Wake Up Call at Goose Point

We spend the first Friday, our fifth day at Goose Point Campground, doing unscheduled chores. We drive to nearby Collinsville to refill an empty propane tank in the morning, and later in the day we head to Bassett to catch up on Internet stuff. We still haven't spent a complete day just goofing off around the camper. We haven't even blown up the inflatable kayak we borrowed from our daughter yet.

The Rusty Buckle of the Bible Belt.  The huge factories at Bassett are all closed

Friday is our first really uncomfortable day as the temperature soar for the first time of our trip. We drive into town after a late lunch to use the Bassett Branch of Blue Ridge Regional Library's free Wi-Fi, but find they closed at 2:00pm. We drive a little further to a nearby McDonalds restaurant and use their free Wi-Fi to effortlessly log on instead. We want to upload photos from the family reunion and check e-mail. You know, the very stuff you go on vacation to get away from. We did catch up with the latest installment of the Danish television series, Borgen, a show we really like to watch. Glad it has subtitles, the restaurant is not great for sound from a laptop PC. But, on the other hand, try and sit there and not have an order of French fries.

The heat hits us full blast when we walk out of the fast food restaurant. Not much humidity, but hot with a capital H. It is 105 degrees when we first open the SUV, but soon cools off to 103. We drive back to the campground where it is in the mid-nineties and have a great impromptu dinner of Ilse's special fried rice. We eat inside the camper as it is just too unbearable outside. We settle back for a quiet evening as the campground rapidly fills with weekend campers, mostly it seems from North Carolina.

Our solitude is lost, but we know come Sunday evening we will have the campground to ourselves once again. Serenity will once again fall on the southern Virginia forest. By the time evening falls, the once vacant campground is packed. Kids on bicycles everywhere. Typical for a weekend on a lake-front campground. Ilse and I retire to the trailer and kick back, relaxing while the neighbors next to us laboriously chop down a small tree for firewood.

Technology rules!

After reading the first few chapters of her newly downloaded novel, Ilse idly turns on the television only to see storm warnings for all of western Virginia. A storm front that engulfs the entire Allegheny valley had suddenly developed and it is headed east at over 40 miles an hour! It appears we are going to be affected, it is just a matter of how much time we have to prepare for the predicted sustained winds of 50 mph, with gusts up to 80. I find out when I open the trailer door! Tree limbs and branches are already blowing across the darkened campsite.

We quickly take off the string of camp lights that I attach to the awning frame and retract the awning. We put the folding chairs in the back of the Toyota, clean up as best we can in the yellow light of our camper's meager porch light. The blustery winds continue to pick up. We watch the helpless tent campers next to us who had just finished assembling their elaborate canvas fortress. We tell them what we know about the storm warning the same time the park attendant and drives up and asks if everyone is tied down. The next-door campers from Winston Salem are concerned, but decide to ride out whatever comes as it looks like we are only going to get the fringe of the storm.

Safety is the responsibility of the individual camper

The winds come suddenly and brutally. The trailer is solidly chocked and doesn't react to the wind as it is hitting us almost head-on. The thought of watching our trailer disappear over the edge of the steep hillside into the darkness crosses both our minds. We have already decided if tornado warnings are issued, we will take the dogs and head for the campground toilet. Since the trailer is solid and not buffeting in the wind, we decide to ride it out inside. I also decide to buy a heavy duty wheel lock to prevent the trailer from moving. I remember my problem with the plastic wheel chocks the first time we camped in Georgia where the travel actually rolled backwards a short distance. A short distance here would result in disaster.

After an hour or so, it begins to quieten down. We watch the local Roanoke television station which dedicates the rest of the evening's broadcast to coverage of the storm's damage. We experienced our first heavy winds and fared extremely well. Even the campers next to us kept from blowing away. All in all, a good night for everyone at the campground.

NEXT: On the other side of the lake: Salthouse campground at:

http://sleepstwo.blogspot.com/2012/07/salthouse-branch-campground-philpott.html

Goose Point Campground, Philpott Lake, Virginia

After judicious planning, based on the advice of family members familiar with the area, we skirt around Greensboro to the west before turning north toward Martinsville, Virginia. The third leg of our longest camping adventure is one of the shortest, only about 80 miles. We are headed from the Stubblefield family farm near Pleasant Garden, North Carolina, to our first Corps of Engineer campground of the trip near Bassett, Virginia, just a few miles past Martinsville. 

We roll out of the old Stubblefield farm shortly before 10:00 am and drive the three miles to Hagan-Stone County Park, just outside of Pleasant Garden to use their dump station. A better idea than dumping on the ground at the farm. After all, we'd like to be invited back someday. 

Hagan-Stone is a neatly kept local campground that unfortunately for us, is first-come first-served, with no reservations. [Update as of 5-10-2013, Reservations may now be made online for Hagan Stone, but I suggest you search online (Google, or otherwise) for the current web site. Search under guilford parks.

Cousin Bobby had gone out of his way the day before and driven me to the campground and shown me the facility, including how to get to the dump-station. Southern hospitality is no joke. 

After using their dump station the next beautiful, quiet Carolina morning, we look around for someone to take our $5.00, but the one white service truck we see drives off the other direction, and there is no one in the park office. So, we take Cousin Steve's advice and head west on I-85/I-73/I-40, to avoid the congested route recommended by Chatty Cathy, at least for a little while.

When we cross the Virginia state line, we notice the price of gasoline drops to under three dollars a gallon. In Martinsville, we find several stations charging in the $2.86 range. This will help our travel budget immensely, but we wonder how long these prices will hold. Really odd as the price of gasoline usually surges at the beginning of the summer vacation season. 

The weather is warm and sunny, and the traffic is light. We make a several stops during the leisurely drive north to Philpott Lake, but find ourselves only twelve miles from the campground some four hours ahead of the five o'clock check-in time.

Don't lean back too far!  Chock, or wheel lock your trailer

While sitting in a brand-new Walmart parking lot in Martinsville, pondering our campsite arrival time, Ilse calls the main gate. No problem, our reserved site is already vacated and we can check in anytime. We close up the camper, pile the dogs back in the Toyota and an interesting hour later, we check in at the main gate at Goose Point Campground.

The ride from Highway 57 to the campground is memorable. The five mile drive is well maintained, but very twisty. Twisty to the point of being a real driver's test for those driving even medium sized RVs and or hauling trailers over 24 feet or so. This stretch of road would make a really great go-kart track!

Ilse had also asked about a laundromat in the local area when she chatted with the pleasant volunteer manning the front desk as we found out the Goose Point campground does not have washers or dryers, items found in many COE campgrounds. We looked for the local coin-laundromat as we passed the skeletal remains of Bassett Furniture, the former employer of many of the local residents, and many empty buildings only recently abandoned. Empty factories and warehouses strewn though the town attest to the failed policies of moving jobs overseas simply for cheaper labor. Signs of economic woes and despair are everywhere, but the residents of Bassett are doing their best to keep the place clean and well-maintained, even though it is obviously a struggle. We couldn't find the laundromat, or even the drugstore we had been told was a landmark.

An Assassin Bug toodles across the campsite 

The husband of the volunteer we had talked to laughed and corrected his wife's directions to the laundromat when we checked in. We didn't see it because we weren't on the right road. We decided we would take one day off to relax before heading back into town to wash clothes and try to find an Internet hot-spot connection. He gave us our marked up map and we slowly, and with great trepidation, started up the narrow access road toward loop A and our home for the next two weeks. Wow, this is about as narrow and difficult as I care to drive. Getting out of here will require two sharp turns that are at the steering limit of my Toyota Sequoia, even without the trailer! There is no room for negotiation, only sharp drop-offs. Oh well, I'll worry about it in two weeks, or when we have to go dump our holding tanks, whichever comes first.

While strolling through the visitor's center at Philpott Lake two days later, reading the information plaques scattered around the wall displays, I noticed the lake was named after a Baptist minister. Maybe that explains why not only alcohol is forbidden in all four campgrounds, but also why there are signs posted everywhere stating every container is subject to search for “illegal substances.” We have been to many campgrounds where alcohol is prohibited, but never any that threatened to physically look in my dark blue, plastic cup to see, or perhaps taste, what I was drinking.

The Goose Point Campground is a typically first class Corps of Engineer campground. If I had to say anything negative about the facilities, it would be the lack of showers at the Loop A toilet facilities. Clean, well lighted, and easily accessible, it also only has one commode on the men's side, a little short for the 19 campsites the facility services. The sites, however, have full electric and water hookups, so they may have counted on most campers using their self-contained facilities. There is a second facility further down the steep road just before the tent-camper's B-loop. It has two commodes and four shower stalls on the men's side and four commodes and three showers on the women's side. Again, spotlessly clean.

The “A” loop is also a “hill-top” type campground, high above the lake and the lower two camping loops. As a result, the campsites do not offer the seclusion or distances between sites found at most Corps of Engineers campgrounds as space at the crest of the hill is at a premium. No big campers here, and not much privacy, either. The sites are gravel, level, and well maintained, but they are a little scary if one had small children. The drop-offs that surround the immediate perimeter of each pad are quite steep. Heavily forested, I doubt anyone would roll more than several hundred yards down the steep embankments before being stopped by trees. If you rolled a basketball over the edge, I imagine it would look like a pinball on its journey to the lake far below.

The only other possible improvement I could come up with would be to add the one word that was left out of the campground description, the “Know Before You Go” notes to campers. The description states “Access road and park roads are hilly, winding and narrow and may be difficult for larger RVs to Navigate.” I think they left out the word “extremely'. It should go in front of difficult.

We will be here two weeks. I'll have a full, opinionated blog to post then. With photos.

NEXT: Philpott Lake - 

https://sleepstwo.blogspot.com/2012/07/wake-up-call.html

Why you never carry bicycles on a rack on the back of an RV

We rolled out of our daughter's drive way near North High Shoals, Georgia, at exactly 8:00 am, headed north. After five great relaxing days at our daughter's place, it was time to hit the road north and begin our three-month summer sojourn. We tanked up at a nearby gas station a few minutes later, and with our gray water and black water holding tanks at 2/3rd full, pulled happily into northbound traffic on U.S. 441. A beautiful, cool, late spring morning, showcasing the lush green, rolling countryside of northeastern Georgia.

We asked earlier at a campground near Bishop if we could use their dump facility as we needed to empty our black water tank after staying at our daughter's place for almost a week. Unfortunately, the answer was “sorry, no, we don't take outside sewage.” So, we became instant fans of a web site called rvdumps.com, which lists dump stations for RVers who need to empty their bladders, so to speak. Some people will dump their gray water tank just about anywhere if no one is looking, but I have not met anyone who has admitted dumping their black water, or sewage, in the open. I would like to think none of our fellow RVers are that gross or callous. We picked the closest dump station some sixty or so miles away, up on Interstate 85 near Carnesville. No problem, we could make that easily.

Everything was great, we had a full tank of gas, the dogs had quieted down, and while doing a sedate 55 mph through the outskirts of Athens on a beautiful four-lane divided highway, the tire pressure warning light came on. I had checked the tire pressures the night before and everything then was perfect, but a warning light is not to be ignored especially when towing a 4000 pound trailer. So, at the first possible pull-off, I did a quick walk around the Toyota Sequoia, and the travel trailer as well, but everything appeared to be in order. No flat tires. Oh well, always something.

Back on the road again, this time with a little warning indicator stuck on in the back of my mind. We soon hit the Intestate at Commerce, just 18 miles or so down the road from the dump station we planned to use. A pleasant, uneventful trip up the old, dilapidated Interstate, being sucked along by the endless stream of huge eighteen wheelers passing me like I was standing still. I was doing a perfect 60 miles an hour, a balance between speed and economy, but they were passing me like spaceships heading for an intergalactic docking party. The camper rocked every time one went by, and I was thankful I had tightened down the anti-sway bar on my trailer hitch.

This from the second time the bicycle rack failed.
It was a brand new replacement for the first one that dumped my bicycles in the middle of I-85.
Thanks to a safety chain, they stayed attached to the back of the trailer!

We found exit 160 and headed toward the Pilot gas station, our designated dump-station. Pilot is a chain of fuel and rest stations that cater to the trucking industry found along many of the Interstates. They all have dump stations for RVers to use for a ten dollar fee. If you are a member of their no-charge travel club, the fee is $5.00. They recently merged with Flying-J, a favorite among RVers, and we soon found out why they are so popular. Huge, and absolutely spotless, the tank station/restaurant/trucker's lounge had two separate dump-stations along with the truckers section and the regular fuel islands.

The young woman behind the counter had that beautiful, melodic north-Georgia accent that turns sentences into lyrics, and after explaining the benefits of membership to the free Flying-J/Pilot club to me, swiped my credit it card, and for half price, I was entitled to the four-digit code that would unlock the cap to the sewer drain. Or maybe a car wash. No, no car wash. But using the dump station is the same format. You pull up with your RV dump valve aligned with their sewer head, key in the four digit code, and, viola, you have 30 seconds to open the sewer cap and connect your hose from your RV. Neat! Five minutes later we were on the road toward a family reunion in Pleasant Garden, North Carolina, with empty holding tanks. I was positive we would get better mileage with the reduced weight.

We hadn't been to the old family Stubblefield farm in six years, and it had been eight years since the last family reunion. We were looking forward to meeting old friends and meeting all the new grandchildren. We were laughing, talking about old times when a silver BMW pulled up along side and magically rolled down then the passenger window. He pointed toward the back of the camper and I knew we had trouble. I slowed, found a spot we could pull safely off the busy Interstate, and with baited breath (I finally get to use that idiom) pulled far enough away from the pavement to safely check the camper.

My bicycle was dangling off the back of the bike rack, the back wheel dragging on the pavement. My wife's bicycle had also jumped its mounting bracket, but hadn't come off the rack. I always use a safety chain on everything I attach or hook up to the camper, and the bicycle safety chain worked just as it should have when the retaining straps on the bicycle rack failed. As I worked on remounting my bicycle, I realized every passing truck shook the camper, and subsequently the bike rack. The bike rack would swing and wildly oscillate with every passing truck and I realized the standard mounting straps were naively inadequate. The rack was not designed for Interstate travel!

I checked my bike and found the damage wasn't too bad. A flat tire, the side wall was rubbed through, and one petal was pretty much scraped off. Not too bad, considering I could have dropped my bicycle in the middle of busy I-85 and caused who-knows-what kind of havoc. Hey, they could use that in one of those television commercials! We once dodged an electric, handicapped wheelchair that had fallen off a carrier rack in the middle of I-75 once. Damaged cars were all over the shoulder of the road. I learned my lesson from the debris strewn roadway, I was determined it wouldn't happen to me.

I used several heavy-duty nylon tie straps from my kayak tie-down kit to secure both my wife's bike and my now dinged up old clunker, to the the bike rack. After finally finding a gap in the incessant flow of mostly truck traffic, we strained to get back on the Interstate without causing a major pile-up.

A few miles up the road, after being passed by another 50 or 60 trucks, one of the huge monochromatic symbols of Interstate Commerce slowed as he pulled alongside, magically rolled down his passenger window, and I knew what he was going to do next. Yep, he pointed toward the rear of the camper. Damn. Here we go again.

This time nothing hit the road. My bike had been sucked completely off one side of the rack, but only one wheel had come loose and nothing actually hit the pavement. The straps were intact, just pulled completely over the safety stop! OK, time for serious precautions. I found a red, fabric cinch strap and tightened everything to the bumper of the the RV! No way was anything going to come loose this time, and we indeed made the remainder of the trip with out incident. Well, except for retribution from my mother.

We had made the trip in 1994 with my mother for the first Stubblefield family reunion, but I had caused a major family problem. My mom, who of course grew up in the area, wanted me to turn at an intersection she thought she recognized. I ignored her, following a map that turned out to be old and in error. My mom sat in the car and fumed while I went to a gas station and bought a new map of the area. She never let me forget it. She complained to relatives, and anyone else who would listen, about her son ignoring her when she gave directions. It was a major faux-pas on my part, and she never let me forget it. On this trip, I think she got even.

I have an old Garmin GPS, and the map is the one that came preloaded. I won't pay the fee to update the map as I feel it is exorbitant, especially after I have sent in corrections and updates. If I bother with a new one, it will have unlimited map updates. Maybe I'll just go with a smart phone so I won't have to worry about staying current.

Instead of following my instinct, I listened as Chatty Cathy took me up I-85 when I wanted to stay on I-85. Yes, she took me up I-85 Business instead of the actual Interstate, and I soon realized we weren't going to arrive at the family farm as soon as we had hoped.

After the mandatory cussing and griping about my crappy GPS, I resentfully followed her directions to get back on the main route, and as I slowed almost to a crawl while driving across an intersection in a residential part of High Point, I looked to the left and saw my aunt Irene Feeny's house. I haven't been there in over 50 years, but I recognized it immediately! It looked exactly like it did the last time I saw it! We stopped a few blocks later and checked our maps, but we were now on the shortest route to the farm! OK, Mom, I get the hint. You can stop laughing now.


Next: Our first stop headed north: the COE campground at Philpot Lake, Virginia

http://sleepstwo.blogspot.com/2012/06/goose-point-campground-philpott-lake.html

Prologue - The Great Adventure

Never carry bikes on the back of a camper!
We learned our lesson the hard way!  Stay tuned!

We finally hit the road a few minutes before 11:00am on a bright, Florida Wednesday morning after three months of planning and relentlessly spending money. We pulled into one of our favorite campgrounds, the Stephen Foster Cultural Center State Park, near White Springs, Florida, the first leg of our three-month journey, five and a half hours later. It was 94 degrees when we drove in and chatted with the friendly park ranger at the gate. This is one of the few parks where we don't have to get out of your vehicle and go inside. They have everything ready for you and bring it to your window. All a registered camper has to have ready is a driver's license to prove their age if they qualify for the Florida resident over age 65 discount.

This is our fifth visit to this beautiful park. Our last visit here had been somewhat of a disappointment as the normally lush vegetation between campsites had been completely cut back, leaving the normally secluded campsites naked and barren, the area between campsites strewn with dead vegetation. It has been ten months since we last visited, and the palmettos and wax myrtles have made a valiant comeback. They are now well over knee-high, but I doubt they will ever reach maturity. They'll probably get whacked again just about the time I think they have regained their mature beauty. It's pretty here when everything is green and growing, instead of spread across the campground in a brown, dying morass of coarse mulch.

We are only here one night this time as this is a great half-way break in the trip to Athens, Georgia. We have made the ten-hour trip in one day several times, but it is far more relaxing to stop and listen to the bells in the carillon, wander around among the beautiful, moss-draped live oaks, and wander down to the root-beer colored Suwanee River, breaking the trip into two days. Besides, this is the first day of a three month excursion, our very first extended vacation. A nice way to start the vacation and see if the money spent was worth it.

We awoke about quarter to six in the gray darkness of early morning. That is the time of day you can't really tell if it is going to be sunny or overcast, just that night will soon be over. I knew it would be a great day as I soon found my torsion bar pipe tool I thought I had left behind in Port Charlotte. I can't remove or adjust my trailer-hitch load levelers without it. We even called the young man who is going to mow our lawn to watch for it in case I left it laying in the grass where the trailer was parked. I'm sure it wouldn't do his lawn mower any good to run over that pipe. It also puts my mind at ease about my planning and checking details before we left Florida on our first three month camping adventure. 

We had already had one scare when we couldn't remember where we packed the wine. Talk about a scare! We found the box of with several bottles of liquid refreshment right where we put it. Of course, we put it where we would remember where it was! Wrong! We found it eventually, by accident, of course. The camper simply isn't that big.

Ilse fixed coffee and we both had a leisurely bowl of cereal before walking the dogs around the quiet, almost lifeless campground. No one was stirring. By 7:45 we were ready to roll, and after the “over and under” trailer check, we rolled over to the nearby dump station. We were serenaded by the morning chimes from the landmark carillon announcing 8:00 am as I took off my rubber gloves after unhooking the sewer drain pipe. We were ready to roll. As far as the closest gas station, anyway.

We had deferred tanking up when we got off I-75 the day before as the first gas station wanted $3.45 a gallon! We had topped off in Port Charlotte at $3.24, and paid $3.15 a gallon just north of Tampa. We assumed this station was just an Interstate ripoff and waited until we talked with the friendly ranger at the main gate. She advised us to use the station she used regularly, just up U.S. 41 from the park. We were surprised to find every station we passed in the area to be the same, $3.45. We had an ominous feeling about the price of gas for the trip, a $.30 jump per gallon in one day is scary!  Our next fill-up in Douglas, Georgia, brought a sigh of relief. Everything was good again as every station in the area was charging $3.15. We hoped the expensive bubble around Lake City and the surrounding area would be an anomaly.

We rolled into our daughter's place outside of Watkinsville at 4:00 pm after seeing wild turkeys on the roadway, and a pickup truck in front of us brake hard to miss a deer that decided to bolt across U.S. 41 at 11:00 in the morning. 

Thursday was weird-driver day. We saw enough bad drivers to write a chapter or even a whole book about. When you are towing a travel trailer at 60 miles an hour in Interstate traffic that runs 10 to 20 miles an hour over the posted 70MPH limit, you get a ringside seat to stupidity. From drivers who are obviously impaired, running off the road on both sides of a three-lane roadway, to drivers who cut across all lanes of traffic to make an exit, we saw enough to make us want to park and rest a while.

Now that we're parked safely in the driveway at our daughter's place, that's exactly what we'll do. If I remember where we put the wine.

Next: Why you never carry bicycles on a rack in the back of your RV, at:

http://sleepstwo.blogspot.com/2012/06/northbound-seriously-northbound.html

Thermal Underwear and a Bathing Suit

Bathing suit?  Really?

“Be sure to bring a bathing suit,” Monica, my daughter told my wife over the telephone, “they have a heated spa at the yoga retreat so you will need your swim suit!” The forecast, however, was for 19 degrees in Dahlonega, Georgia, the northeast Georgia town tucked in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains. We were driving up from Florida with our travel trailer on New Year's day for both a belated Christmas celebration, and so Monica could take her mom to enjoy a three-day yoga spa the following weekend. Just because it is freezing outside and we're staying in our travel trailer camper doesn't mean not to bring a bathing suit.

"Comes as sweet and clear as moonlight through the pines,"Hoagy Carmichael, "Georgia on My Mind"Well, maybe not on a cold, foggy Georgia night in January 

In all honesty, we started hauling our travel trailer up to Georgia because of a family feud. Not between us per se, but between other dear members of our families, our dogs.  As sweet and loveable as they both are, Taz, our Golden Retriever mix, doesn't always play well with others.  Taz tries to take over as dominant male head of household from our daughter's family protector, an old Black Lab known as Nick.  Nick will have none of it, so Taz has been banished from the premises.  We set up our travel trailer next to their house and everybody is happy.  Our dogs stay and sleep in the camper and everything works out just fine. We sleep in the camper, too, as that way everybody gets their space.

We have always split the 530 mile trip into two days, enjoying various campgrounds in northern Florida or southern Georgia for an overnight stay as a mid-point in the trip.   We usually leave home too late in the day to arrive in Georgia before dark in single, one-day trip as my wife, Ilse, often teaches a yoga class early the morning before we leave.   Since we rarely exceed 65 miles per hour, it is about a ten hour trip or so, depending on the rest breaks, if we try to do it all in one trip. This time, however, we decided to do it all in one day, and the best day to travel looked like New Years Day. We planned to leave very early in the morning and have the dark, foggy, empty highway to ourselves.

So, at Oh Dark-Thirty (that's old fashioned military humor meaning “very early”) on Sunday, New Years Day, we hit the road north from Port Charlotte, Florida, headed toward Athens, Georgia. Imagine our surprise at 4:00 in the morning when we found out half of the state's visitors also decided to head north at the same time as well.  Interstate 75 was busy!  It stayed busy with heavy traffic all day, with the only advantage being fewer of the big tractor-trailers on the road than normal. I expected a few hung-over stragglers from the previous evening's celebration, but not the hustling hoard of Hondas and Hyundais headed home. (I love alliteration! It's a lazy way to mix poetry and prose).

Foggy daybreak New Years Day, 2012, Sumterville, Florida.  The time was really 7:04am

We had one self-inflicted scare, right after we pulled back onto the Interstate after stopping for gas at Sumterville, Florida. Just as I got the rig back up to speed and merged into northbound traffic, my wife said, “Where's my purse?...

OhmygodIleftithangingonthestallintheladiesroom!"  

 It was ten miles to the next possible turnaround, and it was obviously quicker to pull off the Interstate, turn on the emergency flashers, and hoof it back the quarter mile or so to the gas station. We decided against parking on the side of the busy Interstate and just drive to the next turn-around and head back to face the possibility of a financial disaster.  As we sped up and anxiously headed toward Wildwood, the next exit, we talked about the sequence of events and realized we had also used the fuel stop as a chance to feed the dogs. We had pulled over to the side of the quiet, fog shrouded parking lot after tanking up and walked back to the trailer to get their dog food.  Possibly she had left the purse in the trailer!  

So, at a safe, judiciously selected spot, we pulled off to the side of the busy roadway, turned on the emergency blinkers and ran back and checked the trailer. Sure enough, the missing purse was laying on the bed.  After our heart rates finally fell back into the normal range, the rest of the trip was a piece of cake.  Ten and a half hours after leaving home, we pulled into our daughter's driveway, and less than an hour after that we were completely set up and had turned on the heat in the trailer.  Time for a glass of wine to celebrate the New Year!

This was the first time we used the trailer's gas heater extensively, and other than being louder than we liked, it worked well. That was a good thing as it was 24 degrees Tuesday morning and it barely got above freezing all day. Even Daisy, our Eskimo mix, had enough of the cold weather and wanted back in the camper.  As much as I dislike sweating in the summer Florida heat, I dislike being cold even more. Being cold makes me feel old.  Everything I have that can ache does so when it's cold. The colder it is, the achier, stiffer, and grumpier I become. Wednesday was even worse as the little heater worked overtime most of the night.  It was seventeen degrees when I let the dogs out, and as far as I'm concerned, that's reason enough to sell everything and head south.

Just because it's sunny doesn't mean it's warm.

I have come to the conclusion that people who say they live where it's cold because they like four seasons are either seriously demented or lack nerve endings anywhere near their epidermis.   Three seasons are enough for me.  I don't need winter.  Sometimes I'm not sure about fall or spring, either.   I'll take the heat any day.  In fact, I'd like to have some of it right now.

After Monica and Ilse finally got together later during the week and checked all the information about the spa, they came across an interesting tidbit: the heated spa or hot tub is outdoors!   There is a good chance she won't need the bathing suit after all.

The Apalachee River, North High Shoals, Georgia

Next: Seriously northbound next time, the prologue to our first, three month long road trip, at:

http://sleepstwo.blogspot.com/2012/06/prologue-great-adventure.html

Collier Seminole State Park

- Author's note - May 2018

*** This blog was originally posted in 2011, so many improvements made to the park since then are not listed. *****
__________________________

“A nice short trip, but let's go south instead of north this time,” I suggested. 

“OK,” my wife answered, “pick a spot and let's go!”  

I picked Collier Seminole State Park, just a few miles from Marco Island, Florida. It would be a nice, two-hour tow, about 90 miles or so, almost due south from Port Charlotte.  

I have driven past the park many times with my parents as we headed to Tampa from Miami, long before I-75 was built, but we stopped only once.  We didn't go into the park as my dad didn't want to pay the entrance fee just to look around.  The park is located right on U.S. Highway 41, and even closer, we found on this trip, to Collier County Road 92, which runs adjacent to many of the campsites in the back side of the main loop.  The back of the palm hammock campsites are just a few feet from the fence that butts against the county road. I felt sorry for one fifth-wheel camper who pulled in well after dark and slowly crept through the darkened campground searching for his site.  I hope he had great portable lighting to see behind him as he tried to park his huge, cumbersome rig.  The sites are level, clean, and mostly grass, but some are a bit of work to back into.

Originally a county park and turned over to the State of Florida in the late 1940s, it has had several rebuilds as is evident by the outstanding area around the boat ramp and the really nice children's play area, but, unfortunately, the toilet and shower facilities are over due for rehab.  The facilities were clean as possible, especially considering the Thanksgiving holiday crush, but they are old and in need of replacement to match the rest of the park.

Main Camping Loop at Collier Seminole State Park

The original campsites were laid out years ago when tent camping and smaller travel trailers were standard.  The planners who laid the sites out had no idea about the length of today's behemoth fifth-wheel trailers or the monstrous Class “A”s that can barely negotiate the access roads, much less back into the heavily wooded campsites.  The woods between the campsites are palms and palmettos, not the hardwoods of the adjacent hammock,  so there isn't any privacy between sites.

The boardwalk on the Royal Palm Hammock walking trail.

We pulled into the park main gate without any trouble, and everything went smoothly.  I had picked a site back in August and was the only camper, other than the campground hosts, planning on spending the four day Thanksgiving weekend.  I picked a site that, on the Internet, looked like we might have some privacy, be close to the facilities, and be easy to back into.  It was on a corner site with our door facing away from the rest of the campground. Many of the sites have length restrictions, but this one looked perfect for our 21 foot trailer.

Rental canoes are available at the entrance gate ranger station

As we pulled in to the campground, we were struck by the beauty of the stately Royal Palms that define the atmosphere of the old well, manicured park.  We slowly made our way around the one-lane access road and realized the Internet map on ReserveAmerica.com is quite inaccurate!   Our planned site, 69, was in the middle of the interior loop and not on a corner, and besides being far shorter than expected, the picnic table and fire pit were on the same side of the site as the water and electric hook-up.  Since the door is on the other side of the trailer, this makes for an awkward campsite.  Not wanting to walk around the camper every time we went outside, I called the park office to see if we could switch sites.

??? 

The pleasant ranger quickly searched the available sites and told us there were only two left in the entire park!  We picked the one we liked best and within an hour we were settled in and ready for our glass of wine, er, grape juice.  Our first night was really pleasant as few of the sites were filled, but by Thanksgiving morning, the campground was packed. Still, it was not unpleasant even with all campsites filled. Everyone we met was friendly and cordial, except for one small group of Civil War Re-enactors in loop 1, the tenting area, who glared at us as we stared at the big Confederate Battle Flag they had strung between two trees.  

There are two camping loops. The first loop, sites 1 through 19, is better suited for tent campers and small pop-up type trailers. It is the prettier of the two loops as it is in the hardwood hammock and foliage separates most sites. That's where we found the flag. I doubt many trailers longer than 12 or 13 feet, or even a medium sized Class “C” could use any of the sites. The other loop is the main, triangular shaped RV loop, but even it is sometimes perilous for big rigs. 

The Royal Palm Hammock walking trail, a 45 minute loop through the Gumbo Limbo trees and Royal Palms, is well maintained and has a section that is a brand new, raised boardwalk. The facilities at the boat ramp area are also nice, but does not have shower facilities.  The walking trail is accessed at the boat ramp area.  The famous 1920's walking dredge used to dig part of the Tamiami Trail is on display at the entrance to the State Park. It is a pretty park with close access to the western Everglades, even Shark Valley and Loop Road.

A Strangler Fig attacks a Bald Cypress in the nearby Fakahatchee Strand

The State Park is seven miles from Marco Island and the nearest grocery stores and gas stations.  This is an up-scale winter residence area so be prepared to pay more for gas and groceries than a little farther up the road in Naples.  In the other direction down U.S. 41, the Everglades National Park West entrance is 13 or so miles away at Everglades City.  The Fakahatchee boardwalk, about eight miles away, the East River Canoe and Kayak trail, and even the Turner River are only short drive from the campground.

The town of Copeland is just north of U.S. 41 on Florida 29, about 16 or 17 miles away. Copeland is where you go if you want to see where a modern day Florida cracker might live. Some of the residents are descendents of settlers who lived here years ago when the railroad ran down to Everglades City. Don't expect the rural glamor espoused by the legend of the Crackers 'cause it ain't here. What is here, however, if you are into Florida history, is Ted Smallwood's store on nearby Chokoloskee Island. If you are a fan of Peter Matthiessen's "Killing Mr. Watson," you will be right at home.

There is a unique part of the Florida Park System here though, called Jane's Scenic Drive.  A dirt road heads north out of the remnants of Copeland to the trail-head of two separate hiking trails some four or five miles apart.  Both trails take you up the limestone depression known as the Fakahatchee Strand all the way to Alligator Alley.  Quite a hike for most casual visitors to the Glades.

 The drive itself travels through prairie and hammocks that are unique to the Everglades.  If you explore the beginning of the well-graded road, you will find two rock structures a Florida Ranger said were the work "of the locals". He didn't know the origin of the rock piles, so I suggest they are from some pre-Calusa society that may have rivaled the Celts when they built Stonehenge. Or, they could be a pile of rocks some past developer used to highlight a dream of a future city. Whatever.

Rock structure may rival Stonehenge, or, maybe not.  Copeland, Florida

If you are looking for privacy and state-of-the-art shower facilities, Collier Seminole isn't for you.  The park gets crowded quickly when all the sites are full, and the awkward dump station causes more than its share of traffic issues, again, mainly to the old layout and design.   But if you have a smaller unit, love the Everglades and can handle the mosquitoes, then this is a great park. The salt marsh mosquitoes, by the way, are part of the experience at any campground anywhere remotely near the Everglades, and Collier Seminole is no exception. Bring insect repellant or protective clothing for an enjoyable camping experience.  Lots of it.

Next: Northbound in the winter- We're the only RVs on the road, at:

http://sleepstwo.blogspot.com/2012/01/thermal-underwear-and-bathing-suit.html

Whacked! Stephen C. Foster Cultural Center St Park

One of our favorite campgrounds got whacked! Stephen Foster Cultural Center State Park at White Springs, Florida, was almost unrecognizable when we pulled in late on a Wednesday afternoon in the middle of September. Gone was the lush vegetation that separated each campsite, and with it the privacy and seclusion that we so enjoyed here in the past. I doubt the palmettos and myrtles were removed for fire reasons as the ground was covered with a thick layer of cuttings and mulch, branches and dead palm fronds. 

Site 7 at Stephen Foster CC State Park in April, 2011...

If removing fuel from possible wild fires was the reason, all they did was move the fuel from vertical to horizontal. It may take years for the bushes and trees to grow back, if it is allowed to grow at all.  I certainly hope so, and I'm sure in time it will look like the campground we remember.

The campground is still a great campground, just a little shock for us from what it had been.  Now, it is like most of the other nondescript campgrounds that offer little privacy between sites. To us, it now looks less like a state park, and more like a commercial campground.

...and Site 8 on September 22, 2011

As we backed our twenty one foot travel trailer into site 8, we were distracted by a fairly loud male voice booming from a class “A” camper parked next to us in site 7, the site we had used twice before in the past. We stopped and listened as a group of six or seven men and women sitting in lawn chairs arranged around the side of the camper, paid rapt attention to a recorded sermon about the Bible blaring from the camper's outside speakers. 

They seemed oblivious to us as we hooked up our electric and water connections. My wife and I decided to retire to our trailer and turn on the air-conditioner even though the outside temperature was really quite pleasant. Even with the windows closed and the air on, it was still possible to listen to a deep baritone voice tell everyone within earshot what he thought the animals thought about as they boarded Noah's Ark. Really, Grown men and women listening to a lecture about what animals thought as they boarded the ark! I listened for a few minutes, resisting the urge to comment on the somewhat entertaining discourse. I wondered if the speaker had recently read George Orwell's Animal Farm. Oh well, perhaps the carnivores were having a telepathic, philosophical debate about what, and when, to eat. 

Maybe the cows were trying to ban the crocodiles; they can swim so they don't need to be on the boat, right? I wonder who remembered to bring the fire ants?  If the volume had been that loud for rock music, I have no doubt there would have been complaints, particularly from them.

The impromptu revival meeting - I hope it wasn't scheduled - broke up soon afterward and middle-aged couples wandered back to campers and RVs around the campground.  Silence once again prevailed over the awkwardly naked campground.  We don't know if they were traveling together or if they met at the at the park for an event of some sort.  

We had a an uneventful night, forgoing our usual traditions of shrimp cocktail and spaghetti dinner, as we didn't really feel this one night stop-over qualified as our first night of camping.  

We weren't rushed, and leisurely unhooked everything the next morning. We were wished a nice trip by our pleasant, smiling evangelical neighbors who were having a big group breakfast as we pulled out. We were on the road by 9:00am and looked back at what had been one of our favorite campgrounds with a twinge of remorse. One last look back confirmed it did not look as we remembered it from past visits. We wonder how long it will take to grow back. Maybe it'll help deaden the sounds between camp sites.

Next: A change, this time we head south to the Collier - Seminole State Park, at:

http://sleepstwo.blogspot.com/2011/11/collier-seminole-state-park.html