Tag: bicycling

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 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 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.

Robert Moses SP, NY, Pt. 2

Friday, July 3

I prepped for the first of two private Independence Day celebrations (both, naturally having to do with good food)—my famous breakfast casserole in the Omnia oven, which usually “rests” overnight after assembly. Then we headed out for our bike ride, early-ish again (but after running the generator for an hour or so) to beat the heat, and managed to put in close to 16.5 miles. This time, the picnic area was closed, and we didn’t do every camping loop, shearing off ~ 3.5 miles from the total possible. Our plan is to stay off the roads tomorrow when we imagine there will be plenty of traffic, boats and lake craft (being trailered to put-ins) and campers all over the place.

We took it easy all day, and for lunch, re-heated some previous dinner leftovers paired with crackers, helping to empty the fridge—we’re challenged between keeping the fridge nice and full so it won’t work so hard off the battery, and having room for juice, leftovers, and other necessaries. But the trailer’s battery level indicator hasn’t read below 3 bars, with the help of the generator, which is so beautifully quiet, even some neighbors commented on the whispering noise level.

Once again Jack headed in to Massena because we had a tonic emergency—not enough to see us through July Fourth. I put on my hiking boots and explored beyond our “front yard” woods, where I thought I could see blue water between the tree trunks. Beyond our forest patch is a giant dam holding in an expanse of the St. Lawrence Seaway? River? at the top of the Eisenhower Lock (indicated by those things resembling low-riding, brown boats in a chain along the waterline). 

DamBehindTrees0814Web

On one side of the dam, the ground fell to a mown area with a gate, beyond which was the end of a road; on the other, a small rocky beach could be accessed. A couple of the camper kids were fishing in a nearby cove along the shore, and a farther cove had a bunch of kayaks, floats, etc. ready to launch—I figured they belonged to the folks in one of the sites ‘round the curve toward the BH, as I’d seen many of their toys in and around their big RVs.

CovesBehindTrees0818Web

I walked off the dam the opposite direction (with lots of poison oak growing in the mown hay) toward the gate I guessed led to the extension of the connector road to our site’s Road A. Sure enough, off the road to the left, I was able to walk back to our site.

As it cooled off a bit, we set up our chairs and watched the people flow into the campground, including a corn-hole-playing group of young men with a boat across from us.

By the end of the day, we were surrounded and the place was packed full. I wouldn’t trade any space nearer the BH or the water for our relative privacy on site 78.

For dinner, Jack grilled half of a chicken treated with a dry rub, and I made a salad and some rice, and we had our GnTs and enjoyed a campfire until the mosquitoes came out in greater numbers (around dusk) and we once again retreated indoors.

Saturday, July 4 (Happy Independence Day)

The breakfast casserole was excellent for our brunch and did nicely as leftovers for dinner on our final night at Robert Moses SP (Sunday, July 5). We had run the generator a lot yesterday, so needed fuel, and Jack (bless his little bald head) drove back in for more firewood, ice, and fuel. We laid low all day while those around us partied, shot off crackers and poppers and smoke things (despite the rules saying these were not allowed) until time for our special holiday dinner: filet mignon steaks with a zucchini bake in the Dutch Oven, and the final bit of potato salad. 

Zucchini bake in Dutch oven
Plated with steak and potato salad

After savoring our celebratory meal, we sat outside watching the fire and being astonished that we could see the rising of this 2020 July 4th Full Moon through the trees. That’s all the fireworks we are interested in, quite frankly.

It was a nice lounge-ish day for the holiday, and we had only to hope no one would set the campground on fire with the signs (and loud noises) of the season. Many of the rules at this SP are blatantly ignored (too many tents and/or vehicles on a site, laundry and hammocks stretched between trees, generator times, quiet times) because they’re not enforced. But hey. It’s a big holiday for some folks, so I guess enforcement isn’t worth the effort.

Sunday, July 5 was departure day for most folks. We stayed indoors behind our tinted windows most of the morning, watching everyone drive out or pack up their sites. At times the departures were like a parade. We didn’t see the dump station line-up, but bet it was significant.

By about noon, the place was nearly empty—although there were still many sites in use. When the roads seemed safer (around noon-thirty) we headed out for a final bike ride, replicating the #1 bike ride, for about 20 miles again (skipped the cabin area). The day was very humid and somewhat overcast, but no threat of rain this time.

When we pedaled past the Long Sault dam there was no outflow hitting the river side this time. Also, when we rode down the boat launch slope at the Hawkins Pt. VC, we met a goose family at the bottom, browsing near the parking lot. Otherwise, it was pretty much the same ride.

Also, when stopped for a water break at the Hawkins Point VC under a picnic shelter, we noticed some swifts? swallows? flying into their mud nests and I caught one going in to feed the young:

Also, we had missed this interesting sign on our former journeys:

FortyFifthParallel0807Web

We returned for showers in some seriously overwhelmed bathhouses, badly in need of mops and refreshed supplies. It appeared that summer interns of about high school age were on cleanup duty, and they were doing it like interns mostly do—half-assed. But the showers felt good and no one was waiting and that was great.

Jack built a fire and I built a “dump cake” in the Dutch Oven, which we ate after dinner when it had cooled a bit. It was okay, but I think I can improve on the theme. For dinner, I re-heated the zucchini bake and the breakfast casserole in the Omnia and we ate in front of the fire. 

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As we were watching, something bright/neon orange shone through the woods and we figured it was some sort of freighter in the lock. So we walked along the campground loop to the waterfront (primo) sites and saw a long, low-slung ship emerge from the lock system. It looked like a giant Jelly Belly, it was so orange.

By the way—Jack and I have been testing our blood-oxygen levels (with a pulse oximeter) and our temperatures weekly since before we left home. Both have been staying normal for us each, and we are feeling fine. The good news is that, since our bicycling activities have begun, each of our pulse rates has slowed, as expected with good exercise.

Since we didn’t quite make it through all of our firewood (before the mosquitoes chased us indoors again) and since we were leaving next day, we gave our extra wood to the neighbors.

Next stop—back to Vermont to visit another private campground: a place called “Waterhouse” on Lake Dunmore, where we have a riverside (not lakeside) site. 

If you missed Part 1 of this two-part post, click here and catch up.

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These little guys surprised us by popping up inside the Clam screen house the morning we departed.

 

Ashuelot River Campground, NH

June 22-24

The first thing I don’t want to forget to report is that we saw a low-flying, close-our-overpass bald eagle en route from Gilbert Lake to Swanzey, New Hampshire. Of course, I didn’t get a photo of it, but it was very cool to see so close.

We arrived later than we expected to Ashuelot River Campground—a private campground we’d visited driving home from picking up our trailer from Safari Condo during the spring of 2015. You can read more about our first stay at Ashuelot and the Swanzey/Keen area at my blog post here.

But en route, our path was blocked by an unknown emergency and we detoured along a rutted, mostly-dirt road over a mountain and through the streams.

We drove slowly, primarily because we had not the first clue where we were going—but also to keep the jostling of the trailer to a minimum. Eventually, we made it back to the road blocked by the emergency and carried on our merry way (after letting the oh-so-patient drivers behind get past the slow-moving snail of a blue blockade we fondly call “Roomba”).

The campground, still managed by Chuck and Laura, has been considerably expanded. Many more sites with electric and water line the banks of the river, and many folks were floating, swimming, kayaking, canoeing, and fishing along the river.

Our campsite is perfect (#35) because there was hardly anyone nearby, and we made it into a pull-through so our “view” was of the river and Roomba was parallel to the shore. It was a nice, flat site.

In our planning for Camping in the Time of Plague, we had been informed that Ashuelot was accepting only guests who were “self-contained.” Although we do have an on-board toilet, we use the “closet” as a pantry. It would be difficult to either convert it to its intended use (unnecessary to date) or to use it for both functions.

Knowing this, we purchased a portable camp or boat toilet, and we figured out how to fit up our screen house, with its drop-down rain curtains, as our privacy area that would include use as a private shower.

By the time of our arrival, however, Chuck and Laura had built small toilet houses with running water and porcelain fixtures—and had hired someone to come in every 4 hours between 8AM and 8PM to disinfect them. There was no hot water, but what delightful news, and right across the road fro our site, too. There was even a roomy dishwashing station on the structure.

Relieved that the only use we had to make of the screen house was for showers (using the shower port already on the utility side of the trailer), we also were gratified that there was plenty of room for the screen house to be properly set up. The utility side also turned out to be the sunny side, so we got the extra boost of having the screen house shade the trailer.

It was plenty hot in NH, so we ran our AC almost constantly. Next to the river, there were also plenty of mosquitoes. 

Despite asking everyone to self-check-in, Chuck and Laura had opened the office to a limited number of people at one time, so it was easy to access the campground’s free wifi around the office. The wifi was robust, so it was easy to get a good signal by sitting outside in Adirondack chairs or along the porch.

Our first full day there, we planned to return to the Ashuelot River Rail Trail that connects Keen to Swanzey. Upon uncovering the bikes, however, we found there had been a major failure of our bike rack. 

The problem could have been so much worse—but it was bad enough. One vertical side of the aluminum tube (in the shape of an upside-down “U”) that actually holds the rack onto the front of the Alto had snapped in two right at the fitting that secures it to the trailer. The opposite vertical part of the tube was bent at the same spot. If it also had broken, who knows what would have happened to the bikes and the trailer. (In the pic on the right, I tried to remove or at least lessen the distracting effect of the background. Hope I didn’t make it even more “noisy” for you by mistake.)

So instead of riding the trail before the heat and humidity set in, we called the bike rack manufacturer (Arvika), to see what might be done. Our goal was to get them to overnight the part to us, but the timing was tricky—located in Canada, Arvkia would be celebrating a Quebec holiday the next day, making it impossible for it to reach us before we left Ashuelot.

While the guy on the other end of the line (who happened to be the owner) promised to see if he had the part in stock, and if he did, whether or not it had been painted—we gave him our schedule and discussed shipping to our next destination campground in VT (whom we’d already called to see if they could accept such a shipment).

There was nothing to do but carry on until we heard back from him. So we rode our bikes. As before, we rode from Swanzey to Keen on the Ashuelot River Rail Trail (about 6 miles).

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We got to Keen before lunchtime, so we had a snack sitting in the shade outside the pub we’d visited 5 years ago. Then we checked our map (a more thorough one than what we’d had before) to find out how to continue north from Keen. The updated map was excellent, with many cycling trails outlined on the Monadnock Region Bicycle Routes map.

Wending our way through town on the Industrial Heritage trail in Keen, we saw these cool bike rack-cum-park bench structures.

They marked the beginning of the rail trail to Walpole—another 7 miles one-way—on the Cheshire Rail Trail, which was excellent up until we climbed quite steeply uphill (wondering how a train might have managed the grade) to a road crossing called Aldrich Road. Although we did cross Aldrich and go another 2 miles to a capped landfill, the footing from the north side of Aldrich until we gave up was terrible. Enormous rocks proud of the surface, deep sand, and tough gravel made those 2 miles of the ride not any fun at all. If you head north out of Keen toward Walpole on the Cheshire, take our advice and turn around at Aldrich Road.

Back at camp, we’d logged ~25 miles at an average speed of 10 MPH. It was in the mid-80s by then, and we’d had a couple of snacks along the way, but we’d missed lunch. Happily, we had taken some lamb chops out of the freezer and accompanied them with baked potatoes (grown by John and Mary) and grilled baby zucchini. It was an excellent endpoint for a strange and vigorous day.

After our ride and before it was cool enough to get into the screen house to shower, I lounged beside the river while Jack went to the office area to get wifi and see if Arvika might have found the part we needed. Once the site was shaded, we discovered our shower house rig worked out great. We didn’t even need to heat the water—between the hose baking in the sun and the ambient heat of the day, it was an excellent, private, roomy, and wonderful shower.

Not having been able to reach Arvika, we realized there was no option but to figure out how to pack the bikes into the trailer to transport them. So we spent our last day engineering the fit, and how the rest of the pack would work when the bikes took up space we usually use for other gear.

We did a “dry run” by taking the front wheels off the bikes and wrapping them (to keep grease from painting a new color scheme inside the trailer) in enormous leaf bags we obtained from the local grocery store despite Chuck’s warning that the locals didn’t really appreciate interactions with visitors from other states during Covid-19. Once we figured out how to do it and where everything would go, we settled down to an easy pasta dinner while the bagged bikes cooled their heels outside.

The pack up morning was stressful as we tried to keep the bikes safe and the interior of Roomba from getting ripped, punctured, greased, or dented. We had most of our bedding packed around the bikes to keep them from bouncing around. For my part, being in charge of the interior stowage process, I had to remember an entirely new procedure to be sure this or that would go there before we cut off access to that or the other.

Lesson One for Camping in the Time of Plague: ADAPT. Think smart, stay safe, consider options, and adapt to whatever arises.

All things considered, we did a pretty good job of adapting to not having a bike rack. The bikes (and Roomba) made it without incident to our next destination, Sugar Ridge Campground near Danville, Vermont.

ADDENDUM: I forgot to note that we’d discovered President Trudeau had extended the closure of the Canadian border, making it impossible for us to keep our service appointment at Safari Condo—the stay afterward at the Canadian campground we’d reserved was likewise, toast. Instead, we’ll “drop back and punt” and stay at Robert Moses State Park in New York for those 7 days. In addition, the group for whom I edit and layout their quarterly magazine officially canceled their annual meeting (which I’m expected to attend) due to Covid-19. This year, it was to be held in Pittsburgh, one of my favorite cities. While we will stay at the campground we’d originally reserved near the site of the convention, and while we will ride the Great Allegheny Passage as we’d planned, I won’t need to pull out any of the “nice” clothes I brought along to wear as an employee of that group during their big annual meeting.

Again: Watchword = adapt.

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Gilbert Lake State Park, NY

Among our favorite campgrounds is Glimmerglass State Park, at the end of Otsego Lake opposite where Cooperstown resides. But when we made our reservations, the pandemic had not hit the US, yet Glimmerglass was already booked solid for this week in June.

What a fortuitous bump! We discovered Lake Gilbert State Park, slightly farther from Cooperstown than Glimmerglass, to the south and west. Gilbert is much smaller than Otsego but still lovely and popular. 

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 Our site, #2, gets quite a lot of morning and early afternoon sun, necessitating some AC, but it is elevated and relatively private. John, Mary, and Riley are next door in site 3. The only disadvantage of the two sites was that J&M were next to a dusty grail trail going right beside them up to a ball field (not marked on the maps) that no one appears to ever use. The staff, however, would drive up there occasionally, casting dust in J&M’s living space.

Our site #2
Site #3 with John & Mary’s teardrop and tent

The camp area we chose is one of 2 in the campground (called Hilltop) and is grassy and open, with stately trees scattered around the middle and a large bathhouse with 4 private toilet/showers and the usual men’s and women’s group areas. There is also a dishwashing station, and a washer and dryer, but we had some reservations about the clothes washing area, as it’s outside with the dishwashing area.

When we checked in, the group bathhouse areas were closed, but the 4 private rooms were disinfected several times daily. By the time we checked out, the whole bathhouse was open.

There were 4 large RVs there when we arrived and it became obvious they were all together. None of them wore masks the whole time we were there, and they gathered at one site or another to eat and party together. This only got annoying on Friday night when “Green Shirt” had a few too many beers and began talking VERY LOUDLY and being quite obnoxious. One family among the group had mounted a large boar’s head on a step ladder at the hitch end of their rig, and upon its head was an enormous MAGA hat. ‘Nuff said.

Along with Riley, there were a number of dogs there—most were well-behaved—with whom Riley wanted to be friends. So he’d whine and bark sometimes upon seeing some of his species about, which, in some cases, set the other dogs to barking.

The days we were at Gilbert Lake were sunny and quite warm, but there was little humidity. Every afternoon gray clouds would roll in and we could hear thunder in the distance, but it only showered on us once. Riley has anxiety issues with thunder, but on only one evening did he need his “thunder jacket,” actually a dog life vest for water, to ease his discomfort.

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The calm after the storm

The downsides of Gilbert Lake for bicyclists are 2: First, the state of the paved roads is terrible (broken up, patched, and pitted); and second, there are no rail-to-trail conversions anywhere in the area that we could find.

On the 19th (Juneteenth) Jack and I took a short 7-mile tour of the area, sticking to the pubic roads in the campground, checking out the enormous cabin area (33 or so, some of which were built by the CCC back in the 30s or 40s), the beach and concession areas (beach open, concessions closed), and the lower, larger camping loop (called Deer Run maybe?). That camp loop was partially open with 3 RVs in sites, but the staff were doing work around the loop, probably preparing for the July 4th holiday-goers. That campground area is closer to the lake’s beach and is the home of the only dump station in the entire complex.

Saturday the 20th, Jack ran in to the nearest village (Morris) to do a reconnoiter and some laundry. Other than the laundromat, there’s nothing of significance in Morris (not even a grocery store). Meanwhile, I took a ride to check out the path circumnavigating the lake. Signs warn folks from entering, calling it a service road, and the folks at the camp store said there weren’t any bike trails on site, but I took my bike around anyway—John and Mary had walked Riley along the path and reported it to be okay for bikes, so I rode. A spot or three needed some extra care to avoid roots or rocks, but it was just fine.

I did 2 loops of the ride down the hill to the camp store and back to the point where I joined the lake road, circumnavigated the lake, and then climbed back up the steep hill to Hilltop. On one of the tours of the camp store, I saw a Cooper’s hawk lift from the ground near the road and make some effort to get airborne. My guess was that it was carrying something it had caught by the road. 

All told, my ride was about five miles each loop, with the lake path being a bit over a mile. One time I did the lake trail counter-clockwise, and the other time I did it clockwise.

Jack got back around 11:30 and John came puffing up to get the car to go back and fetch Mary & Riley. Mary had twisted her ankle and fallen down on her knee along one of the hiking paths, ending up with a significant scrape on her knee and a sore ankle. She was fine, only embarrassed, but walking was a bit of a challenge for her.

After lunch (and ministering to Mary’s wound and resting her ankle) we all set off for Cooperstown. Mary thought that a gentle walk around the town would ease some of the stiffness and swelling in her ankle, which John wrapped with an Ace bandage.

A stroll and an ice cream later, J&M drove up toward Glimmerglass, and Jack and I hit the grocery store for the goods to make a Dutch Oven dinner for us all the next day, on our final night together.

On Father’s Day Sunday, J&M headed north to link up with Mary’s brother at a half-way point for them both. Jack and I had a lazy day reading and napping. Every day of our stay we heard and saw a Cooper’s hawk circling overhead—possibly a mate to the one I saw on my solo ride on the 20th. 

I fixed the DO goulash dinner for us and we enjoyed the meal and a quiet evening around the fire, which, as usual, included some distant thunder, some gray clouds, and a sprinkle thrown into the mix. 

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On June 22, we packed up our houses on wheels. J&M headed south, back to Pine Grove Furnace State Park in PA en route to their home and garden; and Jack and I headed north and east to New Hampshire and an old friend, Ashuelot River Campground in Swanzey, NH.

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Trip’s End

Sunday, Apr. 21

We finally got a break in the weather, but most of the Alto crowd had left. Jack and I headed to South Hill for foodstuffs enough to fix dinner for John (arriving without Mary, who has fallen under the weather, or possibly the pollen) and additional Floyd friends, Brad and Ellen. 

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Because we’re settled and they’re arriving in the afternoon and likely won’t be set up before dinner time, we texted with them to let everyone know we’d handle dinner for all of us. We found the fixins for the fennel chicken dish we like to cook in the Dutch oven, and we also got some pork loins to grill for Mary and Allen who were coming to the campsite on Monday. 

I began cooking circa 5:30, completing it by around 6:30, and served directly from the Dutch oven, with Omnia heat-and-serve rolls and roasted potatoes. Afterwards, we cranked the Solo fire, and the Karl & Hari crowd came over from loop C to share.

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It was another glorious sunset, with the sun peeking below the clouds and shining brightly on the end of our peninsula, making the trees look like they were about to combust.

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No good sunset is complete without a good reflection photo off Roomba (it’s a thing with the Alto models that have lots of windows).

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Here’s a gallery of photos I’m calling “Sunset After the Storms”

Monday, Apr. 22

First thing in the morning, I watched an adult bald eagle fly over. The day dawned cold (47 degrees) but I was outside watching for birds and enjoying the clear morning by about 7. I wasn’t the only early bird, as a couple of fishermen were plying the waters near our site also.

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Before lunch, we took a bike ride with Brad and Ellen while John took a kayak paddle-about. We toured around the campground, and across the hydro dam, where we stopped both coming and going to watch bald eagles and osprey and enormous fish near the dam. I could have watched the birds all day.

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Instead of going back to the campground, we turned right at Rt. 4 and headed to the tailwaters of the dam, where there were tons and tons of birds all doing wondrous things, just carrying on with their birdy lives. We got off our bikes again to watch eagles and osprey and herons and cormorants and so many more. Saw this heron trying to hide while roosting in a tree.

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Returned to eat a late lunch and enjoyed the sun. Even though the breeze picked up as we ate, the sky was incredibly blue-blue, and the sun was toasty hot.

Allen and Mary came for dinner around 6, and we grilled a pork loin. John, Brad, and Ellen brought their own dinners and we all ate together. Everyone enjoyed another campfire, topped off with a celebratory dram to mark the end of our trip, as well as Brad’s (Apr. 24) and Jack’s (Apr. 26) birthdays.

Tuesday, Apr. 23

Naturally, on the day we must leave, the temp soared to 52 degrees and the wind stayed dead calm. Heard several lonely loon calls in the early AM.

We enjoyed a leisurely morning and said goodbye to Brad and Ellen around 8:30. Watched a contest between a lone loon with a fish, versus an entire gaggle of cormorants. The cormorants were doing a tag-team “harass the loon so it drops its fish” game, with much of the action happening under water. The loon would dip below, with 2 or 3 of the cormorants flying over to where it dove and diving after it. The loon would pop up again and other cormorants would fly over to it and dive after it when it dove for cover again.

Finally, the loon surfaced and up-ended the fish so it would go down its gullet, and suddenly, all the cormorants looked like they were bored, as if they’d had nothing to do with the loon at all. They all went different directions after the game was won by the loon.

Once the water warmed up a bit, John took a final kayak tour before he began to load up for departure. We ate an early lunch and began breaking camp in earnest around noon.

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Just as we were nearing our own departure time, we saw a Canada goose family swimming by. The water was a bit choppy by then, but the little goslings were pretty easy to see. The hard part was getting the youngsters and both parents in my camera’s frame at the same time. But I finally managed.

It was an uneventful drive back home, and we parked Roomba in the driveway near his garage overnight. All was well with the house and critters and we were thankful for Surya, our house sitter. Naturally, the first thing Mischief wanted to do was play ball. 

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I grabbed some meat and went out to see how Beebs (redtailed hawk) was doing, and she seemed quite keen on the food, but not so sure about me.

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Thus the 2019 Spring Trip comes to a close. It was wonderful and fun and so very exciting to share with so many of our friends and to meet new friends along the way. 

More adventures to come—watch this space for the next peregrinations we undertake with our Alto camper.