Author: kyotesue

I used to read more blogs than I do now.  Somehow the old “blogging RV community” has shifted and changed.  A lot.  But that is another story.  The first reason for choosing to read a blog is that the person writing is a friend. Usually someone I have met in person and developed a relationship with.  A bit vaguer second criterion is that the person writes more than “we went here, we did this.” My writing can slip into this as well, especially when we are going and seeing and doing at the pace we have been for the last week.  Maybe that is why writing can be so daunting at times like these. 

My daughter Melody said this morning that she can’t wait to hear what I think of New York City. I have only seen the City from the perspective of a tourist.  One that is ferried around in a giant shiny bus, with a driver that negotiates the crazy traffic, tunnels, and tiny lanes with incredible expertise.  I have visited most sites with a guide and a map and a timetable.  It probably isn’t the best way to immerse in a great city.  Mo and I walked the streets and trains of Washington DC, Bangkok, Thailand, Seattle, San Francisco, Los Angeles, and many others on our own. Daughter Deanna and I walked the streets of Florence and hiked the steep trails of the Amalfi coast on our own, and daughter Melody and I braved Vienna, Budapest, and Prague without the benefit of a bus or a guide. But New York City is another beast entirely.  After more than a week as a tourist, I still know that tackling this city on my own would be daunting.

What strikes me the most, however, and what I love most is the diversity.  I love sitting in a restaurant and hearing at least three languages that I don’t recognize.  I love the complex tapestry of all types of people wearing all types of clothes.  Gorgeous black women flaunting their beauty, long black dreds and skimpy dresses barely covering strong bodies.  Indian women in saris weaving among the Wall Street types in suits and ties.  Middle Eastern men cooking hot halal food on the corners from street carts.  I learned that “Halal” is for Muslims and “kosher” is for Jewish people.

I do love that live theater is everywhere, all through the city, not just on “Broadway” even though they say ‘On Broadway”.  Our show was on 52nd street and was wild with the energy of the crowd who loved the star of the show and showed it with six standing ovations.  I loved seeing so many gorgeous young girls and adorable young men in all sorts of clothes,  gay couples holding hands openly as they walked the streets. 

I loved the incredible diversity of restaurants, from tiny hole-in-the-wall pizza counters to restaurants so expensive I couldn’t even afford to look at the menu, all on the same street. 

I know that if I had the time I would love the culture of magnificent art and history museums, and tiny little spots telling stories of the history of the area.  I would love to spend more time in the parks, not just Central Park, but Bryant Park and so many others.  Yesterday as we passed Bryant Park, I saw a woman maybe my age, a bit dowdy in ordinary clothes sitting at a tiny table engaged in a focused conversation with a very black man with dreds and tattoos.  They appeared to be the best of friends.  Where I live in Grants Pass people of color other than Hispanic are so rare that it is impossible to sit with them at a table, much less become friends.

I love that all this energy, diversity, and culture in Manhattan is located in just 22.8 square miles, 13.4 miles long, and 2.3 miles wide. I drive more than 25 miles to get to Costco, and my most used grocery store in my town of Grants Pass is 3 miles away.  I try to picture the complexity and population of the width of Manhattan with the distance to the grocery store in Grants Pass.  That is an image that sticks with me about what New York City is like and how I feel about it.

While waiting in line for the loo at the theater during intermission, I talked with a young man who has lived in the City for five years.  I asked him what he thought of living here.  Of course, he loves it.  He is a theater geek.  I think for people who love theater, who envision getting a role on Broadway or off Broadway or anywhere in the City, living here is a priority.  For musicians who study here, for anyone into “the arts” of any form, these people love the energy and vitality of this city.  For people in Finance and in Advertising, it is the mecca, the center of their world.  They fill the tiny apartments that rent for an average of 4,000 a month for 450 square feet and feel lucky to live here.  

There are many great cities in the world and New York City is definitely one of them.  I wouldn’t choose to live here, but I understand why some people would absolutely love it.  Not only people who were raised here never learned to drive, and know nothing else.  But also people who came here from the hinterlands to bury themselves in the high-energy, vital, crazy environment that is New York City and love it.

My friend Jeanne was raised nearby in New Jersey, and left the minute she was old enough to drive. I left the LA area for many of the same reasons when I was just 16.  It is all about what fits your soul the best.  I can imagine that my youngest, who asked this question, who loves theater and music and art, but also loves to be alone in uncrowded spaces might like it here a lot.  For a bit.  Who knows, but my guess is that she will never have to make that decision.  

My view from the RV door at our crowded site in New Jersey as I write at 4 am

There will be more blogs in the coming days.  Many of them with “we did this”  “we did that”  and a lot of photos.  Hopefully, I will eventually get a signal that allows me the luxury of uploading photos and adding them to a blog post that doesn’t take three days to get actually uploaded and posted.  But in the meantime, I needed to get these thoughts written down while they were still fresh.  

I am actually writing this on September 7.  It is drippy and humid here in Jersey City, and it is a perfect day to make some attempts to catch up on the stories from the last week.  We have been enjoying New York City, and those readers who joined my little private Facebook group might have an idea of what we have been doing.  If not, with all that is going on every single day, you might have to wait a bit before getting the rest of the story. Another little heads up.  Our park costs more than $150 per night (paid for by Adventure Caravans)  and supposedly has WiFi.  Doesn’t work.  My Verizon signal shows 5G 5 bars and yet it is so slow that I can’t do much without sitting here and spinning. Not very conducive to creative writing.  Eventually, it will happen but I have no idea when.  I am keeping notes, or at least trying to.

Even though I say we are in New Jersey, we are basically just spitting distance across the Hudson River from the City.  Adventure Caravans has been keeping every moment filled with a bunch of stuff.  But at this moment, Mo just said to me, “I might be feeling a little bit bored”.  Ha!  That is what happens when full speed ahead comes to a sudden stop.  Don’t get me wrong, we are truly grateful for this long, quiet morning and afternoon to at least make an attempt to regroup and remember what day it is.

After heavy rains yesterday, the skies are still cloudy and the humidity is hovering between 85 and 95 percent.  At 72F, that isn’t unbearable, except when trying to sleep.  Last night we felt like we were sleeping under a heavy, wet cloud.  The lightweight down comfortor we use in all kinds of weather was heavy with moisture.  We weren’t exactly sweating, it wasn’t that hot, we were just damp.  Everywhere.  High humidity isn’t something we are used to, and while expected, living with it can be a bit of a surprise.  Somehow heat and humidity I understand, but moderate temperatures and dampness is just weird.  I live in Oregon.  It rains in the winter, and gets foggy, but never feels like this.  My bedding never needs to go in the dryer just because it is so heavy and damp that I can’t sleep under it.

I woke at 5 this morning, ready to tackle the laundry, the damp bedding, the musty rugs, and my musty body.  The showers are great, the laundry is perfectly fine, and after 30 people laughed about doing laundry today when we were on the bus last night, I knew I wanted to beat the rush.

The other little detail to attend to was dumping the tanks.  A company was contracted to come yesterday and clean out all the RV tanks while we were all hanging out in NYC.  We declined and decided to take care of our own this morning.  The last time we had this done, the company messed with our tank shutoff valves and we had to have them repaired.  We are not only pretty efficient at dumping our tanks, but our rig is small enough to easily get into the somewhat tight dump area.

With laundry completed, folded and put away, rugs done and floors swept, and tanks dumped, I find that I still have 3 hours before time to dress for the theater.  Yup.  Broadway.  But that is a story for a later time.  In the meantime, let me return in time to August 31, a week ago today.

When we left Endless Caverns, we only had a short distance to travel on I-81.  The highway was uncrowded and easy to drive, much less crazy than yesterday afternoon.  Within a few miles, we turned west and north to travel toward Maryland. It is hard for me to keep track of directions in this part of the country, and I was especially confused when we crossed from Virginia NORTH into West Virginia.  Whut??  I was driving so couldn’t pull out an atlas to get my bearings. 

Some readers might remember Mo and me meeting with soil scientist cohort Ben Marshall a couple of years ago.  Ben lives in Maryland now but was visiting relatives along the Oregon Coast and drove south from Coos Bay to see us and introduce his youngest son Calvin, who was traveling with him.  

We didn’t want to miss a chance to visit as we traveled through Maryland.  Ben was a new soil scientist when he began working for me in Sonora, California. When I taught Basic Soil Survey in Lincoln, Nebraska that year, Ben was part of that group of young soil scientists.  Meghan was also in my training group, at the time working in Montana.  Ben and Meghan fell in love and began a long-distance relationship.  

Ben running our backhoe in Sonora for a formal sampling pit

When there was a job advertised for my survey crew, Meghan applied.  My boss, Dave, insisted that having people in a relationship on the same crew was a no-no.  I told him if we didn’t hire Meghan, we would lose Ben.  

Meghan with me on a training day in the Sierra Nevada Foothills

Dave relented and we hired Meghan just a few months before I retired.  Ben and Meghan then married, and later moved to Maryland when Ben was promoted.  Ben is now a Major Land Resource Area Leader, the job I had when I retired from the NRCS in California in 2010.  He is in charge of 5 states, and 7 million acres and he couldn’t even remember how many counties.  Ben and Meghan have been married ten years now and have two adorable boys.  This story always makes me smile.

Ben sent information about a sweet little park in Frederick, not far from where each of them worked, and we arranged to meet them at lunchtime.  Mo and I loved the park and found a perfect spot on the street in the shade for the MoHo.  Mattie loved her walk and even more loved getting lots of pets and belly rubs from their son Calvin, who happened to break a finger just in time to get out of school and join us for our visit. 

After we walked around the park and visited, saying our goodbyes with hugs and smiles, Mo and I headed north and east toward Lums Pond, our destination for the next two days. 

Once again, Google Girl was insistent that we take the “shorter route” but I was wise to her.  I had learned by this time to quickly tap “No Thanks” when she kept trying to reroute us.  One time I didn’t manage to do it in time and had to just keep telling her to shut up as I drove the way I wanted to go. 

Crossing the Shenandoah River was dramatic, with water levels as low as some we have seen out west.  I am still not quite sure that should be the case, with all the rain that has been happening on the east side of the country.

Continuing toward Delaware, we meandered through amazing neighborhoods and beautiful hardwood forests to arrive at the park in the late afternoon.  Lums Pond is much bigger than many lakes we have kayaked and led me down a rabbit hole trying to determine the difference between a “pond” and a “lake”.  The easiest definition had to do with size and depth, and the idea that ponds usually have sunlight reaching the bottom.  This search led to a Facebook discussion with many folks chiming in and the final consensus is that the definition is more regional than scientific.

Our campsite was beautiful, right next to a short path leading to the water.  The hardwood forest at the edge of the campground sites was thick and tall, offering welcome shade most of the day.  It was hot, but we had full hookups and plenty of time to walk around and explore the park a bit before supper.

At last we had two days to relax and catch up a bit before continuing toward New York City.  There was a bit of confusion over where the boat launch might be, and when I asked the camp host he mumbled something about it wasn’t open, or it wasn’t useable, or it was down the road somewhere, but he didn’t know where.  We were a bit ruffled, thinking that maybe we had to return around the pond to the far side where the park concessions were located.  Looking on google maps, however, I could see that the boat rental concession was a considerable distance from the water, and carrying our boats to the launch site would be daunting.

A bit more searching led me to the official boat launch site, just a mile east on the highway from the park.  No clue about the clueless park host, because the site was gorgeous and the launch was perfect.

The next morning we launched early and spent a couple of hours on the lovely pond.  The park has a lot to do in the main park area, across the pond from the campground.  One big thing to do is the Zip Line Adventure through the trees and across the pond.  We saw the lines across the water.  There are 17 miles of trails around the pond, a Nature Center (which we didn’t have time to visit) and bike, boat, and horse rentals.  It is quite the park, and after our two days there we decided it might be one of our favorite parks we have encountered in our travels.

We found an interpretive sign that identified 6 types of fresh water turtles that frequent Lums Pond this time of year.  I couldn’t identify this one because of his mossy back.  Do you suppose he was a Moss Back Turtle?

After we returned to the campsite, I had time to drive to nearby Elkton to deal with a phone issue that had been plaguing me for days.  My new Galaxy S22 Ultra was seriously overheating.  I need to exchange it within the 30 days alloted, but I wasn’t going to be back in Grants Pass before that time expired.  My sales person in the TCC Verizon store in GP said, no problem, just go to any TCC store in the east and they will exchange it for you.  Ummm….everyone knows how long it takes to deal with this kind of stuff in a Verizon store.  I called, managed to get an appointment at a store in “north east”.  Yes, that is the name of a city. 

Once there, I found out that it is not possile to exchange a phone with the ORIGINAL BOX!  Who travels with the original box your phone came in?!!  We finally got that settled with a LOT of phone calls between Oregon and Maryland, and when the transaction was nearly completed, another kerfuffle rose its ugly head.  I had paid no tax.  The store manager couldn’t find a way to not charge me Maryland tax.  Long story short, I donated $72 to the state of Maryland and now have a phone that works great and does not overheat.  Sheesh!

Our stay at Lums Pond was the perfect way to settle in after traveling so many days in a row on our trip toward New York.  The next day was a big one.  We planned to travel the New Jersey Turnpike toward New York City and Jersey City in New Jersey where the MoHo would sit for the next 11 days.  Turnpikes?  bridges?  tunnels?  Sometimes a wrong turn can be a lifesaver.  But I will explain that one next time.

08-30-2022 380 miles. A wild ride through a bunch of stuff

It is hard to go back mentally to our journey just 4 days ago when we left Zilpo Campground early in the morning.  It had rained hard all night and everything was dripping and wet.  The warmth and wetness created fog as we drove the curvy road back to Salt Lick.

Mo drove the first shift for a change, and I could take a few photos. The tiny town of Salt Lick Kentucky, the closest community to the campground, seemed to be going the way of many small towns in the rural part of the country.  A few houses were lovingly cared for, and I saw wreaths on the doors of cozy-looking houses. Some sad-looking shops seemed to have been closed for a long time, but still an open post office and a Dollar General.

By the time we reached the Interstate and continued east, the rain was coming down hard.  Checking the map, it was clear that the easiest route was to follow the West Virginia Turnpike.  We weren’t sure of the cost, but entered the Turnpike easily and found that the road was in great shape. 

What amazed us is that the part of West Virginia we saw was so mountainous.  Compared to Kentucky, the hills on either side of us felt more like mountains at home, except they were completely cloaked in thick deep dark green hardwood forests.  The road was curvy and in some places quite steep

We exited the Turnpike at Winchester for fuel, paying 6.98 for the privilege of driving the turnpike.  The travel plaza was an easy place to fuel and there was plenty of room in the parking lot for us to regroup.  Mo took Mattie for a walk, but she didn’t seem to be her happy self.  She would look at us with a forlorn expression and didn’t jump around much.  I finally figured out that she was possibly a bit sore from all her exertion the previous day in all that open space.  My guess was confirmed the next day when she was back to her old happy self.

I took my turn driving, heading east in the steep West Virginia mountains while Mo fell into a much-needed sleep.  One grade was particularly long and steep, and suddenly the temperature gauge started climbing.  I kinda freaked out and woke Mo up, “It’s going up!”  I wasn’t sure if the air conditioner was on, neither of us could remember if we had turned it on, but I turned on the heat, opened all the windows, and desperately tried to find a place to pull over with no luck.  The gauge climbed to the max and the warning light came on.  I made it over the summit and finally found a place to pull over.  We turned the rig off to let it cool down.  Mo checked under the hood and there was no boiling or overflowing antifreeze. 

Once again we got a bit short with each other but knew we just had to wait it out, wait for the rig to cool down, and Mo said she would drive.  I wanted to unhook the Tracker, after checking the “flattest route” and seeing many steep hills on our route before we arrived in the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia.  With a bit of a discussion, we finally unhooked and drove for many miles separately.  The outside temperature was only 70 degrees, and neither of us could figure out why the rig heated up once again.  That was the end of the problem, and when the highway leveled out a bit we hooked up the Tracker and continued on our way. 

We entered the state of Virginia for the first time in the MoHo, amazed that once again the landscape changed near the state line.  The hills gentled a bit and the curves in the road eased as well.  Before long we were intersecting with our route on Interstate 81 North.

Our relaxation on Virginia roads came to a rather sudden stop on I-81.  This highway is the major north-south route from the southern manufacturing plants to the inland port at Front Royal in Virginia.  The trucks were bumper to bumper, jockeying for position until major slowdowns and complete stops extended our arrival time at the park to later than we had hoped.

While sitting in truck traffic, I did a bit of research, discovering that in addition to being a major truck route, I-81 was also notoriously dangerous.  Several times bills have been introduced in Virginia to expand the route to three lanes on each side and have been voted down each time.  Everyone complains but no one wants to pay for the cost of improving the highway.

After our long day, it was with a huge sigh of relief that we turned off the interstate and followed the route east toward the mountains and our reserved RV park, Endless Caverns.  I had read mixed reviews about this park, so Mo and I were delighted to find that we loved it.

The sites are on varying levels built against the mountainside, with rustic rock walls between sites.  Our site 60 in the A loop was big and roomy, and surprisingly perfectly level. The caretaker was a great guy, and led us to our site and made sure we were settled in OK.  We had full hookups but decided to wait to dump until the next day when we had two nights planned in Delaware.

It was a lovely evening, with nice walks. 

The next morning I rose early to do laundry at 6am and take a much-desired shower.  The laundry room was close to perfect, with well-functioning machines and a large folding table.  Two bucks a load to wash and two bucks to dry was reasonable. 

While I did laundry, I enjoyed a very long, hot shower in the spotless shower room.  What a treat.  I have no idea why someone might not enjoy this park. 

The sites were nice, well spaced, and level, and the amenities were good. We were on the road by 8 with fresh laundry, fresh bodies, and a fluffy, no longer clammy bedcover that I had fluffed in the dryer for an hour.  Perfect.

The only other possibility is that people don’t like the slightly rough gravel roads in the park.  After a rain, they can become a bit rutted, but while we were there the caretaker bladed all the roads and by morning they were fine.  If someone doesn’t like roads like this, maybe camping in the mountains isn’t right for them.

Our next destination was Lums Pond in Delaware, but on the way, we had a little treat waiting for us in Frederick, Maryland.  More on that in the next post.

It is 2AM  and once again I am up because I woke and my mind will not shut down.  We were in bed last night by 8:30, accompanied by a thunderous storm that surrounded us with pouring rain and scary lightning.  Our camp is heavily wooded, with tall trees surrounding the site and branches hanging above the MoHo.  It was hot and steamy before the storm hit, and we had the air conditioner on during our enchilada supper until I started hearing wind and thunder over the drone of the noisy unit.

I turned it off to hear the storm, just in time for the sound of rain on the roof.  It poured for a time, and the wind blew all around us, with a few branches striking the rig, but nothing big.  The scariest moment was the bolt of lightning that struck so close that the light and sound were instantaneous.  Very scary, and good for a shot of adrenalin.  We hoped nothing would strike us or come crashing down on the rig.  The storm didn’t last long but cooled the air enough that we opened all the windows and turned on the Fantastic Fan to enjoy the sounds and the fresh air.

I have been reading about our lightning-induced fire northwest of Grants Pass for the last few days.  A fire that started with a strike and has now grown to more than 10,000 acres because it is burning nearly impossible terrain along the wild and scenic Rogue River.  As I watched our thunderstorm last night here in Kentucky, I was grateful that here the lightning is less likely to start fires.  Everything is wet, damp, green, and lush.  I can imagine that starting a campfire would take some effort even with fire starter and dry wood. 

The humidity is hovering near 100 percent, and even with the somewhat cool air at this early hour, everything seems damp.  The bedding is damp and clingy, and my skin feels dewy.  Mo and I have been laughing a lot the last couple of days, one reason being that we are watching our wrinkly skin smooth out in the humid air.  High humidity takes ten years off an old face!

But I digress.  I am accompanied by the sound of thunder as I write, but the power is still on and the night air is soothing. The rain is pounding on the roof and drowning out the sound of night frogs and insects.

Let me return to Sunday morning when we departed the fresh and lovely Arrow Rock State Park to continue eastward.

Sunday 8-28 2022 Arrow Rock MO to Henderson KY 299 miles

When we woke on Sunday morning, the early light coming through the trees was gorgeous.  Summer rain is so rare in Grants Pass that I forget how refreshing a summer storm can be.  The shades of green and the lushness of the landscape is so different from anything out west.  Even the cool and damp Oregon coast doesn’t have this many shades of lush green. 

Something about the gentleness of our travel days and the beauty of this park reached a deep place for both of us.  We found we were laughing more at silly things.  When Mo woke up, we chatted a bit before getting up and she said something I haven’t heard her say in a long time, if ever.  “I feel elated!  I finally feel like I am really on a vacation, an enjoyable vacation, and I am not stressed anymore and it feels wonderful.”  “Elated” was the perfect word for how we felt as we enjoyed our morning travel preparations and were on the road by 8.

Our side route from Arrow Rock on Highway 41 meandered through this lush landscape, intersecting our eastward route on I-70 toward St Louis in just 12 miles. 

Not long ago, I read a favorite blogger’s story about their time in St Louis.  I was especially enthralled by her description of their visit to Gateway Arch National Park.  I have traveled along I-70 through St Louis, but it has been many years ago, and only remember seeing the arch from a distance. We were close, it was a Sunday morning, how difficult could it be?

I programmed Google Girl to take us directly to the National Park, adjacent to I-70 on the west side of the Mississippi River.  I wasn’t troubled that she wasn’t talking to me, realizing that I had turned up the phone volume but had neglected to go to the actual settings and turn up the media volume. Again, I thought, how hard can it be?  The route goes right by the park and being a National Park I was sure there would be big signs proclaiming the proper exit and pointing to the big parking areas I expect at a national park.

Big Mistake!

There are many highways intersecting by the park, and without google girl’s voice telling me what to do, I managed to miss the right exit and found myself traveling south away from downtown St Louis.  Oops.  Mo said to try the next exit, Amnesty Street.  I pulled off, and we found ourselves in a neighborhood that at any other time we would have loved to visit.  Of course I have no photos.  I was driving.  And no, Gaelyn, I don’t take photos while driving, although if I were alone as you are, I would be tempted.  But not in a St Louis neighborhood.

Here is a link to the Benton Park neighborhood gallery in St Louis.

St Louis Neighborhoods

The brick buildings were old and historic but the streets were clean and the shops looked interesting and creative.  I crossed over the freeway and found a place to pull over and try to navigate back to the park.  This time Google Girl was speaking properly, and led us to another exit, right downtown, right next to the park.

But my visions of a nice big parking lot were pretty stupid in light of what was actually there.  Of course there is no parking for a motorhome towing a car in tight, downtown St Louis.  We drove past the park, trying to figure out where to go and what to do next.  After being routed around several downtown blocks and one way streets, I gave up and ended up on a road that looked like a bit vacant lot called 9th street.  Again, no photos.

By this time Mo and I were getting a bit short with each other.  Is that an understatement?  Maybe.  Finally, we came to the conclusion that actually visitng the arch wasn’t going to happen.  Once again I programmed Google Girl to get us out of town, and across the Mississippi River.  Mo said, “It’s time for me to drive and you to navigate”.  OK.  Sounds good to me.

Within minutes we were on the bridge crossing the Mississippi River with the shining stainless steel arch behind us.  Here is my only photo of Gateway Arch.  Look closely and you will see in on the right through the bridge supports.

I wrote to Laurel, “Raven and Chickadee”, who is a faithful reader and a truly great writer, and asked if she minded if I shared her post about the Gateway Arch and St Louis.  This is a beautiful read, and maybe if you check it out you will understand why I wanted to visit Gateway Arch in person.

Laurel’s Post about Gateway Arch

The drive from St Louis, Missouri to Evansville, Indiana was easy.  The interstate was in good conditiong and there was little traffic on this late summer Sunday. We crossed the great Ohio River at Evansville and arrived at John James Audubon State Park in Henderson, Kentucky around 3:30 in the afternoon.

It has been 12 years since we camped at this park, but my memories of the magnificent hardwoods throughout the park are what helped me choose this location for our overnight stop on our way east. The campground was nearly empty, but the camp host told us we were lucky to get a spot since the park had been completely full over the weekend. Something about a big hot rod rally.  That explained why we had seen so many restored cars of all kinds traveling on the freeway through Indiana.

Setting up quickly, we turned on the air for Mattie and took the car up the hill to the John James Audubon museum.  We had an hour.  I knew that I wanted to once again remind myself of the history of the place, and view the stunning art on display.  Protected under glass cases are the “elephant folio” books that were printed from engravings, completed in Europe in 1828.  Pictures don’t come close to the beauty of Audubon’s paintings.  Viewing even one page at a time is a delight.  They change the open pages on a regular basis, with only a few actually visible at one time.

The story of Audubon’s life and work is wondrous.  His wife Lucy was his treasure and supported his art and work throughout his life.  Rather than attempting to recreate this information (difficult to do with plagiarizing), I am including several links that are worth reading.  Especially if you are a bird person I would highly recommend finding a good cup of coffee and spending some time visiting these links about the double elephant folio.

Sotheby’s Article on the Double Elephant Folio

Where did it come from?

Birds of America

Birds of America Auction at 9 million

Monday August 29 Henderson, KY to Salt Lick, KY

The night was hot and humid and we couldn’t turn off the air until 5 in the morning.  It isn’t fun sleeping with the constant noise but is more fun than sleeping in 90 degrees and close to 90 percent humidity.  Welcome to Kentucky! 

The shower house at Audubon State Park is pristine, with huge showers and big wide rain shower heads that deliver all the clean, hot water you could possibly desire for as long as you want.  I sat under that shower for a very long time before returning to cook breakfast while Mo had her turn at the wonderful shower.

The night before, we had scoped out our route, chosen where we wanted to fuel the rig and were ready to continue east.  I wanted to avoid Louisville on I-70, deciding that taking the slightly longer route on the Audubon Parkway would be worth the extra distance.  There was a bit of confusion about whether or not the parkway was a toll road, but some research showed that the toll booths had been removed a few years ago.

We fueled the rig and then attempted to follow the route I had programmed into Google Girl.  She did have a mind of her own, however, and kept trying to take us back north toward I-64.  I still have yet to figure out how to tell that smart-aleck girl to please shut up and do what I ask.  Google Maps is getting more and more infuriating with their constant interference with what I want. “I have a better route, would you like to accept that?” Sometimes she doesn’t even ask and re-routes me without giving me a clue why I am suddenly turning north when I know I am supposed to be going east and southeast. 

After just 24 miles of the smooth, almost traffic-free Audubon Parkway, I finally gave up and let Google Girl lead me back to I-64, crossing through a part of Indiana I never imagined.  All along the highway the forest was thick and green, with huge trees of many varieties and colors covering the hills.  I think maybe in Indiana they call them mountains, but they are gentle and rolling, and more beautiful than I ever imagined. 

As we approached the Ohio River and the boundary between Indiana and Kentucky, we saw signs about toll bridges coming up.  This time traffic was light, and Google Girl actually did a very good job of leading us through the freeway interchanges near downtown Louisville and continuing east on I-64.  The only toll bridge was the one we didn’t need to cross, going back over the Ohio River toward Cincinnatiwide-open.  Smooth Sailing!

With our research from the previous night, we determined that fueling in Winchester, just west of Lexington, was our best bet.  There was a Kroger station there and a big Kroger store.  Kroger is the owner of the Fred Meyer grocery store where I shop in Grants Pass, and we have a rewards card that saves us at least 3 cents per gallon and sometimes a lot more depending on what I have spent at the store. 

Google Girl told us where to exit, but then she got very confused and led us in circles in tiny neighborhoods and short streets, ending in an alley that was supposed to be Kroger.  Once again, Mo and I were struggling to not snap at each other…not always succeeding.  There was nowhere to go, nowhere to park on the tiny streets.  I finally found a parking lot, and shut google girl down completely, deleting our entire planned route and asking where the heck was the Kroger store.  Of course.  The route opened up and sure enough took us down the main highway to the big store.  It is located on a hill, and there is a Speedway station right where we thought we were supposed to find a Kroger station. 

I pulled in thinking maybe this Fred Meyer/Kroger store used the Speedway stations the same way Albertson’s does back home.  We fueled, but the Freddie’s card didn’t work, so we got no discount.  Driving around the station to park in the Kroger parking lot, we saw the giant Kroger station just around the corner.  Sheesh!!

There was plenty of room to park the MoHo, and I braved the heat and humidity to go shopping for some fresh food to add to our stash of homemade frozen stuff.  I was surprised to find so little produce in the store.  It was a huge store, but I did manage to get a couple of packaged salads, and some fruit and yogurt.  Thinking about it later, I realized that most produce in the US comes from the west, California especially, and even in all this farm country they must have to truck it in from a long distance.  The packaged salads I bought were two bucks more than what I buy at home.  If people who live in Kentucky eat a lot of produce, it must come from their own gardens and farm stands.  We only saw one produce stand throughout the day, one lonely farm stand among the miles and miles of corn, soybeans, and some tobacco.  Big Corporate Farms have taken over the country.

The drive from the interstate to Zilpo Campground on Cave Run Lake was a bit narrow and winding.  We chose to unhook the MoHoTracker, hoping that would help with curves and steep grades.  When we arrived at our site, there were a couple of pitty-type dogs running loose, and I kept Mattie indoors while we set up.  The owners were two sites down from us and did keep them on a leash most of the time. Most of the loops in the campground were empty, and only a very few had a tiny view of the lake thanks to the thick forest.

After setting up, we took the Tracker to explore the area, hoping to find a kayak launch or a place where we could access the water.  The official beach was closed, and the camp store was closed.  When I talked to the camp host he said that was because they closed after Labor Day, and it was almost Labor Day.  Continuing toward the boat launch past the entrance to the beach, we found a huge parking lot, a nice boat ramp, and best of all it was nearly empty of people.

Finally, Mattie had a place to run.  I have seen Mattie get excited on beaches, but this level of excitement was terrific to watch.  She was so happy she actually ran into the water, something she has done only rarely.  It was only knee-deep for her, but she did it over and over, running in circles and doing what dog people call “the zoomies”.  

Mo and I debated putting the kayaks in for an early evening paddle, but the combination of 95F temperatures on the open water and looming thunderheads made the thought less than inviting.  

We returned to the MoHo for supper and settled in just in time for the rain to begin.  We had no signal to speak of, except now and then a tiny one bar would come in, enough to at least text my daughters to let them know where we were.

The thunder and lightning began shortly after we settled in for bed, enough that we could turn off the air conditioner and listen to the storm.  Tomorrow we will cross Kentucky, Indiana, West Virginia, and Virginia.  Many more miles to go before we reach Jersey City and our campground across from Manhattan and New York City.  

I laughed when I looked at the blog this morning, seeing all the silly mistakes I made. Writing when worn out can be a bit strange. I shouldn’t be worn out tonight, but somehow I am. Last night was a quiet and early evening, with only a couple of short walks with Mattie before we settled in to read. Neither of us felt much like watching any tv and I still had the rest of the blog to finish.

It was 11:30 when I finally finished doing photos and writing. Someone mentioned in a previous comment or email that they were impressed with my ability to keep up with my writing while we were traveling. I really have no choice. The words are rolling around in my head and won’t let me sleep until they are written down. It is the same tonight. I would love to just go to sleep, even though it is only 6:30 Central Time, but if I did that, the day would slip away in another blur.

It was a really good day.

It began early, but not too early. Traveling through different time zones I become acutely aware of the difference location makes within a time zone in the rising and setting of the sun. It was after 7 when the skies were light enough for me to go wandering through the Camp-A-Way RV park to take some photos. Mo said no one will really care what it was like 15 years ago, but somehow I do. Things change everywhere, in cities I once knew, in neighborhoods and suburbs, and in the world in general. But the shifts in a place I haven’t seen or even thought about over the years can be a bit shocking.

This was our site in 2007 at Camp-A-Way RV park

Mo and I stayed in Camp-A-Way RV Park with the baby MoHo in 2007, when I was teaching Basic Soil Survey in Lincoln, Nebraska, where a National Soil Survey Center housed training classes for people throughout the country. Mo spent days exploring while I taught, and I returned home in the evening after classes. At that time the park was delightful, clean, and comfortable, with huge grassy slopes covered with deep, lush green grass. Sadly Mo discovered later that the lovely grass had a hidden enemy and it took her weeks to get rid of the chiggers that attacked her while sitting on that grass.

I barely recognized the park when we drove in, and this morning walking around in the early light, I could see why. The park has evolved into a fun place for kids and families to camp, and enjoy campfires and many kinds of water games, kids activities, and the swimming pool. In addition, more than 25 new big rig pull-through sites have been created on the big meadow where Mo relaxed with Abby so many years ago. It is a decent place to stay, with good services, and a great location for being close to Lincoln, but definitely is a bit too crowded for our taste. It reminds me of what I imagine a Jellystone Park will be. Sadly, we have reservations for one of those parks somewhere on the east coast where we couldn’t find anything else. As I said, great parks for kids and families.

As we motored south from Lincoln this morning, I was a bit sad that I was driving, because I couldn’t take pictures. People who don’t know Nebraska think of it as flat and featureless, but Eastern Nebraska near its boundary with Iowa and the Missouri River is anything but. I would have loved to have taken photos of the rolling, green landscape. It is so lush and clean, with well-kept farms spread about in the distance and crops growing thick and strong. Yes, corn, soybeans, and more corn and soybeans, but with the trees between the fields, the rolling hills, and small ponds and waterways dissecting the landscape, it is beautiful.

Lied Lodge, Nebraska City, Nebraska

I loved coming to Lincoln to teach as well as to learn. One year I participated in special training for the job I hoped to have someday. (Two years later I took that promotion). We were housed at a beautiful venue called Lied Lodge, an Arbor Day Farm, surrounded by a lush landscape and magnificent botanical forests with dozens of varieties of hardwood trees. As I drove quietly through the landscape this morning, I was filled with memories and with gratitude for all the amazing people I worked with, some of whom became lifelong friends. I would never choose to live in the Midwest, but if I had to make the choice, I would choose Lincoln. The university brings in great people, and the city is clean and eco-conscious, bisected by extensive bike trails.

That is me on the right teaching new soil scientists Basic Soil Survey skills near Lincoln, Nebraska in 2009

It would not be fun for me to be a vegetarian in Lincoln, with some of the best steak houses I have ever experienced. I so loved going out to eat with my co-workers when we were in Lincoln. Nothing quite as good as Nebraska beef. We drove by the Saturday Market this morning, with people setting up canopies in the Haymarket District. It was probably the best Farmer’s Market I ever enjoyed, putting Eugene and Portland to shame.

It always amazes me how quickly a landscape changes at political boundaries. I guess those boundaries do sometimes have physical reasons for being where they are. In the case of Nebraska and Iowa, it is the Missouri River. Once we crossed the river we immediately left behind the gently rolling landscape for a wide, very flat alluvial plain, almost featureless except for a few bluffs above the higher river terrace to the east. We weren’t in Iowa for long, however, within just a few miles traveling I-29 south, we crossed into Missouri. The featureless plain disappeared once we again crossed the Missouri River and traveled into the green rolling hills of Missouri farm country. The absolute heart of America. Lush with crops that were riper than what we saw in Nebraska, the huge fields with small signs naming the crops were interspersed with hardwood forests thick with so many varieties of trees we couldn’t name them all.

We stopped for a short snack lunch at Casey’s Truck Stop, switched drivers, and continued south. Our destination was east of Kansas City, and google girl tried to route us right through the city. I wasn’t interested in doing that and re-navigated for a different route that was only 12 minutes longer yet avoided the busy interstates. Highway 36 and Highway 41 were uncrowded roads with smooth pavement and very few people. Dotted with farms and an occasional tiny community, it was probably the easiest driving of our trip so far.

When we arrived at our location, Arrow Rock State Historic Site, we knew that we were about an hour too early to check in to the campground. Instead, we thought we might try to see the small town that has been so lovingly preserved by the Arrow Rock Historic Society. What we didn’t realize is that the extremely narrow streets had no room for parking a motorhome, even a small one, much less a motorhome towing a car. An attempt to drive up one street ended in a big problem when we discovered that even though the street wasn’t blocked, it was separated from Main Street by a very deep, rocky drainage ditch. Even a car might have a hard time getting across that ditch. We unhooked the Tracker, backed down the narrow road, and decided to try to find some other location to park the MoHo and visit the town with the baby car.

In our search, we happened on the driveway to the visitor center, 1/4 mile beyond where we had turned in for the town. The parking lot was huge, and with temps in the high 90s and humidity to match, we turned on the generator so that Mattie could wait safely in the rig while we attempted to learn more about this town we were trying to visit.

The heat was intense, as was the chill air-conditioned air of the Visitor Center. Speaking with the head person at the desk, she told us it shouldn’t be a problem for us to check in early at the campground. After checking on the guests from the previous night, she gave us the go-ahead to go to the park early and set up camp.

This worked out perfectly, and within minutes, another 1/4 mile down the road, we found our site, hooked up the rig, and turned on the air conditioner. Mattie could wait for us in a nice cool spot while we drove back in the car to explore the historic town.

From the Missouri State Parks brochure: “The town of Arrow Rock was designated a National Historic Landmark in 1963. An integral part of this historic town is Arrow Rock State Historic Site, with a visitor center museum that tells about Arrow Rock and the historic “Boone’s Lick Country”. Once a thriving riverport, the town is dotted with architectural treasures from the past. Limestone gutters of carefully carved blocks line the main street, marking the toil of earlier generations. Wooden sidewalks and overhead canopies still line storefronts, recalling an aura of times long past.”

We enjoyed walking a bit of the town, despite the heat.

The ice cream shop was a favorite, owned by a young man and his wife who relocated from Northern California after losing their home to fire 4 years ago. He was friendly and talkative and I enjoyed hearing his story. It is always interesting to me why people choose to uproot their lives for such a big change. He told me they love the 4 seasons and enjoy not having to evacuate their home over and over again due to fire. They love the green. However, as I would, they miss the mountains and the ocean. Still, he seemed happy. When they first came to Arrow Rock the business was a pizza place, but COVID changed that and after being closed for some time, they re-opened as an ice cream shop with truly delicious homemade ice cream.

We explored a few more of the shops before getting back in the car to find some of the other historic sites in town.

The Big Spring was especially lovely.

We drove to the old ferry crossing but discovered that the walk to the Missouri River was over a mile and the bugs were thick in the air. I was completely worn out from the heat and my legs were refusing to work properly, so we gave up and headed home to the campground.

It is now 1 AM. The heat and humidity wore us out and after a quick supper, Mo and I were in bed and actually asleep by 7:30. The air conditioner was going full blast to keep the inside at 78 degrees or so, but the noise kept us from hearing the amazing night sounds that I am hearing now.

I woke at 12:30 and discovered that the night air was a blessed 76 degrees, warmer than the MoHo which was struggling to remain at a reasonable sleeping temperature. Opening the windows, turning on the Fantastic Fan overhead, and shutting down the air conditioner was wonderful. I stepped outside and saw stars and the Milky Way and was serenaded by the many sounds of crickets, frogs, and other night creatures in the darkness. Magical. I wish I could stay out there for a bit, but am not a fan of all those bugs that make those wonderful sounds.

Tomorrow we will cross Missouri, camping once again at a favorite park in Henderson, Kentucky, where we camped on our cross-country trip in 2014. I am expecting hot, humid weather all the way to Delaware. Hopefully, the nights may cool down even a little bit as we continue east.