North Carolina – 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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Slàinte.

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

Pettigrew State Park, North Carolina

January 3, 2020, Friday: It was a warm night so we slept with the ceiling fan/vent exhausting and awoke to 65 degrees outside and in the low 60s inside.

One final note about Carolina Beach SP that I forgot to mention in the prior post: They close and lock the gate at 6PM. When Jack was checking in, this was mentioned, and when he asked what we might do if we arrive back and find the gate locked, some general arm-waving and vague references to a “driveway” were made, but we never followed up.

When we returned from Michael’s Seafood on our last night at Carolina Beach, it was 6:45. So we wandered around some of the turn-offs from the main road in front of the gate, and at one point ended up turning around in some poor soul’s driveway.

For the record, if you go past the park entry off Dow Rd. The first right past the Park Road is, indeed, a gravel driveway, but it goes past a house and becomes the cut-through to get behind the gate and into (as well as out of) the park after hours. Sheesh!

Anyway, we left Carolina Beach SP, and en route, we encountered 75 degrees at 10AM, and clear driving the whole way to Pettigrew State Park. The temps were cooling by the time we arrived around 3PM.

Site 13 is in the sun (for solar gain as there is no electric or water at the sites) and nearest to the bathroom (the loop bathhouse remains closed in the winter, but there’s a heated toilet at the ranger’s office). By the way, the folks at the office are incredibly nice). You can get ice when the office is open, and firewood is on the honor system right at the camping loop.

From the rear

From the road

Hal and Dawn (fellow Alto owners) were already there, as were the mosquitoes, which were pretty bad with the wet, warm weather. We put up the screen house and pulled out the Deep Woods Off to save my ankles, still bumpy from bites sustained at Hunting Island. David, Holli, and their dog Digby joined us shortly after we arrived (another Alto-owner family).

First thing, I took the dogs for a walk, and we ended up at the boat launch, where the sun was setting.

In nearby (relatively speaking) Edenton, NC, were additional Alto owners, Karen and Steve, who wanted to come for the birds but didn’t want to de-winterize their camper. Instead, they stayed at a BnB in Edenton, about 35-40 minutes’ drive away. We’d made a reservation in Edenton for us all to gather for dinner at the Edenton Bay Oyster Bar—one of the past registration sites of the Bike NC Spring Ride.

Needing fuel to even make it to Edenton, we googled nearby stations and found the one highlighted didn’t exist. So we had to go farther away from Edenton en route to dinner to get fuel, resulting in our late arrival to the party. Moral: Don’t trust solely on Google in this part of the state.

Very nice dinner—got some excellent seared scallops on risotto, and returned to the camper for a much-needed sleep.

January 4, Saturday: Overnight the rain began and it really pelted down. We were not looking forward to trying to spot migrating birds in the wet, but we all dressed for it and headed out in separate cars, once Karen and Steve got to Pettigrew and joined us around 9:30AM. Despite the rain, the temperature was quite warm. Got away, headed to Mattamuskeet around 10 after deciding that we’d try to find a cafe for lunch rather than packing our lunches along.

During the long drive to the Visitor Center (it’s actually called the “Refuge Headquarters”) on Lake Mattamuskeet, we saw a bunch of American kestrels and kingfishers, and I spotted one perched bald eagle—very wet and unhappy-looking—along the way. We stopped at the informational kiosk at the top of the VC drive to see loads of water birds (mostly ducks) in the wetlands (mergansers, “redheads,” mallards, pintails, herons, egrets, etc.). But in the area pretty far from the road (needed binoculars to see them) were a gang or three of tundra swans—but no snow geese that we could see. And where we’d seen several bald eagles in the wetland on prior trips, we didn’t see any this time.

Strangely, the VC was closed so we not only were unable to speak to any rangers or biologists to get tips on where to find the big flocks of birds, but also couldn’t get the general introduction to what we might see and experience while there—this VC has a great display and lots of information about not only birds but also mammals, fish, trees, etc. Too bad those who hadn’t been there before couldn’t experience that.

So we drove around the opposite (far) side of the primary wetland (slightly closer to the tundra swans) and then headed to lunch. Found Martelle’s Feedhouse in Englehard and had a quite nice and filling (and warm/dry) lunch. Many of the local hunters and residents were there, so we knew it was going to be good. They served all kinds of seafood, Eastern NC BBQ, sandwiches and burgers galore, plates and smalls, and everything you might imagine at a “feedhouse.” I got a pork tenderloin salad that was superb.

We were headed to Pungo Lake, where we’d seen the most of the arctic birds in the past when we saw a white patch on the muddy landscape alongside the road. There seemed to be an access road to get closer, so we took it and got our first close-up look (and listen) of tundra swans.

Unfortunately, we spooked them as we peeked around the tree line, but it was quite breathtaking to see these enormous birds fly and sound the alarm.

It was still rainy: When the actual rain abated, a fine mist fell steadily. So we retreated back to the cars after watching the enormous birds a while and resumed our trek to Pungo.

In another 40 minutes of driving along state rt. 45, we got to the Pungo Lake preserve, driving in at the south entrance, where the main road takes a sharp turn and the “straight” roadway turns into Pat Road. The pavement turned to mud and the pools and puddles on the road were quite deep and numerous. But at least the rain had stopped.

We saw a huge flock of tundras in a cornfield at the far side of a thin, raised bank of trees and bushes. We pulled the cars onto the verge and all piled out to cross the stubble field and use the line of vegetation as a “blind” to get closer to the swans. We saw several piles of bear poop in the stubble field, just as is the case back home.

As we approached the line of trees, however, we found that there was a deep, moderately wide canal between us and our “blind.” But a couple of us jumped the ditch and were able to take some photos of the swan gang. We stood there in the relative dry watching the birds landing, taking off, and just hanging out.

We thought that, logically speaking, Pat Road should somehow link to Phelps Lake from Pungo as the two are relatively near one another. But bouncing along the mud lane simply landed us in front of a “No Trespassing—Private Property” sign, so we turned around and bounced back to Route 45 North and drove around our elbows (it seemed) to get back to camp.

I took some shots of the sunset as the sky cleared and the rain clouds dispersed.

Everyone elected to eat dinner separately, and although Hal suggested a campfire, he reported that the mosquitoes were ravenous so we all nixed that idea. In our camper, at least, we turned in early.

January 5, Sunday: At 6AM it was 42 both in and outside the camper, so we cranked the furnace and crawled back under the Rumpl blanket. Didn’t get up until late, and Hal and Dawn headed back to NOVA around 9:30 because Hal had to be at work on Monday.

As they were pulling out, Karen and Steve arrived to see what the pulse of the group was. It wasn’t until about 11 that Jack and I decided to pass up the opportunity for more bird-finding in favor of taking more time to hike around with the dogs. Everyone else elected to drive around some more, although the two cars-full went on separate adventures. Karen later reported seeing a bald eagle. David and Holli headed back to Pungo and later reported good sightings of swans, but also snow geese (which I was sorry to miss).

At the end of the campground along the walk to the Plantation is an interesting hollowed-out tree that Jack can stand inside. He held the dogs with him and they were both intent on some sound or smell within (probably a squirrel). Jack himself was unmoved by squirrel scent.

We took the pups along the boardwalk from the Plantation to the ranger’s office, and then along the 2.8-mile trail to Moccasin Overlook. Along the grassy trail, however, we encountered a lot of pooled water, and some dogs we were worried had no invisible fence restraints, so we turned around early. In all, it ended up being about a 2 mile trek.

The wind came up and there was significant chop out on Phelps Lake. But it dried things out a bit as the temperatures began to drop.

Around 2 Alison and Andy showed up from Raleigh, just to see what all the bird-fuss was about, and after chatting a while, they headed off to Pungo also. I loaned them my binoculars and when we saw them again, they reported lots of arctic bird sightings and a very satisfactory trip.

I threw the ball for Mischief for a bit and Holli and David discussed sharing a bonfire and some adult beverages, and we set up for that and had a lovely evening with them and Alison and Andy. We set up behind the trailer on the slight rise where Jack had taken down the screen house, so we were high and dry.

At about 7 the party broke up and Jack and I ate chili and “take and bake” rolls for dinner.

January 6, Monday: Holli and David rolled out of camp around 8:30 and we decided to delay breakfast until we were on the road. Jack had a special mission: to find the butcher who had made the sausages we ate when Edenton was the host site of the Bike NC Spring Ride a few years ago. He had done his research and thought we might have it pegged with directions to get there and an opening time of 10AM.

Tragically, Grandma’s Sausages was out of business. An elderly gent taking the sun in a carport next door to the shop kept trying to sell Jack the business or the building, even though Jack kept insisting that all we wanted were some of Grandma’s sausages. He said his wife used to run the business but had to stop, and now they were trying to sell it.

Sausage-less, we headed along back roads to Ahoskie, NC, where we ate lunch at a Golden Skillet. It was quite the place for “regulars” to gather, and Jack really enjoyed his chicken livers.

We kept to the back roads to NC Rt. 4, which is the Kerr Lake/North Bend Federal Campground road, and we crossed the dam and entered one of our most happy places. While our favorite peninsula was not open in the dead of winter, the loop available to us had a warm shower house sporting private toilet/shower rooms. Site #78 was relatively level so we could leave the truck hitched as we anticipated leaving for home the following morning.

Set up was minimal, so we grilled some bratwursts and re-heated leftover roasted veggies and potatoes for dinner. Then we walked down to the lakeside and watched the sun set as the evening star appeared.

Evening star

Orange fingers

The forecast for back home was for up to an inch or two of snow/sleet/icy mix early Tuesday, so we kept up with John via text and delayed deciding whether to head home the next day (as scheduled) or not.

January 7, Tuesday: The rains came in the night and the deluge continued most of Tuesday. We had only paid for one day as they would not refund if we decided to leave after spending just one night. But the gate attendant said as long as we paid by about 3PM, it was okay to delay our decision. We saw a total of 2 other campers, so there wasn’t any chance someone would come in and kick us out of our site.

At about noon, John texted that they’d gotten a slushy mix that was making driving on the mountain less than ideal. He said if we were to encounter trouble, it would be getting in our driveway.

While it was still pouring down with rain at North Bend, we decided to stay another night, and I walked with the dogs in the deluge to the front gate to give them another $10. The furnace was on when we got back, so my jeans and the dogs were able to dry out in comfort.

We listened to our audiobook, took nice warm showers (knowing that the water at home was turned off) and simply chilled out for the day. The rain stopped around 3PM when the wind whipped up to blow away all the clouds. We fought the wind down to the beach where a previous camper had created some rock-balanced towers that were pretty neat in the back-lit dusk.

January 8, Wednesday: The temperatures dropped like a rock overnight and we quickly broke camp at 34 degrees under a clear, bright sky, as we were surrounded by frosted leaves carpeting the woods. Initiated the 3-ish hour drive home at about 9-9:30, and were able to begin the long process of re-heating our 48-degree home in the mountains by about 2PM on January 8, 2020.

Carolina Beach, North Carolina

December 29, Sunday: Took our time on the drive to Carolina Beach State Park in North Carolina, near Wilmington. Arrived at dusk, and set up in site #34. Our “home” for the next 5 nights was deep and wide, well-separated from neighbors. A large graveled (tent-pitching?) area behind where the trailer sat had a lovely live oak branch cascading across it—Jack had to watch his head going back and forth to the bathhouse, but it was quite a nice addition to the amenities. We tied the dog run to it and later, used it to “air out” some of the dog bedding.

Although our drive was dry, we found many mosquitoes upon our arrival in the waning light. It was rather damp in the air and on the ground all around. We had leftovers for dinner.

Because we arrived at dusk late on a Sunday evening, we didn’t discover the “shortcut” to the bathhouse until the next AM, right off the back of our site. Likely because of the holidays, Jack found the men’s side of the bathhouse to be messy, with too-little paper anywhere to serve. On the women’s side, not much was out of order and the facilities were just fine, including several semi-private showers. In the showers, however, I found few hooks on which to hang stuff (and the bench was small). In several of the showers, they had retro-fitted wooden covers over what I assumed had once been vents or windows, and these had closures on which to hang a shower kit and a net bag to keep clothes off the bench and dry.

December 30, Monday: There was more rain overnight, but we slept until the dogs got restless at around 7:30. Toasted some of Jack’s good bread, showered, and put up the awning, etc.—things we didn’t get around to during our late arrival.

Headed into Wilmington for groceries and lunch. Ate at a Mexican restaurant called Corzano’s, which I thought meant “deer’s” or “stag’s” or some such, due to the images on the sign. When I tried to translate it, the closest word I could find that was a real Spanish word was Corazóno’s, which means “heart’s.” Not sure how that fits, but I tried translating “hart” (another name for a deer, especially a male deer) but the phrase “corazón a corazón” means “heart to heart.”

So I guessed that Corzano must be the surname of the person or family who owns the restaurant. In any case, our meal was delicious, with portions so generous I had to take some of my fajita burrito back to camp. They have excellent salsa, too.

I took a long walk with the dogs to the second (of two) camping loops. At the top of this loop are some cute (very small) cabins, which appeared popular. My guess is that one would need your own camping gear to stay in one, but I did not peer into any windows.

I found that this second campsite loop was mostly closed off. Not sure why, but not counting the cabins, it’s a small loop with its own bathhouse, and some pretty nice unserviced sites interspersed. In front of the gate was site #46—if one can live with an unserviced site, 46 has a beautiful, deep (private) access point to the Snow’s Cut Trail that traverses the high bluff of the Snow’s Cut River (a tributary of the Cape Fear River). I imagined that carrying a couple of camp chairs out to the bluff would make for some quite lovely sunset-watching with an adult beverage. But the downside would be that the vast trail system at the park is quite popular and that trail would be rather busy.

BoatOnSnowsCut0301Web — Boat on Snow’s Cut River

Because of the weather and the shady site, we ran the generator for ~3 hours to get our battery up to snuff for the night furnace. We ate leftover game hen & winter vegetables, and added some rice to the mix for our dinner.

December 31, New Year’s Eve, Tuesday: Another “good sleeping” night as the overnight was nice and cool (high 40s) and we decided to sleep without the furnace. Getting out from under the Rumpl blanket was another matter—it was 52 inside, so we hopped up to turn on the furnace and get the space warm before arising at around 8:30 to a lovely, crisp, and clear day.

The cool temps for the rest of our stay kept the mosquitoes at bay.

In the wee hours, we’d been awakened by a horrible caterwauling and decided it was coyotes on the hunt and it sounded like they had caught their prey.

Piddled around for most of the day. I wanted to try a breakfast casserole in the Omnia oven, so we’d gotten the ingredients at the grocery and I used the remains of Jack’s bread (going stale) in the mix. The recipe requires refrigeration overnight, so we put the Omnia with the ingredients ready-to-cook into the back of the truck to stay cool overnight. I will include the recipe I used below for anyone with an Omnia that wants to cook a delicious breakfast casserole—if you have space and weather to keep it cold-ish overnight.

I ate the leftover burrito from Corzano’s for lunch, and with the dogs, we headed to the Snow’s Cut Trail to see how it fit with the rest of the trail system. Our goal was to get to the Visitor’s Center and see the carnivorous plants, but the place was closed. In summer there’s a trail where you can spot them growing in the wild, but in the winter they are invisible in the wild and dormant. But apparently, the VC has an indoor display of them in an artificial environment. Even though the VC was closed, the restrooms were accessible so we took advantage and then carried on exploring more of the trails, clocking 2.6 miles total.

Saw lots of interesting plants, fungi, and flowers along the way.

For evening chow, we cooked the remaining half of kielbasa, and I roasted the second “round” of winter vegetables I’d prepared before we left home. This time, I roasted them for less time and they were much better—more flavorful and less mushy—than the first round had been (less time = 35-40 minutes). Got the opportunity to use one of my Christmas presents: a portable Dutch Oven steel cooktop with raised sides for wind protection. The legs are adjustable and can even be removed, leaving a 4-inch rise so the cooktop can be used on a picnic or other table without fear of burning up everything below.

Enjoyed some kick-back time in the chill of evening, and rang out 2019 with a dram of whisky.

January 1, 2020, Wednesday: The dogs got restless around 5:30-6 on this morning, so we got up a bit earlier than normal to 44 degrees outside.

After walking and feeding the dogs, I got out the Omnia from the “cold storage” in the back of the truck and cooked it on medium-low for about a half our, then turned it up to medium-high for the last half-hour (or so). Took it off the heat and let it sit for about 10 minutes while Jack grilled some toast to accompany. It was pretty delicious.

We tried to air out the dog bedding, but the site is shadier than expected, and it was quite cool all day, so our need for “sunshine and summer air” wasn’t exactly what we got. Later, we offered an Alto tour to someone who asked to see inside and thawed the filet mignon we’d brought along, in anticipation of our New Years Day meal.

We enjoyed a lovely bonfire, some good wine, and a delicious meal of grilled filets, “smokehouse” style green beans, and potatoes au gratin. Very nice (and hopeful) way to launch us into 2020.

January 2, Thursday: Another chilly night. We again awoke to 44 degrees outside, and only 49 inside. Ate a reprise of the breakfast casserole heated in a frypan, and took a very long hike to Sugarloaf Dune, “a prominent pre-Colombian geologic feature.” I have included the storyboards we read below in case anyone wants to read more about it.

The various trails to get there wind throughout the park and were marked on the map as being ~2.5 miles one-way. The ones we chose went mostly through what I might call “piney savannah”—we traversed the Campground Trail first, then connected and continued along the Sugarloaf Trail past Grass Pond, Lilly Pond, and Cypress Pond. We hit the Swamp Trail on the return (which was not swampy).

While the trails are well-marked, it’s a good idea to take one of the trail maps with you so you can see your options and choose your path.

Sugarloaf Trail

Long-leafed Pine

Nascent limb

Atop Sugarloaf Dune

View from Sugarloaf Dune

After the hike, we took showers, and Jack began to pack for our departure. For dinner, we headed into Wilmington to Michael’s Seafood, and the place was packed. We sat on the back (enclosed) patio with enormous gas-flame heaters to keep it useful in winter. But the space was incredibly loud! It was difficult to hear yourself think. We both had shrimp and grits, and although it was tasty, Parkway Grille in Floyd does a better job of shrimp and grits (IMHO).

One final thing I should mention, especially for those who travel with dogs: There are trash and recycling bins all over the camping loops. Literally every 50-75 yards or so, there’s another 4-bin “station” for both garbage (including dog poop bags) and recyclables (single-stream). A true luxury if you’re walking and picking up after dogs.

Given these bins are just wooden containers, I had thought to myself, “Well, I guess they don’t have a raccoon problem here (see the prior post from Hunting Island, SC)!” But they do, indeed, have raccoons, as we saw a troupe of the pests traversing the campground just prior to leaving. I wondered how they managed to keep them out of the garbage . . .

__________________________

Omnia breakfast casserole

Bread: you’ll line the lightly oiled bottom of the Omnia’s silicone liner with sandwich-width sliced bread cut in cubes/chunks. You can use store-sliced bread or homemade, white or multi-grain, crust on or off. How much you need depends on what type of bread you use. I used about 2 slices, chunked up and fit flat on the bottom. The bread should form a relatively unbroken “mat” at the bottom, approx. .5 to 1 inch thick.

~7 eggs
~1.5 c milk
~ 1/2 c store-bought pico de gallo
~ 6 grilled sausage patties, crumbled (or about 1/3 of a “loaf” of ground sausage, fried & crumbled)—can also use ham or cooked, crumbled bacon, etc.
1-1.5 c shredded sharp cheddar
Cayenne and chili powder to taste

Spray olive oil lightly on the Omnia silicone liner
Drain the liquid from the pico de gallo as you assemble the rest of the casserole
Mix the eggs with the milk and any spices or herbs you want to add
Place the bread in one layer on the bottom of the Omnia
Sausage on top of the bread
Pico de gallo next
Some of the shredded cheese (save some for the top)
Pour egg mixture over all—the amount should cover easily but not drown the rest of the ingredients. Use a fork to press everything down and get some air out.
Top with the rest of the shredded cheese.
Let rest overnight in a cool place/refrigerator.

Pre-heat the bottom (separate) cooker (7-10 minutes?) before adding the Omnia on top.

Cook on Medium/Medium low for about a half hour. Raise temp to Medium/Medium high for another half hour.

Once steam begins to come out of the holes in the top of the oven, give it another 5 minutes and test with a knife to assure the eggs are solid.

Remove from heat and let it rest for 5-10 minutes.

Serve with toast or fruit.

__________________________

About Sugarloaf Dune — At 55 ft. Above sea level, Sugarloaf Dune is part of an ancient sand dune ridge that formed when sea levels were higher. It was named Sugarloaf in 1663 because it resembled a mass of crystallized sugar. The name caught on and Sugarloaf has been on navigational charts ever since. Throughout history, the dune has been a landmark for river pilots traveling the Cape Fear River.

American Indians inhabited the area around Sugarloaf from 6,000 BC until their decline [due to disease brought by Europeans and being forced west by white colonists—LC] in the early 1700s. Artifacts and remnant mounds of shellfish from these former inhabitants can still be found in the area today.

Sugarloaf played an important role in the defense of Fort Fisher and Wilmington during the Civil War. In the winter of 1864-5, about 4,500 Confederate troops encamped here. A one-mile line of heavy earthworks stretched from Sugarloaf on the edge of the Cape Fear River to the Atlantic Ocean. Confederate earthworks can still be seen in the park today.

Twenty-five years after the Civil War, a pier located at the base of Sugarloaf Dune became a major transportation link for the area. A local steamer called “The Wilmington” made regular stops at the pier, often carrying up to 500 passengers. An open car railway then carried passengers from Sugarloaf along what is now Harper Avenue to the boardwalk for a day at the beach.

Before the park was established in 1969, the Sugarloaf area was used and misused by the general public. Four-wheel drive vehicles, motorcycles, and beach buggies trampled the fragile dune vegetation and caused major erosion. Today, exposed tree roots are signs left behind by the activity of the past.

This historical landmark is still being threatened. You can protect it:

Stay on the designated trail
Do not climb or walk on the dune face
Keep out of the fenced areas
Report any damage or misuse to a park ranger

Help the park protect Sugarloaf Dune for future generations to enjoy. [Hear, hear!]

Wednesday, January 10, 2018 •

Colder night (30 degrees) than expected, but all of us slept well. I was out on the boat launch dock by about 6:45A and the others came around 7:15 or so. There were lots of swans in more-or-less the same configurations as the day before, and as the sun came up, their noise levels increased. We noticed many, many more different kinds of birds today compared to yesterday AM. Gulls, many differing types of ducks, herons, and, far far away near the eastern shore, two bald eagles fighting—one stayed put and, noting by his body language and movements, was eating a catch I couldn’t see even through binoculars. The other came and went, harassing the lucky eater to no avail. I heard their cries at one another several times when the interloper would come calling and get rebuffed.

It was well past 8 with the sun shining brightly (and warming things on the dock) when the swans began moving off the water. After a while, we all decided to get warm at the campers, have breakfast or coffee/tea. It was colder in the parking lot closer to the still-deep snow than it had been out on the dock.

After breakfast, we readied ourselves to head to Mattamuskeet Lake Wildlife Refuge, and over Alligator sound to another refuge. Jack drove the gang today, and we left around 11.

The bridge over the Alligator sound/river is closed for repairs starting today through about January 19. The detour is not quite 100 miles—awfully glad I don’t live around here (or need to deliver packages to those who live around here) because that’s an enormous distance to add to a commute or delivery.

In our meanderings we took some side roads, and discovered a lovely small inlet called Frying Pan. Mike and Barbara got all excited about this find because it looks quite good for kayaking, and even has a parking area and a boat launch to access the bigger water. Oddly enough, the parking area is off Frying Pan Road.

In our search for the road, we passed a juvenile bald eagle at the edge of a cultivated (but currently fallow) field. We missed our turn and by the time we passed the eagle again, an adult had landed next to it. We didn’t see any kill or other items of interest, but the two were just standing there, apparently in some sort of face-off. So that sighting amounted to 4 eagles for the day.

We got to Mattamuskeet and hopped out of the truck along the roads to see the small ponds/wetlands around the visitor center, and saw many and varied species of water birds, including tundra swans. We did not spot any snow geese but saw Canadas, and among the ducks and other waterbirds, we noted pintails, goldeneyes, teals, scaups, coots, and more. Not many mallards, no egrets, but many great blue herons.

En route, we saw a mammal, long and slick, with a long-ish tail. We thought, before it disappeared into the water along the road, that it might be a river otter. We also postulated nutria, as we know they are here as invasives and pests. Jack suggested it was bigger than that, but smaller than a beaver.

As we drove closer toward the visitor center, we saw two nutria, which are significantly large, but not as big as what we’d seen earlier. One of the critters was right beside the road, nibbling on the stalks and roots of the water grasses that grew close to the edges of the water.

Inside the VC, we confirmed that what we’d seen earlier was a river otter.

Outside the window of the VC, we also saw a woodcock, merrily foraging in the lawn! One of the rangers invited us to her office to see more clearly, and I took a couple of pix there, then went around to the front porch and had the opportunity to take an even better photo.

A group of elderly folks on an airport-style bus were there, too, and they crowded the poor woodcock (all the time calling it a wood duck) and finally chased it away. Stupid, ugly Americans.

There were a few picnic tables under the trees, but one was getting a bit of sun, so we had our lunch there. The average temp at the warmest part of the day was upper 50s, so we still needed a jacket, but it was a very nice picnic.

We spent a lot of time on the back side of the marshy area (called, oddly, Wildlife Drive) taking pictures of some great blues (one of which had caught a small snake, but carried it away into the wetland before we could capture a photo of it) and collections of diverse groups of species. The cacophony was higher-pitched, less volume, and more varied than we’ve heard with the masses of swans and geese we’ve encountered so far. Lots of small duck vocalizations.

Nearly at the end of Wildlife Drive, we saw another adult bald eagle, sitting on a low snag. None of us had enough lens-power to photo it, but we all were able to see it through binocs. Without going back into the main drive to the VC, where there is hardly any passing space, let alone turn-around space, we would not be able to get closer to it.

Needing fuel, we mapped our way to a small burgh called Englehard, which (happily) was en route to our next destination: the enormous “void” on all our maps called the Alligator Wildlife Refuge, encircled by a “scenic drive.”

Refueled (they are very very proud of their fuel down here and price it accordingly) we found the scenic drive and it was long, flat, straight, and boring. Once we passed a couple of open fields that did not hold any snow geese or tundra swans, we were enclosed by pine forest, much of which had been burnt (intentional or accident?) and signs saying the area was a bombing range for a nearby military base.

Still hopeful to see something new or special on our drive, we did spot a gang of maybe 4 egrets sitting in a snag—big blobs of white in a drowned tree in the middle of a wetland. Passed by too fast to grab a photo, but it reminded me of the “hairy” egrets we saw while we were cycling around Assateague Wildlife Refuge last April.

Mike spotted another juvenile baldie sitting in one of the burnt snags near the road, sunning himself. So that made 6 bald eagles for the day. Later, Barbara spotted a mature redtailed hawk with a lovely white breast, just a little rust color up near its shoulders and throat, solemnly watching us stare at it.

Also along the way we saw many kestrels along roads with open fields beside them; and even a couple of merlins doing their hard-pumping thing over the fallow fields. I really lost count of the non-eagle raptors, because I was trying to see kestrels soon enough to point them out to Barbara, but we were in the back seat of the Honda (which is surprisingly roomy and comfortable) and I never saw them soon enough. We also saw a few red shouldered hawks, possibly 2 other redtails, and at least one Cooper’s hawk. Many, many great blue herons were spotted along the roads and near by in fields and along ditches.

1030-HeronAtVisitorCtr — This great blue was captured at the Mattamuskeet Visitor’s Center, but it’s emblematic of all the many that we saw along ditches and in fields next to the road.

Disappointed at not being able to find all the “scenic” or the “wildlife” around the refuge’s scenic drive, we headed homeward about 4:30, and with only spotty cell service, tried to find a place to eat that was different from where we’d eaten last time, in Columbia.

We thought Englehard had a marina seafood place, but were unable to find it by the time we reached there (about 5:30) so headed on to Columbia to the place we’d eaten before, in the Columbia Crossings Center (at the intersection of 64 and another major road, 94). While the food is as good as we remembered, it is a bit grody and the people are not very friendly. They were offering a fried chicken and “country steak” buffet, and a couple of specials, but we ordered off the menu, getting a variety of seafood. Tasty, but a strange atmosphere. Barbara overheard a conversation when some young folks came in as we were headed out, obviously looking for a place to have a beer (there’s a “tavern” next door and affiliated with this “family” place). The waitress evidently asked her manager, “Can I tell them we’re closing at in a half hour?” When the hostess demurred, she said, “What if they stay here drinking and chatting until after closing?”

That was the extent of the overheard conversation, but we were not impressed with the staff’s capacity (or willingness) to serve their customers.

Finally got home about 8P, after a 250-mile day. Jack and I cracked out the whisky for a wee dram before bed, and we read until about 9:30. Set the thermostat again for 50 and hit the hay. Forecast has changed from rain all day tomorrow to rain only in the afternoon/evening. We called Lacey (housesitter) to let her know we’re planning to hit North Bend for Thursday night en route home, and not arrive back until Friday. All’s well with the world (and with the tundra swans).

Birdwatching Bonanza

Tuesday, January 9, 2018

We got significant unexpected rain in the night, with colder than predicted temps. With our mummy sleeping bags and the propane furnace set on 50 we slept fine. When we got up, it was 32 and the dawn was red and fire-like, but the clouds rolled in, and then rolled away again.

We all walked down to our hoped-for boat launch camping spot, to watch the tundra swans get up off the ice and fly overhead, on their way to the feeding grounds. For the most part, these thousands of swans in a couple of groups were the only birds out there. Some were merely standing on the ice and others were floating in small patches of thawed water. There were also some small, short-necked, dark-colored ducks in patches of water.

Tundra swans (primarily) overnighted on Phelps Lake.

Barbara and Mike watching/photographing the swans as they moved from the lake to their feeding grounds.

Thousands of swans make quite a racket, even from this distance.

Their long necks replicate the high flute-like pitch of their calls.

Swans flying over our parking lot campsites.

Our plan was made while we watched and took pix—we’d use Mike and Barbara’s vehicle that had on-demand four-wheel drive, because we thought we’d be headed out into muddy tracks trying to get to Pungo Lake, and to a spot across Phelps Lake that was recommended to us by the ranger: Cypress Point.

After breakfast and unhitching, we all piled into their car and headed out for the day. Our first stop was Moccasin Point Overlook, which extends into Phelps Lake only a few miles away from Pettigrew. To access the dock, we took a lovely raised walkway through a cypress swamp—where Mike, Barbara, and I had hiked the last time we were here. We did not see the many, many ducks we’d seen last time, but we did see a pair of woodcock, a very bold squirrel, and just enjoyed the walk and the scenery, even though there was quite a lot of snow. In that snow we saw tracks of all sorts of critters, including the deer we later saw in the woods (but I was unable to capture on film).

Ice on the Spanish moss dangling from the cypress trees @ Moccasin Point.

Checking out the critter tracks in the snow.

Cypress knees in the ice of Phelps Lake.

Cheeky squirrel watched us closely but didn’t run.

Great blue heron dancing on the ice.

Next, we drove to Cypress Point (another Phelps Lake overlook), which had a small boat (kayak, canoe) launch area beside the dock. It was a lovely overlook, with benches to enjoy the view—but contrary to what the ranger said, there wasn’t a migratory bird anywhere in sight. We did, however, see two bald eagles. That was special.

By this time, it was about 1PM and Mike was pretty hungry, so we fetched our lunches from the car and sat on the dock to eat. We were all pretty stiff by the time we’d finished, and several of us had sat too close to the melting snow on the step, and got our bums wet. It was a very nice temp, however—maybe in the high 40s—and with little wind we were quite comfortable and relaxed. It was also quite sunny, those AM clouds having dispersed, so by the end of the day, both Barbara and I felt a bit sunburned.

Next, we headed around to another overlook on Phelps Lake: Pocosin Overlook, in the Pocosin Natural Area. There was a strange elevated platform that you accessed via steep, narrow (icy) steps, and when we all climbed up there, far away across the pond, we saw an enormous cloud of white birds lift off and swirl around — it was similar to a murmuration of starlings, but low over the ice/water, no higher than what could be backed by the trees on the far side. It was truly extraordinary.

Trying to get to Pungo Lake is a challenge—many roads are closed seasonally, and there’s simply no easy way to get there. We all though that if Phelps was mostly frozen, then for sure, Pungo would be a sheet of ice (it’s smaller than Phelps) but surrounding Pungo are many open fields, some left unharvested for the birds. So we drove around, trying to get to where we might see the sea of birds we’d captured last year.

One final turn that happened to be along Pat’s Road, where we had ventured last time, and LO! We saw millions and millions of birds, covering the partially-harvested corn fields on either side of a muddy road, out of which another vehicle full of bird watchers emerged as we arrived. So we turned right and met the mud.

Wow. We were breathless. The birds appeared to be in nearly-overlapping but separate groupings of tundra swans at one end and snow geese at the other. While they sometimes seemed to mingle (at least in the air) there seemed to be an agreement among them about whose end was whose. The geese had youngsters with them—we were able to distinguish them because they were gray.

Mike and I walked into the field (followed a bit later by Barbara) but our only photographic options to capture the snow geese were to the west as the sun was setting, and too bright for photos. We took a lot of pix of the swans. Far to the north, we heard hunters, presumably hunting geese or ducks.

Billions of birds!

Snow geese have shorter necks and dark wingtips.

Snow geese flying over tundra swans.

Mike photographs in the field of birds.

We watched and listened for a long time. Jack stayed back by the vehicle, and at one point an enormous gaggle of snow geese flew right over his head, and settled near the road, in another partly-harvested cornfield toward the north (but not near the hunters, rather, still within walking distance of us).

As the sun set and our hopes for a mass fly-off dimmed, we re-gathered at the vehicle. Barbara’s feet were cold, Mike had stepped into a water-filled, snow-covered ditch and his feet were wet, and we were all getting tired and hungry. We had parked with the nose of the vehicle pointing north, along a small, muddy side road, along which lay the field where the geese had settled. So we thought we’d get closer by driving straight along. We were not actually able to see the geese better from that vantage, after all.

A couple of trucks met us, and there was absolutely no where to ease to the side without going into the cultivated field, frozen below with a skim of mud on top. So we backed nearly the whole way out, until a wide grass verge allowed us to pull off for the trucks to get by. The first one passed and waved, and the second one stopped and informed us that this and the other mud road were seasonally closed, even though there were no signs indicating such. So we apologized, wondering if he was a ranger or a hunter, and (since we were on our way out anyway) promised we’d exit post haste.

Then we stopped on the paved road (not closed seasonally) and took some more pix of the geese that were packed right next to the road, madly feeding. I was in the back and the photos I took of the snow geese and their gray youngsters came out blurry since I had to take them through a fixed window. Too bad, because we were very close.

Managed to work our way back toward Pettigrew by “going around our elbows to get to our thumbs” as Jack characterized our route, and since dinner was on our minds, we navigated into Edenton, where we were sure to find a restaurant. A place J&I had gone on one of our NC bicycle rides was the Waterman’s Grille, so we aimed for the downtown/waterfront section and parked. That place was closed for their winter break and clean, so we tried something called Bistro 309. Lovely little place, that it seemed everyone in town was patronizing that night (on a Tuesday?) but we didn’t wait long for a seat or service and had an excellent meal. Drum fish was one of the specials, and everyone got that except yours truly, and I got fried flounder. Everyone’s meals disappeared with a nice glass of wine (except Mike, who was driving) and then we endured the long drive home, tired and well-fed, satisfied, and imagining flocks and flocks of large, raucous, white birds.

Pettigrew State Park, NC

Monday, January 8, 2018

AM temp was 20 where we were expecting 10, so it’s good news. We thought to try the new ceramic heater overnight, taking advantage of the electric hookup, so we lowered the propane heater thermostat to 45. By the wee hours, the propane had kicked on a few times—we guess between 3 and 4 total overnight. So the ceramic heater is good for maintenance, but for bringing or keeping the temps up, it’s slightly anemic, at least when it’s really frigid outside.

Had cheesy grits with bacon crumbled in it for breakfast, and headed toward Pettigrew State Park (NC) around 11, after giving a tour of the Alto to one of the rangers.

As we drove east, more and more snow was visible—left over from the “bomb cyclone” that hammered the east, all the way down to FL around New Years this year (if you’re not sure what a bomb cyclone is, check this out: https://www.popsci.com/bomb-cyclone. Anyway, through some of the small towns (we routed via backroads, and it was a pleasant and pretty drive) there were significant lumps of packed ice/snow in the main streets. By the time we were taking our final approaches to Pettigrew State Park, we had to avoid lots and lots of unscraped, hardened, lumpy snow/ice in the roads. Along the NC Rt. 64 (4-lane but not interstate) we traveled quite a lot in the left lane because there were so many shady places where masses of snow were packed solid along the middle of the road.

During our lunch stop in Plymouth, our friend and fellow Alto camper Mike called, because we’d not found any firewood and warned him to look for some early. He had taken the step to call Pettigrew, and the folks said they had firewood available for sale, so we all figured we’d just buy it there. As it turns out, it was far too cold and we were out far too late to mess with any campfires during this trip.

When we pulled in to the park, the Mike and Barbara were already there, discussing options with the staff. One fellow had recently been on the tractor clearing the 4 inches of snow from the campground. Barbara thinks they didn’t really think we were coming until they conveyed the info about the firewood, then they stepped on it to clear our designated camp sites.

The supposition by staff was that it would be inadvisable for us to go to the campsites because the tractor clearing snow had nearly gotten stuck. So we suggested we camp at the boat ramp (the majority of Phelps Lake itself is frozen solid, so no boats would be launched there). The staff laughed, and since we thought that was a real possibility we walked down to check it out.

0981-Jan9MistyAMPhelpsLake — The dock and frozen Lake Phelps.

0867-WalkToTheDock — The walk to the lakefront where we’d hoped to set up.

Alas, it would certainly have been a perfect set up—beautiful and flat/paved/dry—but when we actually stated that we’d like to do that, they (after quite a lot of discussion and trying to find the “right” person to ask, which resulted in a delay in our campsite set-up procedures) decided they would not be able to allow us to do that.

Assuring us that by tomorrow we’d be able to get into the campsites proper, the head ranger encouraged us to set up right there in the parking lot, which we (eventually) did. What an excellent opportunity we had taken away from us. I wonder if he thought there would be some sort of precedent set if he let us camp down there.

All of us who were familiar with snow and cold nights knew we were not going anywhere next day.

Anyway, we quickly set up (mostly 2 bars of LTE near the ranger station) and again did not unhitch the cars because it was late and we were all tired. After we’d both cranked up the heat and fixed our respective dinners, Jack and I carried our food over to Mike and Barbara’s Alto—just like ours but newer, and called Moon Shadow—and shared stories and food. The best kind of camping in the world.

Mattamuskeet Journey v. 2018

Mattamuskeet Journey to see migrating waterfowl v. 2018

In January of 2016, we headed out with a newly-acquired Alto camper trailer (we named Roomba) to accompany tent-camping friends to Mattamuskeet Wildlife Refuge, camping at Pettigrew State Park in North Carolina, just on Lake Phelps.

That was so fun we decided on a reprise of that trip with the same friends, who are now also Alto trailer owners (they named theirs Moon Shadow). Last time, the temps were quite chill, and Mike and Barbara were tenting, although we shared our camper’s propane heat on a couple of occasions. But it was bitter cold.

This time was not as gray and frosty, but still cold overnights, and — well, I’ll let you read all about it in several posts.

Sunday, January 7

Left MoD when the temp was about 10 degrees. We began prep around 8:30 – 9:00 AM and had said goodbye to the doggies and were driving down Rt. 59 by about 11.

The weird thing about the whole stowing and prepping during this type of winter camping is that nothing that would be damaged by freezing could be out in Roomba nor in the back of the truck overnight. So we could not pre-pack as we so often do to assure an early departure. We removed our bathroom kits from our clothes bags, and put all the food (including the ‘fridge food, as nothing was going in from our home freezer) and other things that would be damaged by freezing into the truck very last before hitting the road. We put the refrigerator food into the ‘fridge without turning it on, figuring that it would not freeze solid in the 3 hours it was going to take us to get to North Bend (halfway point overnight spot). Measuring by past experience, the interior of the camper gets really cold on cold traveling days, so we couldn’t even put the dishwashing liquid into Roomba where it usually stays.

So the whole packing up thing was a challenge. We’d left our bed topper rolled and in Roomba for the entirety of this deep freeze (started about New Year’s Eve and overnight temps were in the low single digits — one AM we had zero degrees F — steadily for the whole of 2018). So the topper was stiff as a board and we probably could not have unrolled it even if we’d wanted to. Our hope was that it could ride in the back seat of the truck and thaw a bit, but it was too wide/stiff to fit into the cab, so we had to leave it in Roomba.

Once we arrived at North Bend Federal Campground (around 3P, after a stop for lunch and another for fuel) we plugged up (site 51–with between 2 and 3 bars of LTE and/or 3G cell service) and cranked the propane heater which solved the problem of the frozen bed topper nicely.

North Bend was 28 degrees, and there was still significant amounts of snow along the roads, especially at the edges. The guard said that there had been about 5 campsites used last night, but everyone had left.

They had sites 51 – 77 open, with one heated bathhouse that has maybe 8 private toilet/bath rooms. Site 51 is far from the lakefront, but pretty close to the bathhouse.

We did not unhitch, only leveled and set up, again pondering what would go where when we take off for Pettigrew State Park in NC tomorrow. We’re about 3 hours away from our next stop and, happily—although tonight will be lows in the teens again—the temps will be trending upwards for our whole stay at Pettigrew.

We have brought yeast rolls rising in Omnia, plus a lovely (but untried) chicken stew in the Billy Boil. After set up and a quick walk down to the lake (water levels are waaaaaay low—the “beach” I walked along was really the lake bottom) we are now happily ensconced in the warmth, and getting ready to continue our listen to another of the “Department Q” crime/mystery series (by Jussi Adler-Olsen) with Carl Merk: The Hanging Girl.

Cycling Tour Final Day Five

September 29 –

This tour ended with an enormous “bang” as we had great weather and a beautiful, excellent ride to finish this Czech/German cycling adventure. We rode out of the “hill country” leaving Schmilka headed to Dresden. The group actually broke into two parts, four riders and one guide (Milan) for the group that would ride the entire way to Dresden; and the larger group that would cycle about 15-20 miles then catch a paddleboat the rest of the way along the Elbe, north to Dresden.

We began by heading through Bad Schandau, and enjoyed some lovely paths, sights, ferries, and pauses along the way.

Germany’s version of Pilot Knob in North Carolina.

A few climbs but on a bike path like this, who can complain?

Konigstein Fortress was first mentioned when King Wenceslas I of Bohemia affixed his seal on a decree “in lapide Regis” or “on the stone of the king.” In German, Konigstein = King’s Stone. It is one of the largest hilltop fortifications in Europe, but no longer maintained.

Saw this gaggle before boarding the ferry to head to the opposite bank. Once we got there, we saw the rest of our pack arriving to the ferry landing to cross behind us. We waved but none of them saw us.

Typical path surface and situation during this tour.

It looks like there’s a multi-eyed giant watching us from inside this church.

This raft reminded me of an overstuffed doughnut.

That’s not a person atop the rock, but some sort of sculpture.

This is a boat similar to the one the larger group took (except going the other other way).

Bastei Bridge. The Bastei is a rock formation towering 194 meters above the Elbe River, and is part of the Sandstone Mountain range. In 1819, August von Goethe said, “Here, from where you see right down to the Elbe from the most rugged rocks, where a short distance away the crags of the Lilienstein, Konigstein, and Pffafenstein stand scenically together and the eye takes in a sweeping view that can never be described in words.”

We pulled into the lovely little town of Pirna, definitely a spot to which we must return. Its lovely square sits high-ish above the river. Really pretty. A nice local lady, whose bike was on the rack next ot ours, was asking Jack about his rear-view mirror, attached to his glasses temple. That conversation evolved into Milan doing some translating for her, and then answering her question about our destination for the day—which led to the discovery that our intended path was blocked (under construction), and she recommended a detour to keep us out of the urban traffic. So we unexpectedly ended up re-crossing the river and heading north on the left bank for a while. The detour might have added some miles, but hat addition it was of no consequence.

We stopped for a late lunch about 3 miles outside of Dresden, and enjoyed brats and beer at a lovely old beer garden, soaking up the sun, and savoring our final cycling day.

Quite frankly, arrival in Dresden was anticlimactic. Jack and I were astounded at the progress in rebuilding the city that has been accomplished since our last visit, some 10 years ago.

Milan, Jack, Craig, Mary and I waited for the others outside of our hotel (the QF Hotel), located directly on the main Old Town square of Dresden, and had a celebratory beer. I forgot to mention that we finally reached a full complement of riders on this day. Allen had emerged from the van on Day Three, John on Day Four, and Michael—who, behind our group, elected to ride with Vlasta from the boat all the way to Dresden—on day Five. At least he got one day of riding in — and what a glorious day it was, too.

Our closing celebratory dinner was held at one of the oldest taverns in Dresden, Kurfurstenschanke, founded in 1708. During our meal we met our guide for our exploration of Dresden by night, an actor playing the part on the city’s King Augustus II.

After dinner, we gathered for our tour, and our guide was engaging and funny, articulate and knowledgeable. It was quite a fun tour, although most of us were very tired by this time. It was, however, a good launching point for our free day in Dresden tomorrow.

The moon was out for our night tour. Difficult to capture, but one of my efforts at least turned out okay.

Augustus II, our guide, is depicted in the dark coat with the dark tricorn hat, in the middle-right.

Cycling Stats:

Ride time: 2:45 hours
Stopped time: 3 hours
Distance: 34 miles
Average speed: 12MPH
Fastest speed: 26.5MPH
Ascent: 172 ft.
Descent: 359 ft.

	Jen on Sherando Lake Recreation Area,…
	Tom on Sherando Lake Recreation Area,…
	acwynn on Sherando Lake Recreation Area,…
	Jack on Raccoon Creek State Park-…
	chichlee on Ohiopyle State Park, PA