campgrounds – Page 3 – The MoHo and Other Traveling Tales

It is Rhodie time on the Oregon Coast!

Current Location: Harris Beach State Park, Brookings, Oregon Sunny and 60 degrees F

If you try to plan a trip to the Oregon Coast to catch the rhodies in bloom, the season will almost always surprise you. Either it will be too late or too early, with lots of buds and no flowers, or lots of dried up blooms. With no plans for seeing the famous flowers, or even a thought of the magnificent rhododendrons on our minds, we decided it was time to get “home” again to our favorite Oregon Coast beach.

The four hour drive from home in Rocky Point, through Grants Pass, and west on the winding Highway 199 along the Smith River is magnificent any time of year. This time, however, the closer we got to the coast, the more the steep hillsides were cloaked in gorgeous wildflowers. We have traveled this route many times, but I don’t remember seeing quite the profusion of flowers that greeted us yesterday morning on our trip west.

Oregon boxwood shrubs were tipped in right red foliage that looked just like flowers, and the rocky cliffs were covered with blue penstemon and carpets of low yellow native iris. The closer we got to the Jedediah Smith redwoods, the more flowers we found. Mo was driving, the camera was buried in its case and Jeremy was hugging my shoulder as he likes to do when the road is rough and curvy. No photos of the brilliant clouds of pink flowers on wild rhododendrons that were sometimes more than 20 feet tall.

Neither of us could believe that it has been more than five months since we settled in to Harris Beach, with our last short trip back in early December before we left for the winter for warmer? southern climes. The beaches were gorgeous in Texas and Florida, but as anyone who has seen it knows, the Oregon Coast is unmatched for wild rugged beauty, at least in the US. For us, even the famous coast at Big Sur along Highway 1 in California isn’t as seductive, and definitely not as accessible as our beloved Oregon Coast.

We left Rocky Point in the rain, and were greeted with a mixture of hard rain, sleet, hail and snow as we drove over the pass toward Medford. It was cloudy most of the way west, and with rain predicted for our few days at the beach, we were fully prepared to hole up in the MoHo and listen to the rain, play cards and do mostly nothing. We purposely didn’t bring the bikes or the kayaks with plans for some real R and R, and a respite from house and yard work that has dominated the last month.

Surprise! Not only are the rhodies blooming, but there hasn’t yet been a sign of a cloud in the sky. The ocean is blue and gorgeous, the temperatures are in the low sixties during the day and high 40’s at night.

With the view sites along the front row completely full, we settled into spot A30 and paid for four nights. Didn’t seem too bad, although it was a fairly open site and the playground was right behind us. We were also on a main walking route to the restrooms and the laundry and both last night and this morning were well entertained by the various kinds of people walking past.

For supper, the Chetco Seafood Company was our local fish and chips choice, and it didn’t disappoint. In fact, I talked to the owner and snagged some fresh cod and California halibut filets which he vacuum sealed and flash froze for us to take home to Rocky Point. Yum!

It was good to sleep in the MoHo again, after a month of lots of space and a big bedroom and a bath more than 10 feet away, it was fun to be in the cozy space with just two steps to the bath. Funny. As we settled in for the evening, a very tall class A parked next to us, with a clear open view of our huge yard and the firepit. Hmmmm.

This morning we went for a park walk, oohing and ahhing over the rhododendrons in the park and the surrounding neighborhoods, and found a nice space open along Row A, but toward the quiet back corner of the park. It looked inviting enough that we talked to the camp host about moving, and in a matter of moments we were slide in, jacks up, awning in and moved to the new spot. We can still see the ocean, just a tiny bit, but things here are much quieter and more private.

Interesting, as we were moving, a front row ocean view site came open and we declined. In spite of the view that we have enjoyed many times, the front row now has a lot more exposure since the park has cleared brush around the sites, and there is traffic from both the park entrance road and the main road through the campground.

Mo spent a few days last week getting our new VuCube working at home, and even though we had cable here at the site, she thought it might be fun to practice setting it up. Fun wasn’t the word, with all sorts of strange glitches that we still haven’t quite managed to figure out keeping the thing from working correctly. There were too many variables, and that became our statement for the day. In the end, it almost worked, but then we realized that the signal was getting interference and that was probably the main issue. Trees. For now, it is packed away again and we will fiddle with it out in the desert somewhere to limit some of the variables. It did keep us at home for the day, which was the original goal.

After a great chicken stir fry supper, we are relaxing a bit before heading for the beach for a sunset stroll. Unlike Florida beaches, getting to the beach here requires a bit of hiking down and then back up the steep paths that lead down to water level. Last night we walked to the overlook and watched the beach walkers below. Plenty of time to hike to the beach ahead in the next few days. A trip to Loeb Azalea Gardens, and who knows what else will keep us occupied.

Of course, I do hope that we manage more sitting, reading, and napping than we usually manage on a trip to the coast. Maybe if it rains in the next few days it will encourage us to actually lie around and do nothing except watch the sky.

03-27-2014 Mojave Wild

Current Location: Mojave National Preserve 41 F

It isn’t yet 6AM and I am watching the waning crescent moon rise through long black clouds to the east. There is just enough light to see the outline of Mesa Mountain, east of the Hole in the Rock where we are camped. Venus is brilliant nearby, and I wish I had the will to dig out the telephoto, dig out the tripod, hook it all up and see if I could actually create an image that would remind me of this moment. Instead I’ll write of it, and know that it would take a better photographer than I am to catch the feeling.

We will be home on April 1st. This may be our last night in the wild darkness of the desert, and a wild rocking night it was! After spending such magical time near Virgin, and wanting more, we initially planned to travel north through Cedar City and then take another back road to the Great Basin National Park.

One of the blessings of boondocking in our sweet spot, was the perfect Verizon signal for our JetPack and the ability to check on the weather. For the first time in the entire three months of winter travel, we had to shift our plans completely to accommodate the weather gods and our common sense. Predictions for the next few days included high wind warnings, snow and temperatures in the 20’s at the lowest elevations near Great Basin near Baker, and unknown snow and wind over the entire western side of Nevada. No way home.

We studied maps and weather and more maps and checking our calendar, came up with a simple plan. Head south on I-15 toward Barstow on the gorgeous sunny non windy day we had left, and then hunker down at Edwards AFB Family Camp and wait the three days of harsh weather with hookups and a place to do laundry. Then, once the snow warnings lifted over the Tehachapi 58 route, we could get over the pass to the I-5 route north and home. Sigh. I-5 again? Not even 395?

With predictions for snow at home in Rocky Point around the time of our arrival, we may decide to go to Grants Pass instead. We will see. Weather predictions are often a lot worse than the actuality. Then again, sometimes they are spot on. Predictions for our westward direction included wind, and last night was possibly the windiest we have ever experienced on the road. I was glad we were in the west, where tornadoes are extremely rare, but there were a few times last night when I thought surely we were going to be blown over.

We pulled in the slides not long after camping, but during an especially dramatic gust, I even picked up the levelers. It somehow seemed a bit safer to me to have the MoHo settled solidly on all six tires, even if a bit less than level.

Driving west from Las Vegas on I-15 was fast and smooth. Vegas from the high vantage point of the freeway looks different, even bigger somehow that the view along the strip. Traffic was heavy but moving steadily on a Tuesday afternoon. Just past the state line, we were suddenly shocked by the brightest artificial light I think I have ever seen. Huge towers were beaming intense white light and below them something that looked like a strange lake was reflecting the sunlight.

Sometimes it is fun to have the iPad along with a great signal. Searching “bright lights near the Nevada California border” I came up with this. We were passing the Ivanpah Solar Power Facility, which just came online on February 13. Mirrors concentrate light and then somehow the light heats water for power generation. Sounds like science fiction, and it certainly looked like it. Funny, with all the hoopla about Solara, neither of us had ever heard a word of this successful solar power generating project.

Near the state line in California is a rest area, and it was time for an Abby walk. What a great surprise. Many states in the south have beautiful state of the art visitor centers, and we love to visit them. Here, however, a simple rest area was gorgeous, and rich with information about this part of California, including the nearby Mojave National Preserve, spanning 1.6 million acres between I-15 and I-40 and east to the Nevada border.

The rest area was artfully designed, with outdoor displays that told the story of the area in a way that could be enjoyed without entering a building or requiring staff to disperse brochures. It was beautifully kept, and even the bathrooms were tiled with images and stories.

Even before reaching the rest area, though, Mo and I had decided to stop in Baker to fill the tanks so we could boondock another night. The excitement of camping at the AFB wasn’t all that alluring, and we thought, what the heck, let’s slip into the preserve, boondock for another night and then we can continue west to Edwards.

Mo had visited the preserve in the past, not only in this decade with the baby MoHo, but in the 60’s when she was teaching at China Lake, California. Our first stop was at Kelso, where the visitor center is located in the beautifully restored Kelso Depot. Anyone reading this blog for any length of time, knows how much we love desert, but often the Mojave experience is filled with development and dotted with desert garbage.

Not here. I am so incredibly grateful for this space. Unlike Joshua Tree, which we also love, it is farther from most of the big cities of Southern California and so far, is blessedly empty. Incredibly empty, and at first it seems like what my daughter calls a lot of “white hot nothing”. With just a little time and a bit more effort, the fascinating diversity of the Mojave becomes clear in a space that feels more remote than either Joshua Tree or Death Valley, if not quite as dramatic.

The roads through the preserve, even the paved roads, can be a bit rough and bumpy, and are two lane narrow routes without shoulders. There are only two developed campgrounds, but after visiting with the staff at the beautifully restored Kelso Depot Visitor Center, we learned that “roadside” camping is allowed in places where there has been a fire ring and previous use.

The Visitor Center is wonderful, with beautiful photographic displays on the walls of the restored Craftsman style rooms. There is a gift shop, interpretive exhibits, three excellent movies to view in the small theater, and art exhibits. I especially enjoyed the recordings of the “booming sands” of the Kelso Dunes

Traveling back toward the northern part of the preserve toward Cima, we turned northwest again to find the World War I memorial. There is a white cross on the hill, which after some lengthy controversy, remains. Mo camped here in back on her solo desert trip back in 2009.

Just behind the cross is a small campsite, with a fire ring and a table provided by the Veterans of Foreign Wars, and before dark we were settled in for our first gorgeous, if wildly windy night. The winds didn’t come up until midnight or so, but with the associated cold front, by morning we felt a huge difference in the desert air.

There are several boondock sites that we found in that vicinity, and in other parts of the preserve as well, and I decided to do a separate post about boondocking in the preserve. That post will come later.

The morning was dramatic with wildly speeding clouds flying by and the winds never let up as the day progressed. We headed south back toward Cima and Kelso, with plans to see the magnificent Kelso Dunes, some of the highest in the country. The Kelso Depot Visitor Center is closed on Tuesday and Wednesday, but there is an open restroom with a jug friendly spigot. Our water was low, and we filled our extra jugs, just in case we decided to boondock another night at the dunes. Still couldn’t quite get our heads around giving up the wild desert for the luxuries of camping at the base. After several nights being out, we weren’t really as well prepared for more boondocking as we could have been, but we had turned off the water pump, to be sure we didn’t run the tank dry.

Seven miles south of Kelso is the ‘2 wheel drive unpaved’ road leading west to the Dunes and another possible campsite. Within the first few hundred yards, however, we were badmouthing the folks that think roads should be surfaced with gravel. The washboards were so very bad that Mo decided it was too much for the rig and we found a place to unhook and turn around. With the winds at 40 plus mph, the dunes looked less and less inviting. One of the reasons I most wanted to see them was to hear the booming singing sound that the sand makes at times. I figured that with the high winds I wouldn’t hear it anyway.

With a bit of disappointment, we once again decided on going to Edwards, with hookups and WiFi, to wait out the winds and the weather. Continuing south just a short distance, we found another dirt road leading back into the Granite Hills, and couldn’t resist unhooking once again and taking the Tracker for a little spin around the hidden campsites tucked away in the boulders. Mo camped here in the 60’s with some of her students from China Lake and had fond memories of climbing around on the boulders. These sites could make us want to get the tent out again if we had it with us!

Back to the rig, and looking at the map, we saw the road to the Hole in the Rock developed campground was about 50 miles to the east and north. Even after the fill up in Baker, fuel was getting low. If we wanted to see that part of the preserve, we needed gas. We could travel some miles out of our way to find a new wild world, or we could travel west and do the common sense thing and camp at Edwards.

Once again, the desert won, and we finally found a gas station just off I-40, 7 miles west of the Essex Road leading north in the preserve toward the Hole in the Wall area, where there would be a dump station, and potable water to fill our tank. We paid 4.99 per gallon for 87 octane gas, and laughed about how our free boondocking had turned expensive. It is funny how you can figure anything out, and messing with the numbers, we decided our average cost for the two nights in the desert was about $20 per night, factoring in the half price $6. fee we paid for our second night at Hole in the Rock.

The gas station, by the way, is located right on the famous unnamed Route that we visited previously in the unnamed T city in New Mexico. I decided to NOT take photos or even mention the place because I would rather not create another firestorm with all the folks who probably love it. It was rather interesting, with lots of memorabilia, a cute little nook for hamburgers, and a lot of interesting people around. I felt much of the famous route culture at the spot, so if you are a lover of that route, search it out.

The winds had never let up, and by the time we were on I-40, the sandstorms were everywhere, reducing visibility dramatically. We could barely see the mountains, even as we approached the campground. We dumped, filled the water tank, and settled into a nice site in the upper area of the camp. It was a luxury to turn on the water pump, for sure! We weren’t technically boondocking on this night, but it felt as big and dark and empty as if we were. Only a few campers have braved the winds and sand storms to camp here.

After making such an effort to get here, we thought in spite of the dingy skies, we should try to see a bit of the area. The Hole in the Wall visitor center at this location is only open Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, but they did have some trail brochures outside that gave a general idea of the local routes.

Another two wheel drive unpaved road took us north toward the one other developed campground in the preserve, Mid Hills Campground. This is definitely not a place for RV’s, mostly because of the rough road access, and with a recent fire leaving behind the skeletons of old junipers, it wasn’t very inviting. I can imagine it once was a lovely place to tent camp, cooler than the surrounding desert.

Home to the rig before dark, I made a good taco soup for supper and turned the generator on long enough to make corn muffins to go with it. Tasty.

Now, as I write, the winds are almost completely still and the dust has settled from the skies. To the west, everything is crystal clear. To the east I can see a low brown cloud of dust obscuring the distant hills. Once again, we will head for Edwards AFB, with only one night instead of three. With WiFi again available, I will post the blog, read others, write about boondock sites in Mojave Preserve, and check weather sites and snow predictions as we decide which route to take home Friday morning.

3-14-2014 Bookin’West through Tornado Alley

Current Location: Foss State Park, Oklahoma: still dark at 7am and 41 F

Yes, yes, I know. I still haven’t written about the Natchez Trace, Vicksburg, and Hot Springs, Arkansas. Way too many thoughts and photos of these amazing visits to manage, so the writing will have to come later.

We had good reasons for moving northward as we traveled west. We watched the weather diligently and prayed that the Polar Plunge events that have plagued this part of the country all winter would let up enough for us to make it to Joplin without mishap. My son John, and his wife Shannon, live near Joplin and I don’t get to see them often. They are in the busy time of life with a high school kid and a couple of daughters and grandkids that need them. Both are working, and not at the kinds of jobs that give much time for play. Every time I see John, I wish that I hadn’t waited so long to get back to Missouri. I am so glad I didn’t miss it this time. Thank you, Weather Gods.

After some truly wonderful family time, and sharing morning coffee with John while we packed up, Mo and I headed southwest. When leaving Joplin, there are options, some including tolls. Looking at the map, we decided the $19.50 total cost of the tolls was less than the cost of the fuel avoiding them and within minutes of our campground in Carthage, we were on I-44 heading toward Tulsa.

I can’t believe I didn’t take a single shot of the campground, The Big Red Barn RV Park, in Carthage. I guess because it was actually simply another privately owned campground, quite nice but still only a place to park. Actually it was also a place to do laundry, wash the rig and the baby car at the nearby car wash with a big RV bay, shop for some essentials, and plan for the time with John and Shannon.

We also learned something new at this particular campground. In spite of its flat screen status, and its fancy Sony Wega Gate programs, our MoHo TV is NOT digital. This park has digital-only cable television and we couldn’t get a signal. Sigh. For the first time in a month or more we thought there might be a bit of TV in our life after family visits, but it was not to be. Researching on the internet, I found out that there is no way to tell if your TV is digital or analog, but if it was purchased before 2008, it will be analog. Ok then.

Satellite signals and most cable signals are broadcast in both digital and analog bandwidths, and we knew that local broadcasts were digital only. Mo tried to install a digital converter to our antenna but various roof thingies didn’t allow the space for the thing to retract, so we know that we don’t get digital signals from local broadcasts. However, with all the tv hookups we have had over the months of travel since the digital thing happened, we had no clue our tv wasn’t digital.

With family time the priority, TV watching would have been minimal anyway, but it was a good thing to discover. Most parks have a dual signal, but if your park specifically states, digital TV’s only, pay attention.

Friday morning we were on the road by 8:20, knowing that we had another 358 mile day ahead of us. Our destination was Foss State Park, nestled into the low brown hills surrounding a lake/reservoir that is the largest in western Oklahoma. We camped here long ago in December of 2007, on our route east in the baby MoHo. It was a sweet little find back then, and we decided that once again, the pleasant, quiet park, eight miles off the interstate on a decent paved road, would be a good overnight stop.

I-44 is a direct, fast, and for the most part smooth route across most of Oklahoma, circling both Tulsa and Oklahoma City. It is part of the Oklahoma Turnpike System, which at first I found very frustrating, because all the routes are named but the turnpike website doesn’t have a decent map of the routes and the names so it can be easily figured out. Frustrating, but we did manage to get across the state on the system.

I am sure that there is a lot to see in Oklahoma. We have visited the memorial and the museum at Oklahoma City and didn’t need to stop there again. I am sure Tulsa might have been interesting, if we had time to meander and research, but we didn’t choose to stop.

Tulsa, Oklahoma is tucked away in my own family history in an almost mythical way. My mother was born when my grandmother was barely 15, in Palestine, Arkansas, as small a town as you can imagine. Nine months later, my grandmother left my mother with her mother and ran away to Tulsa. It was 1926. Times were hard even then, though the Depression had yet to come in full force. My grandmother searched for work, and finding none, resorted to being a photographer’s model. My most treasured photograph of her was taken in Tulsa, and for the time it was a bit risque.

If I had more time, perhaps I could have wandered the streets of old downtown Tulsa and found the locations of my old photos of my grandmother with the husband she married in Tulsa. They played cards, gambled, danced, and partied during the heyday of the late 20’s and I have some pretty cool photos of the “Duke and Duchess” as their friends called them, sitting on the running boards of their old Packard.

Instead, we traveled at close to the speed limit all day, and I could find not one thing in the brown low flats and hills of Oklahoma to inspire me to pick up the camera even once. With crazy winter ice storms, and a late spring, Oklahoma is still simply many shades of brown, and windy, and the skies are a bit blue, but with a murkiness to them that wasn’t particularly inspiring.

I suppose I could have photographed the traffic jam around construction in Tulsa, or managed some kind of creative treatment of the leafless cottonwoods along the highway. Instead, I navigated, and found our campground, and with the great, fast road, we landed just a little before 4pm, with plenty of time for me to make our favorite Olive Garden Zuppa Toscana soup for supper.

We took a nice walk along the trail toward the lake before supper, but even then I wasn’t inspired to take any photos. After so much verdant green and vivid blues and gorgeous architecture, I can’t get excited about the simple brown landscape. Of course it is lovely in its own way. Another time I might have a great time shooting photos of this place. Maybe I am just a bit tired of processing photos, and needed some down time from the camera.

Foss State Park is as quiet a place as you will find anywhere, and we slept well. Today we will cross the Panhandle of Texas with the same focus and determination. Our goal is to get west of the infamous Tornado Alley. No matter what kinds of lovely sights are here, I have no desire to linger. There are high winds and thunderstorms predicted through Amarillo, and as the sky lightens this morning, I can see some interesting cloud formations building.

Tonight we will rest in Tucumcari, at the New Mexico border. Searching weather pages, I found that the possibility of tornados in Tucumcari is close to zero. A good number, unlike the moderate to high rating for the landscape we will cross in the panhandle of Texas.

After dinner last night, Mo and I reviewed our jello plans for returning west, and completely shifted our focus. We were trying to decide if we could stay north on the 40 rather than dropping back down to the 10, and instead decided that we will go north from the 40 when we leave Albuquerque and wander west toward the Four Corners region. Weather predictions seem to be in our favor, and once again we have a chance to explore new country rather than following the same tired interstate routes that can get so repetitive.

I am beside myself excited about this plan for more than one reason. The Colorado Plateau is one of my favorite places in the world, and Antelope Canyon near Page is on my bucket list. I have artwork in my home depicting that famous ray of light, and if things go the way we are planning, before long I will have my very own photos of light and shadow in the world famous slit in the earth.

Bet I don’t have a problem picking up the camera then!

03-10-2014 Natchez Jewel Part 1

Current Location: Rising Star Campground COE south of Pine Bluff, AR 65 degrees F and partly cloudy at 8PM

It is just a little before 6AM on Tuesday morning and still dark outside. The night chorus by the lake in this lovely park is still going strong. As I fell asleep last night I recognized crickets and frogs and didn’t have a clue what other night creatures were making the peeps and hoots and whistles that lulled me to sleep. I stepped outside a few moments ago to try to figure it out again. Impossible. One would have to be a Mississippi native, with long nights to listen and decipher the music.

there are at least a dozen kinds of leaves on this forest floor

Natchez_062 Natchez State Park was a jewel in disguise, at least to us. Entering the park, there is a sign directing toward Campground A, and another toward Campground B and the main office. When we came in night before last, we went to our assigned campsite in A, following a very old, very poor, rough narrow road into the campground. As I mentioned, it was tight and a bit crowded. Interesting was the word.

We made the decision at that time to spend another day exploring Natchez, and yesterday before going to town, we stopped in at the camp office to request an extension. Lo and behold, we found another route into campground A and the beautiful campground B. Seems as though the water pump was broken, and there was no water in B, hence all the assignments to A. These newly found roads were excellent, smoothly paved and well signed.

Driving through B, we hoped for the chance to camp there, in front of the small lake and in the large spacious sites that were nestled into the leafless but lovely hardwood forest. Not a problem, checkout time was 2PM, and we had our choice of spaces, picking number 36, on the outside loop by the lake.

It is amazing to me how different our impression of this state park would have been if we had only seen A, or if we had entered the previous night and been in B. This is a lovely park, and as most RV’rs know, expensive doesn’t always mean level. Here each campsite is graced with a perfectly level cement RV pad and a cement pad underneath the large picnic table. There is electric and water when it is working, and just $13.00 per night for seniors. Some sites might be a bit short for a big rig, but there were also plenty of big rigs in some of the longer spaces. When I say plenty, I mean three. Campground B wasn’t even 1/3 full last night. Even with the ten miles or so trip back to Natchez, it is a perfect place for home while exploring.

Natchez was a surprise. With three hundred years of history and a strategic location along the Mississippi River, the people are deservedly proud of their city. It is really just a nice sized town, with a population of a little more than 15,000 people. I don’t think I can remember seeing so much culture in such a small space anywhere we have visited.

Our first planned stop was the Visitor Center, but we were sidetracked by the Jefferson College, located at what was once the town of Washington, and the Territorial Capital from 1802 until 1827. I picked up a brochure listing the trees and plants on the beautiful nature trails around the restored buildings and we took Abby for a walk. Knowing our agenda for the day was a big one, we thought better of wandering the beautiful grounds for as long as they deserved.

The Visitor Center near the Mississippi River is impressive. In addition to information about the city of Natchez, the visitor center for the National Historic Park and the Natchez Trace is in the same building. For $1.50 each we watched a great 25 minute movie about the history of Natchez. We knew from reading the night before that we were in Natchez during what is called “Pilgrimage”, a long standing tradition sponsored by the two local garden clubs since the early 1930’s.

Natchez was once the hub of cotton production in this part of the south, and during it’s heyday before the Civil War, more then 3/4 of the millionaires in the entire United States lived right here in Natchez. There are more than 500 Antebellum homes in this small town that are on the National Historic Register. Some of these residences are simple modest bungalows and cottages, but are far outnumbered by the huge palatial mansions that were built by the cotton growers.

The people are proud of their Antebellum heritage, and the annual spring and fall Pilgrimages reflect that pride, as does the performance at the City Auditorium of the Historic Natchez Tableaux. There are other theater performances during Pilgrimage, which this year began on March 8 and extends a little over a month into April. Our day just happened to coincide with the 4x weekly performance of the Tableaux, so our first plan was to purchase tickets at the visitor center for $15. each.

There are 12 mansions on the Pilgrimage tours, with visits to 3 mansions for $30. and a complicated schedule for which three houses will be on each tour. With a bit of ambivalence about the romantic interpretation of Antebellum life in Natchez, we thought that visiting the free National Historic Park was more to our liking.

The National Historic Park encompasses three sites, including the undeveloped Fort Rosalie overlooking the river and not open to the public, the Melrose mansion and the William Johnson House. The William Johnson House is right downtown and we parked right in front of it for our visit.

The story of William Johnson is fascinating. Born a slave to a black mother and her owner, he was emancipated by his father/owner at the age of eleven. Trained as a young boy as a barber, William eventually owned three barbershops in the city. Even though once a slave, as a free person, he was not prohibited from owning slaves and by reaching financial success, William was able to purchase slaves and profit from their labor.

What set William apart, however, was his sixteen years of hand written diaries that include some of the most detailed accounts of daily life in Natchez at that time. Little in his diaries reflects any personal feelings about family , slavery, or race. Visiting his residence was interesting, but the park displays about life for a free person of color at the time were more fascinating. Another interesting fact learned at the William Johnson visitor center was that during the early 1800;s, the town was peopled by about 3,000 whites, 1,600 black slaves, and 200 free blacks who were mostly mixed race. Currently the town is peopled nearly 60 percent blacks, less than 40 percent whites, and tiny tidbits of Hispanic, Indian, and Asian people.

We then drove out to Melrose, only to discover that visiting the interior of the mansion was by tour only and we were past tour time. We were able to walk the grounds and visit the slave quarters of what were called “town slaves”, supposedly a life much better than field slaves were allotted. All these great houses were built with slave labor and the wealth accumulated by cotton growers with huge plantations and slave labor down on the Mississippi flood plain. They chose to build their big houses up on the flood free cliffs above the River in Natchez.

We ended that part of the day with a visit to the Forks in the Road, nothing more than a bare grassy spot with a haunting plaque commemorating the location of the second largest slave trading spot in the South. Slaves were brought from all over the south to this location to be sold for labor at the huge cotton plantations. The juxtaposition of the wealth and romance of the Antebellum South and the slave trade that supported it is hard to fathom. We visited Charleston, another place full of Civil War history and that same conflict of our American story, but somehow Natchez seemed to personify all that was at the heart of what the South once was.

Next: Natchez Jewel, part 2

3-06 to 3-08-2014 North and West to the end of Florida

Fort Pickens Campground: overcast and 54 Degrees F Partially sunny day predicted

It is with a bit of melancholy that I leave behind the magical springs and forests of north-central Florida. In spite of our need to see as much as possible of the state, and in spite of the amazing wonders we found in many areas, the beautiful campgrounds at the many springs, both state and national forest, and the gorgeous waters were still the best part of the trip.

For much of our travels, we both thought that while we loved biking through Shark Valley, driving the Overseas Highway, meeting friends new and old all along the route, we would probably have no need to return to Florida. That made me a bit sad, because I knew how much I loved being in some parts of Florida during some parts of the year.

After camping at Alexander Springs, and Blue Springs, and driving through the nearly empty and quiet roads between Orange City and Perry, Mo was echoing my own thoughts. “Yeah, maybe in a few years we will have to come back”. As I drove, she was reading about several springs, state parks, and rivers that we didn’t manage to kayak. Names that aren’t easy to roll off the tongue, Ichetucknee, Appalachicola, Aucilla, Blackwater, Chipola, Choctawatchee, Ochlockonee, Alapha, Oklawaha, Rainbow River, Juniper Springs Run, Steinhatchee River, Waddasassa, Withlacoochee, Alafia….and it goes on and on.

This morning, she said emphatically, “I would be willing to come back here to explore the springs and rivers, we could spend a whole month just doing that, I just don’t want to go back to all that crowded stuff with all the traffic!” Yes!! So that bit of nostalgia that I felt as we left Blue Springs on Thursday morning was mitigated a bit as I realized that I will one day return to the Northern Florida I so dearly love.

We said our goodbyes to Sherry and David on the previous evening, with plans to depart as soon as it was light. Our travel plans have a bit of wiggle room, now, and are weather dependent, but it still seemed like a good time to make some miles. The original thought was to leave early, and drive the interstates 75 and 10 west to Pensacola as quickly as possible, hoping to do a 500 mile day, as we have often done out west.

Instead, the weather gods brought us dark, driving rain, and a LOT of dirty laundry that was piling up in the MoHo. Mo looked at the map and my proposed route and said, “Why don’t we take some of these side roads?” Well, that would be fine but we surely won’t be making 500 miles doing that. We backed off from the aggressive plans and decided a leisurely route to Fort Pickens was a much better idea.

I had made reservations previously for three nights, but with our senior pass the cost was only $13. per night, not a lot to lose if we could find a boondock site somewhere along the route. The choice gave us the opportunity to meander along highway 40 to Ocala, and stop to explore Juniper Springs.

In the driving rain, and again with no dogs allowed’’ rules, Mo opted to stay in the motorhome while I wandered in to explore on of the first places in Florida that captured my heart. Bel brought me to Juniper Springs in March of 2000, during my first visit and we often came here during my Florida trips. I loved seeing the old mill house, reading about the efforts of the CCC, and loved the beautiful color of the spring.

Juniper Springs is a small spring, with only 13 million gallons a day feeding the Juniper Springs Run, but it is charming and lovely. It has been altered a bit with cement and rockwork, but CCC rockwork is lovely and doesn’t detract at all from the beautiful springs. I was surprised to see the old arched rock bridge collapsed and closed off due to erosion and degradation of the limestone. I have photos that Bel took of me sitting on that bridge and couldn’t resist taking another photo of it in its present state.

Continuing west in the pouring rain, in northeast Ocala, we found a great laundromat. After I got over the sticker shock of 2.75 for a tiny machine and 5. for a big one, and 9.50 for the huge ones, I settled in to refresh all our dirty damp river clothes, our clammy bedding and moist towels and wet bathing suits.

We couldn’t have picked a better day for such meandering, since the rain was heavy and the skies were dark and murky. Not a day for sightseeing or fighting interstate truck traffic. After laundry was finished we meandered up to Gainesville where Mo found a Great Clips and got a haircut that she had been wanted for weeks now. I shopped at Publix for a few needed items and we were then again on our way, via Highway 27 toward Perry.

I started looking for possible overnight stops, preferably free ones to make up for the fee we had already paid for Fort Pickens and decided on the Cracker Barrel in Tallahassee, on the north side of town near I-10. Our approach to town, however, was the easier southern route and using GasBuddy to find a good fuel price led us to the Costo on the east side of Tallahassee. Perfect, and just across from us, in the pouring rain, we could see a big Super Walmart parking lot.

I called the management, and they said, go ahead and park at the far end of the lot, but we are not responsible for anything. Ok Sure, we know that. Looking at that big empty lot in a nice area of town, we thought it seemed a lot more inviting that trying to get through Tallahassee late afternoon traffic to find the Cracker Barrel. It was a great choice. We had the entire lot to ourselves, with plenty of parking lot lighting, and a heavy rain making any kind of hassles non-existent. There appeared to be no security in this lot as well, but there also is no security at Cracker Barrel.

I took a little bit of time to review Erin’s blog about their time in Tallahassee, and would have loved the opportunity to see some of the great art and buildings that she photographed so beautifully. I would have loved to visit the Alfred B. Maclay Gardens State Park as well, but the dark rainy skies made it OK to continue west toward Fort Pickens and what was left of our three day reservation.

We chose to drive Highway 20 west, the most direct route to Pensacola, avoiding the meandering route along the coast that we drove on our way south, and the heavily traveled I-10 that was the parallel route to our north. Turned out to be a great choice, with a well maintained mostly 2 lane highway with a smooth surface passing through small rural towns and north of the great Appalachicola National Forest.

Arriving in Fort Pickens in late afternoon, we were glad that we hadn’t attempted the entire trip in one day. We most certainly wouldn’t have made it by gate closing time and would have had to spend the night outside the park anyway. If you haven’t already checked in, you can’t get in after 5PM when the gates close.

Fort Pickens campground is on a barrier island that is part of the Gulf Islands National Seashore, a national treasure that spans 160 miles from Cat Island, Mississippi, to The Okaloosa Area east of Fort Walton Beach. There are 12 major areas, including several historic forts, the whitest beaches anywhere, picnic areas, nature trails, and campgrounds.

There is so much to do in this area and we will only tap the surface with our day and a half at the campground. The weather is the coldest it has been in years, and the ranger at the check-in office was exceedingly grumpy about that. She was emphatic about dog rules, camping rules, no car tires on the grass rules, and generally informed me of as many rules as she could remember. Emphatically. I think the cold weather and the fact the the campground was jammed full for the next three days had put her in a grumpy state. I did my best not to contribute to her grumpiness, but internally I was thinking not nice thoughts about how condescending and rude she was. Don’t argue with a cop, right?

We settled into our site in Loop C, site 37,chosen for its more open and spacious grounds, and accessibility to the trail where we can take Abby. Mo offered to stay with the animals while I walked over to the beach, actually I drove to the beach parking area and then walked the boardwalk to the beach. No remarks, here, I was worn out!

Once on the beach, in spite of the chilly winds at the campground, the air was almost still and the temperatures were warm enough I had to take off my vest. I even waded in the beautiful water. I caught myself laughing inside and even sometimes out loud at how many photos I took of the water, the gentle waves, the blue line on the horizon, the white sand. Just how many photos of blue and white and turquoise and emerald do I really need? Processing photos last night, I did eliminate some, and hopefully after a bit of time I will be able to let more of them go. Still, if I put them in a slide show, it is almost like I am walking the beach again.

Later in the afternoon, we took Abby on the Florida Nature Trail that leads south to the Battery Langdon, but with Abby along we refrained from climbing up on the battery for the views.

A little side trail called the Blackbird Marsh Nature Trail provided trailside signage of some of the local plants and a loud chorus of birdsong. Note to self: carry the binoculars as well as the camera. I still don’t have the will to carry both the regular lens and the telephoto lens, so no real bird photos.

I spent much of the evening looking at weather pages, paper maps, google maps, and trying to determine our route north when we leave here.

With all the ice storms and polar plunges and such, I don’t want to get trapped in Missouri in the thick of it, but so far it looks doable and we will be traveling north to Joplin, Missouri beginning Sunday morning. This time, however, I am not trying to do it PDD style, and we will give ourselves three days to get there. The Natchez Trace Parkway is part of the plan, and with that area being completely new to us, I am excited about the route.

In spite of the completely full campground, the night was dark and quiet and I slept extremely well. It is nice to have electricity so we can plug in our little space heater for gentle warmth without noise. Mo cooked breakfast for us this morning and we are planning our day ahead, including a visit to the beautiful Fort Pickens grounds just south of the campground, and possibly a trip across the bridges. McGuire’s Irish Pub is calling! We experienced a great meal at the McGuire’s in Destin and don’t want to miss out on the Pensacola location. We are just a breath away of the most western point of Florida. Tomorrow the Florida part of this trip will be only a memory.