camping – peregrinations

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.

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.

And then the storm arrived.

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.

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.

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.

Waterhouse Campground, Salisbury, VT

Years and years ago, either while Jack was still working, or just when he’d retired, we’d taken off for a special get-away in Middlebury, Vermont. We stayed at the posh and historic Middlebury Inn and rode our bikes around the backroads, which at the time were little used. We also visited a cheese-making facility and drove around the countryside admiring the quaint, New England flavor of the rock walls, covered bridges, stone houses, and rolling, verdant hills.

At the time, I was still riding horses, and we visited a high-end Morgan Horse Farm that was open to the public, and we bought a raffle ticket to win a Morgan horse. Didn’t win, of course, but it was a spectacular facility with gorgeous horses and a beautiful statue out front, on a stately lawn surrounded by training rings and paddocks.

Hoping to recapture some of that enchantment, late on July 6, we arrived at a private campground, marina, and tavern on the shores of Lake Dunmore between Salisbury and Middlebury. The actual campground (called Waterhouse) is across the marginally busy road from the marina, tavern, and beach—the signage was terrible for newcomers trying to figure out where to enter, and with whom to register. Across Lake Dunmore is Moosalamoo Mountain, and the prospect of the Lake and Mountain is very pretty.

Our site, #23 (with electric and water) was tucked down in a deep, sloping, shady spot next to the Leicester River (feeding Lake Dunmore) with a nice little beach-like access point. Overall (and amongst the permanent RV sites, which made up the majority of the campground’s métier) it was among the best possible site available to transient campers.

It was, however, nearly impossible to get Roomba into the site from the direction we approached. So with Jack guiding me, I pulled a 36-point about-face and when we came in from the opposite direction, were able to get the angle correct to back in without hitting any trees or the cars of the permanent RV across from us. We even managed to angle the awning to the water.

It had been a lovely but long drive to get there, along backroads all the way—during which we decided the roads were to narrow and twisty (and busy) for any serious consideration of riding our bikes out and about. And, we’d been able to discover zero rail-trails or other bicycle-friendly opportunities to which we could port our bikes. So we didn’t even take them off the rack during our stay.

Because we could find no “host” site amongst the campers, and since no one came by to register us or check-in, we walked across the road to the beach/marina/tavern, which was absolutely teeming with people, none of whom was wearing a mask. We tried to find the “office” but the “store” was locked and the doorway adjacent said it was not an access point to the tavern (even though the sign above the door said it was).

So, masked like the lone strangers, we wandered through a gate and around the deck (with several groups of people having drinks and a great good time at tables nowhere near 6 ft. apart) we found what looked like a room with glass windows where you rented water-fun equipment (oars, life jackets, volleyballs, etc.)

That turned out to be the place to register, and the guy behind the glass also was un-masked. The only 2 masks we saw amongst all the various water-babies were: one on the waitress who emerged from the tavern to call her colleague, outside chatting with friends, whose mask (#2) was down around her neck.

Anyway, we secured our site and got the heck outta there. Asked for a map of the campsites, and got a teensy, elderly, unfocused reproduction of a map we could hardly read (and which did not match the online, color version, it was so old). The only time Jack returned was when we needed ice—expensive little five-pound sacks that were watery upon acquisition.

On July 7, we hopped into the car, thinking to go to the pretty burgh of Middlebury and wander about, finding a cafe or brewery for lunch, recalling our former visit. We also hoped to find a good, old-fashioned butcher shop to find excellent grillables. The good points of our day:

$1.99 fuel
Saw a marsh hawk
Drove around Button Bay State Park (need to go there one day—it had been closed when we’d tried to book a site)
A lovely covered bridge
Some fun, New-Englandy painted shutters on houses

The frustrating bits:

Most of Middlebury was under construction
Many country roads were closed for bridge work
Library: Closed (but we discovered robust wifi for a fee at the campground)
Butcher: Closed
Morgan Horse Farm: Closed
Otter Creek Brewery: Closed

It was a disappointing day abroad. But we laughed about our effort to “recapture” the past when 20+ years had passed and the world was in a pandemic. What were we thinking?

They do have an excellent Hannaford’s grocery store on the edge of Middlebury, where we found a beautiful piece of wild-caught salmon, which Jack grilled to perfection on our final night in camp.

We decided our site was the best thing about Waterhouse. Overall, the staff were lackadaisical (there was trash all over our site upon arrival, with half-burnt plastic and cardboard in the fire pit—all of which I cleaned up during our stay) the toilets were old and rather unkempt, there was no dump station at all, no one came by to speak with us or check whether we needed anything, and it was obvious the permanent residents were more important to them ($$) than we transients. In the shower house (also unkempt) many signs demanded that one should use the shower curtain to keep water off the floor, yet the shower curtain in my stall was hanging from just two hooks and was otherwise shredded and impossible to use properly because it was too short. In sum, the staff took no pride in the property, probably because they didn’t have to do so.

Nor did the guests. The seasonal and permanent site users were quite clique-ish, gathering for corn hole games and cocktails in the evenings (past quiet hours) swimming and boating in the day, and speeding around the campground in golf carts, packed in like brown, wrinkly sardines (without masks). A few even dissed us for using masks everywhere we went.

Our second full day at Waterhouse was a stay-in and relax day. I worked on the blog upload from our stay at Rbt. Moses (June 29 – July 5, uploaded in two parts) and we sat in our chairs positioned in the water’s edge, and dangled our feet in the shallows, watching the neighbors play in the water.

The forecast was for rain, and when it came, it really poured. But we were snug and dry (even though it was hot) and ran the air conditioning to dry things off.

So we won’t go back there and won’t recommend it to any of our friends. Next stop: Green Lakes State Park, New York.

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).

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.

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:

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.

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.

LastDayShrooms0840Web — These little guys surprised us by popping up inside the Clam screen house the morning we departed.

Robert Moses SP, NY, Pt. 1

Arrived late Monday the 29 after a lovely drive along back roads west and north, north, north. We could see Canada during much of the end of our drive, but no way to get there. Saw the bridge across the border and waved goodbye for at least another year.

We were in a relaxing, shady spot (site 72) with our utility side to the road and our “front yard” being very pretty woods. We set up the Clam for our toy barn and storage shed. Although the site was far away from the bathhouse and offered no services, it was a nice and secluded spot near the end of the sites along Road A. In this site, however, spiders abound and we were constantly running into and through webs—even 5 minutes after we’d passed the same way. Also, the underside of the awning became gradually covered with the long-legged insects I’ve always called “mosquito hawks,” or “mosquito eaters” (actually a type of crane fly) all paired in reproductive bliss. It was a very creepy sight, but they’re good insects, so we left them to their six-legged-sex.

The BH is nice and clean and offers one single toilet/shower room (primarily) for the nearby handicapped site. In addition, the gang facilities reside on each side: women’s has 3 toilets (with the handicapped one having its own sink inside the stall) and two sinks; and a separated shower/dressing area with two showers. Water is hot, but delivered with a push-button system that offers merely a short burst of water for each push.

On Tuesday, June 30 we rode around all the park’s paved roads, ~21 miles, at a (mostly) gentle pace. Since the day was totally overcast, we took raincoats on the ride but it never rained. The wind off the water (St. Lawrence River or St. Lawrence Seaway—can’t learn the difference, if there is a difference, because all the visitor centers are closed) was significant, making for a good, strenuous pedal when we headed toward the water out Barnhart Island Road toward the Frank S. McCullough Jr. and Hawkins Point Visitors Center and Boat Launch (open). We rode further down the road to Hawkins “point” hoping to see water, but the end is taken up with un-accessible government property.

One possible theory about the Seaway vs. River breakpoint is that there is a lock system that converts the water levels from low (maybe the River side?) to high (maybe the Seaway side, dammed by the Long Sault Dam and part of the FDR Hydro project system?). More on the lock system later. Of course, the main visitor center for the Long Sault Dam is also closed.

Flowers growing in the Marina parking lot gravel

Long Sault Dam from one side

Long Sault Dam from the other side

The nature center we rode past (Eugene L. Nicandri Nature Ctr.) on Robinson Bay Rd. was closed, and while the hiking/footpaths to overviews, observation areas, and storyboards are open, they looked to be swarming with mosquitoes and well protected from any cooling wind.

As we checked out the northern-most picnic grounds (close to a CA/US border crossing checkpoint marked “road closed” with a tent in the middle of the road) we noted that the picnic area had an enormous pile of firewood cut, split, and piled randomly. There was no personnel around, and many newly-built picnic tables, so we thought it odd that the gate was open.

During our return to the Barnhart Island bridge at about 2 PM, we watched a UPS truck cross the border from Canada, and pass us headed toward the office/beach road. Even though it was a day early for our bike rack part to be delivered, we hoped the UPS guy was going to drop it off at the office as the tracking info had predicted for tomorrow.

The UPS truck passed us again as we took photos on the Barnhart Island Bridge, so presumably, it had made a stop somewhere behind us. Sure enough, Jack checked the tracking info, and it was marked as “delivered at 2:02 PM.”

Once back at camp, Jack hopped into the truck and drove back to get the package, some firewood, and ice, and returned ready to roll on fixing the bike rack. As a further omen of good luck, he saw a bald eagle flying over the water near the bridge.

Our celebratory dinner was foil-wrapped pork chops with potato, onion, carrots, and celery cooked to perfection on the grill, with GnTs and a lovely fire to accompany—that is, until about 9 when the mosquitoes chased us inside.

Wednesday, July 1 (Happy Canada Day)

We enjoyed watching a resident turkey hen with poults hanging around. I saw her and the brood two times on Wednesday, and several additional times during our stay, including deep in our “front yard” woods. Also, there are multitudes of black squirrels (as well as chipmunks and small, quick red squirrels) all over the place—including one black squirrel with a blonde/red tail whom I was unable to photograph despite many efforts to do so.

We didn’t take a ride on Wednesday but went instead to Massena for a laundromat, groceries, and fuel for the generator. Generator hours at Rbt Moses are from 9 to 11 AM and 5 to 9 PM, and we’ve been taking full advantage since our site is very shady and we are enjoying little solar gain on the panels. Which, of course, is just as well since it’s been so hot.

We asked the nice laundromat lady if there was a local library with wifi—btw, it’s a beautiful, clean laundromat, with fans blowing, doors open for air, 24/7 opening hours, and offers good machines that run well and get things clean—so it was well worth the effort. But she reported the library is closed.

She suggested a nearby Tim Hortons and so we went there for a bite to eat and the upload of my Sugar Ridge blog post. Unfortunately, we had a marginal meal and a long, tedious, frustrating blog upload.

Back at camp, Jack worked on rebuilding the bike rack and I started readying the groceries for staged storage and a Dutch Oven fennel and chicken thighs dinner—one of our favorite camping creations. We took notice as people began to fill the empty spaces in the campground, preparatory to the holiday weekend.

Thursday, July 2 was forecast to be in the low 90s, so we rode early after a light breakfast to get a hoped-for 20 miles in before the swelter began. Got waylaid on the ride as we watched a small tug-like boat go through the Eisenhower Lock headed south (low water/river direction). It was so small we were unable to even see it for the majority of the water-lowering process while it was in the lock itself, and only knew it was done when it left the lock.

Last part visible as the water lowered it to river level

Exiting the lock headed south

Paralleling the road out to Hawkins Point

We began to ride out toward Hawkins Point again to (possibly) see some good birds (we din’t). Not even halfway there, I caught sight of the tugboat motoring along the nearby river headed southwest. Motoring upriver was an enormous freighter that appeared to be carrying aluminum slabs from the Alcoa plant down the way, and we figured it was headed for the lock. (When we were able to see it more closely, those long lumps of aluminum turned out to be huge wind turbine propellers.)

So we turned around and rode back to the large parking lot for the public to view the workings of the lock, and dismounted the bikes to watch the long process of the ship—entering the low end of the lock (as below);

. . . rising as the water was introduced to the lock (as below);

. . . and exit again at the high water side, headed north to Canada.

The ship was called the Volga, run by BBC Chartering, flying the US flag, a Canadian flag, and one additional we couldn’t see nor identify. It blew its deep-throated horn as it left the lock, and the kids watching with us waved.

While we missed it when watching the tugboat’s traverse of the lock, we noticed a newly-erected (thin) osprey nest atop a tower across the way from the lock infrastructure. The resident osprey atop (I managed to forget my binoculars this ride) made some typical osprey noises, and took off when the big ship entered the lock, but we were unable to see if there was anything additional in the nest.

As we watched, the sky began to darken significantly. Since we’d left Roomba open due to the prediction of no rain and high temps, we hastened back to button up our site. By then it was lunchtime, really hot (although not the 90+ predicted degrees) and terribly humid, so we called off the remainder of our ride, logging almost 9 miles. Instead, I lubed the bike chains and then made some potato salad out of leftovers, while Jack got more ice, and we read and lazed about for the rest of the day, eating the potato salad with the leftover chicken and fennel for dinner. During the day, we also watched lots and lots more people arrive.

This travelogue has been broken into two parts for upload ease. Please click here to see Part 2.

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