Author: chichlee

Spring 2021-Part 6 (end)

Ft. Hamby CG, Goose Point CG

Departure day, Wednesday, April 28, left Leslie, Annie, and Karen & Steve at Lake Powhatan, while the remainder of us scattered—some to homes, some to further campgrounds.

John & Mary and we took a leisurely drive (~2 hours) to Ft. Hamby Campground, another lakeside campground just outside of Wilkesboro, NC (near Mt. Airy). It was a pretty Corps of Engineers place along W. Kerr Scott Reservoir (not to be confused with Kerr Lake near Clarksville, VA). We set up in site #5, without a water view, and J&M were uphill from us in (possibly?) #7. The bathhouse was nearby, clean, and communal.

As with many of our travel days, we ate an easy meal around J&M’s campfire and hit the hay.

On Thursday, April 29 Jack and I took a 50-minute cycle, doing the 2.5-mile paved roads once and the (longer) gravel, pavilion, and group camping areas once for a total of about 7 miles. There was lots of climbing involved, so it turned out to be a good workout. J&M drove down to the boat launch area and took the kayaks out.

Drove into Wilkesboro for provisions (from a Lowes Foods that was quite nice) and Jack communicated with his eye surgeon about his upcoming cataract surgeries, starting with the right eye on May 12. As the day warmed into the 80s, we lounged about in the shade and cooked a pork loin and fresh corn on the cob on the grill, and J&M brought potatoes to share.

Friday, April 30 was an exercise day like the one before with us riding the loops and roads and J&M kayaking in the lake. 

Additionally, I walked the Bushwacker Falls Trail, along the water’s edge and then up a feeder creek, which was a down-and-back of not quite 2 miles. The evening held a visit from John’s cousin Rachel who lives in Boones Mill, and we joined them at their site to meet her and share Mary’s spaghetti & salad dinner with them.

We left Ft. Hamby early on Saturday, May 1, letting our house sitter, John, know we were returning earlier than we’d expected, and we threw the ball for mischief a while, and exchanged some things in the trailer for our next, appended, adventure—a friend who was unable to use her reservation gifted it to us, so we left home after a breakfast of locally-grown fresh eggs and bacon, on Sunday, May 2 at about 2P. After feeding up the falcon and packing up all the dogs’ gear (and the dogs) we got to Philpott Lake’s Goose Point Campground about 45 minutes later. Site #6 was right above the beach, with no site (other than the picnic pavilion and beach area) to the east side. The BBB that had used the site before us was still in place, so we parked in the overflow parking area next to the amphitheater, and took a short hike along the water’s edge to let the dogs stretch their legs.

The site was wide enough that we could angle the trailer so our back was mostly to the road, and it was nicely shaded. In addition, we were able to receive 2-3 bars of Verizon LTE everywhere in the loop.

On the downside, the wind off the water was positively howling, so we chose not to set up the awning. Managing our gear with no awning and the forecast rain was a bit of a challenge, but we arranged everything, and then Jack turned around and drove back home.

His two appointments for the day (a paperwork/pre-op for the surgery, and getting a Covid-19 test prior to his surgery) were scheduled for Monday, May 3, so he trundled back home to rest up before being poked, prodded, and paperworked. My evening amounted to eating a salad, walking the dogs and going to bed early with my book.

As expected, the rains arrived at 5A, and I buttoned up the trailer and stayed in bed a few hours Monday, May 3. The winds had calmed considerably, however, and the rain actually had let up as dawn approached, so I decided to wrestle the awning up by myself. Not a bad job, even if I did say so myself.

While it rained off-and-on most of the day, the dogs and I took hike/walks when the downpour wasn’t too terrible.

Still, the interior moisture from towels, clothes, and doggie fur prompted me to turn on the AC to help dry things out. I took one long hike solo, so I could really stretch my legs without having to stop every time the dogs wanted to sniff something, and had an interesting encounter with a box turtle.

I’m one of those who will get out of a car to move a turtle out of the road in the direction it was headed to prevent accidental deaths. So when I took my brisk (mostly) uphill walk between rain showers and saw a box turtle in the road, I moved it toward a very steep, long bank on the left as I moved up the paved hill toward the unserviced (tent) camping loop.

I watched until it began moving forward again, taking the steep incline at an angle that I felt would be do-able, if a long trek upwards, but certainly what the tortoise had in mind and/or expected (apparently they are creatures of habit in their prowlings). My policy in dealing with turtles in the road is to get them off the pavement, pointed their chosen direction, and leave them be—assuming they know their minds and direction and will carry on moving in a direction away from the dangers of the roadways.

I was on my return march, after circling the first camping loop and the unserviced loop (going both clockwise and counter-clockwise for more exercise time) then back down on the paved road headed back to the lakeside loop. Pausing to see if I could actually see my well-camouflaged tortoise, I peered along the face of the bank and upward to the flat at the top without luck. Nothing seemed to be moving, so I figured the turtle had made it to the brushy verge on its way to some destination known only to itself.

Suddenly, movement caught my eye, and the turtle was pinwheeling back down the steep embankment, head tucked but all four legs stretched out (I assumed) in an effort to grab anything that might stop its speedy, edge-wise roll downward.

At the bottom of the embankment yet further toward the (uphill) entry gate than before, it came to rest at the ditch between the pavement and the bank. With a little effort, it righted itself and began the long climb back up.

This certainly would not do. So I picked it up and carried it up the embankment to the region about where I’d first spotted the pinwheeling movement, then got it over the incline’s lip and onto the narrow flat.

I monitored its progress as the rain began again, until the turtle had made it into the brushy verge separating the path-and-bank from the (empty) camping loop.

Including the box turtle adventure, my hike took ~40 minutes and I covered just over 2 miles—AND I got pretty thoroughly wet. Jack’s day of appointments went well, and he got back to camp around 5P, having left John on deck to feed Flash (the falcon) in our absence. I fixed us an easy pasta and salad dinner, and we turned in with the back (windward) window open so we could close it without getting out of bed if necessary, but the rains appeared to have stopped for good and we slept well.

We awoke on Tuesday, May 4 to the call of loons on the lake, and later saw some floating and diving.

Drove up to the paved road that connects Goose Point to Fairystone, which is a trek of about 2 miles (one way) and is a very nice and hilly trek (mostly downhill outbound, thus mostly uphill on the return). We walked with the dogs from barricade to barricade (no cars are allowed on the road) in a bit over an hour to get about 4 miles under our belts. The mountain laurel was just beginning to bloom.

Having had such a good experience hiking on that barricaded road, we set off on Wednesday, May 5 (Happy Cinco de Mayo) to explore some of the “wildlife management areas” that are part of the larger rec area around Philpott. I had had some luck a few years ago, taking my hawk into such areas to chase squirrels, and had found some unpaved but well-articulated roadways/service roads, and we hoped to find the same in these areas near Goose Point.

Alas, any “roads” we found were short, petering out into meadow-like areas intended for wildlife feeding. Saw a couple of turkeys in the high grasses, but were wary of potential tick infestations, so did not venture far into the first area. 

The second sported a mown area around the edge of such a pasture/feeding area, and we walked around the high grass to this view, which was nice.

Returned to the campground without much of a hike under our belts, so I left the dogs and Jack at the site and I powered around the home loop until I saw this beauty sitting in the middle of the pavement:

I used a stick to move it off the pavement (it was at the top of a curve and I thought it would be squashed by a car) and I hoped it would not head into a campsite but go to the shore of the lake. But I didn’t see it again on my second loop.

Lots of holiday-makers set up picnics and swimming activities along what we thought of as our “front yard” between our elevated site and the edge of the designated beach/swimming area. Our next-door neighbors had moored a canoe just outside of the swimming area, in their own “front yard” so we thought it a bit rude to have folks between us and our site when the entire swimming/beach area, with lawn and pavilion only lightly used by others. 

But the end of the school year approaches and families too long cooped up in their homes due to Covid-19 certainly need some recreation and relaxation, so who can argue?

Our final sunset on this spring adventure was one for the books, and we returned home on Thursday, May 6, just a short hop up the mountain and back to summer chores and mowing.

Until next time!

Spring 2021-Part 5

Lake Powhatan CG

The overnight into our departure day Friday, April 23 was a rough night for me, but it wasn’t as bad as I’d heard some people react to the #2 vaccine shot. Around 1A I awoke to chills, feeling I had a fever. With the campfire wrap and its hood re-wrapped around me, I dozed, but had to arise to relieve myself of much of that water I’d consumed, and was unable to return to sleep due to shivers and chill (and achey joints and muscles). But once I turned on the propane heater, I was able to return to a doze until around 6A, when I took some aspirin and slept again until about 8.

After breakfast and the final pack-up, we left for Asheville, NC and Lake Powhatan Campground (site 52, Lakeside loop), arriving about 3 hours later. Jack had just erected and staked the Clam when one of the hosts broke the news to us that we had to have everything on the paved pad, which meant the Clam had to be jury-rigged (instead of properly staked down) to resist the wind. J&M also had to relocate their Clam as they’d put it in a lovely yard-like area behind their site that wasn’t near anyone or anything. Too bad the personnel in charge hadn’t mentioned that bit of the rule book upon our arrival.

I faded to listless for the day, just resting and lolling about in recovery mode. But with an early easy dinner and a good night’s sleep, I was fine again by Saturday, April 24.

The forecast overnight rain didn’t develop until 7A and carried on for several hours. Our outside temp sensor needed a charge and we’d misplaced the cord, and there wasn’t enough cell signal to catch the online forecast, but we guessed it was in the high 40s. I walked around in the rain, coursing though the chilly, gray loops to get some exercise, then down to the lake itself to check out what could be seen there, including the “beach” and the dam.

Two sites I’d marked that we might consider for any future stay at Lake Powhatan were #36 in the Bent Creek loop, and #43 in the Lake loop. Both include electric, and look roomier and better arranged than our current site (#52 in the Lakeside loop).

The spring dogwoods, redbuds, and lady slipper were blooming and it was a good lighting day for flower pix.

After a brief rain stoppage, the clouds descended again and it continued raining all night. We did discover, however, that if we walked to the end/beginning of our loop, near the dumpster, we could increase our cell service to 2 bars of LTE, mostly. We ate a simple dinner in front of a movie we’d brought along: Promising Young Woman, which was okay but not great.

The clouds lasted into the morning of Sunday, April 25, with temps in the low 50s, but began to clear off and warm up by 11A. John, Mary, Riley, and I hiked the Pine Tree Trail (about 2 miles) for some exercise.

Fellow Altoistes arrived through the day, including Leslie and Nella (and Nella’s friend), Annie, Karen & Steve, and Bill & Michael. After dinners, most of the group gathered at Karen & Steve’s site for campfire chat and catch-up. Later, Andy & Alison arrived.

Monday, April 26th was Jack’s 71st birthday and to celebrate, I thought to make some pecan/cinnamon rolls in the DO, so I got up quite early to begin the fire chimney and putting together the food, but the temps were so cold I was unable to get the pot hot enough, and the rolls weren’t great. We ate them and Jack appreciated the intention, but I’ll have to try again when I both have better charcoal and when I don t’have to fight the ambient temperatures to make it work.

We pulled out the bikes and rode a pretty “Jeep road” (rough surface) called Bent Creek Road to the North Carolina Arboretum property, and linking with the many trails (mostly hiking trails) that weave around the Arboretum acreage.

North Carolina Arboretum

About the Arboretum: Natural beauty comes in a kaleidoscope of colors every season. Surrounded by the lush folds of the botanically diverse Southern Appalachian Mountains, the Arboretum is adjacent to the scenic Blue Ridge Parkway and is nestled in one of the most spectacular natural settings in American. The 434-acre public garden serves as a living classroom for all ages, offering enriching activities that connect people with plants.

Established in 1986 by the General Assembly as an affiliate of the University of NC, the Arboretum was founded nearly a century after Frederick Law Olmsted the “Father of American Landscape Architecture,” first envisioned such an institution near Asheville as part of his legacy to the Biltmore Estate.

Visitors int he NC Arboretum enjoy an array of experiences as rich and diverse as the land itself. You are at the beginning of Hard Times Road, representing one of more than 10 miles of hiking and biking trails on the property. While here, hike our trails enjoy a stroll through the gardens, and uncover the rich heritage and natural history of our area. The Arboretum offers something for everyone:

  • 65 acres of cultivated gardens
  • Traveling exhibitions from around the country
  • Exhibits by regional artist and craftspeople
  • One of the nation’s mot unique bonsai collections

After studying the map, we climbed a paved road to the Visitor Center to see beautiful flowers and more visitors than we’d expected. Lots of folks wandering through the gardens surrounding the VC, but we had neglected to carry our bike locks, and did not join in.

The birthday dinner was grilled kielbasa with asparagus and fried potatoes, onions, and mushies, and Mary brought a lovely carrot cake with cream cheese icing for a birthday cake. After dinner, we joined the gang around another campfire, everyone sang Happy Birthday, and we had another chin-wag into the evening.

The next day, Tuesday, April 27, Jack and I returned to the Arboretum with locks and had a lovely wander around the gardens—to visit the Arboretum, you paid for parking and some special exhibits inside the VC, but hiking and wandering around the gardens was open to the public. There were a couple of vendors of food and drink, one of which seemed to be a rather fancy sit-down restaurant, but we’d brought water and snacks and did not partake. It was hot and sunny, so we didn’t hang out for terribly long, and a big disappointment was that the bonsai display was not full, since the weather had not turned reliably warm in April, so the potted trees were not out.

There were fascinating sculptures everywhere and I tried to keep track of those with artists mentioned.

Arboretum photos:

We returned to camp fairly early because the locals (Leslie, Bill & Michael) all recommended we have an early (beat the rush) dinner at a fave restaurant of theirs, the White Duck Taco Shop. It was not easy to find, and there was discussion involving the place’s fate when the overpass gets built, but we ate outside, down by the French Broad River, under umbrellas (another hot day) with the wind blowing to keep things from being stifling, and thoroughly enjoyed our meals.

Spring 2021-Part 4

Geo. S. Smith SP, Watsadler CG

At about 8:45A on Friday, April 16, we rolled out of Low Key Hideaway, headed north on our return trip. The expected rain never showed, and our final chore was to empty our gray tank at our full-hookup site.

We drove back roads for 5+ hours to arrive at George S. Smith State Park, near Twin Cities, GA. The temperatures dropped significantly as we headed north, and it was a lovely, laid-back journey.

Rolled into site #20, taking in our first experience of this extraordinarily pretty SP, with huge sites, many right on an enormous (412 acre) lake that looked like a kayaker’s dream: no large boats allowed (10 HP max).

There were plenty of folks fishing from the shore and from canoes & kayaks amongst the cypress trees in the lake.

They have one circular hiking trail (Deer Run Trail) cut into two portions, and to get the kinks out, we took a brisk hike around the smaller section, listed as ~2 miles long. 

To start, we had to take a path through the woods, past the canoe and kayak rental area, and across the lake’s dam. Atop the dam is a covered bridge-cum-museum called Mill House Museum, that also housed the flow control for the water in the lake to exit to the downstream channel. 

With those add-ons to hike the smaller nature trail, we walked 3.5 miles total.

Elected to have dinner indoors: on either side of us were campers that were somehow connected, most likely related. Our presence interrupted their physical connection and the children especially, had a difficult time adapting to our presence. We ate an easy leftovers meal and cocooned around 9P with temps in the mid-50s and slept with the ceiling fan for white noise.

Experimented with the Pudgie Pie Irons for meals on Saturday, April 17. For lunch, we grilled onions in the pie irons (over the Solo stove campfire) and then used crescent roll pastry to combine the onions with ham and cheese for pocket sandwiches, cooked and melted over the fire. For dinner, after lamb chops, we fixed apple pies with the Pudgie Pie irons for dessert.

In between lunch and dinner, the temperatures rose into the 70s, and we hiked the long circle of the Deer Run Trail, making 4.5 miles, with the walk from our site, across the dam and to the start of the trail (and back).

It would be nice to stay at George S. Smith State Park for a longer stretch, although the bicycling options are quite likely limited. But we headed out on Sunday, April 18 to meet up with John and Mary at Watsadler Campground near Hartwell, Georgia. This Army Corps of Engineers recreation area is on a portion of the enormous Hartwell Lake, which has many access points for recreational activities all around the lake.

Hartwell Lake is one of the southeast’s largest and most popular public recreation lakes. Built by the US ACE between 1955 and 1963, the authorized purposes are flood risk management, water quality, water supply, downstream navigation, hydropower production, fish and wildlife protection, and recreation. Each year millions of people utilize the many public parks, marinas, and campgrounds conveniently located around the lake to pursue a variety of outdoor recreational experiences, making Hartwell one of the most visited Corps lakes in the nation.

Bordering both GA and SC, the lake itself extends 49 miles up the Tugaloo and 45 miles up the Seneca rivers, comprising nearly 56,000 acres of water and 962 miles of shoreline . . . Hartwell Lake’s many recreation areas, rivers, and local communities bear Indian names of the names of the early settlers and pioneers who first inhabited the area.

Watsadler Campground is one example. Early maps of Hart Co. in 1903 and 1928 show a family of Sadlers who lived in what was called Sadler’s Place, near a branch near the Smith McGee Bridge. The branch was named Watsadler, apparently for Wat Sadler, who lived near the branch on the Old Dooley Ferry Rd. Watsadler Campground is located just off the Old Dooley Ferry Rd, which crossed the Savannah River via the Dooley Ferry in the early 1900s.

We arrived somewhat before J&M, landing at about 2PM. Check-in was 3, but site #14 was empty and so we moved right in and did a “Big Setup” since we were staying for 5 nights—that included hammocks, the outdoor kitchen, and the Clam sited on the “lawn.”

A goose family came onshore to graze, including 6 cute goslings. While I watched, the adults began making the strangest alarm call I’d ever heard from a goose (a strangling noise, between a honk and a hiss) and they quickly herded the babes into the water. Shortly, while they continued sounding the alarm, I saw a raptor fly away, out over the water, and they immediately calmed, but stayed in the water. A bit later, they repeated the noises and I identified a red-tailed hawk chased over the water by crows. Once it was gone, the geese came ashore again.

John and Mary rolled in around 6P and we hugged one another for the first time in 18 months!

After dinner we sat around the fire and I used the popcorn popper Mary had given us, cooking it over the fire (2 Tbsp of oil and just under 1/2 c kernels). While we missed real butter and salt on top, the “popcorn salt” was fine and we enjoyed the treat enormously. It reminded me of cooking popcorn in the same sort of box cooker over the den fire when Charlie and Mom first got married, back when I was in high school.

On Monday, April 19, I went to the dentist, to get my crown glued back on (it had popped off on Saturday). Not exactly my idea of a good vacation activity, but the folks at Hartwell Dentistry Associates were very friendly and accommodating and I was in and out within an hour.

Significantly, on the way back from the dentist, I noted a sign out front of the Ingles Grocery Store that said their pharmacy would give Covid vaccinations by appointment. After lunch, we returned to Ingles for provisions and I made an appointment to get my second Moderna shot, for which I was eligible starting April 22. So I made the appointment! 

Hartwell’s Ingles store was enormous, clean, and held a wide, beautiful variety of groceries, produce, a butcher and deli, a bakery, and cuisine styles of the world. It was truly a luxurious grocery shopping experience.

J&M hosted us for the evening, and we cooked brats over their Solo stove fire on our campfire forks for dinner.

I had spent yesterday afternoon prepping for making us a breakfast quiche in the 8” Dutch Oven with a “crust” of bread points arranged along the bottom and around the edges. I cooked our breakfast on Tuesday, April 20 and it turned out beautifully (and deliciously).

This was our pre-scheduled evening to go see Dale and Jane, who lived in Hartwell (we’d known Dale from our gatherings in Floyd at Dogtown Roadhouse, and kept in touch after they moved). To make up for getting hardly any exercise yesterday, we took a round-and-round bike ride through the various loops of the CG while John and Mary went for a paddle. Just as they were launching, a kayak with a big dog in the bow paddled past.

John and Mary heading into the lake:

After our loop rides (rinse and repeat) we prepped ourselves and our site to host Dale and Jane for nibbles and drinks before dinner out. The wind had risen and we were all a bit cool, but when D & J came, we sat at the picnic table rather than inside the Clam. After one beer (with J & M also) we left for the Southern Hart Brewery in Hartwell.

Full but not shoulder-to-shoulder, the brewery’s bar and dining tables were in the same large, warehouse-like room as the brewing barrels, and the brewers and assistants were working the brews as we watched. On the recommendation of the brew master, Jack and I ordered their “flagship” brew, called Only A Day—it had good body and was dry-hopped and quite good, but a higher ABV than I usually care for.

Jane and I ordered their “build your own” burger plate while Dale and Jack got their Philly Cheese steak sub dinner. The burgers were excellent, and on a truly beautiful bun.

For “afters” we went to D & J’s home in a great neighborhood, that had been built by a sailor or navy captain and had anchors along the front. Dale and Jane were still unpacking from their recent move, but the feel of the home was comfy and interesting (it had been added onto by owners through the years). Dessert was a lovely pound cake topped with strawberries and we thoroughly enjoyed our visit.

Additional goose families (including the first group—differentiated by the ages and numbers of their progeny) visited our site on the morning of Wednesday, April 21. The goldfinches were also numerous and noisy, having a great time in the nearby trees.

We drove to the huge dam visible from our site to see if the recreation/picnic area surrounding it was worth loading the bikes on the truck to ride around. We could see people walking across the dam from our site, and so we parked to explore the path’s surface and interest. From atop the dam it was easy to see the complexity of the power station below, the Savannah River it feeds (before another dam impounding primarily the Savannah River creates the Richard B Russell Lake) and Rt. 29 highway’s bridge across the river.

The walking path to the gate atop the hydro-production part of the dam was paved and fairly straight, wide enough for both pedestrians and bicycles, and made for nearly a 3-mile round trip. There were no signs indicating the path was pedestrians only, nor that bicycles were prohibited. We saw a bald eagle flying over the wider parts of the lake, and a large island that is quite obviously a goose roost and nesting area (it was quite loud with honks and chatter). By the time we reached the gate, the wind was positively howling across the huge part of the open water above the dam.

The best part of our drive was a quick exploration along a back road that we discovered meets busy Rt 29 just on the Hartwell side of the entrance to Watsadler. We made a plan to ride that back road on our bikes to get to the dam path.

For our Dutch Oven dinner on a rather cool evening, we fixed American Goulash (in the 10” over the Solo stove campfire) and cornbread with scallions, green chiles, and cheese. I used our electric skillet to sauté the meat, etc, for the goulash before heating it for ~1.5 hours (adding the pasta and a bit of extra water about 30 minutes before finish) starting slowly with the pot high on the tripod and lowering it over time.

For the cornbread over coals in the 8” DO, I should have begun earlier, as the wind had a profound affect on the cooking time, and it came out slightly wetter than I’d anticipated when I took it off after 40 minutes, when it could have used 50 or 60 I thought. Shared the meal with J&M and tucked into bed satisfied.

It was good to have our bellies full of a warm, satisfying meal as the temps plummeted overnight (upper 30s) into Thursday, April 22. We stayed warm overnight under the Rumpl blanket, but turned on the heater to warm up in the AM. At least the wind had died overnight.

We began the site break-down early, primarily because I was due to get my #2 Moderna vaccine shot around noon, and didn’t know what I might feel like or be able to do on our departure Friday.

I only waited about 5 minutes after checking in before a nurse came and injected me. I stayed in the pharmacy area for another 10 minutes before being discharged, and I joined Jack, who was wandering around Ingles collecting groceries.

After eating lunch from a fast-food place, we returned to get the bikes out and ride our backroad route to the dam. Put in about 14 miles of good (including 2 tours of the dam path) hard cardio work, especially across the dam in the wind.

  • Stats:
  • Temp = 60
  • Ride time = 1 hr
  • Distance = 13.85 mi
  • Average Speed = 13.7 mph 

By the end of the day, my arm was beginning to hurt as if it had been deeply bruised, although I was still feeling pretty good. The exercise had not been any kind of worry, and I’d taken one piece of advice regarding the second shot and consumed vast quantities of water during the day.

As the temps dropped and the wind arose, J&M cooked dinner for us all (roast pork loin, mashed potatoes, and salad) which was quite a welcome (and delicious) treat. We opted out of a campfire for an early evening to be ready for departure day.

Spring 2021-Part 3

Low Key Hideaway

Monday, April 12 at North Beach Resort, we walked the dawn beach above St. Augustine, headed north this time, and we covered about 2 miles.

Packed up and left North Beach about 11A headed for another place JB had recommended to us—the only place that did not refund our reservation $ last year when everything shut down because of Covid-19, forcing us to cancel our spring trip (2020). Instead, this place had given us a “good-fer” to use during 2021. It was the spot the farthest south on our itinerary, called The Low Key Hideaway just outside of Cedar Key, FL (near Gainesville on the Gulf side of the state).

I must say, due to all the Plague madness happening in early 2021 in Florida, we had our anxieties about going there at all. 

As it turned out, we were SO GLAD we did. This place was definitely unique.

Traffic was such that we had no where to pull off to have lunch, so we had arrived hungry and doubtful. The sites were chock-a-block, and full of BBBs (Big Beige Boxes). Also, the sites sat directly off the highway, which headed straight into the funky town of Cedar Key. Looking west, however, was a tidal marsh that was full of wintering birds and, once a day, pretty gorgeous sunsets.

The Tiki Bar part (full name of the place is Low Key Hideaway and Tiki Bar) did not serve food, so we plopped Roomba into site #4, unhooked the truck and went in search of lunch and some provisions. Cedar Key has a decent quick-stop grocery store, with a deli serving pizza (when open) and Boar’s Head meats and cheeses. 

Finished the set-up after eating a good Greek-style pasta salad, and hummus and crackers for lunch (all from the grocery). Low Key Hideaway also has 5 motel rooms, and the RV sites and motel guests all share two toilets and one shower. Of course the BBBs rarely used the facilities, having their own, and taking advantage of each site’s sewer hookup (which we didn’t use until departure).

One notable delight about the facilities (and the walkway to the Tiki Bar) was that the “entry” to the yard area of the motel proper was a trellis on which was blooming some beautiful, sweet-smelling white jasmine. I pause to inhale the aroma every time I walked through, and it was very special.

We decided to check out the Tiki Bar after our late lunch, but there were significant numbers of folks in there and unmasked. Jack, having had both of his Covid shots, fetched a couple of beers for us—good local IPA brews but not not on draft, unfortunately. So we got cans and plastic cups and enjoyed our beverages as the sun began to approach the tidal marsh.

Right behind our site was an elevated deck—intended to be shared by the RV users, so we weren’t supposed to leave our furniture on the one I’d hoped was “ours”—and this was a very nice place to enjoy the sunset. On this first night in FL, we were blessed with a good breeze from the gulf that kept the bugs at bay, but I stayed pretty much slathered in bug dope our entire time there. Mosquitoes were most definitely a plague at this spot.

There were also a pier-and-dock, plus a large yard adjacent to the Tiki Bar for the guests’ use, and seating everywhere for small gatherings, including on the dock, and a bench swing in the RV yard. The Tiki Bar filled up every evening and folks were milling everywhere as each night’s sunset approached.

Our first sunset (7:51P), at low tide over the marsh, at Low Key Hideaway:

After our two Tiki Bar Florida Ales, we had an urgent need for hot dogs, so Jack returned to the grocery for some Boars Head dogs and buns, and we had quite an enjoyable dinner on the deck closest to us, accompanying our dogs with a couple more beers from our own cooler At first uncertain having our own beverages would be allowed, Jack checked with Maureen (owner) and she said it was fine. We were allowed to wander around with our own beverages anywhere we wanted, except into the Tiki Bar itself.

The downside of this place, and what we had expected: No one wore masks—not in the grocery, not in the restaurants, not at the Tiki Bar—NO ONE wore masks in this part of FL. Having had only one of my two vaccinations, I wore mine nearly always, and stayed well away from strangers.

We had slept in with the windows wide open to enjoy the breeze—since the sites had little shade under sparse palm trees, we generally needed the AC during the day, but hoped the nights would be as nice (except for the swarms of mosquitoes) as our first night.

Early on Tuesday, April 13, I took my binoculars out to our tea/coffee spot on the deck and saw MANY very cool birds. As we drank our hot beverages, the tide receded and the daubing birds were having a field day.

A pair of osprey nested nearby, and out in the marsh I spotted:

  • Roseate spoonbills
  • White ibis
  • Green heron
  • Pelicans galore
  • Egrets
  • Gulls

And many “confusing shorebirds” that I couldn’t ID because I didn’t have my guide with me. A special treat was the occasional call of a Bob White quail from the wild area of growth near the road and above the waters of the marsh. We heard it/them on several occasions during our stay at this strange, memorable, tacky place.

Out in the marsh in the center of our view from the deck is a large-ish island covered in scrubby trees that the pelicans have adopted as their roosting spot. I watched 4 of them sunning and a fifth, which had evidently decided it was sunned enough, dove into the water for an ungainly morning bathe, splashing and frolicking for a long time.

The wind died back to nothing by 9:30A and we carried our breakfast into the Clam to avoid the biting bugs. While eating, we watched an army of skinks or lizards (whatever) dancing and inflating their red balloon throats. Whether it’s mating or territorial, I didn’t have a clue, but it was fun to watch. Directly beside the Clam is a palm tree, and there were so many lizards in the trunk (where the fronds once grew and had been cut off) Jack decided it was a lizard condo, with each unit having a “balcony” on which the occupants stood to perform their displays.

We took a couple of local rides, straight out from the campsite and toward the airport, along roads weaving among neighborhoods. We saw an enormous tortoise walking along the road in front of a bungalow, and were able to use the long, straight (flat) drive into the airport for some cardio work. Our tootle reminded us of a trip to FL a few years ago, and made us miss Mark and Angela, fellow Alto trailer owners with whom we enjoy cycling.

After lunch, we took another local ride that took us to a long boardwalk across a finger of the marsh, leading out to a park called Cemetery Point. There weren’t too many people out on a Thursday, and we enjoyed poking about, and noting another osprey nest just off the point in an old snag.

On our return, we called in an order to a restaurant called Steamers, near the harbor in Cedar Key, and ate fried seafood for dinner, sitting on “our” wooden deck. The meal was extra-good and we would highly recommend Steamers—in fact, we ate take-out from there a couple of nights.

After dinner, we had an opportunity to see lots of birds in the marsh as the evening waned and the tide ebbed. 

Wednesday, April 14 (Happy Birthday, Mary!) was a morning high tide, so not too many birds to be seen, although it was pretty off “our” deck, as I tracked a hunting egret in the deepening waters.

We drove out from Low Key Hideaway to the Nature Coast State trail. This trail forms a T with several trails interlocking. The “vertical” runs from Chiefland north to slightly beyond Fanning Springs. It was time for us to do laundry and we googled something that looked promising in Fanning Springs. 

So we began at the FS trail head and rode ~9 miles to Chiefland, where the Rail Depot had been converted to a pretty park with picnic tables, trail head parking, and Chamber of Commerce/Visitor Info structure. Out back were public toilets to serve all uses.

We ate a snack in the welcome shade, turned around and rode back to Fanning Springs.

  • Stats:
  • Temp = 85
  • Ride Time = 1:15
  • Distance = 18.5 mi
  • Average speed = 14.88

Found the laundromat, and Jack got his clothes done, but my machine never filled up with water, even though it went through its cycle, so my clothes remained dry and dirty. Rather than invest an additional couple of hours, we left so we could catch the fresh seafood place next door to Low Key Hideaway before they closed.

Unfortunately, the only fresh seafood they had were clams and oysters, neither of which we had interested. Happily, he had some freshly-frozen salmon that we thawed and Jack grilled it to perfection! We had some leftover go-withs and (as usual) thoroughly enjoyed our meal.

The night in the trailer was quite uncomfortably hot, and some of the biters had managed to get indoors, so I didn’t sleep at all well. Thursday, April 15 dawned still, damp, and thick with humidity.

We drove back to the Nature Coast State trail, to undertake the horizontal part of the T—Cross City to Trenton, west-to-east. But before we got there, we drove through the Lower Suwanee River Reserve, off the main drag north from Cedar Key, thinking it might be a low-traffic cycle opportunity. Saw this tortoise along the roadway—possibly a gopher tortoise?

Indeed, it is a 9-ish mile (one way) “nature drive” of packed limestone through different ecosystems. And while it is shady due to the resident trees, we would bet the farm that it stays close and buggy year-round. Still, it might but a future cycling opportunity.

We parked at the Cross City trail head, out in the industrial section of the community. The paved path starts toward Old Town and for a good 4.5 miles, it is bumpy/lumpy pavement running directly beside Rt. 24/19 with little shade. Happily, the day we rode was slightly overcast, so we didn’t bake. The remainder of the 4.5 miles of the trail to Old Town was better, both pavement-wise and shade/location-wise. We found the OT trail head at about mile 9, hoping for a true rest stop (with toilet) but found none. Across the train trestle, and you have a full 10 miles, but nary a toilet along the entire “top” of the T (20 miles round trip). 

  • Stats:
  • Temp = 75
  • Ride Time = 1:30
  • Distance = 21 mi
  • Average speed = 14.3 mph 

Found another laundromat in Old Town to wash my clothes. This one was slightly nicer than the one in Cross City.

We decided that another Steamer’s dinner was required for our final night at the Low Key Hideaway. Not having to cook allowed us to partially break camp before the expected overnight rains arrived. 

And we thoroughly enjoyed our “World Famous” sunset over the tidal marsh of which we had become so fond.

Now, if you’re intrigued by what we experienced, and think managing a VERY! small campground and motel with a crazy bar, you have the opportunity!

Might be worth a call—at least it was available in April of 2021. I’d visit again if you were running Low Key Hideaway . . . .

Spring 2021-Part 2

Ft. McAlister SP, North Beach CG & Resort

Our departure from Skidaway SP was my birthday, Wednesday, April 7, which dawned with a noisy territorial (?) battle amongst four or five barred owls above and around the newest of the nearby bath houses. We listened and watched—the fight included great volumes of vocalization, and flapping and chasing of groups. It was fascinating!

Annie also departed, and we rolled out of the campground headed for Ft. McAlister State Park at about the same time. She recommended a BBQ place en route called the Smokin’ Pig—all of their outdoor seating was taken, so we grabbed a couple of pulled pork sandwiches and ate ours in the car. I can highly recommend their mustard sauce (mild or hot).

We arrived for our one-night stay at Ft. McAlister fairly early (1PM) but were able to check into our pull-through site (#46) under the scrutiny of an older couple across the road.

Our older neighbors seemed to be grandparents to at least part of a mob of loud, rambunctious kids running wild. Our site backs to a tents-only loop where a pack of Good Ole Boys are planted and spread over a large portion of the area, sharing cooking, fishing, and drinking options. 

While the showers at the bath house were individual rooms, the child mob harassed us both as we used the facilities. Unsure if they didn’t realize that a locked door meant the room was in use or not, I slapped the door and shouted “someone’s in here!” during an especially prolonged rattle of the doorknob. That seemed to quiet things down a bit and I was able to finish my shower in peace.

We wandered through the loops just to see what Ft. McAlister was like, and took a few photos for the record. Not much there except pretty live oaks adorned with Spanish moss, and a boat launch into a deep water channel.

Because the temps had risen to a still, humid 80+ degrees, we kept the AC running not only for comfort, but to help drown out the screeching and shouting of the child-mob. The cool AC indoors also eased my itchy bumps from yesterday’s mosquito feed.

My “birthday cake” after a dinner of leftovers (they don’t call me the Leftover Queen for nothing) consisted of hot biscuits with camembert cheese, dried figs, and almonds. Yum.

Managed to exit Ft. McAlister by about 8:30A on Thursday, April 8. Listened to the end of Carl Hiaasen’s Squeeze Me, and were delighted to re-visit one of the long-time characters of Hiaasen’s novels, Skink: Florida Ex-Governor, who’d gone off the rails.

Otherwise the drive to North Beach Campground and Resort, a private campground hard off the A1A near St. Augustine was uneventful. Choosing to drive down A1A (the Coastal Highway) we found traffic was not the problem we’d feared even with all the lights along the way.

Recommended to us by JB, North Beach Resort offered sites closely-packed, but there was always decent visual barriers between. Ours was #21, with lots of shade from lovely old live oaks. The bath house was up at the main structure, but not a horrible walk, and the toilet/shower areas were decently kept, although could be better in my estimation.

After setup, we tried to ride our bikes around the campground loops, but found the sand too fine, deep, and dry for our tires. We finally escaped through one of the back access points through the surrounding fences (near a restaurant adjacent to the CG called Aunt Kate’s) and into the neighborhood to the south. All of the east/west roads start at the A1A and stop/dead end at the Tolomato River, which one must cross, over a long, arched bridge near a harbor, to go anywhere except the beach. It was a good ride, totaling a bit over 7 miles that we enjoyed a couple of times while staying at North Beach.

Last stop that evening, we rode a small distance along A1A toward the entrance gate to North Beach Resort but paused on the beach-side of the road at a restaurant called The Reef. We got a menu and asked if they fixed take-out (yes) and headed back to #21 to shower and decide on dinner. 

Jack called our order in, and drove across the road to bring it back and it was yummy: Jack had the seafood pasta and I ate fried shrimp, enjoying the evening in the Clam.

Friday, April 9 was the first of several days away, riding rail-trails we’d read about. But first, we arose a bit before dawn and took a long stroll along the public beach to catch the sunrise and some shore birds, as well as a couple of fliers.

The first trail went east/west, and had been adopted from the Rails to Trails Conservancy by the locality of Palatka. We parked at a trailhead in a dodgy neighborhood off Armstrong Rd, but there was a toilet and some potable water with which to fill water bottles. This trailhead was closer to St. Augustine than Palatka, but it was a nice ~13 mile stretch to the outskirts of Palatka, where we turned around. It is possible to ride all the way from St. Augustine, but we elected to avoid as much urban cycling as possible.

En route back to site 21, we got a nice birthday steak, mushies to sauté, and zucchini to grill beside the steak. I made some hassle back potatoes in the 8” DO, and Jack whipped together some roquefort butter to melt on the steaks, done perfectly.

  • Stats:
  • Temp = 77
  • Ride Time = 2 hr
  • Distance = 26 mi
  • Average speed = 13.35 mph 

The next day (Ap. 10) we drove to Palatka and rode to the Lake Butler State Trail. This was a 40-odd mile multi-use trail, of which we rode ~10 miles (one way). Our trailhead was on the west side of Palatka near the municipal airport. This time, we’d remembered to bring snacks, and had a nice break at our turn-around point. 

Rain was forecast, so we buttoned down the hatches in prep, and ate a nice, easy egg salad on greens dinner.

  • Stats:
  • Temp = 80
  • Ride Time = 1.5 hr
  • Distance = 21 mi
  • Average speed = 14.3 mph

The rain came on Sunday, April 11, and we drove into Jacksonville to see if REI had any “flip clip” pedals for my bike (clip-ins on one side and flat surface on the other). But like all bicycle components during this Time of Plague, they were out and didn’t expect them to be available anytime soon.

But since it was REI, we prowled around a bit and bought a few things that we couldn’t live without.

Got a Domino’s pizza to eat in the car for lunch, and the rain had stopped by the time we got back to the campsite. Tried to close our rings (Apple Watch exercise) by walking around the loops and the next-door neighborhood, exiting through the fence near Aunt Kate’s Restaurant. Saw some pelicans, and fisher-people.

Ordered from The Reef again: Jack tried their shrimp imperial and I ate shrimp & grits and it was another delicious meal.

Spring 2021-Part 1

Lake Wateree SP, Skidaway SP

Because we left Meadows of Dan around 10:30A on Thursday, April 1 in quite a brisk wind (low forties/upper thirties temps) we changed our plan from going down Interstate 77 through Statesville (notoriously windy stretch south of here) to heading down Squirrel Spur and south via Mt. Airy.

Traveling in the Time of Covid: Jack had gotten his second vax shot, and I’d even managed to get the first of my two (Moderna), thus feeling less vulnerable on the road. Still, we endeavored to stay and keep those around us as safe by continuing to mask up and keeping as much distance as reasonable between us and strangers. We left home with the hope that around April 22 or so, I’d be able to obtain access to the #2 Moderna shot somewhere along our travels.

First stop: Lake Wateree State Park in SC, higher on the “River Loop” than when we were here before (site #24) and the ranger said the second bath house had been renovated. Oddly, strange wiring in both the men’s and the women’s meant that when the motion-sensors activated, the full-velocity hand dryers would blow loudly. Jack opined to one of the guys trying to fix the men’s that the problem wasn’t with the units but the wiring. But he came away certain the guy was clueless beyond the fact that the units cost $600 each.

The wind was strong off the very high water. The paved pad on which we were expected to level was quite sloped to the side, so we moved the trailer away from the hookups and toward the severe drop-off of the pavement on the awning side. We also dispatched with setting up the awning as there was zero “front yard” not already taken up by the picnic table (which, to their credit, was brand new and still clean and fresh) and the fire pit.

From this minimal set up we moved straight to dinner (our standard chicken salad) and soon tucked into bed with the furnace fighting back the below-freezing overnight temps.

Friday, April 2 dawned with less wind, but chill temps. The internet told us Meadows of Dan (home) was in the mid-20s, and we hoped house sitter John and the doggies were doing okay with the new mini-split we’d had installed recently.

We waited until 40 degrees before venturing out to walk along the nature trail we’d enjoyed with John and Mary back in December. Since they’d had some obvious and significant flooding, we stopped first at the check-in/tackle shop to see if the trail was even open. They said it was, but there were some wet areas that we could easily go around.

We noticed some very yellow blooms high in several of the trees along the path. They reminded us of the kind of jasmine we had planted in our yard in Houston, and confirmed that it was, in fact, the same fragrant jasmine we remembered when I was able to have a good sniff of flowers on a plant that was growing at eye level, enjoying more sun than those climbing to the tippy-tops of trees.

The water was high, and we noted that one of the small bluffs we’d stood atop with John and Mary in December was this time, not raised above the water at all.

Of course, we traveled during the region’s famous pollen time, and many of the trees sported “Racing Stripes” of yellow “paint” around their trunks.

The Nature Trail’s forest protected from the wind in force near the water, so it was quite a nice walk, and I used my trekking poles to get some extra calorie burn. When Jack headed back to the campsite, I carried on and walked across the causeway to the newer loop recently opened to camping. 

This section is definitely more raw and sunny—and at the time I was there, the bath house was still under construction. Individual toilet/showers were being created, but those set up on sites had to be self-contained or drive over to our loop to use the bathrooms.

Later, herds of children moved in and started racing and yelling and fighting all over our loop. Next door a large rig full of an amalgam of families and cousins or step kids, etc., tried to use their scissor-type stabilizers to level their enormous B-3 (Big Brown Box) on a level-challenged site like ours. It wasn’t long before the stabilizer bent and threatened to let everything crash down.

Next to that activity was a group trying to back a large rig, and I know they worked at it for an hour before getting it the way they wanted. Apparently, they didn’t know to leave space enough for the slide-outs on the sides and kept having to move the rig.

Sitting in the waning sun at the back of our camper (protected from the wind) we watched the goings-on all around us. In addition to the B-3 fiascoes, mobs of noisy kids were playing volleyball or losing their gliders in the trees, then breaking up the tree branches in an effort to get them down again. When the sun set and it got cold again, we heated some of Jon Beegle’s pulled pork BBQ and combined with some of Jack’s famous mac-and-cheese (plus a quick salad) had an easy dinner.

We resolved to escape early as possible in the morning, even to forego our morning coffee and tea. Check-in at our next destination (Skidaway State Park near Savannah, GA) was relatively early (1PM). So, we rolled out of Lake Wateree State Park by 7A on Saturday, April 3. Having taken back roads, we finally got some caffeine down our throats near Colombia, SC, and arrived at Skidaway around 1PM, where the high for the day was around 58 (lows in the 40s) and enjoyed a gentle breeze that kept the bright sun from being too hot.

We looked forward to meeting up with fellow Altoiste, Annie, but were unsure which site was hers. While we knew we were all in Campground #4, we headed to our site (#55, which is a pull-through) and took our time setting up for a four-night stay.

We had a choice of two bath houses available to us, one having been renovated more recently than the other. Our loop is close to the start of the Big Ferry Trail (the only one of the 3 or 4 trails on our map that allows bicycles), which runs about 3 miles round-trip out to the marshes and back. 

Around 3:30P, Annie rolled in next door in site 54. We decided we’d get together for a campfire after dinner and then Jack and I took a quick “shake down” bike ride around the loops to get our bearings. While the daytime weather was dry and warm-ish, a campfire was comforting as the sun set. 

Early on Easter Sunday, April 4, we heard a couple of barred owls talking to one another (and later, Jack actually spotted one, alerted to its presence by a mob of crows). And we had our coffee and tea watching a small herd of deer browse their way along our back “yard” toward the main visitor center.

The sites were very well-spaced, and even though we saw multitudes of people all around the visitor center and along the roads, walking, riding, exercising, etc., there was hardly any noise (except squirrels) and the spacing between sites was, for the most part, generous. With the old live oaks and Spanish moss, plus many other understory trees, there was shade nearly everywhere, and plenty of privacy. 

Disappointed that the nearby Publix grocery store was closed for Easter, Jack and I explored the area via car and found a “cart path” leading from the church parking lot nearest the campground entry road over to the Publix shopping area and its backing neighborhood. In the opposite direction from the neighborhood, we found a dead-end road lined with gated communities, straight and flat as a board. It looked very good for potential cycling.

Typically, many rigs departed in the usual Sunday evacuation from campgrounds everywhere. But there were plenty of day-trippers visiting because the weather was quite fine. After lunch, Annie and I walked along one of the hiker-only nature trails for about an hour at a good, exercise-worthy pace. Many folks were also on the narrow trails, though, and I felt like I should have used my mask more frequently, although Annie and I were talking so much it was hard to remember to use a mask.

Afterwards, I began the process of making a Dutch Oven chicken pot pie for all three of us, enjoyed around the Solo stove, on another lovely evening. 

On Monday, April 5, Jack and I tried our cycle wheels on the Big Ferry Trail, and it was not as we’d hoped—there were treacherous exposed roots all along the path. Tricky for navigation, sure—but also rough on the hind parts. The most unfortunate aspect, however, was that our eyes were so focused on watching for roots, we missed much of the available views and southern flora of the trail.

We rode from there straight down the roadway to the paved church path and over to our long, straight run past the gated communities. The dead end and lack of commercial enterprise made it an excellent, low-traffic 2-mile (one way) sprinting venue. After the tree-root hell, it was good to stretch our legs.

That afternoon, temperatures hit the seventies (!) and we hopped into the car for our delayed visit to Publix. Both of us had a craving for pizza so we found a non-franchise take-out place and ate in the car. Meanwhile, Annie took her kayak to the marsh (parking at the boat launch and parking area on the Savannah side of the tall causeway bridge). The high for the afternoon was 75 degrees, and we enjoyed our first “shorts weather” day for the season!

Dinner for the two of us was a reprise of the chicken pie (next time we re-heat DO Chicken Pot Pie, it will be thinned with a bit of Half and Half mixed with chicken broth, the leftover crust removed, and over fresh drop biscuits—we tried Grands packaged in the tube, but the Omnia oven is too small for such large biscuits). After dinner, we invited Annie over for another Solo Stove fire for the evening. I got out the pudgy pie irons and we made two fresh blueberry and cream cheese pies and divided them up amongst the three of us for dessert.

Pine tree pollen blanketed everything, including my laptop screen, and my sneezing might wake the dead—such are the joys of a southern springtime.

On our final full day at Skidaway, Tuesday, April 6, we took another cardio ride down our long, straight road, ending in a good sprint. Before the temps rose to 75 degrees, we tootled around the neighborhood behind Publix, and hoped we’d discovered a wifi source in a “public” library—the word is in quotes because Annie disabused us of the public nature of the institution: it is actually open to residents of its neighborhood only.

We drove out to Wormsloe Plantation, a historic site, museum, and visitor area. Since there were lots of trails and structural foundations, we were able to stay outside, for the most part. There was a small museum with a lot of displays and explanations of the whole site’s history and uses—and some of those indoors did not wear masks, making me particularly uncomfortable in the hot, close quarters. We probably wandered outside for an hour or so, but I discovered later that the mosquitoes were stealthy and numerous, and I was a particularly tasty entree on their dinner menu.

  • Detail of Tabby material wall
  • Standing Tabby wall

After our visit to Wormsloe, we hit Dubberly’s Seafood, on a back road behind a house, where we got some sweet Savannah shrimp to cook on the grill. They were VERY good and if you can find the place, it’s a great fresh seafood source.

Winter Trip 20-21: Episode 2, Huntington Beach SC, Cliffs of the Neuse SP (NC), and North Bend, VA

Our four nights/three days at Huntington Beach were full of long hikes and longer bike rides. We had hoped to get to Brookgreen Gardens, the United States’ first sculpture garden (founded by Archer Huntington and his wife, Anna Hyatt Huntington) to showcase her sculpture collection. The property, created from four defunct rice plantations, comprises 9,100 acres with several themed gardens, the Lowcountry Zoo, and trails through several ecosystems.

At the time we were there, however, they were doing a holiday light show in the sculpture garden, and the tickets to see it were hard to come by as well as being expensive. So we were unable to get into any aspect of the property, even though the gates shared a visitor center and parking lot with the State Park.

For those interested in history, there’s a description of the evolution of Brookgreen Gardens at the end of this post.

Of course, seafood remained on the agenda, and since none of us were comfortable eating at a restaurant, we contented ourselves with purchasing fresh seafood and “eating in.” 

Some good trails wound through the woodsy areas around the park, and there was a lot of beach access within walking distance. The weather turned windy and chill, but that didn’t stop us from long hikes and bike rides around the grounds.

On the 31st, I went to the beach and caught a pelican ballet above the choppy surf.

Pelican ballet.

Jack and I took several long bike rides through and around the park, as well as some urban riding around Murrells Inlet, the burgh near the park. On one of the cooler days, we rode our bikes out to a harbor restaurant associated with the Dead Dog Saloon called Wicked Tuna in Murrells Inlet. John and Mary drove over in their van and we had lunch there, eating our meal in the quite cool breezes off the harbor in the “closed” deck of the restaurant out back. We had fun people-watching, but were the only ones back there and had a variety of seafood meals amongst us. The staff was quite accommodating of our need for isolation. It was good food—Jack and I split a huge order of lobster rolls—and Jack had a slice of cheesecake at the end that powered his ride back to camp as the wind blew up the threat of rain. He set a blistering pace, and we made it without getting wet.

One night, we tried out my tripod for cooking with a Dutch Oven over a fire or coals for the first time. Chili was in the pot, and we nearly couldn’t get the pot high enough over the solo stove to keep everything from boiling over, but John and Jack managed it a some length. Next time we’ll wait until the fire has calmed and the coals are what heats the pot.

I took the doggies on several of my long treks out and about. It wind was howling on the beach proper for the most part, but I did discover this “beach art” one one walk:

On another hike, I took a “nature loop” back through the woods to a preserve area called the Sandpiper Pond and saw this really neat tree:

Of course, the dogs loved the walks, even though they much prefer the freedom of romping around our home acreage without restraint.

Our next stop was a one-nighter as a quick layover en route to one of our fave “hometown” campgrounds, North Bend, near Boydton, VA. But to ease the distance between Huntington Beach and North Bend, we stopped for New Year’s Day night at Cliffs of the Neuse State Park in North Carolina, near Seven Springs.

We’d never been before and weren’t there long, but intend to go back and spend more time. It’s small and intimate, with a good diversity of hiking trails, and we’d like to know more. Our site was #8, electric only, and the day was overcast, leaving the Neuse River foggy and mysterious.

Our final stop of this adventure was at North Bend, on J. H. Kerr Lake, which actually had lots and lots of shoreline and camping options on both sides of the VA/NC border. We habitually stay at North Bend campground because they leave a couple of small loops open year-round, and while they shut off water at the sites, they leave open (and warmed and regularly cleaned) a bath house for campers to use. All the winter-available sites are “walk-up” and we ended up choosing #84 this time. Not a water site, but we enjoyed some spectacular sunsets through the trees at our “back yard.”

One of the sunsets we enjoyed reflected in such a way as to metaphorically “set the woods afire.” The light had an interesting effect on our Clam screen house, too:

As is usual for us, we took down the bikes and toured the open and closed loops, boat ramps, picnic areas—basically all the paved roadways—to accumulate 10-12 miles of cycling with zero traffic. The doggies and I walked a whole bunch also, and enjoyed winter-ish sunsets and vistas over the water.

As we also habitually do, we rode our bikes down below the dam to watch the bald eagles and osprey. There was quite a lot of activity at that end of the lake the two times we went down there to watch, with young eagles and osprey both sparring in the air for territory—both perching limbs and fishing options. 

While unable to get any photos of the eagle/osprey contests, I did get a shot of this perched great blue heron:

On our final night, we cooked dinner outside, off the back of the truck using the topper light. The Solo stove fire was lit and we enjoyed the end of our winter 2020-2021 adventure doing our favorite things we love about camping: eating well and sitting around a campfire watching the coals. The only things missing were friends with whom to share it.

Slàinte.

Brookgreen Gardens
Founded by Archer Milton Huntington (stepson of railroad magnate Collis Potter Huntington) and his wife, Anna Hyatt Huntington Brookgreen Gardens features sculptures by Anna and her sister Harriet Randolph Hyatt Mayor, along with other American sculptors. Brookgreen Gardens opened in 1932 having been developed on property of four former rice plantations. It took its name from the former Brookgreen plantation, which dates to the antebellum period.
Development began with the purchase in January 1930 as a site for a winter home as well as a setting for Mrs. Huntington’s sculpture work. Construction of the house, named Atalaya, a Spanish term for “watchtower,” began the following winter of 1931 (Archer Huntington was a noted authority on Spanish culture, and he designed the house after the Moorish architecture of the Spanish Mediterranean Coast).
Workers alternated between construction on Atalaya and Brookgreen Gardens over a two- to three-year period. Mr. Huntington insisted that local labor be employed in its construction to provide work opportunities during the Great Depression.
The outer walls of the building form a square, with the east side facing the ocean. Within the walled structure, there are two grassy open inner courtyards with a main entry court on the west side. The living quarters consist of 30 rooms around three sides of the perimeter. The one-story brick building is dominated by a square tower that rises nearly 40 feet from a covered walkway and bisects the inner court. It is functional in design, having once contained a  3,000 gallon cypress water tank. Water drawn from an artesian well was then pumped into a 10,000 gallon concrete cistern where the sand settled. From there, it was pumped into the tower tank. The height of this tank gave the water enough pressure to flow through the house.
The covered walkway of open brickwork is lined with archways and planters on both sides. Living facilities, including the dining room, sunroom, library, and bedrooms, occupied the ocean-facing side of the house. The southern wing housed Mr. Huntington’s spacious study, his secretary’s office, and Mrs. Huntington’s studio.
The studio, with a 25-ft skylight, opened onto a wall enclosed courtyard where Mrs, Huntington worked on her sculptures. Due to her passion for sculpting animals, she had facilities such as horse stables, a dog kennel, and a bear pen included in the construction. The Huntingtons resided in the house during the colder months of the year, usually from November until March or April.
Heating was entirely by coal room heaters and wood-burning fireplaces. Ramps led from the courtyards up to each entry door, and wood was hauled in using small carts. Grillwork—designed by Mrs. Huntington—and shutters were installed on each window to protect against hurricane-force winds.
After Mr. Huntigton’s death in 1955, most of the furnishings from the house were sent to the Huntington home in NYC. The 2,500-acre tract, including Atalaya, was leased to the state by the Brookgreen Trustees in 1960. Mrs. Huntington died at her Connecticut home in 1973. In tribute to Mrs. Huntington, the annual Atalaya Arts and Crafts Festival is held in the Castle during the fourth weekend of September.

Winter Trip 20-21: Episode 1, Lake Wateree State Park & Edisto, SC

Our winter trip of 2020-21 commenced on Day Three of a four-day ice “event” in much of Virginia, and of course, especially along the ridges of the Blue Ridge in Southwest VA. It was not a storm, exactly, but a slow accumulation of freezing-overnight precipitation that made getting Roomba (our Alto camper) out of the garage slightly tricky.

With Yak Traks™, Jack was able to use the hand trolly to get it out and situated so we could hitch up, and as it turned out, we didn’t have any trouble hauling out of the driveway (all uphill and around one significant curve).

But with the weather forecast for moderately mild overnight temperatures (in the higher-twenties to mid-thirties, with daytimes in the forties, we made the leap to the sunny south on December 18. Mischief and Chase accompanied us, and I’d earlier in the week dropped Flash off for Marc to falcon-sit while I was gone. We’d also drained the water pipes in the house and artfully arranged a few electric-based heaters around the house.

It was about a 4-5 hour drive to our first destination, Lake Wateree State Park, near Winnsboro, South Carolina, where we met up with camping buddies, John and Mary. We were in site #7, in their Riverside loop, and J&M were next door. 

It was chilly, but a significant amount nicer than in Meadows of Dan. We enjoyed some good walks around the camping loop, and one nice stroll into the woodsy Nature Trail on the property, which the doggies enjoyed as well.

Even though Wateree was a layover en route to our main destination, it was a place we’d return to—but not in summer. Fishing and motor boats are big around the lake, and I’d bet the insects and humidity in summer would peel your skin. Jack and I didn’t even take down the bikes from the rack, even though we were looking forward to some good flatland cycling.

Lake Wateree State Park is 238 acres around the Lake. It was opened in 1984 and has always been popular. There are 72 camp sites in the River Campground, 14 of which are waterfront. There’s a park store as well.

The lake itself is 13,700 acres, with about 242 miles of shoreline. It is fed from the Catawba-Wateree River system, many of the waters of which originate in North Carolina. The dam impounding the lake was completed in 1920, and is 3,380 ft. long. 

On Sunday, December 20 we moved to Edisto State Park (SC) into site 114 of the Live Oak loop (not the Beach loop). We had a lovely view across the marshland, and watched mud daubing birds work the mud flats at the back of our site. We were able to arrange Roomba to face the sunset over the marsh, so our back was to the loop road.

The bath house is a large pavilion-style structure with a wrap-around porch you climb 4 steps to attain, and the rectangle is divided along its entire length with men’s on one length and women’s on the other, and access to both at each end. The staff keep the bathhouse very clean and disinfected, and masks are not only required, but (for the most part) are actually worn by the majority of the people using the facilities.

J&M were next door in site 113, and their friends, Gary and Diane (in a Airstream Base Camp) set up across from them. There are quite a lot of nice sites in this loop, which everyone “disses” because it’s not beachside. Frankly, as long as you don’t get one of the sites that back up to Rt. 174, where there is lots of road noise, these sites are well-separated from each other, many are quite nicely deep and away from the loop road, and beautifully shady with towering live oaks and palmetto palms to keep things private. At least at this time of year, it was a very quiet and “mature” group staying.

There are, however, feral cats and raccoons in residence. And thousands of squirrels, making the dogs a bit crazy. On the nights we sat outside in the evening, the squirrels, desperate to stock up before nightfall, just pelted acorns and live oak “shrapnel” on our heads. Happily, they went away by nightfall.

On Monday December 21, we all grouped our solo stoves at our site to be sure to watch what was to be seen of the conjunction of Jupiter and Saturn. This was to happen on the Solstice this year for the first time in 800+ years. Even though we were not standing on the planet at the point where the two most visibly conjoined, we were able to see the two in the sky, right beside one another. So although we didn’t get the “Christmas Star” effect, it was pretty awesome.

We had a “shared” meal with everyone having cooked for themselves, but everyone tasting of one another’s offerings. Gary and Diane had done shrimp two ways (sautéed over their propane stove, and roasted over the solo stove), John had made hassleback potatoes in his dutch oven, and I fixed our “famous” chicken pot pie in our DO. It was a splendid kickoff for our week’s stay at Edisto.

The next day (Dec. 22) we got the bikes down and explored the trail system at our end of the park. The paths are pounded sand, and where there are marsh crossings, they’ve built boardwalks. Bikes are allowed on all of the trails, and they all interconnect. Some turned out to be muddier and more root-ridden than others, but overall, it’s a great system for both cycling and walking, of which we did both.

At the end of the longest trail, called Spanish Mound, we saw this “egret condo” where a hand full of birds were roosted as the evening descended.

At that end of the area is a deep water “river” for larger boat access to the Atlantic Ocean.

One of my first (of many) walks was down the Cabin Road—it is not frequented by walkers nor vehicles (the sign says Cabin Guests only beyond this sign, but I went anyway) and is long enough to be worth the effort: about 1.5 miles round trip. One of the mapped trails crosses the Cabin Rd., starting at one end off the Spanish Mound tr., and ending on Rt. 174 near the causeway, which allows vehicles (and walkers) to cross the marsh and get into Edisto proper.

At the end of the Cabin Road, there’s a sign that says “no pets in cabin area” so I turned the dogs around at that point on my first walk. Adding the cabin loop on a bike ride might add a quarter to a third of a mile onto the total “stop at the no pets” sign total above.

The next day Jack and I cycled the trails, ending up at the Learning Center, which was still open at 3:30 PM. We did not go in, however, as it was getting cool and dark and we didn’t know how long it would take us to get back, since we wanted to explore a couple more of the mapped trails.

Driftwood “On the Hoof” — An elderly tree near the trail displayed an interesting growth pattern.

When one of the trails terminated at Rt. 174, we just took the road the short way back to the Park entrance. Riding along Rt. 174 is not terrible, as there’s a narrow bike lane on both sides of the road. Even riding along the causeway isn’t too bad—but again, in the summer it is probably much more hectic/busy (along with being sooooo much hotter). In the end, we’d enjoyed a leisurely 5+ mile cycle.

On Christmas Eve, the whole gang of us rode bikes into Edisto proper, and through the beach loop of the state park, which frankly, we all felt we could live without. 

With the exception of two or three sites at this beach loop, all are chock-a-block cheek-to-jowl with one another, exposed in full sun like the “ball field” effect we found at Kiptopeke (near Asseteague Island, VA). 

But you really can’t beat the proximity to the beach and to shopping that campers there enjoy. Still, I really prefer our Live Oak loop.

Gary and Diane introduced us to a nice community path that goes through a quiet neighborhood, where a couple of folks had set up “birdhouse art” displays along their edges of the path.

Once we ran out of the neighborhood path, we cycled back up the main, four-lane road, where we hoped to meet up with Mary and John, who had separated from us, but no luck. The four of us decided to find some lunch, and fried seafood was on offer at a place called McCrory’s that had outdoors dining. But we took our meals away and crossed the road to the little park and ate in shade and comfort without all the strangers around. While it was a decent meal, it was expensive—maybe not any more expensive than normal for a resort/vacation town like Edisto, but man. I’m not certain my fried shrimp lived up to the $25 price tag.

On Christmas Day, we had to batten down the hatches for squalls we could see coming. “Running before the wind,” we all took a walk on the beach to exercise the doggies off-leash: allowed in most places along that four-lane, which offers plenty of public parking and beach-access points.

Dogs at the shore.

And then the storm arrived.

After the squall

And we enjoyed another beautiful sunset over the marsh.

The 26th was beautiful and clear, with blue skies you could see forever. Still breezy on the beach, we took the dogs back out and ran Mischief with the ChuckIt for a while. 

Saw many water birds in the still-choppy surf.

On our last day, we all walked the trails again and we actually saw a dolphin swimming around near that huge home on the deepwater near the trails. I couldn’t capture a photo of it, surfacing occasionally but moving steadily toward big water. That was fun.

Before we leave Edisto, I want to mention a great little fresh produce and more stand called George & Pink’s. There’s a sign for it on 174, and you’re directed down a narrow dirt road that might put off a first-timer. But not us. We carried on and found a great group of fresh produce and got excellent cantaloupe, tomatoes, and some other stuff, including “low country grits” ground locally. There were other items besides produce there, and it was an excellent visit hosted by a friendly lady who might have been Pink herself, but we didn’t ask.

The opposite direction on 174 was our fave for the acquisition of fresh seafood, right up near the road with a food truck that was closed for the season out back. Can’t remember the name of it, but if you see it a built-on, shack-like place with tight parking, that’s it. Beautiful fresh seafood.

Moving day, when we headed to Huntington Beach, was December 28. Had to cross a very cool bridge en route, and Mischief had a pleasant snooze in the back seat.

Douthat State Park, VA

On Sunday August 9, everyone scattered to the four winds. Most of our group went home, but Jack and I headed to our final encampment for this Travel in the Time of Plague adventure: Douthat State Park near Clifton Forge, VA (actual address = Millboro, VA).

We’ve been to Douthat many times in the past (click HERE for a bit about our fall 2016 stay), but never stayed at this particular campground (they have 3 for RVs and one for horse campers: Whispering Pines, Lakeside—currently under construction/renovation—and White Oak; and the equestrian one is called Beaver Dam).

SinceDouthat is not far from Sherando Lake, we took a leisurely pace and arrived at 1PM, which is the time park officials expect the departures to be accomplished. This is good news, because our loop, White Oak, is reservable but unassigned. So we had leisure to drive around and look at the options, which at that time, were many.

We liked the looks of both #19 and #12. Nineteen was high on the hillside and closer to the bath house, but 12 was deep and had a great “back yard” off the bumper-end of the trailer, with lots of hammock trees and shade. When we began the “move-in” there was “closed” tape across the two sites “below” us, and signs on the posts that said they were not available.

In general, there is little visual separation between the camping pads, and leveling is a variable challenge. But the physical spacing between sites is decent, and since it’s on a wooded mountainside, it is a very nice campground, indeed. There is a dishwashing station and a large, well-maintained bath house, and everyone was wearing masks when inside.

We scootched Roomba toward the front to ease the leveling challenge, and it would have been a perfect spot to erect a “utility side” awning if we’d been able to get the keder rail attached to our off-side roofline, had we been able to get to Safari Condo for our service appointment in Canada earlier this trip. Two awnings on our trailer would give us what I call, “The Flying Nun Effect.” Maybe next year.

Before we’d finished set-up, however, a Ranger came by and removed the tape from #11. When Jack asked what was up, he noted a dead tree between the two “closed” sites, and lamented they’d been intending to cut it down for months, but when they had the weather they didn’t have the staff, but when they had the staff, the weather was bad. He went on to say that demand dictated they open both sites back up, since the “danger” the tree posed was slim, and they needed the spaces.

So we lost one of the great features for which we’d chosen #12, but it wasn’t too bad as the “beige box” that moved in was an elderly couple with their daughter and granddaughter. They spent most of their time over at the park’s beach. Still, with our trailer at the “front” of the site, we didn’t spend much time lounging under our awning due to the other trailer’s proximity. Which was fine, because we spend a lot of time in our shady “back yard.”

  • Scootched to the front
  • Big back yard
  • Hammock trees

I set up the Dutch oven cooking paraphernalia in prep for another zucchini & tomato bake, and Jack grilled a slab of salmon on a plank we’d picked up before leaving Stuart’s Draft en route. GnTs accompanied our meal prep, even though the day’s been cool—in the low 70s mostly.

Monday, August 10: The cool temps departed early as the sun rose. Of course, we hit the road to head to Covington to take a bike ride. This time, we hit the Jackson River Rail Trail, a fairly new RR bed conversion running a bit over 13.5 miles.

We’d last ridden this trail last fall with Roanoke cycling friends, Bill and Ann. Even though most rail-trail conversions slope gently higher as you head upriver (and of course, the opposite heading downriver) the Jackson River Tr. has about as much up and down no matter which way you head.

While there are several trail head/parking areas (including one called “Petticoat Junction” quaintly enough), we recommend beginning not in Covington proper, but at the Intervale Park trail head, where there is a water fountain, comfort station, and sometimes (depending on the weather and Covid) a healthy snack kiosk/food truck. Our understanding is that the part of the trail accessed from town includes some unpleasant urban riding.

While there are other parking/starting points that will lessen the total ride length, there is none at the end of the trail. The end, however, is quite nice with a couple of picnic tables—a great place to have a snack or lunch.

Here’s some info about the river, and for photos & maps of the scenic multi-use trail itself, visit HERE.

The Jackson River is a major tributary of the James River in Virginia, covering a total of 96.4 miles.The James River is formed by the confluence of the Jackson River and the Cowpasture River.

The River rises in Highland Co., near the border of West Virginia, and flows south between Back Creek Mountain and Jack Mountain. It is impounded by Gathright Dam in Alleghany Co. to create Lake Moomaw. Above the lake, the Jackson is an excellent smallmouth bass, rock bass, rainbow trout, and brown trout fishery. Below Gathright Dam, six public areas provide access to 18 miles of legally navigable water to Covington. Wild rainbow trout, wild brown trout, smallmouth bass, rock bass (redeye), and redbreast sunfish populate the tailwater below the dam. Both areas are popular with fly fisherpeople.

Below the dam, Jackson River flows south and then east through Alleghany Co., and then through the city of Covington and the town of Clifton Forge before it joins the Cowpasture to create the James.

It was a hot day, but a very nice ride. Below you’ll see a combination of photos from our fall ride back in September, as well as pix from this ride. One notable photo that I’d hoped to recapture this time was a fence line sporting bicycles (first photo below). Behind the fence was an army of yapping terriers, who created quite a din when I stopped to take the original photo in September. This time, all the decorative bikes were gone—very likely due to the probable fact that, when riders stopped (as I had) to photograph the fence, the dogs made it unbearable for the house’s occupants. 

Jack really cranked the pedals on the return while I stopped to take a few photos along the way. His average MPH reading was very very close to 13 for the 27-ish miles—mine was closer to 12.

Bike Stats: 27.8 miles; 2:10 ride time; 26 minutes stopped time; 12.7 average MPH.

We ate a very “meh” lunch at Taco Bell in Covington and headed back to futz and lounge in hammocks at camp. At dinner time, I re-heated the zucchini bake & leftover rice, and Jack grilled a tasty pork loin with Cajun seasonings. Yum.

Tuesday, August 11 dawned even hotter than the previous day (mid-80s by mid-morning—we ended up running the AC the entire time we were at Douthat). Because the ‘morrow was forecast to be overcast, humid, and rainy, we planned a return to the Jackson River Trail, since we had discussed heading to the Greenbriar Trail in West Virginia, but decided it was really too far to go for a bike ride.

With every intention of riding, we got side-tracked when we saw the signs to Lake Moomaw Recreation Area—we thought there might be some cycling to be done up there (see Jackson River Trail Map above).

Moomaw is a very LONG lake, dammed by the Gathright Dam, run by the Corps of Engineers. The land originally belonged to Thomas Gathright, a conservationist. He stocked his land with grouse, bear, deer, turkey, and fish, having acquired land for a game preserve stretching over 17 miles along the Jackson River, which he liked to call, “The most beautiful river in the world.”

Lake Moomaw was named after Benjamin Moomaw, another conservationist who played a large role in the Virginia Community College system, and was known for his interest in local folklore. With the efforts of Gathright and Moomaw, the lake was completed in the early 1980s.

We (of course) were most interested in the camping opportunities noted on the map, so we drove around to check them out. Our first drive-through was to the McClintic Point campground, which was decrepit and dicey, and the only 2 groups we saw there appeared sketchy. We guessed this camping area was mostly used by hunters with permission to hunt the National Forest in season.

But the other 5 we saw had real possibilities for future get-aways—they all had bath houses, dump stations, and if not on-site water, had spigots appropriately placed throughout the camping area. All had a mix of electric and non-electric sites. In the Bolar Mountain Rec. Area (see map detail below) the Sugar Ridge CG looked to be the most promising, with nice separation between sites. It was quite full, in the height of water-sports season. Campgrounds 1, 2, and 3 are all worth a look, and some of the sites are marked “premium” because they are waterfront.

The lake is substantial with miles of shoreline, at least one boat marina, several boat ramps & canoe/kayak inputs, and a couple of swimming beaches. Picnic areas accompany all of the beaches, and we ate our packed lunch at a table under trees near a beach with a comfort station. There is plenty of water for separation between the motorized craft and the paddle/oar craft, with lots of calm fingers of water reaching into the solid, mountainous geography surrounding the lake.

We found Gathright Dam (where the sheer amount of concrete made it VERY HOT), which is impressively high, with lovely downstream tailwaters, in which we could see several fly fishermen plying their skills.

  • Tailwater below the dam
  • Map of area
  • Upper Jackson River

The dam is 1,310 feet long and rises 257 ft. above Jackson River’s bed. One of the primary reasons for its construction was to protect Covington and downstream communities along the Jackson and the James from flooding. But in addition, the dam helps with water quality control and offers many recreational opportunities for residents and visitors.

Near the dam is Cole’s Point, with two campgrounds, called Morris Hill.

At one of these, we were driving through a loop and saw a baby bear snuffling around the fire pit in a camping family’s site (while they were away at the beach, presumably). It was quite small, so I’m certain it’s momma was nearby, but we did not see her. It thought to flee when we stopped for pictures, but changed its mind and kept testing the air for delicious things. We feared it would begin to ransack the family’s carefully-stowed belongings, but its interest was primarily in the aromas it discovered at the fire pit. We watched it for quite a while.

Run away or stay?
Yummmmm. . .
Nom, nom, nom . . .
Sniff, sniff?
Sniff, sniff, sniff . . . naw.

When we got back to Douthat, we drove around the campground trying to find a good viewing point from which to see the Persied Meteor Shower, which was predicted (as usual) to be “the best in years—hundreds of meteors per minute.” The best viewing was forecast to be between 2 and 4 AM, and we scoped out a dock on the shore of Douthat Lake, or possibly the dam of the lake for viewing, and we dutifully set an alarm for the show.

On Wednesday, August 12 we slept in—when the alarm went off in the wee hours, we dressed and went outside only to find thick, high overcast. The moon was visible as a diffuse glow and I could see one star at first, but then it disappeared. So instead of mounting a watch expedition, we hit the sheets again. But neither of us could really get back to sleep.

When we finally arose, we had cinnamon buns to kickstart our last day on the road. The day was again humid but not quite so hot—we decided to drive into Clifton Forge with the hope of a cell signal to chat with our house sitters about our arrival. We only left a message, however, as they were likely out enjoying their final day of mountain golf at one of the local courses.

Via prior arrangements, we knew they’d be gone by the time we arrived home. And when we heard from them during our homeward drive, they promised a casserole we could re-heat for our dinner, and assured us that all was well with dogs, falcon, and house.

We took our time during the day to pack and stow what could be accomplished early, and had a “last supper” of grilled hamburgers & zucchini, and hashbrowns. 

I added up the mileage we’d cycled during this trip and the sum was an impressive 630 miles.

We got away the next morning around 9:30, and it was an uneventful drive, landing us at home midday. Mischief and Chase were very happy to see us. Flash the falcon—not so much. We would have thrown the ball for Mischief, but every single one we’d left for her had disappeared in the terribly high grass (or maybe she’d buried them—who could say?).

Got the majority of the trailer emptied before it began raining, and just left it hooked up at the top of the driveway for the night.

Thus ended our Trip in the Time of Plague. We both still felt healthy and fit, and of two minds about being home—the grass and other chores we faced on the downside, but the familiarity and comfort of being in our own personal space on the upside. 

Here’s to our next adventure, with hope that Covid-19 might have abated significantly by then. Until then, keep safe and smart.

Sherando Lake Recreation Area, VA

It was wet and chilly when we left Ohiopyle for Sherando Lake in Virginia (near Stuart’s Draft) on August 5. And we were staring into the teeth of a long, 5.5 hour drive, but we (including Mary and John) made it by about 5:30pm.

The campground is in the George Washington & Jefferson National Forest, thus the “recreation area” designation (see Ntl. Forest Map above). We were in the Meadow Loop, with electric but no water. Ours was site C-13 and John & Mary were in site C-14. The sites were incredibly level and raked clean when we arrived. Packed, coarse-grain sand was the surface, which became rather a mess when it got wet, and we ended up tracking it all over the place. But it was easy to sweep away when it was dry. Also, it is good to note that, having been spoiled at Ohiopyle with decent cell service, we were completely flatlined at Sherando (and at Douthat, our next/final stop, too).

During the Time of Plague, the other RV camping loop, River Bend, was closed. The tent/unserviced loop (White Oak) was open except for the smaller, uphill section. The lake itself is pretty, with hiking trails around it—and closer to us is the “Upper Lake” which is for fishing only, and that only from the shores.

What caught our notice straight away were the site-specific bear boxes provided for lockup of anything that either has food in it, or in the past might have had food in it (or on it—like camp chairs). A sheet included in the registration packet warns of fines and expulsion if campers don’t follow the rules and inadvertently feed the bears. “The intentional or unintentional feeding of bears is prohibited by LAW. You must secure the following items or you will be ticketed . . .”

The weirdest items on the list, to my mind, were “hand sanitizer,” and “bug spray.” So every night “BEFORE SUNSET” we put the cooler and other miscellaneous items into the “bear box” and locked chairs and tables in the car. Never heard tell of any bear activity while we were there, but they take the potential quite seriously. And with threatened penalties of a $125 fine or eviction from the campground without refund, we did, too.

Our stay at Sherando was a gathering of folks from home: Brad & Ellen and Beth & Dan, and fellow Altoistes from Bedford, Dayna and John. We SWVA folks gathered for a catch-up after our separate dinners. Dan and Beth would have had their new Alto by this time, had it not been for Covid. Instead, and to get some “practice” in with “wheel camping,” they rented this VW “hippy” van knockoff (its actually a trailer) for the weekend, just to get out after their quarantine and to link up safely with friends.

The following day, Thursday, August 6, was also overcast—it was sprinkling off and on all day, and there were several outright downpours. We noticed an unusual visitor on the netting of our Clam—a “walking stick” insect stayed with us for a few days.

I worked to catch up on my blog posts, and everyone else went to play at the Lake with kayaks and paddle boards.

Jack and I headed to Stuart’s Draft (~10 miles) to get the small grill propane bottle filled at Ace hardware, and to find a properly sized bolt with which to fix Jack’s chair (it had broken at Ohiopyle). When we got back, it was still humid and wet, but not steamy at a tolerable 75 degrees.

Brad and Ellen hosted the whole gang down at their site by the creek (C-8?) for a Solo Stove fire, s’mores, and single malt. Everyone was bundled against the cold, because with so many of us, we had to distance from the bonfire so we could distance from one another. Many stories were told. Unfortunately, we all heard the pour of rain coming our way at once, and we all scattered to our various RV shelters. 

Friday, August 7: Hashbrowns and patty sausages accompanied a beautiful morning, but unfortunately, Brad and Ellen had to leave us—they tried to find a way to register for one of the empty sites, but had to drive out to get cell service, and never got through before they had to vacate their spot at 11.

We tried to ride the paved roads around the recreation area, but Jack again had issues with his derailleur, and he pulled up. I wanted the exercise, so kept going—and got thoroughly soaked in the rains that came and settled in for the day. I got 8 miles by riding all the paved roads including the camping loops and parking lots. It is a long climb from the entry gate, but is a fun downhill slide. 

Right above the CG (at the “group camping” end of the CG Map image) is the small fishing-only “Upper Sherando Lake” and on my ride I climbed the (slippery) steps up to the dam and took a photo of the small lake as well as the view of the campground from the top.

At the dam end of the big lake I could see this strange “rock slide” site across the way, in the face of a nearby mountain. Unsure what it was or how it got there, but since it was strange, I took a photo.

Beth reported that she’d been caught by the rain on her paddleboard, and had tried to seek shelter on an island in the big lake (thank goodness there wasn’t any lightening). But she’d still gotten as soaked as I had. It was a fine ride in the kind of rain that gets you as wet as your going to be all day within the first 40 seconds. But figuring out how to dry my clothes was a challenge. It was warm enough that I could, for the most part, wear my clothes dry.

Jack grilled a Cornish hen for us to split, and the hoped-for group campfire did not happen due to the continuing dicey weather.

Saturday, August 8 dawned damp and cool (65 degrees). We hopped back on our bikes, and Jack continued to figure out what the issue was. When he pulled up to do some diagnostics, I carried on and did the same ~8 mile circuit I’d done in the rain yesterday, but left off a few of the more boring parking lots. 

  • Boat Launch Area
  • Kayaks Ashore
  • Outflow Creek
  • Lobelia

When I finished the first circuit and stopped to see how Jack was doing, he reported possible success—a thick, hard collection of “gunk” was keeping the chain from seating on the two “jockey wheels” of the derailleur. He scraped that stuff off, and we tested the “fix” and he found the bike would stay in the gears he selected, so he joined me for another circuit. So I got nearly 15 miles, and he got the ~8 miles of the one circuit. Afterwards, we racked the bikes and put away the Clam in prep for departure tomorrow. 

Dan, Beth, John, Mary, Jack, and I ate our dinners together around our Solo stove, and all agreed that Sherando would be a spot we’d return to after The Time of Plague.