tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-88239937425643203932024-03-14T03:52:04.235-04:00Sleeps TwoAn eclectic collection of camping stories, trailer-towing articles, campground and park reviews as we discover the world of RV camping in our small camping trailer.
If you are expecting sugar-coated, sponsored reviews, or cut-and-paste Chamber of Commerce pamphlets, you are on the wrong page!Georgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02165325439708519673noreply@blogger.comBlogger116125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8823993742564320393.post-5691014728866507252020-10-26T19:46:00.058-04:002024-01-02T12:54:15.668-05:00 Breaking camp<p> </p>
<p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span style="text-align: left;">As we unplugged and disconnected, cranked up and packed up, </span><span lang="en-US" style="text-align: left;">cleaned
and stored our dishes preparing to leave</span><span style="text-align: left;"> our campsite in
Silver Springs, I took stock of the items I needed to fix when we got
home. I had already watched the videos about replacing the ruptured
propane gas line and fixing the leaking water supply to the toilet.
No big issues, the parts would be ready when we got there. Just
things I would rather not do here.</span></span></p>
<p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span style="text-align: left;">I had to laugh as I tried to disconnect the external television
coaxial cable connector on the rear of our trailer. It simply spun in
my hand instead of disconnecting from the trailer. Aah, I thought,
</span><span lang="en-US" style="text-align: left;">a</span><span style="text-align: left;">nother test! How many more tests can I
stand on this trip? The threat of rain had prompted our decision to
leave early and of course it rained just before I put away the awning
with its brand new pull-strap, which, by-the-way, was a one-minute
fix.</span></span></p>
<p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span style="text-align: left;">We hoped to hike or bicycle several really nice trails the last day, but the weather forecast caused us to </span><span lang="en-US" style="text-align: left;">cut </span><span style="text-align: left;">our stay short. We decided to slowly, comfortably head for home.
Besides, the refrigerator light blew out as well.</span></span></p>
<p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium; text-align: left;">Our evenings were probably the most telling about what we missed from our previous trips, even though we decided to keep the camper for another year, or at least
until after the resolution of our COVID virus pandemic. But we still
aren’t sure if we want to haul it across country for another three
month sojourn.</span></p>
<p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span style="text-align: left;">We love the freedom of simply hooking up the trailer and taking our
hotel room with us, but we don’t like being disconnected from the
Internet for more than a couple of days. Don’t laugh. We have spent
more time in Walmart stores from Blairsville, Georgia, to Painted
Post, New York, looking for a WiFi signal than we care to admit.
We’ve parked in McDonald’s parking lots all across Virginia, and
local libraries </span><span lang="en-US" style="text-align: left;">throughout</span><span style="text-align: left;"> Pennsylvania to
stay connected. Through the development of America’s Internet grid,
we’ve owned two separate, independent, erratic, handheld hot-spots
to keep us connected. Now that the hot-spot feature is built into our
cell-phones, all we have to do is decide how much we are willing to
pay for access to our sanity.</span></span></p>
<p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium; text-align: left;">We don’t rely on local television and radio stations. We heard a
young, enthusiastic weather forecaster in Asheville tell us not to
worry about sun protection because it was going to be cloudy and yet
another station fail to warn us we were about to have severe weather.
Luckily our camping neighbors had a weather app on their smartphone
that told everyone to take shelter.</span></p>
<p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span style="text-align: left;">We don’t often stream movies or shows on the road, but we like
immediate access to the ‘Net when we want to </span><span lang="en-US" style="text-align: left;">satisfy
</span><span style="text-align: left;">our curiosities. We download books and articles, and I can
research a subject for writing for hours. And of course, we
constantly monitor our new household camera security system. That
turned out to be the biggest data-hog we’ve ever encountered in the
years we’ve been using the Internet.</span></span></p>
<p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US" style="text-align: left;">Another</span><span style="text-align: left;"> reason we are not spending another night is because
we blew up our data plan. Verizon has us on half-speed because we
went over our data limit and staring at </span><span lang="en-US" style="text-align: left;">my</span><span style="text-align: left;">
phone waiting for the little wheel symbol to finally stop spinning is
a maddening waste of time! I can’t even check our home security
cameras. We obviously are out of practice allocating our Internet
resources and need to rethink our data budget. There isn’t anything
in the trailer or on our Kindles we haven’t already read. Broadcast
radio is a wasteland and television isn’t </span><span lang="en-US" style="text-align: left;">much
</span><span style="text-align: left;">better. I am not hauling a trailer around the country to watch
Frazier reruns.</span></span></p>
<p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium; text-align: left;">There are no safety issues to keep us from enjoying our camper. I really don’t want to
spend time shopping for parts and repairing things while I’m on the road unless I have to.
Everything can be fixed in due time, even the lack of Internet. </span></p>
<p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium; text-align: left;">We’ll fix it after we get home.</span></p>
<p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium; text-align: left;">And after I fix everything else…</span></p><p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLGY5O7dQTNneJUszh9NzsljNRafWTrWeheLz-8Mbug9IENq8tIGq7c6hiqkBJLRcu5jddpm09fpCldZ6YOA7-coK8DHGl8Gn3yp6zC0Kuw9DHdE8SZNJmSQXpL5wuO3RQfzMhqEZ0W9M/s4496/DSC_0300-001.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4496" data-original-width="3000" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLGY5O7dQTNneJUszh9NzsljNRafWTrWeheLz-8Mbug9IENq8tIGq7c6hiqkBJLRcu5jddpm09fpCldZ6YOA7-coK8DHGl8Gn3yp6zC0Kuw9DHdE8SZNJmSQXpL5wuO3RQfzMhqEZ0W9M/w429-h640/DSC_0300-001.JPG" width="429" /></a></div><br /><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span><p></p><p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></p><p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></p><p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></p>
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</p>Georgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02165325439708519673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8823993742564320393.post-9200298241595528922020-10-23T14:00:00.113-04:002023-12-13T13:52:48.361-05:00The State of Florida<p> </p>
<div style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">RVs and trailers were backed up on the entrance
road waiting to register <span lang="en-US">a</span>s we pulled into
Silver Springs State Park Campground this past Sunday afternoon. <span lang="en-US">T</span>he
earliest check-in time for Florida campgrounds is 3 o’clock in the
afternoon, which compress<span lang="en-US">es</span> the check-in
window considerably, but <span lang="en-US">check-in</span> went
quickly with a mask-wearing ranger checking with drivers as <span lang="en-US">we</span>
approached the gate. We were on our way to our spotlessly clean
campsite in less than ten minutes.</span></div><p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4KlCAUvwFYnOaDjmnByPSWndP5U2iBHAGIc9coE_e_CdrqiaDjCaiXwpVqHhMo-vnGwaaxx4ZEGqE2PKeQVlhTEreR7xKadz4DZKV0pco7pQS1fatMLiIsy8OoyyDNwDxF2ShYZqJOjU/s4032/20201018_162047.JPG" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2268" data-original-width="4032" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4KlCAUvwFYnOaDjmnByPSWndP5U2iBHAGIc9coE_e_CdrqiaDjCaiXwpVqHhMo-vnGwaaxx4ZEGqE2PKeQVlhTEreR7xKadz4DZKV0pco7pQS1fatMLiIsy8OoyyDNwDxF2ShYZqJOjU/w640-h360/20201018_162047.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Site 37, Silver Springs State Park <br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><br /></span><p></p><p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Our campsite is wide with a picnic table, a fire pit and barbecue and plenty of privacy as the sites are spread apart with at least fifty feet of woods separating the sites. Several of the campsites have full sewer hookups, but ours has only water and electricity. I have no doubt commercial camp sites would jam three more units into the space between campsites. Another reason to love Florida State Parks! Silver Springs now competes in our book with Anastasia in St Augustine. This is our 41st time at a Florida State Park Campground, even though I admit we have several repeat stays at our favorites.<br /><br /></span> <span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The campground facilities are spotless and modern. The campground is almost full but you would never know. It is quiet and we are stunned by the darkness of the first night. If you’ve been camping in an RV in the last several years you know there has been an explosion of gimmicky RV and trailer lighting options guaranteed to keep anyone within 200 feet or so awake all night. Most campgrounds at night now look like UFO landing zones. We think these people are obviously afraid of the dark, but thankfully they aren’t here! At least not this week. All three loops are dark by nine pm with only a few porch lights glowing in the woods. Within a few minutes, the whole campground is dark. <br /><br />We spent the first day scouring the area for replacement RV parts so we really didn’t start the vacation until the second morning which broke with a high, overcast cloud covering. By 9 am we were on our way to the main park to rent kayaks as we hadn’t brought ours with us. The main spring head and the campground are a few miles apart on State Road 35 and all a camper needs is the access tag given to each camper as an entry pass to the main park.</span><p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsd260V6bhgGWNhjKY8E0WAvfi5G0gI5zXeA-c8JT60jPAK-N9u2socwzUWtV7m49qUOUrE915GJYF7T0rrO895ad_aDWtmt_oPsK5b7IlyTbmx4IzhAoFKMrHx7uFLRY8vmNT5PGVHXs/s2564/IMG_3740.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1444" data-original-width="2564" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsd260V6bhgGWNhjKY8E0WAvfi5G0gI5zXeA-c8JT60jPAK-N9u2socwzUWtV7m49qUOUrE915GJYF7T0rrO895ad_aDWtmt_oPsK5b7IlyTbmx4IzhAoFKMrHx7uFLRY8vmNT5PGVHXs/w640-h360/IMG_3740.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;"><br /></span><p></p><p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;">As we pulled into the iconic Silver
Springs State Park parking lot, I was unexpectedly overcome with
</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" lang="en-US" style="text-align: left;">disappointment</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;">. What happened to our
showcase? The once pristine, shining beacon of Florida’s unique
beauty, once the hallmark of our tourist industry, looks like an
abandoned Stuckeys roadside pecan stand. While not yet completely
fallen into disrepair, the entrance to the once famous </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" lang="en-US" style="text-align: left;">Florida
landmark</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;"> </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" lang="en-US" style="text-align: left;">appears</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;"> only a few steps
away from being </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" lang="en-US" style="text-align: left;">trash</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;">.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin2vICXMrlG5Ha61-yECzfj23w2GcYoNPXB09-z5b-oYIFglZxOfiVT87sLIn1V2mq8VWQRog2TZmC1TJM3FD25siqCm-uAHE9S_gloH9-_WHL9AnzLzwX4hZ9zo72VQfdH-6i_gAhtVg/s3648/IMG_3735-001.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="3648" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin2vICXMrlG5Ha61-yECzfj23w2GcYoNPXB09-z5b-oYIFglZxOfiVT87sLIn1V2mq8VWQRog2TZmC1TJM3FD25siqCm-uAHE9S_gloH9-_WHL9AnzLzwX4hZ9zo72VQfdH-6i_gAhtVg/w640-h360/IMG_3735-001.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><p></p>
<p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span style="text-align: left;">The driveway in</span><span lang="en-US" style="text-align: left;">to
the park </span><span style="text-align: left;">from Highway 40 looks like a sub-standard, pot-holed
road from up north somewhere and the parking lot itself looks like a
paved-over oil field. As you look around to see where to park, it
appears the buildings to the entrance haven’t </span><span lang="en-US" style="text-align: left;">been
cleaned</span><span style="text-align: left;"> or painted in years. The roofs of the entrance
buildings look like an abandoned </span><span lang="en-US" style="text-align: left;">Pecan stand</span><span style="text-align: left;">
except they are gray. Well, grayish. I think that is the color under
the mold and dirt. </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span style="text-align: left;">The first impression is unfortunately the one
that always comes back when you remin</span><span lang="en-US" style="text-align: left;">isce about a
location, and right now, this isn’t the image Florida needs. While
the appearance of the park when you arrive doesn’t reflect the
interior of the park, especially the garden paths and the rebuilt
elevated Ross Allen Island Walk, I was still disappointed with my
first impression. The recent COVID pandemic has nothing to do with
what I saw pulling into the parking lot. It is a fiscal attitude
prevalent in Florida for the last several years that I don’t care
for.</span></span></div><p></p>
<span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">We walked in after showing our campground pass and were saddened to see the heart of the attraction is indeed closed because of the virus. That didn’t prepare us for the lack of masks as most visitors we met acted as if everything was normal. The entire park is in dire need of not only money, but attention from more than just volunteers. Financial times not withstanding due to the 9-month COVID shut-down, Silver Spring’s problems are far older and deeper than our current pandemic. Only a few of the workers at the kayak rental wore masks.</span><p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYqyavb0WCoWShMmnnXcumaMSJokMbhsSgVZqCP8VF0fzPAoKmlq0ldEfNmpBXznXtZ1sHY3tlp2uNGWotopnC08a-DYRI32YpIdNZKtIsBiXkOb6VWWWouaqPNrPUeIuIvO-fi9tQyDI/s2736/IMG_3784.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2736" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYqyavb0WCoWShMmnnXcumaMSJokMbhsSgVZqCP8VF0fzPAoKmlq0ldEfNmpBXznXtZ1sHY3tlp2uNGWotopnC08a-DYRI32YpIdNZKtIsBiXkOb6VWWWouaqPNrPUeIuIvO-fi9tQyDI/w400-h225/IMG_3784.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;"><br /></span><p></p>
<span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">We came back two days later to walk the garden paths and were pleased to find volunteers are indeed the heart of the park. We met several who acted as information centers and guides through the well-kept paths and interior of the park. The inside gardens and grounds are as well-kept as ever, but again, the glass bottom boats look like they were brought up second hand from the jungles of Central America.</span><p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5EDJCaRMYQDlHGbFFxGBpID1IMBpEstP-V5DDW_LtjxDvOWU2tNFLxvTwPCjC4cov2Eq8M2rW7JXTp_fcMowY3iNfO1LmkcEm7MgbTR0omm9lmc9jMDF6vySbNj_IRZX16uIAbx7wIzY/s1918/IMG_3771.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1918" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5EDJCaRMYQDlHGbFFxGBpID1IMBpEstP-V5DDW_LtjxDvOWU2tNFLxvTwPCjC4cov2Eq8M2rW7JXTp_fcMowY3iNfO1LmkcEm7MgbTR0omm9lmc9jMDF6vySbNj_IRZX16uIAbx7wIzY/w640-h360/IMG_3771.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;"><br /></span><p></p>
<span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">We decided to arrive early and rent a canoe instead of kayaks to paddle the beautiful river. My wife and I filled out the forms, paid our $30 for two hours use of an old Old Town fiberglass canoe, and after surrendering my car keys as collateral, shoved off in a rental canoe that wanted to go anywhere but where we wanted it to go. I had forgotten why we switched to kayaks, but it came rushing back to me after only a few strokes. Next time, our Pungo kayaks will come with us. So will hand sanitizer as there was none to be found at the rental concession.</span><p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNEdtldZZmiYQ2liyAXwxguqHDnnWmGxs8g8LSTHjgFaD0RM3RIGFc8pyeUweFy1pOwLp_lWiARsCw7fXpITou-VrSWxYFTDRGPLmku71vqen1-7tK0AdCG6G1Kqoq9KXTC9dpOsVoJzc/s3648/Headspring.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="3648" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNEdtldZZmiYQ2liyAXwxguqHDnnWmGxs8g8LSTHjgFaD0RM3RIGFc8pyeUweFy1pOwLp_lWiARsCw7fXpITou-VrSWxYFTDRGPLmku71vqen1-7tK0AdCG6G1Kqoq9KXTC9dpOsVoJzc/w640-h360/Headspring.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;"><br /></span><p></p><p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgisLlf34aWh9SWhi0IrLd61yeSuqzh15THFZngZ3dvzS_vLKPFm7ofM2OUNTGr55KrMl7_-jvjT_Awc78W1rhle22kwo7ouC4530xXyQwsw6BBpGO1oGBIUjzNgX4dye2EG-BQs35lb4c/s3648/IMG_3720.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="3648" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgisLlf34aWh9SWhi0IrLd61yeSuqzh15THFZngZ3dvzS_vLKPFm7ofM2OUNTGr55KrMl7_-jvjT_Awc78W1rhle22kwo7ouC4530xXyQwsw6BBpGO1oGBIUjzNgX4dye2EG-BQs35lb4c/w640-h360/IMG_3720.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;"><br /></span><p></p>
<span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">We glided along, watching the mullet and shad, turtles and two small alligators which were impervious to the incessant highway noise from State Road 40 just beyond the border of the park. The river is as beautiful as always, but I could not help but think David Attenborough is right about planet earth cleaning itself after we have inadvertently removed all human life from the planet. The beauty of the river rises above our callous human ignorance. The anhingas and ospreys still hunt the ever swirling, constantly flowing, crystal clear water.</span><p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdLMcPfMqNwuO6gYVYs6GMesW3Coc96AKbS63i4ZBqKjomzIFw6cHH5nvL5uazW6Ur66I9P6fOrYlvKwrulUh5Vr5eH4kfeXvVFCBPllZ0pOOCWTd7oiW1869aJk8yGE3yVKNizcwGx04/s3097/IMG_3675.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1743" data-original-width="3097" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdLMcPfMqNwuO6gYVYs6GMesW3Coc96AKbS63i4ZBqKjomzIFw6cHH5nvL5uazW6Ur66I9P6fOrYlvKwrulUh5Vr5eH4kfeXvVFCBPllZ0pOOCWTd7oiW1869aJk8yGE3yVKNizcwGx04/w640-h360/IMG_3675.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;"><br /></span><p></p><p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizS7s2sYJ0W7tUqFucRaR_tJMWqd78rSrOwo45mHYAh5McZxJ6pmTKBOSU9t7fgqAkbvhIATQXSyb5I7CBX_5hUBSjLHh_goxfbZzsoHxotwN3TKOWANm5iqn4DiKy5XJdBaxEjKUp6Q8/s3648/IMG_3691.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="3648" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizS7s2sYJ0W7tUqFucRaR_tJMWqd78rSrOwo45mHYAh5McZxJ6pmTKBOSU9t7fgqAkbvhIATQXSyb5I7CBX_5hUBSjLHh_goxfbZzsoHxotwN3TKOWANm5iqn4DiKy5XJdBaxEjKUp6Q8/w640-h360/IMG_3691.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;"><br /></span><p></p>
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<p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><br /></span></p><p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><br /></span></p><p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><br /></span></p><p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><br /></span></p><p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><br /></span></p><p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><br /></span></p><p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><br /></span></p><p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><br /></span></p><p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><br /></span></p><p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><br /></span></p><p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p><p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_JuZ2NCPXYl-OV5Z8mKlQlKtAOjqFm9Iqi2YNixzmdC5sT-0CK9pP3UHIuOj8YiFt_h59iGYGCDD0QZYClbx7oABAw5Lv60q_QPWZGDgBj4-2OFikSs564iHEuLWumMc_hAPIN0aU0og/s2582/IMG_3710.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1455" data-original-width="2582" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_JuZ2NCPXYl-OV5Z8mKlQlKtAOjqFm9Iqi2YNixzmdC5sT-0CK9pP3UHIuOj8YiFt_h59iGYGCDD0QZYClbx7oABAw5Lv60q_QPWZGDgBj4-2OFikSs564iHEuLWumMc_hAPIN0aU0og/w640-h360/IMG_3710.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></div><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><br /><br /></span><p></p><p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><br /></span></p><p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><br /></span></p><p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><br /></span></p><p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><br /></span></p><p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><br /></span></p><p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><br /></span></p><p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><br /></span></p><p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><br /></span></p><p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><br /></span></p><p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><br /></span></p><p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmEPNDcxL_wycVWS9kMG4MW0NbPkXd24dahlM9XiQkmqQF1ekOEjbwxAlG4ky-evZ1yX9vk1qJgMDQjQ-CmQWOj-c0GnnNlfbOtGtPw1q5kc7BepjKI4JFtkF0ONDlfLphh8aB5nZoLxw/s1879/1020201003b.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1057" data-original-width="1879" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmEPNDcxL_wycVWS9kMG4MW0NbPkXd24dahlM9XiQkmqQF1ekOEjbwxAlG4ky-evZ1yX9vk1qJgMDQjQ-CmQWOj-c0GnnNlfbOtGtPw1q5kc7BepjKI4JFtkF0ONDlfLphh8aB5nZoLxw/w640-h360/1020201003b.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Those of us who occasionally turn off the television and tepidly see if old, natural Florida still exists, are both happy and sad. I’m happy the pristine water still flows. I’m sad the State of Florida has lost interest. Oh, there are those who do care, and you can thank them for what little we have left. The interior of the park and grounds are still lovingly cared for, mainly due to the effort of volunteers and friends of the park.</span></p><p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg22_GMbS3JUN2RazWyKJAvWic5PFT0YKJgIUj7lW-X82_rgNmYA8HDnk5NDnbi8dpXOgk4n7ZJEFAYnkuDj8ubnI6-EOq3Dy9oyYPCGWdSWceE_5MkOIZsG3Wtrspwsbe_13Vd-Z4H5M4/s2235/IMG_3762.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1259" data-original-width="2235" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg22_GMbS3JUN2RazWyKJAvWic5PFT0YKJgIUj7lW-X82_rgNmYA8HDnk5NDnbi8dpXOgk4n7ZJEFAYnkuDj8ubnI6-EOq3Dy9oyYPCGWdSWceE_5MkOIZsG3Wtrspwsbe_13Vd-Z4H5M4/w640-h360/IMG_3762.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><br /></span><p></p><p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><br /></span></p><p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><br /></span></p><p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><br /></span></p><p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><br /></span></p><p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><br /></span></p><p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><br /></span></p><p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><br /></span></p><p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><br /></span></p><p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><br /></span></p><p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">I first boated on the Silver River with my mom and dad in 1956 when I was thirteen years old. We came up from the Oklawaha River, and I’ll always remember the drastic change of water color as we entered the Silver River. In those days, my family was thrilled watching for large-mouth Black Bass. We were told of the Rhesus monkeys left to roam the river banks after they were released during filming of Tarzan movies back in the 1930’s, but we we never saw the elusive monkeys.</span></p><p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1zHy7Isvkn9m6HYNIXP2ofnjz6xdCXD2tzsZUyN-s26WGr5YKgAskIP3OyRWcFxRIlLtKw-QWl-vQpblwMDMBRLbKYx5R3GJuC15tFd6aeOEGokurmYwn9y80tmg8Bzy6r8DkVLBzir4/s2179/IMG_3813.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1228" data-original-width="2179" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1zHy7Isvkn9m6HYNIXP2ofnjz6xdCXD2tzsZUyN-s26WGr5YKgAskIP3OyRWcFxRIlLtKw-QWl-vQpblwMDMBRLbKYx5R3GJuC15tFd6aeOEGokurmYwn9y80tmg8Bzy6r8DkVLBzir4/w640-h360/IMG_3813.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></p><p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></p><p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></p><p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></p><p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></p><p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></p><p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></p><p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></p><p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></p><p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The Silver River is still as crystal clear as ever, it is everything else that has changed. My daughter will never experience what I experienced in Silver Springs only one short lifetime ago. Our granddaughter may be so removed from my experience then she will wonder what I am talking about.<br /><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd-uhGW1qILKmm4Ej_CZaiXsgfWPNXAZz1l4ek3XAHFmUoyncCZtsP47hgYj-PeE_hS_hv8G_U9kTcAyE5teKsMGv9T0CZP7Ht9JjKYMQaOQk9lyewKo3igGPEfx9h1_KLbfqhir_alIA/s2736/IMG_3807.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2736" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd-uhGW1qILKmm4Ej_CZaiXsgfWPNXAZz1l4ek3XAHFmUoyncCZtsP47hgYj-PeE_hS_hv8G_U9kTcAyE5teKsMGv9T0CZP7Ht9JjKYMQaOQk9lyewKo3igGPEfx9h1_KLbfqhir_alIA/w640-h360/IMG_3807.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">We didn’t see the monkeys this time either, although one of the Florida Rangers told us the monkeys had been spotted a few minutes before we arrived. They did, however, leave their scat along the handrail in the beautifully rebuilt Ross Allen Island Elevated Trail for all to see. We apparently missed them by only several minutes. A symbol of our environmental ignorance that have become a financially acceptable tourist attraction, at least the monkeys have enough sense to avoid tourists who aren’t wearing face masks.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
</span><p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><a href="https://sleepstwo.blogspot.com/2020/10/breaking-camp.html"></a></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://sleepstwo.blogspot.com/2020/10/breaking-camp.html" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="200" data-original-width="200" height="131" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIzBY6JJHvDue_G5fyZaAGAOcBT8WiRv57u6afKvvyI5U6F2G5m_dG6kggzQK5Un6f7YMwsKjA3fQ1F-N6GWF1Poq8DtxR9PLGVrGe7CFk6UaslGkg3gkvRFXi1IUY0PtMxvSKM6Yj1jV4GJrXzYUvw_aVmSDRK2fKfE9ucFUvFWuBD1h6LBWRkQ0STfo/w131-h131/image.png" width="131" /></a></div><p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><a href="https://sleepstwo.blogspot.com/2020/10/breaking-camp.html"><br /></a></p>
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</p><br /><p></p>Georgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02165325439708519673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8823993742564320393.post-8858782767568915672020-10-22T18:43:00.047-04:002023-12-26T08:19:22.158-05:00 Silver Springs State Park - COVID 19 - 2020<p></p><p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
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<p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">“What would my love want for her birthday?” I asked, hoping the answer was something we could afford. A trip to Germany was out of the question. We just received our refund from EuroWings for our canceled flight back in June. Besides, the German government won’t let us in right now anyway as Americans have too high an infection rate. Thank COVID-19 for a memorable 2020 and our government for our horrible reaction to the world-wide pandemic.</span></p><p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9ffDfeGmGDW9MF-zPra9A-VBlw8UqSprH6wviZ9v-_5MCd56DW6CK2nPd8UxTLu7JSI7U_fSxAncMuDHTqlKZcj2glPhL7ljU5pEjMy_wAuk6rxaf7B6O7RgPZj7vbeVQN7p-Trtup5hbn4IDxiTfrDBrdyo2dX73lqpXOlXHGbruCBOD4dQ0dWxDX8I/s4032/20231215_065657.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2268" data-original-width="4032" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9ffDfeGmGDW9MF-zPra9A-VBlw8UqSprH6wviZ9v-_5MCd56DW6CK2nPd8UxTLu7JSI7U_fSxAncMuDHTqlKZcj2glPhL7ljU5pEjMy_wAuk6rxaf7B6O7RgPZj7vbeVQN7p-Trtup5hbn4IDxiTfrDBrdyo2dX73lqpXOlXHGbruCBOD4dQ0dWxDX8I/w400-h225/20231215_065657.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium; text-align: left;">Ilse didn’t hesitate. “Let’s
take the trailer and go camping! Someplace in Florida we haven't been
before, and go for at least a week!”</span></p>
<p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;">Our only sojourn since Hurricane
Florence way back in September of 2018 had been a meager three-day
trip </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" lang="en-US" style="text-align: left;">in April of 2019 </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;">to the nearby,
semi-desolate Kissimmee Prairie Preserve State Park, for which I have
a fond affection and Ilse a strong revulsion. Just as we began
planning 2020, along came COVID. RVing and camping became just as
much a </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" lang="en-US" style="text-align: left;">distant dream</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;"> as international air
travel. The trailer fell from grace, ignored except to be moved once
as falling tree branches threatened her as she sat immobile, socially
abandoned under a tall pine tree. We simply could not get enthused
about hauling the trailer and setting up in a campground. </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" lang="en-US" style="text-align: left;">Besides,
d</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;">aily life was getting in the way.</span></span></p>
<p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;">Even starting our search for
reservations three months early, </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" lang="en-US" style="text-align: left;">f</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;">ive
consecutive days </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" lang="en-US" style="text-align: left;">was</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;"> as good as we could
get. The only spot open over her birthday was in Silver Springs State
Park near Ocala. We’ve never been there, but the park has always
been high on our list of parks to be visited. Of the three sites open
at Silver Springs State Park Campground, one campsite was reserved
and removed from the list while we were discussing alternatives. We
grabbed the better looking of the two remaining sites and began
planning our first outing in over eighteen months. It was high time
to dust the cobwebs off our ten-year old travel trailer. With only
29,000 miles on it, it was once again tugging at our wanderlust.</span></span></p>
<p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;">Unfortunately, our imaginations had
been tempered considerably after being caught in northern Georgia
during Hurricane Florence. We learned quickly an RV is not what you
need against any winds even close to hurricane force in strength.
Sitting in a campground bath-house designated as a storm shelter is
no assurance of safety. We returned home from that trip filled with
not only apprehension <span lang="en-US">but also</span> an aversion
to being caught helpless once again. </span><span style="text-align: left;"> </span></span></p><p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium; text-align: left;">Our twenty-one foot KZ trailer
received only minimal maintenance attention and only the short side
trip to Kissimmee while it sat in our adjacent lot, waiting to be
hauled off to the remote corners of our imaginations while Ilse and I
contemplated what we really wanted to do.</span></p>
<p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium; text-align: left;">But it was time. Let’s crank this up
and make a decision: Keep the trailer or sell it?</span></p>
<p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;">The decision wasn’t going to be
easy. We </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" lang="en-US" style="text-align: left;">lost</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;"> our faithful travel
companion, seventeen year-old Golden Retriever, Taz, in June. Taz
traveled with us since 20</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" lang="en-US" style="text-align: left;">0</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;">5, and in every
RV trip but one. This would be our first extended trip without a pet.
I began getting the Toyota Sequoia tow truck ready, and with four
days to spare, began cleaning and preparing the trailer.</span></span></p>
<p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span style="text-align: left;">“</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;">How do I love thee? Let me count
the ways.” Let’s start with the tongue jack. That’s the trailer
jack in the front of the trailer that raises and lowers the front of
the trailer so you can back your tow truck hitch under the hitch.
Everyone who uses an electric <span lang="en-US">jack</span> knows
they work intermittently. And therein starts my tale.</span></span></p>
<p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;">After eighteen months of inactivity,
my trailer jack was dead. I’ll forego the hours trouble shooting
and fuse cleaning and explain I simply bought a new, better </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" lang="en-US" style="text-align: left;">trailer
jack</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;">. After installing the new jack, I found </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" lang="en-US" style="text-align: left;">the
new jack did not have</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;"> enough clearance to open the lift-gate
once the trailer was hooked to the hitch. I remount</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" lang="en-US" style="text-align: left;">ed</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;">
the jack, turn</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" lang="en-US" style="text-align: left;">ing it</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;"> so I could get my
hands inside the Sequoia. I found out </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" lang="en-US" style="text-align: left;">an</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;">
hour after bolting it in place the huge, white plastic </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" lang="en-US" style="text-align: left;">p</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;">ropane
tank cover no longer fit over the propane tanks because the new jack
was in the way. Undeterred, I loosened the jack, slid the propane
tank cover into place and remounted the jack. I went inside the
trailer to bleed the </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" lang="en-US" style="text-align: left;">air out of the p</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;">ropane
lines and test both the refrigerat</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" lang="en-US" style="text-align: left;">or </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;">and
the gas stove. Everything worked fine. I stepped outside the trailer
just as Ilse came from the house.</span></span></p>
<p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium; text-align: left;">Blang! I looked at Ilse. “Did
something just fall off the trailer?”</span></p>
<p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span style="text-align: left;">“</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;">No,” she said. “It sounded like
an explosion under the tank cover, and I smell smoke!”</span></span></p>
<p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span style="text-align: left;">“</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;">Hmmn, that’s propane gas.” I
answered as I <span lang="en-US">raised the small access panel on top
of the</span> white, plastic propane tank cover and realized I was
staring at a blown-out LP gas hose. I quickly shut <span lang="en-US">off</span>
the tank valve. Shall I skip ahead here or are you masochistic <span lang="en-US">enough
to read this</span>? Elmore Leonard says to always skip the parts
nobody reads, but I’m going to put this in here come hell or high
water. Yes, I’m an idiom freak. I suffered this nonsense and if you
are an RV owner, you are probably just as addicted to <span lang="en-US">this
nonsense as</span> I am.</span></span></p>
<p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;">Skip ahead several odd time elements.
Not days, maybe lifetimes, maybe only hours, or perhaps just an
illusion </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" lang="en-US" style="text-align: left;">even though </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;">my T-shirt is wet with
sweat.</span></span></p>
<p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;">We are currently sitting in the quiet,
well-spaced campground in Silver Springs State Park. It is raining.
</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" lang="en-US" style="text-align: left;">W</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;">e don’t care. We are sitting under the
old, weather-worn awning in our lounge chairs watching the drizzle
while the humidity is, believe it or not, lower than we’ve seen
since the last Ice Age. We are comfortable. Go figure.</span></span></p>
<p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;">Out of boredom, I start counting my
recent receipts. Since we started this journey less than twenty-four
hours ago, I have: A: - </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" lang="en-US" style="text-align: left;">R</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;">eplaced a broken
plastic screen door latch which broke at home as we were loading; B:
- Replaced the long, black fabric awning strap that pulled apart in
my hand as I </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" lang="en-US" style="text-align: left;">opened</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;"> the awning for the
first time in eighteen months; C: - Temporarily </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" lang="en-US" style="text-align: left;">remounted</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;">
the plastic door over the exhaust vent cover back into place after it
fell on the ground, I latched it back in place, and </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" lang="en-US" style="text-align: left;">D</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;">:
- Figured out how to bypass the ruptured gas line.</span></span></p>
<p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;">As we ate our first breakfast the next
morning in our quiet </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" lang="en-US" style="text-align: left;">campground</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;">, basically
all of yesterday’s problems either </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" lang="en-US" style="text-align: left;">solved</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;">
or harmlessly deferred, we watched in amazement as water slowly ran
out from under the bathroom door, meandering aimlessly across our
newly scrubbed kitchen floor.</span></span></p>
<p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;">For those who have never </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" lang="en-US" style="text-align: left;">had
a spongy floor</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;">, there is no terror in an RV’ers heart as a
wet floor. It is the coup d’grace for any </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" lang="en-US" style="text-align: left;">RV</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;">.
If unchecked, </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" lang="en-US" style="text-align: left;">a</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;"> wet floor </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" lang="en-US" style="text-align: left;">creates</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;">
a terminal condition. This is the voice of experience. For those who
wonder what I’m talking about, the link is at:</span></span></p>
<p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://photos.app.goo.gl/rVoRwe8EHKfLzLqq9">https://photos.app.goo.gl/rVoRwe8EHKfLzLqq9</a>.</span></p>
<p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;">It took more than a few minutes to
isolate the source of water, but </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" lang="en-US" style="text-align: left;">after</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;"> I
realized it was coming from the water supply connection at the top of
the toilet, which of course is totally inaccessible to mortal humans,
I decided then and there to sell the trailer. If I had the title with
me I would have sold </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" lang="en-US" style="text-align: left;">the trailer</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;"> to the
nearest salvage yard. But, reality bops you upside the head sometimes
before your reactions overcome your intelligence and we decided to
simply take the easiest course of action and enjoy our remaining four
days in the campground. </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" lang="en-US" style="text-align: left;">We w</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;">rapped a
towel around the leaking water supply line to the back of the toilet
flush valve in the bathroom and turned off the water pump so there
would be minimal pressure on the water supply. Of course we had to
spend most of the first day driving between RV repair shops to find
the correct parts for the ten year old toilet.</span></span></p>
<p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;">Shall we paddle the pristine Silver
River tomorrow, </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" lang="en-US" style="text-align: left;">o</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;">r drive to the dump
station, empty my black water-tank and pull off my toilet to replace
the defective water valve without driving us and our neighbors </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" lang="en-US" style="text-align: left;">to
buy gas masks?</span></span></p>
<p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium; text-align: left;">No problems with priorities here. We
decided to shut off the water pump until we need it, and simply
absorb the controllable leak until we get home. We ended up at
Camping World down by the Villages and bought the replacement valve
so I can fix it at my convenience, and two little brass adapters to
fit the new size propane pigtails I bought from Amazon to fix the
original gas leak problem. We are using the remaining one good gas
connector tube – after a soap bubble test for leaks – and decided
we can find outdoor restaurants if we need to.</span></p>
<p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium; text-align: left;">I missed camping. I missed the
predicaments that every other camper faced two years ago but you
don’t know about because you have used up your data on your
cellphone plan an hour ago. Really, I missed camping. Really… Well,
OK, not so much… But, yeah, well, maybe...</span></p>
<p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium; text-align: left;">The vacation starts now…</span></p><p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://sleepstwo.blogspot.com/2020/10/the-state-of-florida_23.html" style="clear: left; display: inline; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: right;"><img border="0" data-original-height="200" data-original-width="200" height="78" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2edUpQKTOr6NboJI03smLWiV05nwnni6Q03HTkGLYHXP6LgTWEfOrsEkugxH4_7-nzshqfLqj8u4CysqmHtQYbV9UcN9WTpuKgRz6FVFsokD7PpiUW2xSO9phm7M3i00teCZvrlTTZr2XtOzUJ9a7TdS-M_Y9gO2a_6tqcgtrN_l72ZoboFqwbLXtxUM/w78-h78/right_arrow1600.png" width="78" /></a><a href="https://sleepstwo.blogspot.com/2020/10/the-state-of-florida_23.html" style="text-align: right;">https://sleepstwo.blogspot.com/2020/10/the-state-of-florida_23.html</a></div><p align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></p>
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</p><br /><p></p>Georgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02165325439708519673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8823993742564320393.post-43746938932766612152019-04-22T18:09:00.100-04:002023-12-26T08:05:39.570-05:00Plan B<p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;">It has been exactly a year since we last used our travel trailer, and we have a dilemma: Do we really want to keep the camper or is it time to sell it and find a different way to spend our summers? </span><span style="font-family: arial;">We reserved four days at Highland Hammocks State Park, near Sebring, Florida, for the Easter weekend to help us make a decision.</span></span></p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">It has been ten years since we last camped at Highland Hammocks, only our second campground when we first started RV camping. We have fond memories of the heavily wooded sites and the friends we camped with back in the beginning of our decade-long adventure. Our first hint things have changed came when we tried to make our on-line reservations and found that even though our desired dates – Easter Weekend – were over two months away, there were only several sites left in the entire campground. The new on-line maps are no longer even close to accurate as far as layout is concerned, looking more like modern art than a real map, and we found ourselves far from satisfied with the new online information. We picked site 12, which appeared to be not far from our first site we really liked all those years before, According to the new map, it also appeared to be fairly private.</span><div class="western" style="text-align: left;"><div align="justify" class="western">
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<tr><td style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN6XqzKrWC86spLQ42ge9rxtEtmxRkTNUlSunnQVHkrCe2H2rvltaAPrjbvcfsJQj1yRNPaZCzMrS3pftdmQqGCgKoXfy1TIN705PScenfNcsoNVdtlpucyQobOeM-7R5PIt25u4509D8/s1600/IMG_4509.JPG" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="902" data-original-width="1600" height="477" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN6XqzKrWC86spLQ42ge9rxtEtmxRkTNUlSunnQVHkrCe2H2rvltaAPrjbvcfsJQj1yRNPaZCzMrS3pftdmQqGCgKoXfy1TIN705PScenfNcsoNVdtlpucyQobOeM-7R5PIt25u4509D8/w848-h477/IMG_4509.JPG" width="848" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Watering hole in the dry season - Kissimmee Prairie Preserve State Park<br /><br /></td></tr>
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<p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">All we had to do was prepare the trailer for the short 90 mile trip. We decided to pack lightly as nearby Sebring now has all the amenities and stores we would need. Picking Sebring was a chance to spend time sightseeing the area, something we hadn’t done in a while, plus visit with friends who decided to drive up from Miami for a day trip. We would have several restaurants to choose from nearby as the camper gets smaller and smaller as time goes by.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">After cleaning and packing, checking tires and brakes, and checking the Toyota Sequoia tow SUV as well, and spending only a day to load the trailer, we were ready to roll. After a pleasant drive through southwest Florida, we pulled into the campground a little before four in the afternoon.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Ranger Laura was friendly and efficient and we were soon on our way from the campground office to our site, which to our dismay, we could not find. We sat looking at the campground map, then looking around the campground as we sat blocking the access road. Site 10 was to our left, and beyond that the next visible marker was site 13. Site 12 had to be somewhere in between the two, but the only markers were the site numbers painted on top of several picnic tables placed close together. A paved walkway to the campground toilet ran alongside the area we assumed to be our site, but not until we tried to back in did we realize we couldn’t even put out our awning without blocking the foot path. It was such a convoluted layout we blocked sites 12, 13 and the footpath simultaneously when I backed into the space crookedly! Back to the park office!</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Ranger Laura did her best to find a site available for the next four days to no avail. She called to have a ranger move the picnic table for us, but that wouldn’t have solved our problem. Not only would I not pay $55 dollars to stay there, I would have paid $55 dollars to <b>not</b> stay there.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">In the end we did a void and I called our old standby park, still one of my favorites, at Kissimmee Prairie Preserve State Park, about forty miles on the other side of Sebring. Only die hard campers or nature lovers stay at Kissimmee Prairie Preserve State Park more than once, but we have a strange affinity for the desolate place and after a quick phone call to the camp office there, we were on our way.</span></p></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kissimmee Prairie Preserve State Park<br /><br /></td></tr>
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<p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The ranger I talked to on the
phone said the park office would be closed by the time we arrived, so
just park in the walk-up site – which is not on the reservation
system web site – tell the campground host we’re there and just
check in with them to pay in the morning.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif">We soon roll across US 27 and I
decide not to fill-up the gas tank because of the crowds waiting for
gas. Towing a trailer through a gas station can be demanding enough
without impatient drivers who can’t maneuver past you. I decide
there must be more, less crowded, fuel stations on US 98. Wrong
assumption. The old general store gas station just outside the park
is covered in iron bars and cobwebs. OK, Google, where is the next
gas station?</span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">“Continue nine miles to US 441
and turn right,” says the generic, female voice from the electronic
device made up of silicone, plastic, and minimal amounts of precious
minerals. No choice now, I’m showing less than a quarter tank of
gas and the park is still fifteen miles away, one way in, one way
out. Towing a trailer rarely gets you over nine or ten miles to the
gallon, so experience counts here; go get gas. We pass mile after
mile of cabbage fields, one eye on the gas tank and the other on the
flatbed trucks filled with boxes of cabbage. To make us feel really
at home, we are swarmed with Florida’s famed pest, the love bug, as
soon as we turn onto US 441.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">We pull into the Metro Fuel Center
on US 441 just north of the town of Okeechobee amid pickup trucks
towing trailers with air-boats and old Mercury's with no rear windows.
After filling the gas tank, we decide to head into town to buy the
groceries we planned on buying in Sebring. We call the campground
office to get the after-hours access code which I forgot to ask for,
but they had already left for the day. All we had to do as get there
before the Rangers lock the front gate, which they do religiously at
eight PM. If you don’t have the after-hours access code, you aren’t
getting in until the park opens in the morning. With our cabinets
full, we head toward the campground. We make it with an hour to
spare.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">As we head up the seven mile,
dusty, swirling dirt road, we feel a sense of ease and familiarity.
We stop at the camp-host, who politely informs us she won’t be on
duty until tomorrow. No problem, we back into our site, just glad to
be there. The ever present crows welcome us back. A Florida State
Park golf cart driven by a campground volunteer – we know because
her over-sized, black ball cap says so - slowly drives through the
moss draped hammock, stopping as we wave to get her attention. MJ
welcomes us and laughs as she fills out a windshield pass for our
site.
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<p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">"You can stay two weeks at this
site and nobody can make you move,” she said as she looks through
her massive metal clip-board, filling out little papers and cards.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">She didn’t take my name even though I showed her my Florida
driver’s license, so I wonder if I could eventually just wander off
and no one would notice. I know better in other parks as they write
down your license plate number just in case a camper gets
“forgetful.” We look around our almost private site, bounded by
massive Live Oaks, draped with Spanish moss, and think, nope, no
reason to move.
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<p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">We have dinner – lasagna instead
of the traditional spaghetti – and as soon as it is dark, walk
under the moss-draped oaks to the edge of the prairie, which we
discover with a flash photograph, is filled with grazing deer.
Tomorrow night is supposed to be a “Pink” full moon and we can
hardly wait. I bet the campers at Highland Hammocks will have to
elbow their way to a viewing spot.</span></p>
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<p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Our decision whether to keep our
camper or not is unexpectedly complicated by the weather. We wake up
Friday morning to blustery winds, reminiscent of our first visit here
when our camper was brand new exactly eight years ago. It was my
first blog about the trailer, and last night was our 470<sup>th</sup>
night sleeping in it. Yes, I’m either detail oriented or just plain
anal, but I have all the financial details since I spent my first
penny on camping. Another part of the decision making process.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Ilse meets the camp host while
walking Taz, and is informed our area is under a tornado watch. The
host appears quite worried. The last place you want to be during a
tornado watch is a Recreational Vehicle of any type, I don’t care
where you are. She tells us if the winds pick up, everyone should go
to the campground toilets as they are safe. Pets are welcome as well.
We walk over to the park office to find a sign on the door announcing
it’s closed due to an emergency. We’ll try again tomorrow, I
don’t think there will be any problems with registration or paying,
perhaps just the weather.
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<p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The irony of our stay here at
Kissimmee Prairie Preserve State Park is our favorite site, site 20,
was devastated two years ago by a tornado. Site 20 and the adjacent
site, one hosting a Class C self contained unit and the other a
fifth-wheel trailer, were ravaged, tossing the campers around like
toys. No one was killed, but one of the women suffered severe back
injuries. The only reason we weren’t there at that time was the
site was reserved before we could get it. We have wondered about our
timing ever since.
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<p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The rains begin and I scramble to
unhook the Toyota so we can have an escape vehicle the way we did in
Georgia when Hurricane Irma tore up our campground north of Lake
Lanier near Gainesville. No sooner am I done unhooking the truck from
the camper than the rains temporarily subside. I finish putting away
chairs, mats, and close the camper door just as the rains start
again. Ilse gives our sixteen year old Golden Retriever, Taz, a
natural tranquilizer and he promptly lays down to watch the show. So
far, it has been quiet here, most of the storm has passed to the
north of us. We’re not out of this yet, however, as the latest
forecast now says the squall line will pass over us in about three
hours. More fun while we wait. We slip a DVD from our local library
into the player and pass the time watching a movie we realize we’ve
already seen. No matter, we watch it again.</span></p>
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<p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif">By 5 o’clock it is dark enough
outside to turn on the camper lights. The wind has been gusting on
and off as two campers across from us arrived and erected two huge
tents! They haven’t been watching either of the Ft Myers and West
Palm Beach television stations we get, if they had, I doubt they
would be setting up tents. Thunder in the distance stirs Taz – no
amount of tranquilizers will ever stop that – and the rain begins
to slam against the trailer. The temperature drops drastically as the
squall line approaches. It rains hard for less than twenty minutes
and we have a close-by thunderclap</span></span></p>
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<p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Gradually the storm passes and
we’re left with puddles in the access road but no damage, not even
palm fronds laying about. The thunder clap was a singular anomaly,
just a reminder of how bad it could be. The winds die down and the
clouds begin to break, but not enough to see tonight’s full pink
moon. By nightfall, almost every campsite is full as campers arrive
for the Easter weekend. There are several campfires burning and
everything is quiet in the shire. Tomorrow will be beautifully sunny
and quite comfortable as the last cold front of the season is upon
us.
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<p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Saturday morning breaks with a
cloudless sky and 60 degree temperatures. A beautiful day in a park
that seems to be on the edge of the universe. Of course it isn’t
all that remote – the campers next to us loaded up and drove to
town for breakfast – but most of us are content to take in the
experience leisurely and enjoy the crows who scold everybody for not
leaving enough food on the picnic tables.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif">I head over to the park office –
it was closed yesterday for a family emergency – to pay my fees and
see what has been added to the retail offerings of T-shirts and hats.
There is an intense conversation going on between the ranger on duty
and a couple of visitors when I arrived at the park office. Ranger
Frank is furiously thumbing through bird identification books trying
to help a lady identify a bird she just saw. He looks up and says,
“I’ll be with you in a moment.”</span></span></p>
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<p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">“No problem,” I answer as MJ
walks around the corner, her baseball cap pulled down, her short grey
hair sticking out from the bottom of her cap. We catch up on
yesterday’s non-event just as Ranger Frank decides he’s exhausted
his incredible knowledge of ornithology without resolving the
sighting mystery and decides to move on, so to speak.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">After a few
moments of keying and paging through computer screens, we are set for
our four day stay. It turns out to be over twenty dollars cheaper
than Highland Hammocks, so I have absolutely no problem! Out of idle
curiosity, I ask MJ where the closest gas station is. She says “Oh,
France’s place, just outside the main gate, on the road back to US
98.”</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">“Do you mean the place that
looks like it’s abandoned?” I ask.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">“Oh, it’s being rebuilt or
modernized or something, but the gas pump and the diesel pump both
work fine. I was just there a couple of days ago.”</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">“Modernized?” I asked. “The
place looks just plain awful.”</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">“Yeah, wait’ll you see what
she charges for gas! Apparently the state or the county told her to
clean the place up so she’s fixing the store up best she can.”</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif">More local knowledge to add to the
blog.</span></span></p>
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<p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Ilse and I take Taz on a morning
walk through the equestrian section of the campground, chatting with
campers along the way, including a couple from Ontario sitting on a
picnic table in the “red light” section of the campground who
have decided, although they love the solitude, they have no need to
return to Kissimmee Prairie Preserve State Park. Ilse and I head back
to the camper. The campground is full, except for the equestrian
loop, the first time we’ve ever seen this park full.
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<p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Another day and a half to go and
our dilemma has not been solved.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Easter morning is just beautiful.
The weather is cool and sunny, the air crisp and sweet. Campers are
already rolling out as Ilse fixes waffles for breakfast. Fifty seven
years ago today, Ilse and I had our first “date,” walking through
Bitburg, her home town in Germany. Today we walk through a canopy of
moss covered oak trees in central Florida, headed for a three mile
walk across a flat, shade-less prairie. No crystal ball could have
possibly foreseen the future, if it had, it would have picked the
wrong campground.</span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p>
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<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif">George</span></div>
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Georgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02165325439708519673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8823993742564320393.post-55426023444203382092018-10-25T16:39:00.090-04:002023-12-26T07:52:36.419-05:00Headed South, Sort of...<p> </p><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-5542602344420338209" itemprop="description articleBody" style="line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 578.596px;"><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Headed south out of Sloppy Floyd State Park just north of Rome, Georgia, we were enjoying the beautiful sunshine and mild temperatures as we looked forward to visiting another hidden jewel in the US Army Corp of Engineers campgrounds: Bolding Mill, just outside Gainesville, Georgia. We’ve stayed at Bolding Mill before and looked forward to a return visit. Only one hundred and five miles through rolling foothills, the trip was smooth and enjoyable as we took our time and enjoyed the beautiful back-roads of Georgia.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The only site available when I made the reservations, number 45, was not among my first choices. I didn’t care much for the site until we were actually hooked up. As luck, or perhaps fate would have it, we stayed at #45 until after Hurricane Irma knocked out power to the area and we moved to the Old Federal Campground on the other side of Lake Lanier which had restored power after the storm.</span></p><div class="separator" style="background-color: white; clear: both; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBB5QxliNHl8uYBWhZPtthzt0MjC59RgBHWZo5qQDY6JLqj58XqJ-43DMIYOfEi8N9wHeQSCGDM0WOasp9uqZ8mATkvKVeM_m5-EEZaFA1UMWcZNzQsAh7HTxkZL1JFTLASDKZKihS4rk/s1600/20170907_165244.jpg" style="clear: right; color: #992211; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-decoration-line: none;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="362" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBB5QxliNHl8uYBWhZPtthzt0MjC59RgBHWZo5qQDY6JLqj58XqJ-43DMIYOfEi8N9wHeQSCGDM0WOasp9uqZ8mATkvKVeM_m5-EEZaFA1UMWcZNzQsAh7HTxkZL1JFTLASDKZKihS4rk/w644-h362/20170907_165244.jpg" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="644" /></a><span face="arial, sans-serif"></span></div><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;" /><div align="justify" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 17.0775px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">My wife and I are not careless with Hurricanes. Being Floridians, we are used to the Weather Channel Labor Day Hurricane Tracking Marathon everyone who lives in South Florida is accustomed to. We lived in Kendale Lakes when Hurricane Andrew went though and demolished our daughter’s house in nearby Cutler Ridge. After promising my wife we wouldn’t go through that again, we watched the TV several years later as Hurricane Charley took its terrifying right turn and came up Charlotte Harbor, taking dead aim at our new house. We weren’t sure where the powerful storm was when the wind and rain knocked our power out. Luckily for us, Charley decided to follow the Peace River and made a fortuitous right turn away from us. Never again, we said.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">When Hurricane Irma, tired and feeble as she was, slowly dragged herself over northern Georgia with only 55 mph winds, the damage was dramatic. Over eighty percent of the roads in Hall County, where we were, were blocked with fallen trees and debris. Most of the county was without electrical power, which included Bolding Mill Campground.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I don’t carry our generator with us when we plan to stay at campgrounds with full hookups, so we had no choice but move from Bolding Mill after the storm. The only question was how far would we have to go? Home was one alternative as Irma had only gently kissed our area just outside North Port, Florida, but we had family plans for nearby Athens, Georgia, and wanted to keep them if possible. Fortunately, Old Federal, also a US Army Corps of Engineers campground, had restored power within a day, and our reservation was already in place.</span></p><div align="justify" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 17.0775px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="arial, sans-serif"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="background-color: white; clear: both; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHZS903GS1ZATC8BDOxgN3GCsKgn7NwT6ru6aUtZEk92NkdcBmJiTyl1oDrRBXEazaULxnBVy4qzuw0ZHz2PpSqXruoVo6vgSP3CiPAtteN2dsDFrClrVAM6D9JaVuGTUQRnI_jAx_vO0/s1600/20170912_083844.jpg" style="clear: right; color: #992211; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-decoration-line: none;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHZS903GS1ZATC8BDOxgN3GCsKgn7NwT6ru6aUtZEk92NkdcBmJiTyl1oDrRBXEazaULxnBVy4qzuw0ZHz2PpSqXruoVo6vgSP3CiPAtteN2dsDFrClrVAM6D9JaVuGTUQRnI_jAx_vO0/w756-h425/20170912_083844.jpg" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="756" /></a></div><div align="justify" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 17.0775px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The decision to stay at the Bolding Mill campground as the remnants of Irma approached was not made easily. We have no desire to be inside any Recreational Vehicle or mobile home during any more than a rain storm. Anyone who thinks otherwise is foolish. They simply are not safe in a storm, and offer not much more protection than a tent. PERIOD!</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">But, we decided Hurricane Irma would be no more than a rain storm, not even as strong as the tropical squalls that we are accustomed to. We were far enough away from trees and even below the crest of a berm adjacent to our pad to protect us from the wind if it got excessive. Or so I thought. Our daughter, who relocated to Athens, Georgia, some 60 miles away, offered us a place to stay and we could even bring our normally unwelcome dog. We mulled her offer, but decided we would be just fine.</span></p><div align="justify" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 17.0775px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="arial, sans-serif"><br /></span></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkT63hp1JJWTkoUzcjom_z-VbgSFOX-hQb5Mf7B9Qdhx_9ohhOjpZFg5uqZAwsseMHlpevwtIaqp7YNzBAKTfQhr1thDYDOGLaVpXM1dOgmTidEIcwiIEehK6u0vNzvRq3f8UP91g0zHo/s1600/IMG_2646.jpg" style="clear: right; color: #992211; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-decoration-line: none;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="397" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkT63hp1JJWTkoUzcjom_z-VbgSFOX-hQb5Mf7B9Qdhx_9ohhOjpZFg5uqZAwsseMHlpevwtIaqp7YNzBAKTfQhr1thDYDOGLaVpXM1dOgmTidEIcwiIEehK6u0vNzvRq3f8UP91g0zHo/w709-h397/IMG_2646.jpg" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="709" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="background-color: white; clear: both; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px; text-align: center;"></div><div align="justify" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 17.0775px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="arial, sans-serif"><br /></span></div><div align="justify" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; line-height: 17.0775px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">What I failed to consider was a fifty mile an hour storm damages the woods and forest of oaks and maples far more than palmettos and scrub myrtle of Florida.</span></div><div align="justify" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 17.0775px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div align="justify" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 17.0775px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span face="arial, sans-serif">The trailer rocked and shivered many times, but never felt unsafe. I have wheel chocks that lock the wheels, and the pads under each corner were secure. The rain blasted against the thin skin, but we felt safe even after the power went out and we were on our battery powered lamps. We were concerned, but not worried, until w</span><span face="arial, sans-serif">e had one loud, startling crack not far behind us as a tree broke and crashed to the ground. We immediately ran to the Toyota Sequoia, which was unhooked from the trailer, and we moved out into the center of the campground where we spent the next several hours waiting for the storm to pass.</span></span><br /><span face="Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif" style="font-size: 14.85px;"><br /></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; float: right; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px; margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-left: 1em; padding: 4px; position: relative; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCrsqi3XvXd84RuL_Uqd-DsAum_RlMsUiVSerza8mekkpdPImlHdNEAVeZZn3B6bFPyjkj8EpLx4Ax3iXx0X3m5w2HAZjBG467QLRDuS5dk5BxliIIfGeu2AC0tSWj5v8ghhv7520v09I/s1600/IMG_2644.jpg" style="color: #992211; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-decoration-line: none;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="392" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCrsqi3XvXd84RuL_Uqd-DsAum_RlMsUiVSerza8mekkpdPImlHdNEAVeZZn3B6bFPyjkj8EpLx4Ax3iXx0X3m5w2HAZjBG467QLRDuS5dk5BxliIIfGeu2AC0tSWj5v8ghhv7520v09I/w696-h392/IMG_2644.jpg" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="696" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 11.88px; text-align: center;">The camp hosts had a terrifying near miss. </td></tr></tbody></table><div align="justify" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 17.0775px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div align="justify" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 17.0775px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The next morning we hooked up the trailer and decided to check with the camp hosts, who also happens to be a Hall County Sheriff’s deputy, for advice on travel out of the area. A huge oak tree had fallen across their hard-pad, grazing the side of their slide out, and confirmed what my wife and I had already decided: No next time!</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Anyone who tries to ride out a bad storm, much less a hurricane, in an RV may be making a very, very bad mistake.</span></p><div align="justify" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 17.0775px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="arial, sans-serif"><br /></span></div><div align="justify" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 17.0775px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://sleepstwo.blogspot.com/2019/04/plan-b.html" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="200" data-original-width="200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9qtQWHkGvcpO8aQ4_ygxgYcQebvx95s39QwGQ_BOQUZOXdTuhPd3QhOP4koLTLFw27T6kY0vUppB72saJTrmIIdDuFjQadPeJ0ALeB_-g-zhqS7MRtuLrGQ-7g7Ck6marxe3Mfwb_2kkyVwqAArSewi1Y36MnvoeF7sCzCAKR8uY1s3TdiqnhAdVOvE0/s1600/right_arrow1600.png" width="200" /></a></div><br /><span face="arial, sans-serif"><br /></span></div><div align="justify" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 17.0775px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div align="justify" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 17.0775px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="arial, sans-serif">Next: <a href="https://sleepstwo.blogspot.com/2019/04/plan-b.html">https://sleepstwo.blogspot.com/2019/04/plan-b.html</a></span></div><div style="font-size: 14.85px;"><span face="arial, sans-serif"><br /></span></div></div>Georgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02165325439708519673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8823993742564320393.post-15894827674987401662017-09-03T13:42:00.064-04:002023-12-26T07:25:54.672-05:00Sloppy Floyd<h1 class="western">
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<p style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">While we were camping at Cloudland Canyon State Park, on the top of Lookout Mountain, people asked, “Where are you headed next?” The responses we got ranged from blank stares to looks of outright surprise. We began to have doubts about the campsite reservation I made at James H. “Sloppy” Floyd State Park near Summerville, Georgia, back in April. I picked the park based on its location and campsite availability in late August, and the fact it was located in the nearby Chattahoochee National Forest.</span></p><p style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipf00gHkHhwrH7Vj98-Lqlh6_j5A1r3RjtaTFsoiPIo6aP4DCnMjXgyTCnME0EiO0Axu6qMbSrJb-CNbtCvqwlgKKvv_CC67c7fk2T5xeqLkb_uRpEJdYYu8Z_qFUKy2pypBB_co98sHI/s1600/IMG_2505.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="902" data-original-width="1600" height="377" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipf00gHkHhwrH7Vj98-Lqlh6_j5A1r3RjtaTFsoiPIo6aP4DCnMjXgyTCnME0EiO0Axu6qMbSrJb-CNbtCvqwlgKKvv_CC67c7fk2T5xeqLkb_uRpEJdYYu8Z_qFUKy2pypBB_co98sHI/w670-h377/IMG_2505.JPG" width="670" /></a></div><p></p><p style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span face=""arial" , sans-serif">As
we drove down the center of Lookout Mountain from Cloudland Canyon –
it’s really a long, thirty-five mile plateau – headed south
toward our next campsite at Sloppy Floyd, Ilse and I both became
apprehensive: we had no idea what to expect at our next campsite.
Quite honestly, the name of the state park did nothing to whet our
enthusiasm. </span></span></p>
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<p style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span face=""arial" , sans-serif">There
is a subliminal message in the park name “Sloppy,” even if it is
named after the speaker of the Georgia House of Representatives who
served from 1953 until 1974. The nickname “Sloppy” just doesn’t
inspire enthusiasm. His reputation doesn’t either as he’s
nationally famous as the Georgia legislator who defiantly walked out
of the Georgia State House when Julian Bond, the first black elected
to the legislature, was sworn in. Was ‘Ol Jim sloppy all the time
or just on the farm? Or, maybe only while working in the State House?
More importantly, does the state park actually represent the name?</span></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Turning
onto Sloppy Floyd Lake Road from US 27 does not alleviate any fears,
at least not until you get to the sign announcing the park. From
there on, it is one of the prettiest Georgia state parks we’ve
seen. Large, well manicured woods with picnic shelters surround two
small, tranquil lakes that even offer several paddle boats. The
office has free WiFi – which we didn’t have at Cloudland Canyon -
and has standard park business hours. The WiFi proved to be weak and
highly intermittent, but we occasionally got on the Internet without
burning our precious data usage on our cellphone.</span></p>
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<p style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span face=""arial" , sans-serif">The
park offered a half-price discount for camping sites during August,
which I assume means they aren’t as full as they would like to be.
It also meant I got half of my money back when I checked in early
Monday afternoon, in addition to the twenty percent age discount that
you can’t get when you make reservations on-line at
</span><span style="color: navy;"><span lang="zxx"><u><span face=""arial" , sans-serif"><a href="http://www.reserveamerica.com/">reserveamerica.com.</a></span></u></span></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I
knew was it was a smaller state park than the one we left, with only
twenty-five sites, although nine of those sites are spacious
pull-throughs. It is located just south of the bustling town of
Summerville on US Highway 27. At over 1000 feet lower than our last
campsite, it is quite a bit warmer than on top of the mountain. The
park has no main gate. All of the facilities, including the campsite,
four new, state-of-the-art cottages, and the picnic areas, are
accessed from the rather narrow, twisty, lake-side county road that
traverses the park. </span></p>
<div align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The
campsites and the park itself are a pleasant surprise. The twisty,
narrow one-way access road to the campsites flattens out on top of
the hill and campsites are spread in such a manner that gives
everyone privacy, and yet easy access. The only shower/toilet
facility is old, but spotlessly clean.</span></span></div><div align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 150%;">
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<p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">We
backed into our reserved site 14 – this is one of the few Georgia
State Parks that use the pre-selected site method – and within an
hour were setup and fixing lunch. We even had time to drive back to
the Visitor Center just as people began milling around outside the
office as the highly anticipated Solar Eclipse got underway. Rachel,
the young ranger who checked us in, lent everyone her certified
viewing glasses and we all got to see some part of the eclipse.
Someone quipped at the height of the eclipse – which looked more
like a really cloudy day – that they could hear crickets and it was
surely several degrees cooler. Smiles all around as everyone enjoyed
the moment. </span></p>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBChWtRyvef_VKoeqSxVXWb4pkih9VisG49GSJABhjyIHzkJgnvykXBqoifOysadvmHhcYfdSNF-77Dqdh4KJDA8L4D-vcgcj2wisJ6f-EjOY8zOSh6EXWZilBKfl3AlCdpnnQ6Gjqtbo/s1600/20170821_143133.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="382" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBChWtRyvef_VKoeqSxVXWb4pkih9VisG49GSJABhjyIHzkJgnvykXBqoifOysadvmHhcYfdSNF-77Dqdh4KJDA8L4D-vcgcj2wisJ6f-EjOY8zOSh6EXWZilBKfl3AlCdpnnQ6Gjqtbo/w680-h382/20170821_143133.jpg" width="680" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Solar eclipse shadows<br /><br /></td></tr>
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<p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">We
walked over four miles on the paved parks roads on Tuesday before it
got too hot, then drove into nearby Summerville after lunch to stock
up necessities. We also stopped by a local auto parts store to order
two new gas-pistons for the rear lift gate on the Sequoia. Believe
me, when they fail, getting anything out of the back of the car
becomes a nightmare. I watched a you-tube video made by an amateur
mechanic about replacing the pistons just to make sure there weren’t
any procedures I wasn’t aware of. The you-tube “mechanic”
propped the heavy lift gate open with a piece of PVC pipe. You know,
the plastic, flexible water pipe used for sprinkler systems. I
couldn’t help but wonder if he is still hospitalized. Perhaps he
isn’t, but I have no doubt anyone who emulated him may either have
been decapitated or currently plays the role of Captain Hook in Peter
Pan.</span></p></div>
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<p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span face=""arial" , sans-serif">We
did the Marble Mine Trail on Wednesday, and since the trail is based
on an old gravel road, we took Taz along for the hike. While the
condition of the trail is no problem, the angle of the roadway
sometimes requires unexpected water breaks. The old mine isn’t
awe-inspiring like the vistas at Cloudland Canyon, but it is still
unique.</span></span></p>
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<p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span face=""arial" , sans-serif">All
in all, James H. “Sloppy” Floyd State Park gets high ratings from
us. Cloudland Canyon has its vistas and Vogel has two – count ‘em,
two! - miniature golf courses so both of those parks are at the other
end of the tourist spectrum. This is where you kick back for a couple
of days when they crowds head back to the city. Don’t expect the
throngs of Atlanta license plates here. A great place to enjoy the
dog days of summer. Nobody here but the locals, and those who know
not to judge a book by its cover.</span></span></p>
<span face=""arial" , sans-serif"><br /><br /></span></div><div align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 150%;"><a href="https://sleepstwo.blogspot.com/2018/10/headed-south-sort-of.html" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="163" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5vZqwo5r-ddXsUGY0_a77TpmWN2SM1fPtZQatnY4rg35JZxrbG1Mh4wQO_hOAoNWaljgDOJZpDd-w780Kf7ZqTObCIyUqOUyWosz3gDyXJW9bfpuuULdEJeeE-wj2o9XUKdd5QITR4fw/w163-h163/right_arrow1600.png" width="163" /></a><span face=""arial" , sans-serif"><br /></span></div><div align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 150%;"><span face=""arial" , sans-serif"><br /></span></div><div align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 150%;"><span face=""arial" , sans-serif"><br /></span></div><div align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 150%;"><div style="text-align: right;"><span face=""arial" , sans-serif" style="text-align: left;">N</span><span face=""arial" , sans-serif" style="text-align: left;">ext: <a href="https://sleepstwo.blogspot.com/2018/10/headed-south-sort-of.html">https://sleepstwo.blogspot.com/2018/10/headed-south-sort-of.html</a></span></div>
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Georgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02165325439708519673noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8823993742564320393.post-44052631599924608272017-09-02T13:27:00.023-04:002023-12-26T07:15:26.896-05:00Time to Roll<h1 class="western">
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<p><span face=""arial" , sans-serif"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Our
second weekend at Cloudland Canyon State Park felt more like what
we’ve experienced at other state park campgrounds than our first
quiet, almost subdued, weekend here. The campground was packed by
sunset on Friday, not a single empty campsite. While still subdued in
contrast to the past campgrounds we’ve stayed at, the wafting
campfire smoke and laughing, playing children were more like we’ve
come to expect on a weekend.</span></span></p>
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<p><span face=""arial" , sans-serif"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Any
state or Federal campground located this close to a large, urban area
always fills up from Friday night until Sunday morning. These are
campers who aren’t traveling, at least not more than an hour's
drive from home. There are no families camping Monday through Friday
with school age children after the school year starts. We are more
campers than travelers, even though we travel constantly during the
summertime. Unfortunately, we don’t always know what we will enjoy
until we get there, regardless of the research effort we put into the
location. We did well at Cloudland Canyon State Park, the vistas are
beautiful, the trails are great, and we are only twenty-five miles
south Chattanooga, Tennessee. </span></span></p>
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<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span face=""arial" , sans-serif"><span>Our
“mission” is to escape the heat and humidity of southwest Florida
in an enjoyable, comfortable, yet affordable, manner. We tend to stay
in the Georgia or North Carolina mountains high above the heat of the
cities and campgrounds further south. We have found, however, that
staying only a couple of days at any given campground has diminished
our ability to fully enjoy areas around the campsite. We have found
too much time spent in an area of minimal interest causes cabin
fever, no matter how many books we have to read or how cool the
mountain breezes.</span></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span face=""arial" , sans-serif"><span>When
friends recommended Cloudland Canyon State Park in northwest Georgia
– and research of the surrounding area showed we could expect many
things to see and do – we reserved a full, two week stay and we
expected to not only enjoy the weather, but to hike beautiful canyon
trails and explore the area around nearby Chattanooga. </span></span></span></p>
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<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span face=""arial" , sans-serif"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">During
a second trip to Chattanooga, we took the Tennessee Aquarium’ s
River Gorge Explorer two-hour boat tour of the historic Tennessee
River. A modern, 70 seat, high speed catamaran powered by 3500 hp
water-jet engines occasionally hit speeds as high as 55 MPH, and then
dramatically splashed down to a crawl to the delight of the children
and those who have never driven a boat. The water-over-the-bow
deceleration was done several times each way, but I noticed when we
were in regular river traffic, the mundane and far less dramatic,
comfortable slow throttle-back was the standard operation. No one is
allowed out of their seats while the boat is on a high-speed plane,
and we were warned beforehand whenever a rapid deceleration was
imminent. The trip went far enough downstream – one hour – to
escape the commercial river sections and show case riverfront homes
at the beginning of the Tennessee River Gorge that lay farther south.
The naturalist/guide was outstanding. We had a young man who knew
every phase of the river and its ecosystem with personal knowledge of
the entire system. That part of the tour was outstanding.</span></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span face=""arial" , sans-serif"><span>After
twelve days of exploring the area around Lookout Mountain, where the
campground is located, we are ready to roll. Living with high-speed
bumper to bumper traffic is how I spent the most of my adult life, so
in my retirement I choose to relax and kick back, enjoy the subdued
pursuit of tranquility and relaxation. Driving Interstate 24 through
Chattanooga is not the answer. Luckily, we’re only twenty-five
miles away so that nerve-wracking Interstate construction zone
driving experience only lasts a few minutes, either into or out of
the city. The alternative, driving the Scenic Parkway along the top
of Lookout Mountain and down into Fort Oglethorpe is a unique
alternative, but not a viable one.</span></span></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span face=""arial" , sans-serif"><span style="font-family: arial;">We
did notice one major change in American restaurant protocol while
eating in Chattanooga and the surrounding area. I have no doubt the
MBAs who run America’s restaurants will soon implement the
cost-saving procedure country-wide. There are two basic kinds of
restaurants: those with settings and those with set-ups. A setting is
found with table cloth restaurants and includes all the requisite
silverware, such as forks – including a salad fork – spoons and
knives placed carefully and sequentially on a cloth napkin. Setups on
the other hand, are usually silverware/plastic-ware wrapped in a
paper napkin held together with a tear-off wrapper casually tossed in
the center of the table. Two restaurants we ate at, including a Thai
restaurant we liked so much we returned for a second visit, and a
Barbecue restaurant in nearby Trenton, had only one utensil in their
set-ups: a fork! Cut your meat? Naw, just chew off a chunk. Push
your veggies on your fork with your finger, although which one is
considered proper. It wouldn’t surprise me if they reuse the
wrapper the fork comes in. I wonder if this is catching on with
restaurants country-wide?</span></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span face=""arial" , sans-serif"><span style="font-family: arial;">This
weekend the RVs are back in full force, except for a friendly,
disciplined group of Asians which has replaced the Indian family
camped in the same sites last weekend with yet another tent city.
Their campsites last night were a problem for us as we tried to
decide what kind of firewood they used in their campfires. Every once
in a while we come across great smelling campfires, flavored with
hickory or even mesquite, and conversely, sometimes we have neighbors
who use old creosote-soaked, railway cross-ties. We retired early and
turned on the air-conditioning.</span></span><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></span></p>
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<a href="http://sleepstwo.blogspot.com/2017/09/sloppy-floyd.html" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5vZqwo5r-ddXsUGY0_a77TpmWN2SM1fPtZQatnY4rg35JZxrbG1Mh4wQO_hOAoNWaljgDOJZpDd-w780Kf7ZqTObCIyUqOUyWosz3gDyXJW9bfpuuULdEJeeE-wj2o9XUKdd5QITR4fw/s200/right_arrow1600.png" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span face=""arial" , sans-serif"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><br /></span></span>
<span face=""arial" , sans-serif"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Next: James “Sloppy” Floyd State Park, just in time
for the solar eclipse, at:</span></span><br />
<span face=""arial" , sans-serif"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><a href="http://sleepstwo.blogspot.com/2017/09/sloppy-floyd.html">http://sleepstwo.blogspot.com/2017/09/sloppy-floyd.html</a></span></span><br />
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<span face=""arial" , sans-serif"><br /></span>
<span face=""arial" , sans-serif"><br /></span>
<span face=""arial" , sans-serif"><br /></span>
<span face=""arial" , sans-serif">George</span></div>
Georgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02165325439708519673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8823993742564320393.post-26110805773932050772017-08-23T15:36:00.041-04:002023-12-26T07:11:15.002-05:00The Waterfalls Trail <h1 class="western">
</h1>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguCzhIinYkZ9LMn4Yxyae-6i-5fX-BAzsdFwDI6gv-JfiQk8D4ZqQ62X5HGmBg-CGK3AbsMyELnXH1IOqTXQ6glwktTKALW0UXQXKkq_ewqobOpMLXWCgbMa0Zi3lpBaVhBFKFJTW-QOU/s1600/IMG_2333.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="901" data-original-width="1600" height="432" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguCzhIinYkZ9LMn4Yxyae-6i-5fX-BAzsdFwDI6gv-JfiQk8D4ZqQ62X5HGmBg-CGK3AbsMyELnXH1IOqTXQ6glwktTKALW0UXQXKkq_ewqobOpMLXWCgbMa0Zi3lpBaVhBFKFJTW-QOU/w768-h432/IMG_2333.JPG" width="768" /></a></div>
<p><span face=""arial" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">After several days of hiking and
walking shorter trails to build up our stamina, we decided today was
the day to descend the Waterfall Trail to both Cherokee Falls, the
midway waterfall, and Hemlock Falls at the base of Cloudland Canyon.
It turned out to be the highlight of our stay at the state park, and
not nearly as cataclysmic as we had been led to believe by several of
the campers we talked to about the trail. </span></p>
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<p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span face=""arial" , sans-serif">Most of the descent/ascent is on a
metal, grated staircase, with the longest section without a terrace
about fifty steps or so. Wooden decks act as terraces, several have
benches so people like us can sit and recuperate and watch young
people run up and down the staircase like gazelles. There are
sections of the trail, however, that are reminiscent of the root/rock
West Rim Trail and require attention to where you place your feet.</span></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span face=""arial" , sans-serif"><br /></span></span></p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">
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<p><span face=""arial" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I certainly wouldn’t call the trail
easy, taking us over two and a half hours to do the almost two-mile
round trip, but there were people on the trail who acted as if it
were personal training run. The trail map has it listed as strenuous
and advises against taking pets because of the metal gratings. The
600 steps to the Hemlock Falls at the bottom of their staircase were
far easier on us overall than the cumbersome root/rock trail of the
west rim, but still, descending down 400 feet, then hiking back up to
the rim is a test of knee health, thigh strength, and a healthy
heart. Bring plenty of water. </span></p>
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<p><span face=""arial" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">We carefully maneuvered the damp,
rocky approach to the Cherokee Falls, the half-way point of the
trail, and watched a young woman relax on a boulder on the far side
of the collection pool. She had politely passed us earlier on the
descent, and now was enjoying sticking her feet in the cold water.
She wasn’t hiking the trail, she was running it. Her name is Vicki,
and she works as a nurse in Chattanooga. She chatted with us twice on
the trail – we met her again on her way back up from Hemlock Falls
– and is one of the several people we met who take advantage of the
park and the trails every chance they get. After saying goodbye,
Vicki quickly disappeared up the steep staircase. </span></p>
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<p><span face=""arial" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Cherokee Falls is a pretty, 90 foot
high waterfall, with no cascades, and a pretty collection pool at the
base. It is well worth the hike.</span></p>
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<p><span face=""arial" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">As Ilse and I leave Cherokee Falls, we
hesitate as we look down the long, twisting half-mile staircase to
the Hemlock Falls below. An elderly gentleman, older even than me,
excuses himself as he climbs past us, hiking poles in hand. He greets
us with a robust smile and I can’t help but think this is what
keeps him young.</span></p></div>
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<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span face=""arial" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">We soon reach the platform overlook at
the beautiful Hemlock Falls and once again take out our water
bottles. Hemlock Falls has the shorter drop of the two waterfalls on
Daniel Creek, about 60 feet, and is also a pretty waterfall, but the
pool is not accessible as is the pool at Cherokee Falls. We quietly
sit on the wooden bench and absorb the sounds around us, dominated by
the constant crescendo of the waterfall. We are soon joined by two
young women who climb past the overlook to walk along the water’s
edge under the lookout platform.</span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span face=""arial" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBWfzDouLJN1aoIxSy7B2lWKq2BxvbEelXTwe73E1TwMuzAQ-sJrCkF6a49jp6FzBO8ZVE6wbnvFIYmxx0IUfVszOaPw6kNHvn2ZnBVLu581tcsUFm2V4uhwgsDdCmb5H6PbQcbTpmHV4/s1600/IMG_2379.JPG" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="903" data-original-width="1600" height="381" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBWfzDouLJN1aoIxSy7B2lWKq2BxvbEelXTwe73E1TwMuzAQ-sJrCkF6a49jp6FzBO8ZVE6wbnvFIYmxx0IUfVszOaPw6kNHvn2ZnBVLu581tcsUFm2V4uhwgsDdCmb5H6PbQcbTpmHV4/w681-h381/IMG_2379.JPG" width="681" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The way it is...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXCXBvXoOmbnVnY5rlgvPQ0Lg7KpmFh29nZ9GoGexgp8CQFegBHOEpKS2DCDXZA2CA-c5Bqjfygjy4RIu3orVFcEy0aw9FKe4emWej18xm8kO8P54iCo4VSMSXisYC-e5zC8zzeIJP5HU/s1600/The+way+it+should+be.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="903" data-original-width="1600" height="377" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXCXBvXoOmbnVnY5rlgvPQ0Lg7KpmFh29nZ9GoGexgp8CQFegBHOEpKS2DCDXZA2CA-c5Bqjfygjy4RIu3orVFcEy0aw9FKe4emWej18xm8kO8P54iCo4VSMSXisYC-e5zC8zzeIJP5HU/w673-h377/The+way+it+should+be.jpg" width="673" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...and the way it should read<br />
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<span face=""arial" , sans-serif">I have always considered myself a
purist when it comes to the environment, but as we sat in silence on
the bench at Hemlock Falls, looking at the huge boulder on the edge
of the pool, I couldn’t help but think of the marvelous statue of
the Cherokee warrior who stands in the North Carolina Arboretum. If I
had an endless supply of funds, I would commission that statue or one
just as meaningful, to be mounted on top of the boulder on the edge
of the collection pool facing the waterfall. I can not think of a
better place.</span></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p>
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<a href="http://sleepstwo.blogspot.com/2017/08/time-to-roll.html" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5vZqwo5r-ddXsUGY0_a77TpmWN2SM1fPtZQatnY4rg35JZxrbG1Mh4wQO_hOAoNWaljgDOJZpDd-w780Kf7ZqTObCIyUqOUyWosz3gDyXJW9bfpuuULdEJeeE-wj2o9XUKdd5QITR4fw/s200/right_arrow1600.png" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><br /></span>
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif">Next - After two weeks, it's time to roll, at:</span><br />
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><a href="http://sleepstwo.blogspot.com/2017/08/time-to-roll.html">http://sleepstwo.blogspot.com/2017/08/time-to-roll.html</a></span></div>
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George</div>
Georgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02165325439708519673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8823993742564320393.post-42895363026846807902017-08-23T15:30:00.039-04:002023-12-26T07:05:39.330-05:00Laundry Day - Housekeeping and Kicking Back<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span face=""arial" , sans-serif"><span style="font-family: arial;">A
few campers straggled in Monday, but not many. A great time to relax
and do the housekeeping chores required when you’re on the road for
an extended time. That means it’s time to wash clothes. The
campground washing machines and dryers are available any time we want
– there are a pair at both toilet/shower facilities on the West Rim
Camping Loop – so it is a great time to do the mundane chores and
enjoy the good weather. </span></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span face=""arial" , sans-serif"><span style="font-family: arial;">We’ll get back into tourist mode on
Wednesday when we head for the 600 step staircase that heads down to
the waterfalls in the valley below. Like my wife says, we’ll play
that hike by ear. I think she’s secretly hoping for rain that will
keep us in the camper. The West Rim Loop Trail we did two days ago
was fun, but at times a bit tough for us flat-landers who only do
this mountainous stuff once a year. Still, she was game enough to do
that trail, and she’ll give it her best tomorrow, the scenic beauty
is always worth the effort.</span></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">We
did our best to be good tourists Monday by touring nearby downtown
Chattanooga, which like any large U.S. American city is filled with
contradictions. While driving through the manicured downtown Market
Street, headed for the Tennessee Aquarium, we watched a pair of
America’s social outcasts dumpster-diving right alongside a
downtown intersection as we waited for a traffic light. I honestly
wish political ideology would vanish in a cloud of humanistic concern
for our country, but then again, what do I know.</span></p>
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<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span face=""arial" , sans-serif"><span>After
road construction near the Aquarium trumps our GPS instructions, we
end up on the Bluffs overlooking the Tennessee River, looking for a
place to conveniently turn around. The Hunter Museum parking lot
serves as a great place to recheck the maps and GPS, and as we pull
through the parking loop, we stop to watch a pair of well fed ground
hogs, which ignore us until I get out to take a photo. </span></span></span></p>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPA4fsS4UlJpSZ-1bY1TV8CziSY7xlzw46i_ZhqsqWmFpANjhbzKwNawoZTkmnpOrrmSKV8HyouTwN7P-kfd0lEaRwSkjWCY-jKxyWsVBKGCrHgb2qOwOAjpMxLUO-E6Ffid8k_zSXydY/s1600/IMG_2299.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="901" data-original-width="1600" height="388" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPA4fsS4UlJpSZ-1bY1TV8CziSY7xlzw46i_ZhqsqWmFpANjhbzKwNawoZTkmnpOrrmSKV8HyouTwN7P-kfd0lEaRwSkjWCY-jKxyWsVBKGCrHgb2qOwOAjpMxLUO-E6Ffid8k_zSXydY/w690-h388/IMG_2299.jpg" width="690" /></a></div>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Chattanooga
deserves admiration and praise from what we have seen, but they are
fighting a tough battle, as is any large city. They have several
really neat innovations including bicycles kiosks where participants
can pick up or leave bicycles as they tour and traverse the downtown
area. </span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">We parked in </span><span face=""arial" , sans-serif"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">one
of many automated garages near the renovated Riverfront Area and
walked to the Tennessee Aquarium across the street. We bought tickets
for a Thursday tour on the Tennessee River Gorge Tour, also operated
by the Aquarium. We walked around the Riverfront, then headed for a
nearby Thai Restaurant with some reservations about what to expect.
No need for concern, the Pad Thai was among the best I’ve ever had
– sorry Royal Orchid – and by looking at Ilse’s clean plate, I
don’t think she had any problem with her meal either. </span></span></p>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCFr8TIZQ9-j9DxG7YwvjsI_PKRvtwopnrUoMxs6UJKsrcnG4motzSsZkNRTEIne5lMNEM1XlY0sACoCZplUPs3a0Pm84O_zym6kaQU_ZgFN3fc-3rK6x-fBxQglb6WL9Sr3wCExrkUfI/s1600/IMG_2309.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCFr8TIZQ9-j9DxG7YwvjsI_PKRvtwopnrUoMxs6UJKsrcnG4motzSsZkNRTEIne5lMNEM1XlY0sACoCZplUPs3a0Pm84O_zym6kaQU_ZgFN3fc-3rK6x-fBxQglb6WL9Sr3wCExrkUfI/s640/IMG_2309.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span face=""arial" , sans-serif"><span>We
had an exit gate at the parking garage that wouldn’t process my
paid-up ticket, and luckily I had no one behind me as I backed up the
garage exit ramp and switched gates. I did draw strange stares from a
worker who appeared from nowhere carrying a Styrofoam doggie box,
obviously leftovers from his recent lunch, but since he seemed
dumbfounded by my explanation, we just waved once the gate opened and
just drove out. </span></span></span></p>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKnS-RaxNp8UK37WKwMXJGurceN0VqvPzp43z7awj2n1HIEBcLZ3uLiVEQiRIa184iZMwXQ0X82RFF6hrVEsfvEb3VDbBBVvNkAhz3uxlfedvuSsbmWp0xF0wE_-sfPZzzW6EWI-llgYI/s1600/IMG_2313.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="379" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKnS-RaxNp8UK37WKwMXJGurceN0VqvPzp43z7awj2n1HIEBcLZ3uLiVEQiRIa184iZMwXQ0X82RFF6hrVEsfvEb3VDbBBVvNkAhz3uxlfedvuSsbmWp0xF0wE_-sfPZzzW6EWI-llgYI/w673-h379/IMG_2313.jpg" width="673" /></a></div>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span face=""arial" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">We
struggled with my GPS to find the Tennessee Valley Railroad Museum,
which was closed, then shopped at a grocery store on the east side of
town that was getting a serious construction face-lift. Off course it
poured rain as we left the store in the chaos of the construction,
when else would it rain?</span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span face=""arial" , sans-serif"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Heading
back out to the Interstate for the short, wet trip back to the
campground was a grim reminder of why I don’t like big cities where
three Interstate Highways intersect, especially when they have
lane-changing construction that narrows three lanes down to about six
feet wide each. Bumper to bumper traffic with eighteen wheelers
trying to get to their destinations on schedule makes for interesting
driving. The rain got heavier and traffic finally got lighter and a
little more cautious. We were soon at the Trenton exit and only seven
miles from the campground with a huge, tailgating pickup truck that
was so close it looked like I may have been towing him, right on my
bumper. As we climbed the newly-paved highway through the clouds into
another realm, the old expression, so near but yet so far came to
mind. I can see why this park is so popular. Soon, we had the road
and the mist-filled world all to ourselves. </span></span></p>
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<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span face=""arial" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">By
the time we finish the laundry Tuesday afternoon, many of the sites
empty campsites are filled, with at least three aluminum Airstreams.
Pop-up campers and small towables are quietly tucked away in many of
the wide camp sites, along with a scattering of tents and one new one
for us: a tent mounted on a platform on top of a car carrier,
aluminum access ladder and all. The little Subaru sedan seems to be
bearing the additional weight well. Only one of the big Class A
motorhomes and one of the extra-large fifth wheel trailers in the
park. Everyone seems to be keeping to themselves as the park is as
quiet as it was when we took the laundry bag to the laundry room.</span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span face=""arial" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6zDmmwQGedoinyhtecJppMEQqw80H_wDmywaADGBYTsx-PCT3daT4Et9wZdP-B1hSuhz4s94Ae0Cf3ArpXp6KrCUWMAJ2HtDjDTuRtN1H1td0tZO75Hh27dNx0LQ1Xc20inXKPsV4fz8/s1600/20170814_093500.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="905" data-original-width="1600" height="483" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6zDmmwQGedoinyhtecJppMEQqw80H_wDmywaADGBYTsx-PCT3daT4Et9wZdP-B1hSuhz4s94Ae0Cf3ArpXp6KrCUWMAJ2HtDjDTuRtN1H1td0tZO75Hh27dNx0LQ1Xc20inXKPsV4fz8/w859-h483/20170814_093500.jpg" width="859" /></a></div>
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<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span face=""arial" , sans-serif"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">We
know all the campground hosts by name now, and we chat with them
whenever we meet on the camp road. One campground host just signed
in, traveling from Malmstrom Air Force Base in Montana and he’ll be
here until February. Another couple will pack up at the end of August
and head for their next hosting gig in New Mexico. An interesting
life style, but it isn’t for us. We toyed with the idea of being
camp hosts, but we just aren’t ready to cut the umbilical cord, so
to speak. We’d rather head for home when the summer heat breaks and
sleep in a familiar homestead. </span></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span face=""arial" , sans-serif"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Friends and our familiar surroundings
in southwest Florida make a comfortable winter home base. I guess
that makes us snow-birds of sorts, but since we never see snow, I
don’t know if that is completely accurate. We’ll keep rolling
with our travel trailer as long as we still enjoy RVing, escaping to
the Appalachian Mountains to avoid the summer Florida heat and
humidity. And, of course, doing our laundry when the campgrounds are
empty.</span></span></p>
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<a href="http://sleepstwo.blogspot.com/2017/08/the-falls-trail.html" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="147" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5vZqwo5r-ddXsUGY0_a77TpmWN2SM1fPtZQatnY4rg35JZxrbG1Mh4wQO_hOAoNWaljgDOJZpDd-w780Kf7ZqTObCIyUqOUyWosz3gDyXJW9bfpuuULdEJeeE-wj2o9XUKdd5QITR4fw/w147-h147/right_arrow1600.png" width="147" /></a></div>
<span face=""arial" , sans-serif"><span face="arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 14.6667px;"><br /></span></span>
<span face=""arial" , sans-serif"><span face="arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 14.6667px;"><br /></span></span><span face=""arial" , sans-serif"><span face="arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 14.6667px;">Next - The Waterfalls Trail at CCSP, at:</span></span><br />
<span face=""arial" , sans-serif"><span face="arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 14.6667px;"><a href="http://sleepstwo.blogspot.com/2017/08/the-falls-trail.html">http://sleepstwo.blogspot.com/2017/08/the-falls-trail.html</a></span></span></div>
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<span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif">George</span><br />
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Georgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02165325439708519673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8823993742564320393.post-91937981296542302692017-08-18T11:04:00.032-04:002023-12-26T06:26:18.478-05:00The West Rim Trail<div align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTQU9xNGtQjrFOGwNgEXlbnTAwiOOF3kiKqoSl29PRfUnlnjcRAJySkrJO8Nm3HwDMQ1XZuewwWyFVe71oh3znU0SzYKhcvEUIrsl2vIrNBQ-qMhZGKZpnT3rVOAHBP_nZo-kHT2K1X2U/s1600/IMG_2290.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="476" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTQU9xNGtQjrFOGwNgEXlbnTAwiOOF3kiKqoSl29PRfUnlnjcRAJySkrJO8Nm3HwDMQ1XZuewwWyFVe71oh3znU0SzYKhcvEUIrsl2vIrNBQ-qMhZGKZpnT3rVOAHBP_nZo-kHT2K1X2U/w846-h476/IMG_2290.JPG" width="846" /></a></div>
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<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span face=""arial" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">After a week of short hikes and walks,
we decided to try the full West Rim Loop Trail at the Cloudland
Canyon State Park to view the vistas we had seen from the
easy-access, other side of the park. We were camped just a few
hundred yards from the wide path that led to the rim trail and if
push came to shove, and we felt we were over our heads, we could exit
the rim trail at several points and walk back to the campground on
the paved road that crosses the loop near the western-most top of the
mountain. </span></p>
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<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span face=""arial" , sans-serif">We did a leisurely Sunday morning
breakfast and watched the huge tent city consume itself and disappear
into a myriad of car trunks. By ten o’clock, we were ready to hit
the trail, and except for one remaining tent, the one with the
snarling dog that stood between us and the trailhead, the campground
was empty.</span></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">“<span face=""arial" , sans-serif">Great!” we thought, “We’ll
have the trails to mostly to ourselves.” Compared to the number of
hikers we met on the trail Saturday, we were almost correct.</span></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span face=""arial" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">We locked up the camper and took the
long way around our aggressive neighbor and started down the quiet,
shaded access path in a beautiful, cloudless day and mild
temperatures. We had a taste of the west rim overlooks from the other
side of the park when we first arrived. People on the west side of
the canyon waved at us as we stood a few feet from the main parking
lot, and of course, we waved back, thinking “Gee, what does it look
like from where they are?” Today would be a great day to find out.</span></p>
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<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span face=""arial" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">We began meeting other hikers as soon
as we started the trail, including two couples hiking together –
one of the young men precariously carrying a baby on his shoulder –
and a young girl who ran past us like a rabbit. We also met several
young couples with dogs, all on leashes. As we manipulated the often
narrow path along the top of the canyon, we became adept at passing
techniques with the dogs. One girl even pulled a traditional dog
waterdish from somewhere in her backpack to give her young, four
month old puppy a drink. We showed her our combination doggie
bottle/waterdish we carry in our back pack and I think she may have
actually been somewhat interested in something us old folks had to
say. Well, maybe. </span></p>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKXI0yfV6pWsOu3rflbIBjTcoIZXOXFYRA9FOYhyphenhyphenPtTbwxhjH2KfI5KANxf6jywSTSph097EsWfigg5gZ_dpeBZBif6bkLA1jZuYGCK47H5lL5SkUQirxsvRuiN_E2HYEdeDIGn9Sn5DI/s1600/20170813_111702.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="470" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKXI0yfV6pWsOu3rflbIBjTcoIZXOXFYRA9FOYhyphenhyphenPtTbwxhjH2KfI5KANxf6jywSTSph097EsWfigg5gZ_dpeBZBif6bkLA1jZuYGCK47H5lL5SkUQirxsvRuiN_E2HYEdeDIGn9Sn5DI/w836-h470/20170813_111702.jpg" width="836" /></a></div>
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<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span face=""arial" , sans-serif">Several couples had young puppies, and
just like our thirteen year old dog, Taz, too worn out and tired to
be aggressive. The temperature stayed in the mid eighties, but we
were sweating as if we were at home in Florida’s southwest coast.
The dogs obviously felt the same.</span></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span face=""arial" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Parts of the West Rim Trail have been
“re-pathed” - their wording, not mine – and we found several
markers to be misleading, or just plain meaningless. One marker had
crude arrows scratched into it with car keys or knives, or something
sharp, to add directions inadvertently or thoughtlessly left off the
marker. You can’t wander meaninglessly forever as you either cross
the paved road or you fall off the cliff, but it is an afternoon
saver if you know where on the trail you are. Still, the West Rim
trail, marked as moderate/strenuous, is visually rewarding with
several great lookouts, and a few interesting caves, along the root
and rock strewn trail.</span></p>
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<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span face=""arial" , sans-serif">We headed back from the scenic
overlooks at the end of the canyon and decided to head for the
walk-in campground via another supposedly marked trail. We stood at
one unmarked junction and stared at two identical flashes, the
markers nailed to trees to mark a trail, that marked two divergent
trails, one to the left and one to the right. As we stood trying to
decide which path looked more worn, two women appeared from our
right.</span></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">“<span face=""arial" , sans-serif">Oh, you aren’t far from the
walk-in campground,” one said as she brushed past, her chihuahua
pulling on a leash, “Just keep going, it’s just up the hill.”</span></span></p>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6vetFfasv7HWfw8qs1Jua4wal-e6FB7LCGcoTr01ZO5Z1Z-D9b_zHtBMz2V0JqGP-MbOuuhyzAxUgnXp7Em2c-2l_5F2UyjaLY7_0-WserYRsbJgzicbk5oD-NNh53_c7ZgZIHbz1F34/s1600/IMG_2292.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="377" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6vetFfasv7HWfw8qs1Jua4wal-e6FB7LCGcoTr01ZO5Z1Z-D9b_zHtBMz2V0JqGP-MbOuuhyzAxUgnXp7Em2c-2l_5F2UyjaLY7_0-WserYRsbJgzicbk5oD-NNh53_c7ZgZIHbz1F34/w671-h377/IMG_2292.JPG" width="671" /></a></div>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span face=""arial" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">By the time we were back at our RV
camping loop, by way of the paved access road, we were both drenched
in sweat. We stripped, threw our clothes into the laundry bag,
grabbed towels, flip flops, quick covers and headed for the empty,
spotlessly clean showers. Even our pain-in-the-neck neighbor dog was
gone.</span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span face=""arial" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">We shower not just because we get sweaty, but to also avoid the
curse of trail hiking: <a href="http://sleepstwo.blogspot.com/2013/08/the-dark-side.html">chiggers</a>! If you don’t shower and isolate
your clothing, you may remember your hike long after the thrill of
the scenery is gone.</span></p>
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<a href="http://sleepstwo.blogspot.com/2017/08/laundry-day.html" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="111" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5vZqwo5r-ddXsUGY0_a77TpmWN2SM1fPtZQatnY4rg35JZxrbG1Mh4wQO_hOAoNWaljgDOJZpDd-w780Kf7ZqTObCIyUqOUyWosz3gDyXJW9bfpuuULdEJeeE-wj2o9XUKdd5QITR4fw/w111-h111/right_arrow1600.png" width="111" /></a></div>
<span face=""arial" , sans-serif"><br /></span>
<span face=""arial" , sans-serif">Next - Extended Camping - Laundry Day, at:</span><br />
<span face=""arial" , sans-serif"><a href="http://sleepstwo.blogspot.com/2017/08/laundry-day.html">http://sleepstwo.blogspot.com/2017/08/laundry-day.html</a></span><br />
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<span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif">George</span></div>
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Georgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02165325439708519673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8823993742564320393.post-10450423271741649252017-08-18T10:53:00.029-04:002023-12-26T06:22:11.148-05:00Shangri-la<h1 class="western">
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<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span face=""arial" , sans-serif">Cheerful throngs of smiling, happy
children rush from beneath the multi-colored fabrics that cover every
possible campsite to greet Taz as Ilse takes him for his morning walk
through the misty, damp campground.</span></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">“<span face=""arial" , sans-serif">Please, Come back, we have more
children who want to pet him!” one of the young boys wails.</span></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">“<span face=""arial" , sans-serif">We’ll come back this way,” my
wife answers, smiling at the crowd of children.</span></span></p>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIwhC_oX5dbd0GO0JrmBGZcv0nQxHKeoSVK6jGKb8NcnL33xrtfARF_EOFIfv8j8ErUQT7Vyimf434LqPjCXqsqA5OxkJyDHt2QOMd4S96fM2_Lpxisrfqvc-z1Ibeq82ycs-pseq8PDA/s1600/20170812_142913.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="901" data-original-width="1600" height="465" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIwhC_oX5dbd0GO0JrmBGZcv0nQxHKeoSVK6jGKb8NcnL33xrtfARF_EOFIfv8j8ErUQT7Vyimf434LqPjCXqsqA5OxkJyDHt2QOMd4S96fM2_Lpxisrfqvc-z1Ibeq82ycs-pseq8PDA/w826-h465/20170812_142913.jpg" width="826" /></a></div>
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<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">If you were expecting my typical pragmatic – some call it jaundiced – viewpoint, you’re probably wondering what Ilse slipped into my morning coffee. It’s hard not to put a smiley face emoji on the morning’s event since most of the throngs came well after dark, and even though we finally turned on the air-conditioner so we could close the blinds to shut out the parade of the new, high intensity LED camping lights, they did not make a sound. Amazingly, the campsites around us all filled with tents that weren’t there when we turned in for the night. Just as amazingly, it is as quiet this morning as it has been all week when the campground was empty. <br /> Overall, the campground is barely half-full, a surprise as the park rangers were preparing for a full campground over the weekend. The weather forecast, coupled with the first week of school, probably dampened many plans. One large group spread across five campsites has seven tents and several huge fabric shelters arranged to create a “social center” set up adjacent to our young neighbors. While they were quiet setting up at night, the excitement of the weekend has become a constant reminder that no one knows what to expect during a weekend.<br /><br /> The tent next to us was put up by a young woman and her male companion who appears to have never slept outside before. He basically stands back and watches as she competently and efficiently erects the tent, cuts and heat-seals nylon rope, and covers everything with a blue camping tarp. They also have late night activity as they are joined by friends long after we’ve gone to bed, who also put up a tent. They did it quietly as well. We’ve been in campgrounds where three ring circus late arrivals had everything except a steam calliope, so we are actually pleasantly surprised by the civility of the weekend campers. <br /> Ilse remarked that most of the campers were either tent campers or smaller pop-up campers. There are only a handful of medium size travel trailers or self-contained Class C’s, and only one large Class A motor coach in the campground. Many of the license plates seem to be from the Atlanta area. The large pull-through campsites with 50 amp electrical service are all empty. All of the registration cards posted at each campsite show none of them staying beyond next Monday. We will have the campground all to<span style="text-align: left;"> ourselves once again. All in all, the campground is far less hectic this weekend than we anticipated.</span></span></p><div align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyDRPxwXDxuXBG4_e52aVv-Yk3mnCPF2c2EMSsJGjzqcz_Bb9EKoeIvY14IeenRrlKdlxH2EGYD5XTr0v3mff5GxN2u9WcoMOYuEWlLriz3F3taGkVaKVvvyDIp5kW3CReg048RbR9Jms/s1600/20170811_151532.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="902" data-original-width="1600" height="377" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyDRPxwXDxuXBG4_e52aVv-Yk3mnCPF2c2EMSsJGjzqcz_Bb9EKoeIvY14IeenRrlKdlxH2EGYD5XTr0v3mff5GxN2u9WcoMOYuEWlLriz3F3taGkVaKVvvyDIp5kW3CReg048RbR9Jms/w671-h377/20170811_151532.jpg" width="671" /></a><p><span face=""arial" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">We've occasionally seen three feral cats that wander across the campsite during the quiet weekdays when the entire campground is mostly empty. There may be more, but we have identified three cats by their distinctive colors. One of them sat and stared after being called, but soon scooted for the cover of the underbrush. I doubt we’ll see them for the next several days.</span></p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl5qFiMyibg4G_TWY7U9UIgZU6uP8MC639pmU1RKoUbLfsmwMQyKqK4GyyngP9YVI9_3jOP9wjcVsXeX7zgePS0i3vgAbwKxUVkgJICxO3uOwlzL4JpsCfovOmym4qRvPaFPL8PLQ7Oy4/s1600/IMG_2217.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="394" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl5qFiMyibg4G_TWY7U9UIgZU6uP8MC639pmU1RKoUbLfsmwMQyKqK4GyyngP9YVI9_3jOP9wjcVsXeX7zgePS0i3vgAbwKxUVkgJICxO3uOwlzL4JpsCfovOmym4qRvPaFPL8PLQ7Oy4/w700-h394/IMG_2217.JPG" width="700" /></a></div>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span face=""arial" , sans-serif">The weather forecast of rain doesn’t seem to bother the weekend campers who gather at the trailheads on the east rim. We decided to test the capricious gods
of weather and drove the eight miles out of the Main Gate to the Five
Points Recreation Area on nearby highway 157 to hike one of the many
trails that converge on the old, overgrown mining site. </span></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span face=""arial" , sans-serif">The only
remnants of the old mine are circular terraces, discretely hidden by
nature as the forest has reclaimed the entire site. After a half-mile
walk through the heavily wooded area, we decided the trails here are
better suited to mountain bikers, and sure enough, we soon met riders
converging on the main trail intersection trying to decide which
trail to take next. Another fellow with his ten or eleven year old
daughter peddled up an adjacent trail from the parking area as Ilse
and I headed back to the car. Nice, but not as visually rewarding as
the West Rim Loop Trail, which we can access from not fifty feet from
our camp site. So, we head back to the camper and decide to see just
how busy the trails </span><span face=""arial" , sans-serif">at the main park</span><span face=""arial" , sans-serif"> </span><span face=""arial" , sans-serif">are on this weekend.</span></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span face=""arial" , sans-serif">We start down our connecting path after first avoiding a nasty, snarling dog somebody must love tied to a tree near a campsite adjacent to the trail, and decided we’ll go as far as we are comfortable and
return when the thigh muscles say “enough!” </span></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span face=""arial" , sans-serif">After meeting group
after group on the trail, all friendly, even one with a German
Shepard wearing saddle-bags to carry its own refreshments, we decide
to let the weekend visitors enjoy their hike without interference
from us. We’ll come back early Monday morning when everything
slowly reverts to normal. We’re ready for the waterfall trail, just
not with this many spectators.</span></span></p>
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<a href="http://sleepstwo.blogspot.com/2017/08/the-west-rim-trail.html" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5vZqwo5r-ddXsUGY0_a77TpmWN2SM1fPtZQatnY4rg35JZxrbG1Mh4wQO_hOAoNWaljgDOJZpDd-w780Kf7ZqTObCIyUqOUyWosz3gDyXJW9bfpuuULdEJeeE-wj2o9XUKdd5QITR4fw/s200/right_arrow1600.png" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span face=""arial" , sans-serif"><br /></span>
<span face=""arial" , sans-serif">Next - The West Rim Trail at CCSP, at:</span><br />
<span face=""arial" , sans-serif"><a href="http://sleepstwo.blogspot.com/2017/08/the-west-rim-trail.html">http://sleepstwo.blogspot.com/2017/08/the-west-rim-trail.html</a></span></div>
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<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif">George</span><br />
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Georgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02165325439708519673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8823993742564320393.post-1207835286742547342017-08-11T09:52:00.041-04:002023-12-26T06:15:25.042-05:00Chickamauga<p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The tall, garish, red lettered sign high above Battlefield Parkway that reads “Battlefield Burgers” restaurant, stands in stark contrast to the marble Georgia Memorial which rises remorsefully in an empty field just a few miles south. One identifies a bustling commercial zone along a six-lane highway, expanding with new construction and stores as quickly as commerce will allow, the other a somber, pastoral meadow crisscrossed with old, split rail fences, rimmed with cannons, that will remain forever unchanged. </span></p><div align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 150%;">
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<span face=""arial" , sans-serif"><br /></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The Chickamauga battlefield where over 4000 men lost their lives so a few rich men could own slaves is a somber reminder of our bloody Civil War. It is less than an hours drive from Cloudland Canyon State Park even with the roundabout route we took along the Lookout Mountain Scenic Parkway, which really isn't much of a parkway. It is, however, scenic, even if at only one location. The parkway offers one great vista of the valley west of Lookout Mountain. There are no signs or guardrails at the pull-off. No indication anywhere of the magnificent view below. We just happened to see the break in the trees and pulled off the road to take a look.</span> </div><div><br /></div><div>
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<p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">After following our GPS instructions through the quaint, and obviously well-off college town of Lookout Mountain, we descended down the other side of the mountain and into the Battleground Memorial Park by way of local Lytle Road, not the main entrance most people see when visiting the park. It was rather like coming in the back door. After driving through the battlefield and photographing cannons and monuments, we headed for the visitor center for more information. The huge, well maintained battleground is part of the Chickamauga and Chattanooga National Military Park, administered by the National Park Service, and lies near the foot of Lookout Mountain.</span></p><div align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 150%;">
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<p style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span face=""arial" , sans-serif">The
visitor center has battle displays and dioramas, photographs, a gift
shop, and a theater where they show a well done video about the
famous battles of Chickamauga and Chattanooga. The center also houses
the famous Fuller Gun Collection, a marvelous, well showcased
collection of shoulder arms.</span></span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span face=""arial" , sans-serif">The
city just outside the park, Fort Oglethorpe, offers all the amenities
and restaurants of any modern suburban American town. The new,
clustered retail areas all look the same to me. I can’t tell
Asheville from Oglethorpe from Ocala. They all have the same stores
with their familiar logos sticking high in the air and the
accompanying traffic trying to figure out which entrance to use. We
are so accustomed to individual corporate images we can tell an
establishment by looking at the building. We don’t even need to
look at the signs to know which store is which. </span></span></p>
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<p style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">We
stocked up at Walmart, Home Depot, Aldi, and Advance Auto Parts, in
that order, before heading back to campground to have a late lunch
and clean up before the next round of rain storms.</span></p><p style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">There
is so much more to see within a short drive from Cloudland Canyon
State Park, from historical places to mountain vistas and isolated
waterfalls. We have an extended stay here, and I think we are going
to be busy.</span></p>
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<span face=""arial" , sans-serif">Next: When it all goes right - Shangri-la, at:</span><br />
<span face=""arial" , sans-serif"><a href="http://sleepstwo.blogspot.com/2017/08/shangri-la.html">http://sleepstwo.blogspot.com/2017/08/shangri-la.html</a></span><br />
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</div>Georgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02165325439708519673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8823993742564320393.post-3286273276533693502017-08-10T11:22:00.095-04:002023-12-26T06:06:38.089-05:00Welcome to Cloudland Canyon<h1 class="western">
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<span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><div style="text-align: justify;">We were spared severe weather in in our campground at Cloudland Canyon State Park as a line of heavy storms spread across the entire southeastern United States. We had a steady, night-long downpour, but no storms. Sleeping was a pleasure as no one needed any kind of artificial environmental noises to induce the sandman. Nature supplied everything. The continuous, ten hour downpour eventually faded away as sunshine began to filter through the dense forest as morning quietly slipped into the campground.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div></span>
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<span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><div style="text-align: justify;">We checked the local weather and found we were experiencing an exclusive, temporary break in the rain. We decided to explore one of the many hiking trails. Cloudland Canyon State Park has thirty miles of trails dedicated just to mountain bikers, not including the many footpaths for people like us. There are plenty of trails to keep most hikers happy.</div> <div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">We arrived Monday afternoon as we love checking into state or Federal campgrounds after the weekend crowd leaves. Public school started in Georgia a week ago for most students, and will start this week for the rest of the state, including here in Dade County, so there are no families in the campground except for a British couple with a nine year old daughter who loves to pat Taz. It is only August seventh! We have four full-time camp hosts on the west rim campground and only three or four campers. As a result, the shower and toilet facilities, although rather old, are absolutely spotless.</div> <div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div> <div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Vacancy at the park will change again on Friday night, it always does, but most of those weekend camping trips and family reunions break up early Sunday. We rarely check out of a campground on Sunday morning as the waiting line for the dump stations remind me of US-1 headed back to Miami from the Florida Keys. Monday is Nirvana to cross-country RVers.</div> <div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Long gone is the day after Labor Day start to the school year. I personally believe, without the benefit of any research or facts of any kind, that the start date has been skewed to allow high school football teams to begin practice earlier and begin their regular schedule to align with the National Football League and the Collegiate schedule football schedules. The NFL just played their first exhibition game. But then again, what do I know. At any rate, campgrounds are emptier earlier than in years past, which, miserable me, I don’t mind at all. Labor day is the exception, of course. Finding a campsite over the Labor Day Weekend requires someone named Merlin to make your reservations. Strange looking dude, with flowing robes, a pointy hat, and a magic wand.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div></span>
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<span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><div style="text-align: justify;">According to CBS News, the RV industry expects to sell 400,000 new RVs this year. The RV manufacturers are running at full employment, and have increased most RV sales in the mid-range Millennial market. No wonder making reservations at popular campgrounds is a task best done as soon as reservation windows open. But not here, and not today. The dripping, dense forest has only our twenty-one foot trailer and a few occupied campsites that are still dormant. Until a beautiful, black and grey house cat, wearing a bright red collar, casually strolls across the front of our camping pad, headed for the forest. Our Golden Retriever sees the cat, bolts through the open camper door and down the hill they go, into the dense underbrush. Taz, over thirteen years old, has a hearing deficiency, and thankfully, limited endurance. He doesn’t go far, and as soon as he sees me, heads back up the hill to the camper, tongue out, with a look of duty well done.</div> <div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Today, however, is a time to relish the tranquility and relative solitude of a beautiful state park and the empty trails. I swing by the visitors center where only a few hikers, mostly young, college age couples, complete with back packs are registering. We decide to do the waterfall trail starting at the environmental center on the east rim, but after a walking a short way on the rim trails, decide we need to tune up first before heading down the thousand foot trail to the waterfalls below. Prudence is an art gained through age. And experience.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div></span>
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<div align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><div align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">Our first day was spent relaxing and taking walks to check the park’s facilities and many vistas. I played around with my television antenna and tuned three or four stations we may watch if the weather turns wet again. Except for the news, we rarely watch television. Cell phone coverage faded in and out so not only were telephone calls sporadically dropped, but the Wi-Fi hot-spot was unreliable as well.<br /> <br />As we relaxed in the fading evening sun, a pickup truck backed into the site next to us and a woman with two dogs set up a small, domed tent. She was our only neighbor until another camper pulled in just before dark. We were the only campers in the park except for the British couple tent camping at the top of the hill and one other RV that showed no sign of life. The evening was pleasant, cool and absolutely still except for the serenade of Georgia’s forest insects.As we kissed and snuggled up under the covers, Ilse turned off her night light and we both went silent as a bright, yellow light flashed in the darkness just over our heads. <br /><br />We both sat up in bed. "What was that!!!" The light flashed again, this time down by the foot of the bed, suspended in mid-air. We realized I had let a firefly, a lightning bug we used to call them, into the camper when I took our dog, Taz, out for his night-time trip to the nearest tree. <br /><br />Another first in our adventures of RVing.</span></span></div><div align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><a href="http://sleepstwo.blogspot.com/2017/08/chickamauga.html" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="118" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghJSfMEMrY8gC4-wf_vpVIikTJwt1DN4mle3lmx67gO9JIoD5arp-Aep9c7K7BSvtBn4O2l9lx5g21t0gqLU_TkjAZJ4kPiIyloToXeKvzLRshNK_HTUYrZm9byVrj9DDHdmPbvgtE7EI/w118-h118/right_arrow1600.png" width="118" /></a><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif">Next Nearby Chickamauga, at;</span><br />
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><a href="http://sleepstwo.blogspot.com/2017/08/chickamauga.html">http://sleepstwo.blogspot.com/2017/08/chickamauga.html</a></span><br />
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Georgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02165325439708519673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8823993742564320393.post-41502226695154328352017-08-08T12:11:00.015-04:002023-12-26T06:03:41.915-05:00Cloudland Canyon State Park<div align="justify" class="western">
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<span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">How did we miss Cloudland Canyon State Park? In the six summers we have spent camping in the Appalachian mountains of Georgia and North Carolina, we’ve stayed at many state and Federal campgrounds, including Vogel, Unicoi, and Amicalola State Parks in the Georgia mountains. We’ve visited nearby Moccasin Creek And Tallulah Falls during day trips. We’ve spent many nights at Richard Russell, Stephen C. Foster and Hard Labor Creek State Parks in Georgia as well. We’ve stayed at one of our favorite state parks, Vogel, near Blairsville, several times, but for some reason or other, we never made it to Cloudland Canyon State Park in the far northwest corner of the state. <br /><br /> Located on the western rim of Lookout Mountain, only twenty six miles south of Chattanooga, Tennessee, the fairly large park was recommended by Hill and Marianne, friends we met at Vogel last year. The park sits atop a mountain plateau created by the gorge of the headwaters of Daniel Creek, forming a unique “Y” layout that allows to park to have two separate campgrounds. The East Rim campground, which is a tighter, more family oriented type campground, and the larger West Rim Campground which has the more secluded, woodsy type camping sites we prefer. <br /><br /> We had a taste of what to expect as we drove through dense, misty clouds that floated across the heavily forested mountainside highway on our way up to the park. It rained off and on the entire day as we drove 185 miles from Athens, Georgia, but the rain held off as we registered at the visitor center a little before three in the afternoon. The young ranger seemed rather bored with counter duty as she handed me my vehicle pass and a campground map with little comment. I then asked her to apply the discount visitors over the age of 62 receive when registering in person. I have to apply in person every time I sign in at a Georgia visitor's center as the online system does not offer the discount. She asked if I was over 62. I said yes, way over. She glanced up, then keyed the information into the system without further comment <br /> . <br /> I asked if the park was busy. “Nope,” she said, “Only six reservations today for the whole park.”<br /><br /> Great! We had our pick of the 72 campsites – Georgia is first come, first served – and we soon backed in to the spotlessly clean, level site on the west rim we liked best. No one else in the campground but the camp hosts. <br /><br /> No sooner did I have the power cable plugged in than it started raining. We retired to the camper, broke out the chocolate and the wine and put our feet up while the rain gently soaked the forest around us. The park looks great with many trails, we can’t wait to explore the area during our stay. I don’t see how we missed the place.<br /></span><div align="justify" class="western">
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<a href="http://sleepstwo.blogspot.com/2017/08/welcome-to-cloudland.html" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="130" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghJSfMEMrY8gC4-wf_vpVIikTJwt1DN4mle3lmx67gO9JIoD5arp-Aep9c7K7BSvtBn4O2l9lx5g21t0gqLU_TkjAZJ4kPiIyloToXeKvzLRshNK_HTUYrZm9byVrj9DDHdmPbvgtE7EI/w130-h130/right_arrow1600.png" width="130" /></a></div>
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<span face=""arial" , sans-serif">Next: Getting to know Cloudland Canyon State park, at;</span><br />
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Georgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02165325439708519673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8823993742564320393.post-9041176277034879922017-08-01T16:21:00.041-04:002023-12-26T06:01:32.125-05:00The Better, the Worse, and the Downright Abominable<p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Our first day on the road this camping trip exposed us to our lowest experience ever in despicable conduct by fellow RVers in the 463 days we’ve been on the road with our travel trailer. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Whoever used the dump station at the pristine Stephen Foster Cultural Center State Park in White Springs, Florida, in front of us emptied their holding tanks without the benefit of a discharge hose. They simply opened the valve to their black water tank and let their sewage drain onto the pavement in the general area of the dump station drain. I would assume someone had damaged or couldn't use their flexible discharge hose, (replacements are available at any Wal*Mart.) </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">In that case, I would expect them to at least hose down the drain area since I have never seen a dump station without a water hose, but, nope! </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">That was the “Downright Abominable.”</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">We thought the unit next to us that left their bright, LED awning lights on all night was “Worse,” until, of course we departed the flag-ship Florida State park and found I had to hose down the apron of the dump station so not to spoil my shoes.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">We have had thoughtless neighbors next to us before who left their bright, glaring lights on all night, so we have a set of black-out curtains we drape over our regular window blinds when we encounter them. I personally think they are afraid of grizzly bears or boogeymen, or who ever they think evades the campground security system.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> Whatever the reason, they are a pain to have next to at night. I have outside lights on my awning as well, but they are on a timer so they shut off automatically in case I forget to shut them down when we pack it in for the night. If I can’t sleep with my own lights on, how do they do it? Easy, they’re unconscious to start with. </span></p><div align="justify">
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<div align="justify"><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">And then there are the “Better,” the ones who make it all worthwhile. The one-time neighbors you’ll probably never see again, who think and act like you do. You know, the ones who smile, wave, and actually clean up after their dogs. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The ones who stop to chat and trade information about restaurants or sights to see, tell you about their pets or grandchildren, or sometimes their grandparents. You know, the ones who shut their lights off at night, and use discharge hoses at the dump station.</span></p>
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<a href="http://sleepstwo.blogspot.com/2017/08/cloudland-canyon-state-park.html" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="110" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghJSfMEMrY8gC4-wf_vpVIikTJwt1DN4mle3lmx67gO9JIoD5arp-Aep9c7K7BSvtBn4O2l9lx5g21t0gqLU_TkjAZJ4kPiIyloToXeKvzLRshNK_HTUYrZm9byVrj9DDHdmPbvgtE7EI/w110-h110/right_arrow1600.png" width="110" /></a></div>
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<span face=""arial" , sans-serif">Next: Onward to our first Georgia State Park of the trip, at:</span><br />
<span face=""arial" , sans-serif"><a href="http://sleepstwo.blogspot.com/2017/08/cloudland-canyon-state-park.html">http://sleepstwo.blogspot.com/2017/08/cloudland-canyon-state-park.html</a></span></div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"><br /></div>
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Georgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02165325439708519673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8823993742564320393.post-53818114136039285872017-05-13T15:10:00.039-04:002023-12-13T10:41:48.271-05:00Perfection<h1 align="center" class="western">
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<span style="color: black;"><span face=""arial" , sans-serif"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Sitting
on the shore of Lake Lanier in northern Georgia, watching sailboats
heel against the brisk warm, fifteen mile an hour winds as they tack
across the largest man-made lake east of the Mississippi, I have a
feeling that I’ve forgotten to unplug the coffee pot even though I
know I double-checked it. </span></span></span>
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<span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">We are shielded from the warm May sun by a strand of cedars as we comfortably lean back in our anti-gravity chairs, right at the waters edge. Our campsite is but a few mere feet from the seawall that is unfortunately even further from the edge of the lake than last year.</span><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcbZj9o0v81Y89hP3SvPkUkocrp16Roc8ud7m9-TVgpMaJkmhYkmOakWX-ZB_WrClHhch9bNYvj3FcA702qc7qMsmDiZTNrJCXJdJL4r3TpdEN6CT_BZYP30xMBzZVYV6bpZREAtXtrjs/s1600/IMG_1803.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcbZj9o0v81Y89hP3SvPkUkocrp16Roc8ud7m9-TVgpMaJkmhYkmOakWX-ZB_WrClHhch9bNYvj3FcA702qc7qMsmDiZTNrJCXJdJL4r3TpdEN6CT_BZYP30xMBzZVYV6bpZREAtXtrjs/s640/IMG_1803.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><div style="text-align: justify;">There are sailboats of all shapes and sizes in front of us as the popular Lake Lanier Sailing Club is located on the peninsula directly beside our Old Federal U.S. Army Corps of Engineers campground. High-speed catamarans zip quickly and quietly across the lake, while bigger, white-hulled cruisers with their mainsails and jibs in full bloom, heel heavily as they slowly but comfortably enjoy a beautiful spring afternoon.</div> <div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">My wife does not feel the imperceptible imbalance in my harmonics, she’s absolutely content with our surroundings. To her, a yoga advocate and practitioner, this is Nirvana. All of her chakras are in perfect alignment. The weather couldn’t be better with a cloudless, blue sky. A great blue heron even lands a few feet from us at the water’s edge as if to say, “All’s well in paradise, relax and enjoy!”</div></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><div style="text-align: justify;">We also have great blue herons at home on the Myakka River on Florida’s southwest coast. We also have wood storks and anhingas, porpoises and manatees, but we don’t have the pristine, blue water. We have brown, tannin-stained water that aids another stealthy local resident, an adversary that keeps my wife from swimming off the back of our pontoon boat. I’m not keen on getting into the opaque, root-beer colored water either, but when the occasion to push our boat out of an unexpected mud bank or sand bar arises and believe me it has, I have no choice. When I’m standing thigh deep in the murky river pushing the boat back into deeper water, one of my passengers will invariably ask if I’m afraid of alligators. They never volunteer to push the boat for me.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"><br /><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The season ended well, our trip home was uneventful. <br /></span></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">
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<span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"><b>Next: Start of the 2017 Summer Tour</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"><a href="http://sleepstwo.blogspot.com/2017/08/the-better-worse-and-downright.html">http://sleepstwo.blogspot.com/2017/08/the-better-worse-and-downright.html</a></span><br /></span>
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</div>Georgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02165325439708519673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8823993742564320393.post-39795259282281237072017-05-12T15:20:00.024-04:002023-12-26T05:51:20.859-05:00Comfort Camping<p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Comfort camping doesn’t necessarily mean “Glamping,” or Glamour Camping. It means total, almost meditative relaxation, where there are no worries or concerns, just the moment at hand. Whether you are in a tent with a sleeping bag, or in a hermetically sealed Class A motorcoach, it doesn’t matter. This is what RVing, or our version of camping is all about. A spot where you want to come back, just to enjoy the experience, and that is why we are once again at Old Federal Campground on Lake Lanier, Georgia.</span></p>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhplIRrF6-psLAPm1MWYKd0Rgis1XcfYzjJysG4848XwZrlIC37a0T_-tdOza9RLaLourLPVfGmL0__Zsk1AuXTNJP0_IGI5Fjk7KC2UdCHhqqrvoxlYpmDw87CyPc4yzcfPTdxWUCsnRY/s1600/IMG_1743.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="466" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhplIRrF6-psLAPm1MWYKd0Rgis1XcfYzjJysG4848XwZrlIC37a0T_-tdOza9RLaLourLPVfGmL0__Zsk1AuXTNJP0_IGI5Fjk7KC2UdCHhqqrvoxlYpmDw87CyPc4yzcfPTdxWUCsnRY/w829-h466/IMG_1743.JPG" width="829" /></a></div>
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<p style="text-align: left;"><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Right now, we are at the height of
comfort camping. It is 4:45 in the afternoon, less than an hour since
we checked in. The temperature is 75 degrees, and the breeze off of
Lake Lanier is a solid twelve to fifteen knots. There are no clouds
to be seen in the flawless blue sky, and Bonnie Raitt is playing a
duet with BB King on our camper stereo behind us.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"></span><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">There are no other campers sitting
outside, just us in our inappropriately named anti-gravity chairs,
drinking out of our opaque, blue plastic glasses. Alcohol is
prohibited here in this U.S. Army Corps of Engineers campground.
Campers even have to initial their parking pass to show they
understand the alcohol restriction which is printed right on the
front of the pass, the one you hang on your rearview mirror. I really
don’t mind, even though I had my other hand behind my back with my
fingers crossed when I initialed the pass. There are no drunken
sailors here, so to speak, which is a blessing if you have ever spent
any time at campgrounds more lenient about alcohol. Large family
get-togethers on Saturday night or a bunch of young locals getting
rowdy around the campfire after spending a day on the water can spoil
your evening in a hurry.</span></p>
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<p style="text-align: left;"><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Two of the campers here do seem to
be very mellow, sitting in the beautiful afternoon sunshine sipping
their drinks, probably a form of grape juice, watching the afternoon
sun turn the whole lake into a shimmering, silver sheet that can’t
be captured by camera. That would be us. Even Taz, our male golden
retriever is content, laying on the pad as relaxed as he has been
this whole trip.
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<p style="text-align: left;"><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Here’s the icing on an already
delicious cake: With my priceless Golden Age Passport, the cost for
me at this Federally run campground is twelve dollars a night, half
of the regular price. One of the real last benefits available to the
general public before Congress and the current administration figures
out what it’s worth and turns the whole Federal program into a
pleasure reserved for only the wealthy and the elite. Just like
health care. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The Federal life-time America the Beautiful Senior Pass
for those over 62 years of age, which allows free entrance to
National Parks and Monuments, just went from $10 to $80.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"></span><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Time for more grape juice.</span></p>
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<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif">Next - Perfection</span><br />
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Georgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02165325439708519673noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8823993742564320393.post-29152616489733326242017-05-07T21:07:00.046-04:002023-12-26T05:47:50.267-05:00More Suwannee River State Park
<p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The blare of diesel train horns interrupt me as I write this. I haven’t even had breakfast yet. This is the sixth train to rumble past the campground since we’ve been here and I have to compare it to Blue Springs State Park near Deland. This one wins for noise, unfortunately, even though the Blue Springs campground is adjacent to the busy Amtrak AutoTrain route. We only had three trains during the night while there.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> I’m not trying to belittle either park, both of which we think are outstanding day parks, but as I write in the header to this blog: “If you are expecting sugar-coated, sponsored reviews, or cut-and-paste Chamber of Commerce pamphlets, you are on the wrong page!” </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">It is what it is and I don't like the interruption of the trains. If they don't bother you, then you will really enjoy either campground.</span></p><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span>
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<p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">We take a quiet stroll around the park early Friday morning in the cool, damp 47 degree temperature. None of the campers seem to be active, only a few dog-walkers out who trade pleasantries as we meet. The RVers and campers here do not seem to be in a hurry to check out, so this is not just a quick stop on nearby I-75 or I-10 for most of them. Kayaks and canoes at most campsites seem to be the order of the day, fitting for the great ramp and easy access to the Suwannee River. The weather is chilly, but the sun comes out and the rain has long faded away. It promises to be a good day.</span></p>
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<p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">We leisurely disconnect the water and electrical power and empty our waste water at the site sewer. We only have another 270 miles or so to Athens, Georgia, and we don’t have to hurry, so we take our time getting ready. We are on our way by 9:00 am and immediately have a problem with our GPS directions. Our very first turn off of US Highway 90 – dictated by our friendly, but quite often wrong female voice from somewhere inside of Garmin’s magic box - is supposed to be onto Hamilton County Road 141, but as I turn onto the road which bends sharply to our right, I notice there is no County Road marker, just a worn local name sign. Just around the bend is a big wooden, weather worn barricade off to the side which warns: “Road Closed Ahead.” </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">This is not the first time we’ve been led astray by modern technology, and we know experience is the best teacher. Go with what you can see and do and don’t make assumptions about what the GPS has programmed. we've sweated through those assumptions in the past and won't repeat them again. </span></p>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-SUPQ35XXDPQ/WQ0rEaRTOqI/AAAAAAAAZc8/jPZxuZouzmA08hE99vcZgI1OPlsO4NLNwCPcB/s1600/IMG_1663.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="452" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-SUPQ35XXDPQ/WQ0rEaRTOqI/AAAAAAAAZc8/jPZxuZouzmA08hE99vcZgI1OPlsO4NLNwCPcB/w679-h452/IMG_1663.JPG" width="679" /></a></div>
<p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">We decide to stop right there and
back out into the main highway rather than take a chance of getting
stuck on a two-lane road towing our trailer with no way to turn
around. Ilse takes one of our handy Motorola handheld radios and
guides me back out onto Highway 90 during a lull in traffic, and we
soon are back on Highway 90 headed for the next possible turn north.</span></p><div align="justify" class="western"><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><br /></span></div>
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<p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">It is a pleasant
ride through the north Florida woods and farms and we soon head back
toward Jasper, Florida, and find we aren’t really that far off our
planned route. We pick up US 129 and drive north through peanut
country and pecan orchards as if we owned the place. Traffic is so
light we wonder if it is a holiday of some sort. The state and county
roads here are great and well-maintained, both in Florida and Georgia. A really nice change from the hectic pace on the Interstate.
Perfect for a trip through the real state of Georgia, something most
motorists busy reading the garish highway signs on I-75 don’t know
exists.</span></p>
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<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><br /></span><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif">Next: </span><span face="arial, helvetica, sans-serif">Comfort Camping at Old Federal</span><br />
<a href="http://sleepstwo.blogspot.com/2017/05/comfort-camping.html" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">http://sleepstwo.blogspot.com/2017/05/comfort-camping.html</a></div><div align="justify" class="western"><br /></div><div align="justify" class="western"><br /></div><div align="justify" class="western"><br /></div><div align="justify" class="western"><br /></div>
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</div>Georgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02165325439708519673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8823993742564320393.post-2297674037172475012017-05-05T23:17:00.026-04:002023-12-26T05:40:32.215-05:00Kick-Off 2017 <div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Our first night camping of the 2017 season is our 459th night in a camper. Rank amateurs compared to some RVers we know, but since we’ve been at this for a little over seven years, we feel like we’ve earned our merit badge, so to speak. </span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> We pulled into the Suwannee River State Park in northern Florida in a driving rainstorm, wishing we could have some of this back home in Port Charlotte on Florida’s southwest coast. Wild-fires are currently rampant across the whole southern half of the state because of a severe drought. We don’t mind the rain, even as it pours through the car window as the Florida Ranger at the gate quickly passes us our tags and maps. We did not have to get out of the car to register, even though I had to pass the ranger my driver’s license to prove my age for the senior citizens discount. No problem. A few minutes after pulling up to the window, we are on our way into the park.</span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> This is our first time at this Florida State Heritage Site park, located near Live Oak, some 25 miles west or so of our usual first night campground at Stephen Foster Cultural Center State Park at White Springs. Both are easy access to the I-10/I-75 intersection, but once again, our not-so trusty Garmin GPS, even with the most recent map updates, led us to a county road marked by a huge “Road Closed” sign, apparently in place since 2009. But, more on that later. </span></p>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-54v2fG9EBp0/WQ0mse0vquI/AAAAAAAAZc8/SWUL0yfFi0UAlQTcigFKGK0NI0istE0eACPcB/s1600/IMG_1626.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="437" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-54v2fG9EBp0/WQ0mse0vquI/AAAAAAAAZc8/SWUL0yfFi0UAlQTcigFKGK0NI0istE0eACPcB/w781-h437/IMG_1626.JPG" width="781" /></a></div>
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<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><br /></span><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;">We easily found our site on the only loop, and backed in to the unpaved site to wait out the rain. No reason to get wet doing do all the routine stuff like leveling the trailer and hooking up the power and water.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;">It didn’t take long to set up as soon as it dried out, and we had a nice ravioli dish – thanks, Trader Joe’s – and soon walked Taz around the small but very pretty park for his evening walk. With only 30 RV sites – all with sewer hook up – and only five rental cabins, this is not a huge park. The facilities were fairly new and spotless, and the park offers great access to the Suwannee River itself. The hiking trails available range from short, ¾ mile trails to one over 12 miles in length. We make a note to revisit the park when we aren’t in transit and have time to explore.</span></span></p>
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<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><br /></span><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Driving on I-75 towing the travel trailer is always taxing, between the constant semi-trucks and the unconscious multitudes holding cellphones on their steering wheels, so I hit the bed early and by ten o’clock I’m sound asleep. By 11:00 pm I’m wide awake. And again at 12:15 am, and again sometime after 2:00 am and again about 4:00 am, thanks to the CSX railroad, which runs its main east/west rail-line out of Jacksonville to Mobile between US Highway 90 and the border of the park. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I had this naive belief about railroad horns and quiet times at night, but those rules obviously don’t apply here. A great day park, but night time sleeping requires closed doors and air-conditioning. Or a love for freights trains that give the land of the trembling earth a different meaning.</span></p>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That old bridge? I'm sure it hasn't seen a train in years... Wrong!!!</td></tr>
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Georgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02165325439708519673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8823993742564320393.post-57170445529291132922017-05-03T16:35:00.016-04:002023-12-26T05:35:45.712-05:00Glamping<h1 align="center" class="western">
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<p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">We were introduced to the word “glamping” by Dieter and Siegried, a German couple we met at Bolding Mill Campground, near Gainesville, Georgia. We stopped by their campsite one evening to ask about their rental Class “C” camper. The RV they were setting up was splashed with the bold advertising for RV America, and we were curious as to their impressions of the experience. They were from Köln, Germany, not too far from Ilse’s hometown of Bitburg, and had rented their RV in South Carolina. They had toured the southern part of Georgia, and were eventually heading to Nashville. They were playing their vacation by ear, not making any reservations, simply looking at a map and deciding where to go next. They were staying at Bolding Mill only overnight.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">We discussed many things about the differences between camping in Germany and here, and as we were chatting in the fading evening light, a huge fifth wheel trailer at least 38 foot long pulled noisily into the camping loop. I asked if there were any fifth wheel type campers in Germany, with fire places and retractable televisions. Dieter smiled and said, “No, nothing like that big camper. For us, that is “glamping.”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">“Glamping?”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">“Yes, you know, glamor camping.”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">OK, now we know. A new definition for the big fifth wheels and the incredible Class “A” motor homes we’ve seen. Glampers.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Our friends Richard and Arlene, who introduced us to RVing, have a theory about the size of camping trailers and motor coaches: the older the camper, the bigger the unit. Richard may have a point. It seems younger, less affluent campers are tent campers or small pop-up trailer campers. As they age and acquire wealth, they move up to bigger units, until they finally retire and can afford the biggest units available. By then they need room for the grand-kids, but they are also too old, or spoiled, to crank jack handles or awning cranks. They love the power slide outs and automatic levelers, retractable TVs and fireplaces that flicker on an LCD screen. From campers to glampers, the progression seems to be natural.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The Europeans have their own version of glamping, but the massive RVs and the inversely proportional size of their dogs appears to be an American phenomenon.</span></p><div align="justify" class="western">
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<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><br /></span><br /><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif">NEXT - Another season! Kick 2017 at</span><br />
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Georgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02165325439708519673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8823993742564320393.post-32477352100318964902017-01-23T21:28:00.054-05:002023-12-26T05:31:27.575-05:00Where Do You Go From Here?<div align="center" style="break-after: avoid; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0.08in; margin-top: 0.17in; page-break-after: avoid;">
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<p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">If you’re planning on staying at any of the popular state or Federal campgrounds up north this summer – meaning not in Florida – make your reservations now. Yes, I know it’s January. Most campgrounds north of Georgia – and many in Georgia – are closed during the winter while most Florida campsites are packed to the absolute limits, at least until the Easter holiday. Many campers head north after Easter, vacating the Sunshine State and filling every available north-bound slot you wanted to stay at north of the I-10 corridor. Now is the time to get serious about your summer plans up north.</span></p><div align="justify" class="western">
<div style="text-align: right;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnt_yvMwNsK88XzOM3_V3iT1XIqsCvzGVt-vwBw2zec7KptnV-k3EsuWgWIVKhMybY5D3OUthokJza4JcYLKMaV4LLDSTV6XWqg4lirHirSy9be8WvMkR9Ub5C849JRHTE6YTFvCULHRQ/s1600/IMG_4598-001.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="378" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnt_yvMwNsK88XzOM3_V3iT1XIqsCvzGVt-vwBw2zec7KptnV-k3EsuWgWIVKhMybY5D3OUthokJza4JcYLKMaV4LLDSTV6XWqg4lirHirSy9be8WvMkR9Ub5C849JRHTE6YTFvCULHRQ/w672-h378/IMG_4598-001.JPG" width="672" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br />Seriously, if you have your eye on a specific campground our campsite for August, make your reservations now! Many campsites have reservation “windows,” which means you can only make reservation within a given amount of time prior to your planned stay, such as 90 or 120 days in advance, or conversely, past a certain cut-off date. Remember, at most if not all Federal or state campgrounds, two weeks is the most you can stay in any given four week period. Having your wife reserve the next window may not work as the rules stipulate “per family.” <br /> <br />Believe me, if you are trying to pick one of the desirable sites, such as those at Raystown Lake in Pennsylvania, or one of the popular campgrounds on Lake Lanier in Georgia, be prepared for fierce competition. If you get in to Bahia Honda State Park in the Florida keys, there’s a good chance you made reservations as soon as the window opened. You will, of course, find gaps of availability for many of the available sites, depending on the popularity of the campsites, but I can guarantee you every weekend is booked solid. The popular sites will be snatched up as soon as the reservation window opens and I assure you they will all be booked for Memorial Day, the Fourth of July, and Labor Day before I finish writing this blog.</span><br /></div><div align="justify" class="western"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIVSFUAG3GO3MA5d88JSiuJXvoCw9wAMn3HHy1w-3wVVG0OmEOjOR7ZgkY7VbCoDjRiew43NTZAMKH-zO4qn4JPiGNpjPeEE3KpkWXe-ZmbN2HPCYZY9dM38LvPrLsSX7rTzKm6nTEEqs/s1600/IMG_0962.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="387" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIVSFUAG3GO3MA5d88JSiuJXvoCw9wAMn3HHy1w-3wVVG0OmEOjOR7ZgkY7VbCoDjRiew43NTZAMKH-zO4qn4JPiGNpjPeEE3KpkWXe-ZmbN2HPCYZY9dM38LvPrLsSX7rTzKm6nTEEqs/w687-h387/IMG_0962.jpg" width="687" /></a></div>
<p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Several unique things we’ve found and now base our plans on:</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"></span></p><ul><li><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Weekend dates are all taken by locals, sometimes arriving as early as Thursday when they park their RV units in their desired sites ahead of time, leave the unit overnight, then come back on Friday to camp. They check out as late as possible on Sunday.</span></span></li><li><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Three day holidays are also taken by locals who tend to to arrive in large tribal groups. They usually reserve contiguous or adjacent sites in blocks to facilitate parking/walking/eating/drinking.</span></li><li><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Most Mondays through Thursday seem to be available at most sites, but some campgrounds are already booked solid until after Labor Day. </span></span></li></ul><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Try and get into Old Federal Campground and let me know how that works out. We have friends who stay up until midnight on the first days reservations open on the sites they want just to insure they are first in line. Even then, they occasionally aren’t fast enough. Let me ‘esplain why. </span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> Our travel trailer is five years old, yet it was among the oldest trailers we saw the entire two months we traveled this past summer. We were the “old-timers” everywhere we went, and not just because of our age. The explosion of recreational vehicles is far greater than anything we could have possibly predicted. The current popularity in RVing is astounding, and as a result, there simply aren’t enough campsites to fit everyone in all at once.</span></p></div><div align="justify" class="western">
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<span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif">For Federally run campgrounds,
such as a U.S. Army Corps of Engineers or the Bureau of Land
Management (BLM), go to </span><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="color: navy;"><span lang="zxx"><u><a href="https://www.recreation.gov/">https://www.recreation.gov/</a>,</u></span></span><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif">
to research locations and make reservations. First, create an
account – there’s no charge – and bookmark the page. </span></span></div><div align="justify" class="western"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><br /></span></span></div><div align="justify" class="western"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif">Trust me,
you will use it often. You can research locations, and specific camp
pads or sites within a campground.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Click on the page, then:
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<li><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Click Find
Places & Activities<b> </b>from tabs at top of
screen</span></li>
<li>
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<span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Click Sign In or Sign Up to log
in to your account or create a new one</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Use search box to find perfect
campground, facility, park, forest or tour by searching by city,
state, zip code or name of facility</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Use filters on left to refine search, such
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<span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Click See Details when
you've found the perfect site</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Select dates of stay by using
the Availability view</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Click Book these Dates</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">For state parks or state run
campgrounds, click on:</span></div><div align="justify" class="western"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> <span style="color: navy;"><span lang="zxx"><u><a href="https://www.reserveamerica.com/">https://www.reserveamerica.com/</a></u></span></span>. </span></div><div align="justify" class="western"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div align="justify" class="western"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The websites may look similar – they are designed and run by the
same company – but they do not interact with each other and they do
not share information. The rules and procedures, however, are the
same.</span></div><div align="justify" class="western"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div>
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<p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">There are many RV and camping
associations with reservation and booking assistance, one of the most
popular is <a href="http://www.goodsamclub.com/">http://www.goodsamclub.com/</a>.
Their camp-guide book looks like a New York telephone book.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Grab your calendar and your road
maps and start drawing in your trip. Now is the time to get started.</span></p>
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<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif">NEXT - Extremes in camping - Camping or Glamping?</span><br />
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Georgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02165325439708519673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8823993742564320393.post-89151870249095018502017-01-18T22:35:00.064-05:002023-12-26T05:11:30.309-05:00Travelers or Campers? <h1 align="center" class="western">
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<p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Being a curious person who occasionally finds answers to questions I didn’t know I was asking, I came across the odd fact we’ve towed our twenty-one foot travel trailer over 21,357 miles in just a little over five years. Add that to the 5300 miles we towed our first trailer, a thirteen foot Cikira, and you find that nobody cares but me, and perhaps a few polite friends who suddenly remember they left the kettle on.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZSdKrmSWZ9XZMg3yLdKh6BNHUEHp9Zj-7dUrq6FJPyUyKipYs4o34bvGlwCBcvSLpa3osqmcVA2OhPnSDCpFtogERCPWvAOetbvtnjzeDCnhfezqi2WDXmSBIkJ9O8yhftE4-wF-1FP0/s1600/DSCN3935.JPG" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" height="596" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZSdKrmSWZ9XZMg3yLdKh6BNHUEHp9Zj-7dUrq6FJPyUyKipYs4o34bvGlwCBcvSLpa3osqmcVA2OhPnSDCpFtogERCPWvAOetbvtnjzeDCnhfezqi2WDXmSBIkJ9O8yhftE4-wF-1FP0/w800-h596/DSCN3935.JPG" width="800" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Our first camper: Sleeps Two, a 13 foot Cikira<br /><br /></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">So, how do I write a blog that tells the truth about towing an RV trailer and not bore the reader who really, really wants to take the leap into RVing but still has trepidation about taking the financial and, yes, social burden of being unhinged, er, uh, unanchored. Maybe unfettered. No, on second thought, RVers are still fettered, just to a different anchor. Well, let’s say a different attitude. One that is hard to explain to anyone who thinks towing a trailer around the country is folly. Now, there’s a really appropriate, underused word. And, yes, it is a leap. A rather large leap for most people. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">For example, where do you park or store your expensive alternative universe when it’s not in use? We are fortunate to live in a county that allows us to park one RV/trailer adjacent to our domicile if certain requirements are met, and most people who visit us have no idea we have our trailer tucked away a few feet from the house. Most people must pay for storage of their RV when it’s not on the road.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"></span><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNGhz5qwBAwH58fxy0B90IIFVWMJEnHpRAfiOqmFeJ7lkMwXnMjR4UeV5fgDlTzY6mm9EV72yTnHlCY879-yJY3CRCa3IiOzqhSJ3VRsP6Xoeq_zn0e10gKEScnCb-MZWTyb-mCB5bmxr7LC9r2IDwv3UclWffPniJ4Q7znqxcgmeeyPRLxQ2EjERnuXk/s4032/RV%20at%20Home.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2268" data-original-width="4032" height="414" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNGhz5qwBAwH58fxy0B90IIFVWMJEnHpRAfiOqmFeJ7lkMwXnMjR4UeV5fgDlTzY6mm9EV72yTnHlCY879-yJY3CRCa3IiOzqhSJ3VRsP6Xoeq_zn0e10gKEScnCb-MZWTyb-mCB5bmxr7LC9r2IDwv3UclWffPniJ4Q7znqxcgmeeyPRLxQ2EjERnuXk/w737-h414/RV%20at%20Home.jpg" width="737" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Home base - Port Charlotte, Fl<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> Having a trailer instead of a self-contained motor home means I don’t have to register it as a motor vehicle, only as a trailer. I insure it as a trailer as well, considerably cheaper than a motorized vehicle. But, let’s back up. Why are you towing a trailer or driving a motor home in the first place? Are you a traveler or a camper? Yes, there is a difference. Travelers rarely stay in any campground more than a day or two, usually as a respite from their journey from one place to another. Campers, on the other hand, travel to get to the location they want to spend time at, and once they’re there, their stay is usually as long as possible. </span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> Most of us fall somewhere in the middle of being campers who travel or travelers who camp. There are those extremists so enamored with the thought of real estate freedom that they actually forsake a permanent residence altogether just to be “free.” Selling a house, which normally is an appreciating asset, for an RV, which is a depreciating asset, is a financial decision that takes far more than just a belief you’ll one day win the lottery or a rich relative will someday send you a check to make up for your financial loss. Those who sell everything to shed the shackles of noblesse oblige may be placing themselves at the mercy of trailer assemblers somewhere in Indiana who really don’t care who buys their efficiently assembled masterpieces.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Worse yet are the self-contained RVs such as the Class A and popular Class C’s sitting in repair shops with blown transmissions, overheated engines, or dented front ends. So much for your pop-up fire place if you can’t get to it. Don’t forget to add hotel rooms to your emergency expenditures budget.</span></p><div align="justify" class="western"><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><br /></span></div>
<p style="text-align: left;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDHoQ3zm73GjN0KKosBQaDD7W90xUOuMiQ-wM9Kdl1tWJPHy8BqDlrP6_a-OXail4d_r6LJj3tn2_3FrAaS4OKCnFJhk1kkBcNzUB7_4T17GFrfpLR6FHkcscrqQ_UeO2EpJ5FEdTW8g4/s1600/DSCN5885.JPG" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" height="494" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDHoQ3zm73GjN0KKosBQaDD7W90xUOuMiQ-wM9Kdl1tWJPHy8BqDlrP6_a-OXail4d_r6LJj3tn2_3FrAaS4OKCnFJhk1kkBcNzUB7_4T17GFrfpLR6FHkcscrqQ_UeO2EpJ5FEdTW8g4/w743-h494/DSCN5885.JPG" width="743" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Ready to Roll<br /><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Do you like having your mail picked up by a neighbor? Do you care if they forget to tell you there is a jury duty summons that came three months ago? Then traveling from campground to campground may be for you, hooking and unhooking water hoses and power cords, raising and lowering jacks and pads, emptying black and gray water holding tanks, and trying to remember if the reservation for your next campsite starts on Sunday or Monday. </span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> When, you ask, does the good part start? It starts even before you pick up your first trailer. The anticipation of what is ahead of you will cause wild dreams and childish glee. Your first night in the Smoky Mountains with a campfire with only you and yours is something you won’t forget, and probably very close to what you envisioned. Kayaking in the streams and lakes of Georgia with no one else in sight ranks right up there. As the reality of those dreams come true, the joys of traveling in an RV come to fruition. There is no other way to vacation or travel that comes close. It is also the only way to take your pets with you, and most RVers we've met have either have their dogs or cats with them. Ours go with us every trip. </span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> Privacy to us is paramount, and we shy away from commercial campgrounds that find space utilization is more important than solitude. Sardines in a can have more space between them than given to most commercial campsites. We have slept only three nights in commercial, private campgrounds of the 448 nights we’ve camped, and then only because we had no close-by alternatives. All the other locations were lakeside at U.S. Army Corps of Engineer campsites, or at state parks from Florida to New York, or U.S. Forestry campgrounds in the Appalachian mountains. Or in our daughter’s driveway, although we now have a perfect designated camp site adjacent to the house. </span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> We certainly have our favorite campgrounds and there are several we’ve visited many times. There are several we won’t return to as well, but the adventure of going in the first place has always been worth the trip. We have grown to our trailer size limit. People have told us every camper you buy will be bigger and better than the one you owned before, but we maxed out on our second unit. The thirteen footer we started with was just big enough to get us hooked on camping, but having to convert our dining area to a bed every night convinced us to go bigger. Twenty-one feet has proven to be our size. We have looked at longer units, and those with slide outs that increase width instead of length, but none offer benefits to offset the cost of replacing our current unit. </span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> We upgraded from our first tow vehicle, a V-6 GMC Jimmy with a tow package, to a V-8 Toyota Sequoia, also with a factory tow package, so we could handle the extra weight of the bigger unit. Gas mileage remains the same, with an average of about 9 miles to a gallon. We get from 10 to 11 miles a gallon under good conditions, and around 7 miles a gallon in Florida on flat roads, always doing less than the 65 mile per hour speed limit. I’m convinced the ethanol added to Florida gas kills my mileage as it always increases as soon as I get to Georgia and North Carolina. It is a paradox my mileage goes up when I get to the mountains. </span></p><div align="justify" class="western"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQTmdBAMSVl5DURRnc18_mYi4fAbWwRo-HO0-t5hnoqptQ3Z6uAaaJKkqBFnKBbCANR5PRJnyrABPqD8HkWIZC9vtqiC55Ttgi7KCPlteDOQINjRkM5d16ZpmbZNzUHypuumrFutq-k6Q/s1600/02-IMG_8515.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="427" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQTmdBAMSVl5DURRnc18_mYi4fAbWwRo-HO0-t5hnoqptQ3Z6uAaaJKkqBFnKBbCANR5PRJnyrABPqD8HkWIZC9vtqiC55Ttgi7KCPlteDOQINjRkM5d16ZpmbZNzUHypuumrFutq-k6Q/w768-h427/02-IMG_8515.JPG" width="768" /></a></div>
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<p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">We don’t want a bigger trailer because we don’t need a bigger trailer. Many state parks have size limits, usually 24 or 26 feet, something we don’t have to worry about, and it is far easier to tow a small trailer through a crowded gas station. We’ve learned the limits of using our gray and black water tanks, and have learned how to extend our setup to over two weeks without unhooking and heading for a dump station. Those secrets will not be shared here. Let’s say utilization of available facilities becomes paramount. </span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> I’ve only scratched the surface of the experience here, and if you’re interested, I’ll post the next installment of the narrative for the benefit of all. Well, for the benefit of those interested in watching a black bear drop out of a nearby pear tree, or having to coast in a kayak while a twelve foot alligator swims lazily across your bow. How about waking up to a fog covered Florida prairie being watched by a Black Crested Caraca? </span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> It isn’t for everybody, but it is for us.</span></p><div align="justify" class="western">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3YeIlyYFgfbxDWwKKmJBZmQfl5g7w6-eKD062oRd8EItPYOsEpbmTu0OG7B5uSLhemQUjo8y66VZCG0QbKE9jqxLXCoxW4fNVQNgiS2IZ952Ey-py1Z7uNam3W0g65FEhLYFjP5JKZxU/s1600/MVI_0169-001.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3YeIlyYFgfbxDWwKKmJBZmQfl5g7w6-eKD062oRd8EItPYOsEpbmTu0OG7B5uSLhemQUjo8y66VZCG0QbKE9jqxLXCoxW4fNVQNgiS2IZ952Ey-py1Z7uNam3W0g65FEhLYFjP5JKZxU/w711-h400/MVI_0169-001.jpg" width="711" /></a></div>
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<p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">So, where do you go from here?</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://sleepstwo.blogspot.com/2017/01/where-do-you-go-from-here.html" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="138" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglG134RdpvYNQGDKJSam7AWEFgBA5burqHPxaKkBJyKmDFnlg0RT6hg41pkOgymwgd0XG2YK5OZS-dKEzKfPE66HL2uNPM9YanpyzDtQ5aVDXTACuc4JFuLvwGpp_OWHFFZGHB3AHzZs_eceZSok46o6N-FIiC371IXtqf2nidnGv_PoyrPC6X-NrQeuI/w138-h138/right_arrow1600.png" width="138" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><a href="http://sleepstwo.blogspot.com/2017/01/where-do-you-go-from-here.html">http://sleepstwo.blogspot.com/2017/01/where-do-you-go-from-here.html</a></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p>
Georgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02165325439708519673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8823993742564320393.post-27556972795209139712016-10-26T22:44:00.046-04:002023-12-25T14:04:15.978-05:00Grove Park Inn<div align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
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<span style="color: #0b0080;"><span face="sans-serif"><span><i><span style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255);">"F.
Scott Fitzgerald</span></i></span></span></span><span style="color: #252525;"><span><i> </i></span></span><span style="color: #252525;"><span face="sans-serif"><span><i>stayed
at the hotel for two years to write while his wife </i></span></span></span><span style="color: #0b0080;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span face="sans-serif"><span><i><span style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255);">Zelda</span></i></span></span></span></span><span style="color: #252525;"><span><i> </i></span></span><span style="color: #252525;"><span face="sans-serif"><span><i>was
in an insane asylum in Asheville. The rooms in which he stayed, 441
and 443, are available for guests. One is furnished exactly as it was
during his stay in the 1930s. Rooms in which famous people stayed are
marked by plaques on the door saying who stayed there and when.” </i></span></span></span><span><i>
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<span face=""arial" , sans-serif"><br /></span><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">They both simultaneously went “Oomph!”; The Jamaican maid blindly pushing a fully loaded linen supply cart and my wife, Ilse, who was standing about four or five feet from the wall of photographs, engrossed on taking the perfect photograph, when the maid pushed the cart into her.</span></p>
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<p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The linen cart hit Ilse squarely in the back as she faced the wall taking photos. The maid thought she simply had to push harder to overcome the unexpected obstacle, and so she gave the cart another good shove, hitting Ilse again just as my wife turned around to see what had just run into her.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The maid looked around the edge of the cart after the second impact to see Ilse staring back at her in amazement and immediately panicked. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Ilse began to laugh, but the maid’s fear overwhelmed her. The thought of hitting a guest with a laundry cart, not once, but twice, terrified the young woman. I’m sure visions of legal actions and probable termination flooded over her. Ilse, still laughing, walked over and put her arms around the maids’ shoulders. The maid’s relief could be felt all the way over to where I stood talking with Delores, the immaculately period dressed operator of the unique, 103 year old elevator, who had graciously taken time to give us a tour of the historic old section of the iconic Asheville landmark.</span></p>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The original section of the Grove park Inn.</td></tr>
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<p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Delores had just told us the poignant story of the “Pink Lady,” the ghost of a young lady who fell to her death in the covered atrium from the upper floor. She was found dressed in pink, and, according to legend, her ghost has visited unsuspecting guests ever since the 1920’s. Apparently she likes to playfully flip unsuspecting ladies hair. </span></p>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The balcony from which the "Pink Lady" fell..<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The lobby where she was found.<br /><br /></td></tr>
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<p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Trying to find our way out of the massive labyrinth and back to the car was an adventure in itself. We ended up in the wrong wing, but the right wing, just in the wrong place. Yes, it was that confusing. Ilse and I had walked from the lower parking garage specifically to enter the world famous Grove Park Spa through the long, impressive grotto. The modern, 40,000 square feet subterranean spa cost a whopping $44 million, and, placed in the top 15 spas worldwide in 2008. It was worth seeing even if we didn’t partake of any of its services.</span></p><div align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
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<p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I asked Ilse if anyone had flipped her hair while we were wandering around the hotel.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">“Why?” she answered, “Want to ask her if she knows where the parking lot is?” </span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> I don’t think she would have found it either.</span></p><div align="justify" class="western" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
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Georgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02165325439708519673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8823993742564320393.post-48220538748960334722016-09-22T21:32:00.034-04:002023-12-25T11:45:16.064-05:00Old Federal Campground<h1 align="center" class="western">
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<p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">We had a teasing first view of Old Federal Campground in April when we saw RVs camped on a peninsula jutting into Lake Lanier while were were visiting the adjacent Lake Lanier sailing club. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">When we returned home, I made reservations for the US Army Corps of Engineer’s Old Federal Campground for the last two weeks in September. As with most Federal or State campgrounds, there is a fourteen day limit for stays. Old Federal is one of their most popular campgrounds and few sites go unreserved, even during weekdays. Getting one of the few sites at the end of the first peninsula means reserve early. </span></p>
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<p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Using the map available on <a href="http://www.recreation.gov/">www.recreation.gov</a>, I picked the spot I saw from the sailing club, site 69. The site is completely surrounded by water, but there is no shade. From noon until sunset, the site is in full sun, but we didn't mind at all; the lake breeze was great.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">We had to make several trips to nearby Oakwood, conveniently located just a few miles away, to replace the flat tire that delayed our departure from Bolding Mill Campground on the other side of the lake. We used the needed trips to look around the neighborhood. The Old Federal campground is not far from Gainesville, Georgia, and just a few miles from the renowned sports car track, Road Atlanta </span></p>
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<p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">We decided to stay close to home, or more correctly, close to the trailer, and kick back at one of the most spectacular locations we’ve camped at. Cellphone reception is great and a good reason to turn on the WiFi hotspot.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The wide, spacious campground is located lakeside just outside Flowery Branch, Georgia, at the end of Old Federal road. It is a seasonal park, closed from late October until spring. The dates fluctuate, so check the website for the exact schedule. In typical Corps of Engineer tradition, the sites are clean and the facilities are well maintained. Most of the campsites on the three peninsula campground face the water, one way or another.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /> </span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> We will be back to Lake Lanier and Old Federal next year.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> Reminiscing - Our first stop of the summer in Asheville - Old Grove Inn</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://sleepstwo.blogspot.com/2016/10/grove-park-inn.html" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="114" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEOYK4jMFFG89CmxmOYGzhfl7wURUb8mc1Y5Yz3WHwJdJ1d1p1An4OIzSvf7X223FG-hmz6OEDHXr3iWTCldXXYtlq6Z6PYyoMSq_RhpnVTjDK6bLj0nH7cF_S8nqHRi1MrdZQHC2cxUbecID6NuVvtctTNzVGpxnche7RccSrmbr6PZmfNjtuRSwzeRo/w114-h114/right_arrow1600.png" width="114" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><a href="http://sleepstwo.blogspot.com/2016/10/grove-park-inn.html">http://sleepstwo.blogspot.com/2016/10/grove-park-inn.html</a></span></p>
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Georgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02165325439708519673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8823993742564320393.post-59085109024099587022016-09-22T14:43:00.096-04:002024-01-02T09:26:03.884-05:00 PLAN AHEAd<div class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Taz barked earlier than normal on Sunday morning, our last day at Bolding Mill. He always barks just once to let us know it’s time for his morning bathroom break, usually just about daybreak. He used to lick me on the arm or on my face to wake me up, but those days are over. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Ilse dressed and took him out but was only gone a few minutes when she stuck her head back inside the camper and said, “Honey, it’s sprinkling.” I looked out the camper door at the dark, ominous horizon to horizon cloud that spread across the lake that said, “Surprise!”</span></p><div align="justify" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
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<span>How
does the Christmas Carol go? “I jumped out of bed and threw open
the shutters...” We had done nothing to prepare for departure as we
had a late 3:00 pm checkout and only a 25 mile ride to our next
campground, Old Federal, located on the other side of lake Sidney
Lanier. We couldn’t check in at our new campground before 4 in the
afternoon, so why not take it easy and enjoy the morning. There was
no rain forecast, so we saw no reason to pack the camper early. Well,
so much for leaving everything until the last minute. I couldn’t
help but think of the three little pigs and why I built my house of
straw.</span></p></span><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I had to race to beat the approaching rain storm. I almost got away with it, folding up the screen room, rolling up all the carpets, and packing all the outside gear away, but I made a mistake by assuming a lull in the sprinkling would give me more time and I foolishly took a break. </span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Wrong. </span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The rain came down in earnest as I finally cranked up the dripping wet awning. By then it was raining hard enough to wear one of my 99 cent disposable raincoats. I keep a supply of the little plastic rain coats tucked in various places around the camper just for emergencies like this.</span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">We finally abandoned everything and retired to the camper to watch it rain hard for the next two hours. Ilse always packs away everything the inside of the trailer, but now all I did was get in her way.</span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">A lull in the downpour allowed me to hitch the trailer, but by then I was standing in two inches of water to hook up the safety chains and the load levelers. For the coup de grace, the rain started again as I raised the trailer levelers so we could roll and the trailer promptly sagged down on a flat tire. </span></p><p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">So, after a few choice expletives, I jacked the trailer back up and pulled the flat tire off. I removed the spare tire from its rack on the back of the camper and mounted the spare. The rain did not let up, of course.</span></p></div><div class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Another mistake was I hadn’t tested the tire pressure in the spare tire before starting this trip, and while the spare worked, it was under-inflated with only 25 pounds of pressure. Luckily, we have a four-wheel trailer, two wheels in tandem on each side, so the underinflated tire wasn't a serious problem for our planned, short trip to the next campground. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">My always trusty, battery-powered tire inflater died last year, and I replaced it optimistically with one of those 12vdc units you plug into the cigarette lighter. You know, the ones with the real short cords that won’t reach all the way from your car to your trailer. I assumed it was battery powered as well, so much for not reading the label. It will be replaced as soon as we find a store.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The soggy trip to Old Federal Campground was uneventful but certainly not boring.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The rain continued all day and we sloshed along the twenty five mile trip wondering how I missed the rain forecast. I always pack up ahead of time if bad weather is expected, but we got caught off guard badly this time.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">So much for goofing off first and working later.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> NEXT - Pleasant surprise at Old Federal - </span></p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p><a href="http://sleepstwo.blogspot.com/2016/09/old-federal-campground.html" style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"></a></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://sleepstwo.blogspot.com/2016/09/old-federal-campground.html" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="76" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEOYK4jMFFG89CmxmOYGzhfl7wURUb8mc1Y5Yz3WHwJdJ1d1p1An4OIzSvf7X223FG-hmz6OEDHXr3iWTCldXXYtlq6Z6PYyoMSq_RhpnVTjDK6bLj0nH7cF_S8nqHRi1MrdZQHC2cxUbecID6NuVvtctTNzVGpxnche7RccSrmbr6PZmfNjtuRSwzeRo/w76-h76/right_arrow1600.png" width="76" /></a></div><br /><a href="http://sleepstwo.blogspot.com/2016/09/old-federal-campground.html">http://sleepstwo.blogspot.com/2016/09/old-federal-campground.html</a><p></p><div align="justify" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
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Georgehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02165325439708519673noreply@blogger.com1