck

Posted June 24, 2015

Now I know why we didn’t win any money gambling in Las Vegas. Because all my luck went into finding two 1960s Edward Mobley animals made by Arrow Rubber Company for my collection!

A chance encounter while surfing TripAdvisor for shopping opportunities in Vegas led me to the Charleston Antique Mall, about five miles from the Strip. We weren’t in the store 60 seconds when Pete spotted the dog. A little rummaging around produced the cat.

Not bad for an hours work! These rubber animals I collect are difficult to find in antique shops. And I actually have something to show for money spent in Las Vegas besides watching it drain into a slot machine or get poured down my throat.

And the squeakers even work on both!

Antisocial in Sin City

Posted June 23, 2015

What can one say about Las Vegas that hasn’t been said? Besides, what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas, right? Just like our money. We are lucky in many areas of our lives, but gambling is not one of them. Las Vegas is richer for our having been here.

Stil, there’s lots of other things to do, and the people watching is unparalleled.

We have one more night here. Wish us luck! Ha!

Ouch

Posted June 22, 2015

After filling our eyeballs with such beauty in Sedona, we are being punished with eyeball-bruising ugliness from Flagstaff on.

Mean ol’ Arizona.

Red Rocks Rock!

Posted June 22, 2015

We hiked in the Red Rocks area in Sedona today. The temperature was near a hundred degrees, so we (Pete) carried over a gallon of water with us.

You know how Sedona is famous for being a “spiritual” place? About mile three of the Bell Rock loop, I had what I can only describe as a “sweat lodge” moment. Like a lightning bolt, it occurred to me what Pete’s trail name should be. Ten Paces Ahead. He seems like he is always trying to break a land speed record. Good thing he looks good from behind, because that’s the only view I get of him on the trail. My trail name should be something like Plodder.
Speaking of “woo woo” moments, there was a perfectly ordinary looking area on the trail that had an inexplicable cold breeze, like an air conditioner was blowing on it. Just that 5X5 spot. A vortex? The gods smiling on me? I stood there and studied on it a while, but I wasn’t sucked into another dimension. And Pete gained another 50 yards.

More on vortexes here, if you’re interested-

Those who are familiar with my abiding hatred of bicycles will understand how I liked this sign more than a friend-

Here is my attempt to convey how the same formation changes as the point of view changes in a very short distance. All three photos are of Bell Rock.

Later, we did most of the Cathedral Rock trail, which ran along a creek chock full of muddy water and swimming locals blaring their stereos. Ah, sounds of nature!

But the soundtrack doesn’t matter when the view is like this.

Ol’ Ten Paces Ahead hiked up a ways.

This is a formation called the Coffee Pot. Because it looks like a coffee pot.

This is Snoopy Rock! How cute is that!

Sedona is slap-your-momma beautiful, everywhere. 360 degrees of gorgeous, 24-7, no matter what part of town you’re in. You could be walking out of the Walgreens, look up and see mountains and chimneys and oh, just fantastical red rock formations in the near distance. I wonder if the locals ever get used to it.

Ah, Sedona!

Posted June 21, 2015

We arrived back in Sedona, AZ yesterday. I know it’s not unique to be fascinated with Sedona, I don’t know how anyone who’s been here isn’t. It’s so dadgummed gorgeous, everywhere you turn, a different formation of red rocks, Ponderosa pine scented air, vortexes. It’s so difficult to describe, or even to try to convey the beauty in photos, but here’s one attempt:

Maxfield Parrish was also bewitched by Sedona.

55 westerns were filmed here, too. I haven’t seen this one, but I’m going to check it out ASAP-

No wire guitars!!!

We got settled in yesterday in our hotel, drove to Flagstaff through breathtaking scenery and did a little tiny hike. It was over 100 degrees, and we still have to adjust to the 4500+ altitude.

This formation near Flagsraff reminded me of the “castles” Tracey and I used to make when we were kids with her Silly Sand set.

We are going to hike some today, with Pete being Sherpa with over a gallon of water in his pack. Lots of fruitless attempts to capture the scenery in photos to follow.

Hit Play

Posted June 20, 2015

The family emergency has been resolved with the best possible results.

Our antisocial asses are back on the road!

Hit Pause

Posted May 31, 2015

Due to a family emergency, we are flying back to Florida from Phoenix, AZ.

We will resume the blog when we fly back to Phoenix.

Pete and the Picacho Peak

Posted May 30, 2015

While I was geeking out over Saguaro in the valley, Pete was hiking the Hunter Trail, two miles almost straight up to the summit of Picacho Peak.

Here’s the highway view of the mountain.

Let’s play Where’s Pete-o! He is somewhere in this photo, wearing a red shirt.

The last mile of the hike involved cables to hold on to so one doesn’t tumble off the mountain as you climb the cliff.

Yeah, screw that.

Round trip, the hike averages 4 hours for most. Pete did it in 2.5 hours. He’s a machine. I would only have held him back. And cussed him all the way up.

Here’s our happy hiker at the summit, 3374 feet in elevation.

After he ascended, he wrassled a bear.

Nah, we went to Cracker Barrel. See, he IS mortal!

Don’t Say I Didn’t Warn You.

Posted May 29, 2015

Saguaro photos part 2! I would say I won’t post any more after this, but I’m not making any promises.

Today Pete hiked to the top of Picacho Peak, two miles straight up, with cables toward the top to assist with climbing the sheer rock face. More on his hike in the next post.

Uh yeah, not my kind of hike. I hiked on my own in the valley, and took tons of Saguaro photos for all ya’al to enjoy!

There were:

Fiddling Saguaro

Cliff dwelling Saguaro

Mother and child Saguaro

Cozy couple Saguaro
They-went-that-a-way Saguaro

Wavy Saguaro
Surrendering Saguaro. Come on, you knew this photo was coming.
Back rub Saguaro
You-have-a-dirty-mind Saguaro
“I want to speak to your manager” Saguaro
Octopus Saguaro
Saguaro shaped like giant spiders.
Ok, I think the long hike in 100 degree heat might have gotten to me.

If You Don’t Like Photos of Cacti, So Saguaro-y

Posted May 29, 2015

Saguaro National Park. What can I say? A cactus dork’s dream! We went today. Oh boy, the cactus! Saguaros are so cool. They live to be around 150 years old. They don’t even grow “arms” until they are 60 years old or so.

I’m obsessed with them. Be warned, this post is going to be a cactus-photo-palooza.

Biggie being needled. He’s a prickly fellow.

Pugilistic cactus. Now imagine Pete pretending to throw shapes at it. Wouldn’t that have been a funny picture? But he’s so mean..,

Looking down on you.

We went on a one mile desert hike, and saw a Road Runner. We didn’t get a photo because he was fast. No wonder the coyote never caught one of those damned things! Next to Saguaros, Road Runners are my other new obsession.

I did get a blurry photo of a hummingbird outside the REI store at the Tucson Mall.

And the biggest raven I’ve ever seen by the bath house.

Tonight we are staying at the Picacho Peak State Park. Guess what our camp is surrounded by?

You guessed it! SAGUARO!!!

Heaven!

Artsy, gothic Saguaro!

Sunset Saguaro!

Tomorrow we are going to hike here in the park. I bet you’re on pins and needles to see what we take pictures of!

Awful Tony for a Mining Camp

Posted May 28, 2015

Tombstone! One of the big wishes on my list for his trip, and my personal Wyatt made it happen. It’s fortuitous that I have him.

First, Pete picked me out a hat in Tucson so I’d look the part. I’m your huckleberry.

No, I will NOT stop with the movie quotes any time soon. We went to a lot of trouble to get there, and dang it, I will wallow in that Tombstone trough of touristy cheesiness.

Speaking of which, no Tombstone tour is complete without watching the OK Corrall re-enactment. Just give in and do it. You’re a daisy if you do!

There was a line to pose with Doc Holliday, so I settled for Ike Clanton. He is a ginger. Wyatt was busy too. Law dog don’t go ’round here.

On to an average-in-quality-but-above-average-in-ambience meal at Big Nose Kate’s Saloon, where the movie plays on a loop and there’s live music even at lunch on a Wednesday. Just no Fryderyk f***ing Chopin, or Stephen stinkin’ Foster.

And gotta have a sarspirilla.

Now it’s time for a picture of the stagecoach, with appropriate old timey filter.

The Bird Cage Theater is the only original building left standing from the 1880s. It’s supposed to be the most haunted tourist attraction in the US. Clearly, they’ve never been to Bobby Mackey’s Music World.

This is the hearse Aaron from Ghost Adventures laid under during their investigation of the Theater. Kill Zak!

All tourists are forced at gunpoint to take a photo of the brilliantly epitaphed Lester Moore at Boot Hill Cemetery.

Smells like somebody died!

Then we rattled on down the dusty trail to Bisbee, AZ, where we partook of the local spirits.

We had not yet begun to defile ourselves at the Old Bisbee Brewing Company. And get a load of these cute birds eating the spent grain from the brewery-

So, as Curly Bill said, “Well…Bye.” Until tomorrow!

Arizona-More Than Just a Brand at JC Penney

Posted May 27, 2015

There’s a strange phoenomena I’ve noticed when leaving my beloved New Mexico. As soon as we pass over the border of New Mexico into a different state, it’s just not as pretty. It’s like they drew the state line to encompass all the beauty into New Mexico.

So when that happened today when we passed into Arizona from Gallup, New Mexico, I thought, it’s gonna be a long, ugly, flat ride today.

First, we went to Petrified Forest National Park, where we bought our annual national park pass! No stopping us now!

Petrified Forest is an unusual park in more ways than one. There are 12 featured sites, and they are almost all right off the central road. Two sites have paved trails of 1 mile and 3/4 miles respectively. Everything else you could almost see from your car. If you’re in a hurry, or have mobility issues, this is a great park to visit.

Walking on the moon…

It’s mostly about that pink flower. The petrified log just happened to be there.

Rules don’t apply to everyone.

Last log photo, you’re welcome!

Pete contemplates some dinosaurs at the park museum.

And I found a ‘gator in the desert!

So then, we had a 5.5 hour drive to get to Tucson, where we are spending the night. An hour or so of flat desert, punctuated by my grumblings about it not being The Land of Enchantment.

The terrain suddenly got hilly around the oddly named town of Show Low, and dense with pine trees. The scenery started to look very Smoky Mountain-esque. Arizona? What?

Then a combination of canyons and Smoky Mountains-

And with stripy lizards, just to add to the confusion.

A few miles down the road, this happened.

The Salt River Canyon on the Apache Reservation. The photos dang well don’t do it justice. At this point, I forgave Arizona for not being New Mexico.

We drove 3-1/2 more hours through truly breathtaking and wildly varying scenery. Mountains. Buttes. Mesas.

Then we got to a desert section with saguaro cactus. They’re the tall ones with “arms”, the cacti you see depicted on velvet paintings of the Old West. They only grow in Arizona and the Sonoran desert parts of Northern Mexico.

Did I play “There Ain’t No Saguaro in Texas” by the Reverend Horton Heat on the iPod? You bet your boots I did!

I didn’t get a picture yet because we were in a hurry to beat the dark to get to Tucson. That will be remedied tomorrow. I am obsessed with saguaro!

Arizona, I beg your pardon. You ROCK!

Random Bits from The Land of Enchantment

Posted May 26, 2015

Bits and bobs from our last full day in New Mexico:

Here’s a Santa Fe photo I forgot to post earlier. If the shop people had given me the time of day, they would probably have sold me the Addams Family kachina dolls, but instead I went out and stole a photo.

We went to Nob Hill today in Albuquerque, a super cool area with lots of kitschy signage a’la Route 66, since it is ON Route 66.

We found a gallery/store called Stranger Factory. My wallet and I had a wrestling match. I could have cleaned the joint out. All the art and tchotchkes were right up my alley. My credit card kept trying to leap out of my purse but I beat it down. There’s only so much room in the truck. I was overcome by art and had to leave and eat a sandwich.

Then we popped into a skateboard shop, where we were greeted by the doorman, Dozer the pit bull.

I LOVE him!

Then a special trip to the old town part of Albuquerque to see the Rattlesnake Museum. Here are some residents for your viewing pleasure.

I loved his cute face and bright eyes.

This freaks me out more than snakes. Truly the stuff nightmares are made of.

Spot the snake!

We took that left turn at Albuquerque and had a gorgeous drive through that fabulous high desert scenery to Gallup, NM (insert poll joke here).

The tent had been stored wet for three days because we had to pack it in a rainstorm. It’s too cold to camp right now, but we had to air it before it started stinking, so we raised it in the parking lot of the Comfort Suites we are staying at so we could dry it out.

A couple came out to check on their motorcycle, then leaned against the hotel wall, sipping something from red Solo cups and watching us pitch and dry the tent. What, they never saw anyone camp in a hotel lot before?
Here are some Gallup sunsets to help you forget about the snakes:

A Few Parting Shots

Posted May 25, 2015

…of Santa Fe. It’s difficult to capture awesomeness in a photo, but here are a few attempts:

And my favorite-

Los Alamos, It’s the Bomb!

Posted May 25, 2015

We tried to venture to Bandelier National Monument today to see some scenery and cliff dwellings, but as I mentioned before, Memorial Day weekend is a bad time to be antisocial. We would have to take a shuttle, chock full of other tourists to see anything worthwhile.

The volunteer at the visitor center casually mentioned Los Alamos, in case we “were interested in learning about how they made the bomb.” The atom bombs that were dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, that is. That sounded so interesting, and they had a science museum to boot, so away we went!

On the way, we stopped at White Rock Overlook, where we all overlooked white rocks and the Rio Grande.

Los Alamos was an area that had a ranch/school for puny boys and a handful of Native American farms before the government decided they wanted it for developing and building nuclear bombs. They booted the ranch boys and the farmers off (during the little film at the museum when they said they were all perfectly willing to give up their land everyone laughed) and built a little compound for the many scientists and their families that were to work on the bombs.

Here’s a couple of photos from the history museum at the boy’s ranch, depicting some “atomic” era doodads-

Then we went to the Bradbury Science Museum, which was very well done, dealing mostly with nuclear science and some more history about Los Alamos’ role. Here are some informative photos if you want to zoom in to read more about it:

There was an exhibit about Nano science. Pete really absorbed the exhibit but I was temporarily deafened by the sound of concepts whooshing over my head. We were reading up on it so we could understand better the science our friend/neighbor Doug Lowndes worked in. I think it’s going to take more than one display as we are still pretty boggled!

I wanted an atomic souvenir pretty badly, but none were to be found. All you entrepreneurs out there, there is a gap in the market to fill in Los Alamos.

Here’s one of the photos we took on our ride back. I call it “Rain searching for Lloyds”.

Hey, Loretto!

Posted May 25, 2015

Every Christmas when I was a little kid, I used to read my mom’s Readers Digest Treasury of Christmas book.

There was a story in it about a chapel that was built in 1879 in Santa Fe but allegedly the bonehead architect didn’t include plans for any way to get into the choir loft. A “miraculous” stairway was built.

I always wanted to see that stairway in person, but when I was a kid, getting to Santa Fe, New Mexico was as likely as a trip to the moon. My family didn’t stray much further than Gatlinburg for vacation.

Last year when we visited Santa Fe for the first time, I saw signs for the Loretto Chapel and it rang a bell, so to speak.

So, around thirty five years or so later, I got to see my “miraculous” stairway. It was everything that little snot nosed kid in Ohio wanted it to be.

You can read more about it here if you want the deets:

http://www.lorettochapel.com/staircase.html

How is a Raisin Like a Writing Desk?

Posted May 23, 2015

This is a post I put on my other blog this past November while we were visiting Santa Fe. I thought ya’al might enjoy it. Btw, I stole the picture of the raven from the internet because I haven’t been able to get a good picture of one here yet.

How is a Raisin Like a Writing Desk?

Ok, so tonight I was on the phone with Dad, and his hearing is so bad that I do this thing I call “Porky Pigging”, where if he doesn’t understand the word after the second try, I use another one, for example he will say “Tim?” when I say “Kim”, so I say “Kimberly”.

So I was trying to tell him about these huge ravens in Santa Fe, we were talking about birds anyway, and I said there are ravens here so big they look like buzzards. “Like rubber!?” No, BUZZARDS. “rubber?” No, like vultures. “Oh, like vultures. Wait, from grapes?!” What do you mean grapes? “How are those raisins as big as vultures? How big ARE those grapes there?” NO, not raisins, RAVENS! Like you know, crows.. “Like cloves?! What?” OK dad, stop. There’s a football team in Baltimore… “BOSTON?” No, BALTIMORE! “The Orioles?” No, the FOOTBALL TEAM. “Oh, RAVENS! I was wondering how a raisin could be as big as a vulture!”

This exchange made dad and me laugh pretty hard. But it also made me think, what a strange, topsy-turvy, Wonderlandish world does my dad live in that he would accept, even for a moment, that the possibility of a raisin the size of a buzzard exists? Or that I have a friend named Tim that I am so close to that I talk about him all the time?

When we do have a lucid conversation on a good-hearing, not addlepated day, I should really treasure it, I guess. They are getting as rare as buzzard-sized raisins.

Do you know the way to Santa Fe?

Posted May 23, 2015

I know, the song is really about San Jose. But I always thought Santa Fe sounded better.

We are staying Memorial Day weekend in Santa Fe. In a hotel. We figured the campgrounds would be packed, and we didn’t want to do the “howdy neighbor” act, all the time knowing that we are going to take a leak in the weeds almost behind their camper later that night. All part and parcel of being antisocial adventurers.

Speaking of which, Santa Fe is where I got the inspiration for the name of this blog. Last November, a proprietor at a Santa Fe shop where we were buying some devil figurines asked us the customary questions about where we were from, where we were going, etc. I remarked that it was a good time to travel because there were no crowds and we had a lot of attractions to ourselves. His reply was “You’re antisocial.”. I was offended briefly, before I realized he was exactly right. So I thought it would be an apt name for the blog.

Blunt shop men aside, Santa Fe is an awesome small city. Great eats, lots of art, native jewelry, varied flora, blue skies, huge ravens croaking from telephone wires and a hippy/laid back vibe. Pete loves the adobe architecture. (“Can you say ah-doh-bee?” RIP Jan Hooks).

Santa Fe has the highest altitude of any city in America, at over 7,000 feet above sea level. It eats cities like Denver for breakfast in that regard. With green chiles. The air is really thin. Walking up three steps can make one huff and puff. And as we found out last year when we were having a little “debate” while walking down Canyon Road last year, you can either walk or talk adamantly, just not both at the same time. “Oh yeah, *gasp*, you just don’t *wheeze* know what you’re talking about *pant*!”

And, you can get a nice little buzz from just one alcoholic beverage! Bonus!

Caprock Canyon Part 2

Posted May 22, 2015

The next day we took a 6.5 mile hike into and on top of the canyon. It was still overcast and about 50 degrees, which was fine by me. The sun did come out for about 20 minutes.

The trail threaded through canyons and creek beds, and then a 600 foot ascent to the ridge. Then, two miles later, a 600 foot descent with lots of scree. My ankles were toast.

But the view was spectacular from the top.

We saw songbirds and ferny caves and horny toads. (I can’t help but think of Delmar in O Brother, Where Art Thou when I hear “horny toad”).

Later that evening we made beef stew in the D.O. It was damn good, though I say it myself. Pete is turning out to be quite the campfire chef.

About 8 pm, after loading ALL the coolers and kitchen stuff into the truck, it started to rain. And storm. For the next twelve hours. My mattress was against the wall so the edge of my sheets got wet, but we were pretty snug otherwise. At least the storm kept The Snorter and the wolf pack away, or else we just couldn’t hear them over the thunder.

It stopped just long enough in the morning for us to fold the saturated tent up and strike camp.

We really loved this park and campground. As we were leaving, the park gave us one last gift.

A roadrunner sighting! On our last trip I looked every day for a roadrunner. I think this is a roadrunner anyway… As Pete pointed out, it was running on the road.

Caprock Canyon State Park

Posted May 22, 2015

Sounds like a campground for Fred Flintstone to take his family, doesn’t it? It’s a beautiful canyon with red dirt and rocks, forty shades of green brush, and lots of wildflowers.

There is a herd of wild Bison in the park, which we were pleasantly surprised to encounter three minutes after arriving!

And a prairie dog town! I’d never seen one before. So cute!

It was our home for two nights. The campsites are spacious and have shade shelters. Which would have come in handy if we had sunshine on either day.

The temperature in west Texas was 20 degrees cooler than usual, making the daytime high around 60 degrees. We busted out our winter hats and woolies that were so difficult to think about packing in 92 degree Florida.

We were looking forward to a peaceful night, since the park is in the middle of nowhere and our last ones had trains, planes and highway noise all night.

We made our first meal in our Dutch oven, chicken and andouille jambalaya. It was a roaring success. And it was hot, which didn’t hurt either.

We turned in around 930 pm, brave with blankets and sleeping bags.

I must note, that when we visited the area with the dumpsters earlier,we noticed that they didn’t have lids. Being accustomed to camping in bear country we took this as a sign that there was a lack of garbage foraging varmints in the area, so we went against our usual custom and left the coolers under the shelter, the little one with a big rock on top to keep it shut.

Around midnight, I woke to hear fuss and fiddlement occurring under the shelter. It was Pete, clad only in his blue boxer briefs, loading coolers into the truck.

Something had moved the rock and had helped itself to some mushrooms and celery. A R.O.U.S? A vegetarian Sasquatch? (Little Biggie was in the tent with us, snoring copiously)

After Pete finished up loading the coolers, I took the opportunity to go out and take a leak in the weeds. Sorry for the personal glimpse, but that’s how it was. I was getting settled back on my half deflated air mattress and Pete was coming in from his business when we heard a loud snorting/growling coming from the woods behind the tent, right where I had dropped trou not two minutes before. It sounded like a BIG animal. I was hollering “Get in the tent, hurry!” Like something that big would be deterred by a nylon wall. Pete got halfway in the doorway and told me to get his knife. ,He made a threatening figure in his boxer briefs, with is big knife in his hand. We watched and waited for a few minutes and the noise stopped.

An hour later we heard the wolves howling in the distance, Just like in the movies. They got closer and closer.sounded like a whole pack of them. A perfect Dracula impersonation comes from the air mattress across the tent- “Chilllldren of the night! What music they make.”. I was not tempted to go “use the weeds”after that.

All these critter near encounters paired with our neighbors across the way the “Bumpesses” with their three big dogs and their inability to get in and out of their truck at all hours without setting the alarm off made for a restless night.

Oh, Boy!

Posted May 20, 2015

When we were planning this trip, going to see the Buddy Holly Center in Lubbock was one of the first items on my list. I’ve been longing to see it for many years, but we were never anywhere close to Lubbock. We altered our route to include a visit.

It is a small museum, but well done. There was a good sized exhibit of Buddy’s belongings and facts and timelines about him and the Crickets. Seeing Buddy’s glasses that were recovered from the crash was rather chilling. His career spanned only 18 months but what a talent and influence it was. Without Buddy, there would have been no Beatles, such as they were.

There was a short film but I didn’t go in, I knew I’d lose it if they flashed a picture of Ritchie Valens!

Jerry Allison’s (the drummer for The Crickets) house was included on the tour. This is a photo of the bedroom where they wrote and practiced their song Peggy Sue.

We were the youngest ones on the tour, by at least 25 years.

That happens a lot when you’re a fan of old style rock n’ roll!

Rave on!

Lubbock

Posted on May 20, 2015

After an eight hour drive, including breaks, we arrived in Lubbock, Texas, home of Texas Tech.

And the birthplace of Buddy Holly!

At Caprock Cafe for dinner, we consumed the first of what will be many meals that include green chilies. When you get almost any meal in New Mexico, Texas, and Colorado, green chilies are present, bidden or unbidden. Good thing we love ’em!

Then again on my huevos rancheros for breakfast at Lubbock’s Breakfast House & Grill. Gotta love that Southwest cooking!

Batty and Buggy in the Texas Capital

Posted May 18, 2015

Yesterday around 1:30 pm we pitched our tent in the lush, verdant meadow of the Mckinney Falls State Park Campground, conveniently located thirteen minutes from downtown Austin. We slapped the tent up to stake our claim on the campsite, and headed for the city.

Austin is one of our favorite cities, despite being in Texas it is liberal and quirky, with lots of public art and graffiti, great shopping and eating and loads of young people and hipsters.
And bats!

From March to September or so, around 750,000 bats make their home under the Congress Avenue Bridge right in the downtown area and fly out every evening to eat bugs. They draw quite a crowd, boats full of tourists and kayakers under the bridge, and hundreds of people in the park and on the bridge to watch the spectacle. Some of the spectators in the park wore plastic ponchos to protect themselves from falling guano.

We stayed to watch the bats, and got back to camp around 10pm.

Around midnight, we discovered why the meadow was so lush as it started to downpour rain. The tent held up great again.

In the morning, we discovered about a dozen pillbugs that had come in for a cuddle. At least they didn’t hog the covers and we don’t think they crawled into our ears or up our noses. Because they roll up into a ball when disturbed, they were very easy to sweep up and toss out.

While we were striking the tent to leave, we saw that two spiders had spun beautiful webs on the tent poles. I hated to destroy their work, but they are not welcome to ride in the truck.

On the very top of the tent, like a hairy, horrifying cherry on top of a sundae, was a huge brown wood spider. Pete popped him off the fabric, and I felt bad for him but the arc he made flying through the air was somehow comical.

Anyhow, back in the truck now, hopefully bug and arachnid free.

Curiouser and Curiouser

Posted May 18, 2015

…how I found out about the Alice in Wonderland exhibition at the Harry Ransom Center at the University of Texas Austin by looking up shopping on TripAdvisor.

In typical tolerant-of-Kelle’s-nerdiness fashion, Pete made sure I got there. It was wonderful and extensive, and free! Whee!

Done Well.

Posted May 18, 2015

Here is a photo of Pete holding up a burger to prove to SW Florida that a medium doneness can be achieved.

This is taken at our favorite diner in Austin, TX , called 24. Localvore hipster yumminess!

The Stars at Night…

Posted May 18, 2015

…are big and bright, deep in the heart of Texas! Not that we’d know, since we stayed in a hotel due to lack of viable campgrounds within driving distance.

Yes, we made it to Texas, and out of the low country, which is so dangerous for my cholesterol. We are headed to Austin today, to camp at a state park just outside of the city.

Texas, where you can carry a gun almost anywhere, but get a ticket for consuming alcohol in a state park! Priorities, people!

I’m Home to Tara!

Posted May 17, 2015

Remember that idea I had for a vow renewal for our 25th anniversary this year? Just imagine it here at Nottoway Plantation in Louisiana off The Great River Road! Low Country buffet, grits sculptures, silver buckets flowing with daiquiris, guests swinging in the wrought iron swing under the live oaks, me channeling Scarlett O’Hara…

Unfortunately, my Rhett Butler frankly doesn’t give a damn about having a renewal. To which I can only say-

Fiddle-dee-dee!

Posted May 17, 2015

An excited tourist came up and showed us a picture he had taken in the woods at Davis Bayou of Bigfoot.

We just rolled our eyes and said “You want to meet him? He’s in the truck. ”

Tourists can be so silly.

Trains and Rains

Posted May 17, 2015

Rained like the dickens last night from about 9 pm until 5 am. at Davis Bayou Campground. It varied from a gentle pattering to full-on fire hose on the tent roof. Coleman tents can be proud of their waterproofing. We were pitched in a gully by necessity, and I kept having to remind myself that air mattresses can be used as a floatation device.

Then, five times or more that night, a lonesome whistle blew, then got louder and louder. You could hear the train a-comin’ it’s rolling round the tent. I couldn’t help but think of the hotel in My Cousin Vinny.

On top of that, my new ‘gator friend kept hogging the covers.

Kinda glad to leave the bayou behind, frankly.

LOOK WHAT WE GOT!!

Posted May 16, 2015

Sike!

This is our joint-

The Airstream is our Davis Bayou neighbor. We might have to peep in the windows to watch his TV.

Son of a Gun…

Posted May 16, 2015

Gonna have big fun on the bayou! Or not so much fun. Tonight we are at the Davis Bayou Campground near Ocean Springs, Mississippi. It’s kind of buggy and muggy.

But we did meet the resident ‘Gator!

Our site is right by the bayou, so if he wants a cuddle he can share my double air mattress.

We were going to attempt Jambalaya in the Dutch oven tonight, but after swatting a thousand mosquitos that apparently use bug spray for aftershave, and having had a late and huge lunch, we are going to have vegetables and dip instead.

Besides, we don’t have crawfish pie or fille gumbo to go with it.

Rest stop outside Pensacola

Posted May 16, 2015

Little Biggie’s King Kong impersonation…

Posted on May 16, 2015

Despite a shower gel breach in my Caboodle (thanks Becky, it rinsed out great!) to delay us slightly, we broke camp this morning and are headed out.

A few minor glitches (forgot batteries for the fan! Eek!), but I’d rate the first night a 8/10. The foil meals were ok, a little burnt, but we ate them anyway. Campfire cooking learning curve.

Looking forward to breaking in our Dutch oven tonight!

Falling Waters State Park

Posted May 15, 2015

Falling Waters in name, and at first, in weather also. But rain is what Pete calls “camping weather”, so we were not deterred. As soon as we set the tent up, it stopped raining for the most part.

This park boasts the highest waterfall in Florida. Which sounds like it’d be 6 feet high, right?

It’s 73 feet high.

Because it falls into a sinkhole.

Only in Florida!

This is an adorable park. It has a little lake with a beach, clean-as-a-pin bath house, Boardwalk trails, and tall piney forests.

Making our first attempt at “foil meals”. If I blog tomorrow you’ll know we didn’t die of salmonella.

TTFN!

Hitchhiker

Posted May 15, 2015

This dude stepped out of the mangroves and hitched a ride. Since we’re all going to the same place, we figured why not?

He kind of smells and right now his big feet are propped on our console. I have a feeling it’s gonna be a long ride to the Pacific Northwest…

¡Vámanos!

Posted May 15, 2015

On a Personal Note

May 14, 2015

Whilst finishing my last minute packing of toiletries and clothing, I find myself unable to depart with fewer than six eyeliner pencils. My clothing may eventually all smell like smoke and dirt, but my eyes will look good

Preparations

Posted May 10, 2015

Pete and I are embarking on a summer long trip to see the western United States. Our itinerary (so far) includes Mississippi, Louisiana, Texas, New Mexico, Arizona, Nevada, California, Oregon, Washington, Montana, Colorado and whatever Midwestern states are required to get us back home to Florida.

We hope to tent camp in state and national park campgrounds most of the time, with the occasional hotel room stay so we don’t stink too bad.

I’m starting this blog so I can remember what all we did later. Hopefully, I will be disciplined enough to add to it daily.

Getting all our crap together for camping is like going to war. I feel like we are taking half the house with us. This is a far cry from our backcountry camping days, where Pete even cut the handle short on his toothbrush to save weight and space in his pack. Once I introduced him to modern air mattresses and tents one can stand up in, he was convinced. We might spend a few nights in the backcountry just to keep us grateful for the Coleman Instant Tent.

Leaving on the 15th May, 2015. TTFN.