Lake Richard B. Russell State Park

As we sit here in our absolutely empty campground on the banks of Richard B. Russell Lake, we wonder if we are the only people on earth. Well, not really, but it is amazing we have had four days of this beautiful locale all to ourselves. It quit raining two days ago and things are almost back to normal. Scratch the campfire though, the firewood probably won't dry out until next May. We did get to see some of the Blue Moon last night, the first time the overcast has broken since we've been here.

The only other guests have been Jade and Tom, who we met up in Asheville, but they only stayed one night as they were headed home to Sarasota and stopped only as a layover on their way home. It was still raining then so I don't blame them. There is one new tent over on one of the very first campsites, but he stays to himself and could be dead for all we know. He hasn't been seen since he set up his tent three days ago.

We just had a fawn -- she still had her spots -- wander between us and the nearby lake a few minutes ago. Taz was busy watching squirrels on the other side of the campground and didn't see the young intruder as she non-nonchalantly wandered through our campsite, stopping occasionally to nibble on some new found growth. The fawn never looked up, she had no idea we were here, and Taz never looked over, he had no idea she was there. Really unique! They were only yards apart, yet neither knew the other was there. These are priceless moments.

However, there is a dark side to camping. A price to pay, so to speak. No matter what precautions you take, something seems to always slip in and bite you on the ankle. And on the shin. And on the thigh. And on the soft, tender flesh that can extend all the way to your armpit: chiggers! 

Ilse found them, or vice-versa, while standing in a recently mowed trail that led through a grass field while making a cell phone call. Oddly, I didn't suffer the massive attack and I walked only a few feet away from where Ilse walked! To say the scores of the little buggers has put a crimp in our life style would be an understatement. Ilse is on the verge of intense discomfort, which is to say, pain. Which translates to: DON'T TOUCH ME! Unless, of course, you want to help me scratch!

I don't take it personally, I have had chigger bites in some very personal locations that caused me to consider castration as a remedy. They are nasty little buggers! These are the things Coleman and Camping World conveniently leave out of their media ads about the joy of sleeping outdoors. Time heals all wounds. Hopefully.

We had another surprise as we tried to make reservations at a nearby park we haven't used before, Hard Labor Creek State Park, for the Labor Day weekend. All sites had already been reserved for the entire three-day weekend. Same for Watsadler, and even the park we were in, the Richard B. Russell State Park, which has been almost completely empty since we arrived almost a week ago! 

The locals pile into every available campsite all over the south for an end-of-summer ritual, and if you don't reserve early, you are like us: SOL! Which means, of course, Should of Learned! [Yes, I know! It should be SHL, but that doesn't make it funny...]

Our daughter invites us to park at their place over the Labor Day Weekend, so we only have to reserve a spot up until that Saturday at Hard Labor Creek. Then we'll move to her place for a few days before we head home. 

All is well in the world. We will get to spend extra time with our granddaughter, which is always a plus, and we won't have to suffer Genghis Khan and his juvenile hordes as they see how much toilet paper they can stuff in the men's room toilets.

It's what you do with what you've got that counts.

NEXT: Another Pleasant Surprise, at Hard Labor Creek State park, at:

http://sleepstwo.blogspot.com/2013/08/hard-labor-creek-state-park.html 

Richard B. Russell State Park - Alone, at Last!

Richard B. Russell State Park

For the second time in our relatively short history of camping, we are alone. Except for the camp hosts somewhere up the hill, we are the only campers in the Richard Russell State Park campground! There is a huge group of Indian families having a rather boisterous get together at a pavilion not far from us, which adds to the oddity of the situation. Hearing Hindi music drift across a lake in rural northeastern Georgia is as incongruous as listening to Randy Travis at a square dance in Mumbai. They'll be gone as evening falls, and then we'll have the entire campground to ourselves. They are probably the medical staff and their families from all the local hospitals and pharmacies. They are the only ones over there, and we are the only ones here. They are obviously having a good time. How unique can it get.

And, it quit raining! It is still overcast though, and comfortably warm.

This park has a rather well-known golf course, although today there are no golfers. There are only two boat trailers on the four slot mega-boat ramp, which was put in for the 1996 Olympics. There is a plaque on another boat ramp identifying the lake as an official rowing training site for the 1996 Olympics. 

I wondered whatever happened to our old Cikira... Oh, no, that's not it!

The park is manicured and well taken care of. The roadways are mowed and the camp pads are clean, wide, and in the style of all Georgia state parks, open to first come, first served. On line reservations only confirm the number of campers, so you pick your site from what's available when you get here. If 28 people register, the campground is full and reservations are closed. Individual campsites can not be reserved. Since we got to pick from 26 sites when we got here, we believe we have the best site in the campground!

The Richard Russell State park gets high marks from us. Even though the shower and toilet facilities are old, they are spotlessly clean. A note on the wall has the contact for the camp hosts in case of problems. If the toilets get messed up today, though, I'm sure we'll be prime suspects.

NEXT: Enjoying our solitude, at:

http://sleepstwo.blogspot.com/2013/08/richard-b-russell-state-park.html 

Just Singin' in the Rain...

The young lady in the form-fitted red dress calls it a “rain event.” She looks as if she is in high school, but she is the weather person for a local television station so I'm sure she knows what she is talking about. Just the same, calling the constant rain we've had for several days now a rain event doesn't require a college degree. It rained daily while we were up in Asheville at Lake Powhatan, and now it is raining constantly with only occasional breaks in the persistent drizzle. Constant rain really does dampen the camping spirit, so to speak, and we've seen many tent campers pack in early and head home. We left Lake Powhatan early Friday morning while it was semi-dry and got to pack away the mats and awnings while they were also semi-dry. We barely got out of the mountains before it came down again in earnest.

We opted to not take the Blueridge Parkway just outside the main gate, but rather we picked up NC 280 just south of Asheville and cruised along the mountains into pretty Brevard, not too many miles down the road. There we picked up the “waterfall trail,” US 64 and headed to Cashiers, a road we last drove in 1980. The rain faded away so it was an overcast, chilly day; perfect for towing a trailer.

Back then, U.S. 64 was a narrow, twisty road that really suited the turbo Mustang Cobra I owned at the time. The McLaren orange sports sedan had a Michelin handling package and made mincemeat of the mountainous highway. It was an absolute dream to drive through the mountains. The countryside back then was still Appalachia, with roadside vegetable stands and people sitting on their porches watching traffic. It looked like it had in my youth.

The highway hasn't changed much in thirty-three years. In fact, most parts don't appear to have even had any maintenance since the last time we drove it. Beautiful drive, but definitely not the right road to tow a camper! It was a scenic, if somewhat busy ride, with several anxious moments watching high-dollar SUV's crossing the double yellow line while headed toward us.

What has changed, though, is the landscape. With sterile, man-made waterfalls and gated communities dotting many corners along the roadside to Cashiers and Highlands, it looks like the money has found where to go for the summer. Asheville looks practically poverty stricken by comparison. There are more Audi's, Mercedes Benz and Lexus here this time of year than in Palm Beach or Naples. The highway traffic jams are made up of Porsches, BMW's, and Jaguars, many of which have Florida license plates. Appalachia has a new face, at least in the far southwest corner of North Carolina, and it doesn't spit tobacco anymore.

By the time we drop out of the mountains into Dillard, Georgia, the rains start again and it appears we are back in reality as normal traffic seems to be made up of Toyotas, Chevvies, vans and pickup trucks. The ride down to Richard Russell State Park near Elberton is an easy, uneventful, if wet, drive.

Since rain is forecast for the next five days or so, we've decided to stay at Richard Russell State Park in Georgia instead of heading up the road a short distance to Lake Hartwell and Watsadler Campground, one of our favorites, as we first planned. Since we can't go outside to play, we'll stay inside and take advantage of the basic cable television service and the free Wi-Fi, neither of which are available at Watsadler.

Hopefully, the “rain event” will pass by before we all get cabin fever.

NEXT: Alone, At Last, at Richard Russell State Park, at:

http://sleepstwo.blogspot.com/2013/08/alone-at-last.html