RV resorts – Page 6 – The MoHo and Other Traveling Tales

September 16 Audubon State Park, Kentucky and Evansville, Indiana

I walked in a hardwood forest today that measured up to my imaginations. One of my dreams for this trip was to experience the thick green life of a hardwood forest up close. I thought that would happen in Minnesota, or maybe New York, but instead it happened here in Kentucky, on the banks of the Ohio River. The John James Audubon State Park in Henderson has several hundred acres of climax hardwoods, some more than 200 years old. The major trees are beeches, sugar maples, basswood, several varieties of oaks, tuliptree, catalpa, huge sycamores, ash, elm, and the Kentucky coffeetree.There are 61 varieties of trees here, including some rare species.

The museum was built by the CCC, another incredibly fine example craftsmanship and art. It houses the greatest number of original Audubon paintings of any museum in the world. There are original intact copies of all four volumes of the Birds of America, published in 1837. What I didn’t know until today is that these books are nearly 3 feet tall, in order to represent the birds at life size. In addition to the art, the museum had artifacts of his life and the displays told the story of his life work, his children, his devoted wife, his connections with people in power in the early 19th century. It is a fascinating story. You cannot imagine the incredible detail and beauty of an original Audubon painting without seeing it.

When we pulled into the state park campground last night, we were a bit disappointed. It seemed too close to the highway, too open, and a bit tattered. I had seen the park on Google Earth and was expecting something different, I guess. The night was warm and humid and when we went for a walk the sounds of crickets and other bugs was almost deafening. We slept well, though, and this morning our explorations of the museum and the rest of this gorgeous state park, which includes hiking trails, two small lakes, and a golf course, more than made up for the deficiencies of the campground.

This afternoon was warm and humid again, but not at all uncomfortable, and we drove back across the Ohio River to Evansville, just a few minutes north of our camping location here in Kentucky. Evansville has a thriving historic district, and we drove the streets ooohing and aaahing at every corner as more and more huge old homes came into view. I did wonder just how many photos I could take of these houses, but they are irresistible. We ended the day with a long walk along the greenbelt, a beautiful parkway punctuated with art and walkways, memorials, and bronze plaques detailing the long storied history of this river town.

Lewis and Clark passed by here on their voyage to the Pacific Ocean, and John Wesley Powell rowed past this town when he paddled the full length of the Ohio River before he became a geology professor and then later explored the Colorado River. Hardwoods and history. Our days have been filled with both in a part of our country that I never have experienced before this trip.

We talked about our last cross country trip, and how different this seemed to be. Somehow that trip, while interesting and wonderful, didn’t pass through landscapes that were so new to us. Texas still felt like the West, and I had been in Florida so the south wasn’t completely new to me either. Somehow this world, all the way from Eastern North Dakota, through the north country of the UP, to these woods of Kentucky, somehow they feel brand new. These are landscapes I have read about in the history books, in Barbara Kingsolver’s Prodigal Summer. I’m glad for the chance to follow this river, the heartstream of a huge part of our country.

The rest of the photos for this day are linked here.

September 12 Watkins Glen to Mercer, Pennsylvania

The rest of the photos for this day are linked here.

It was good to have two nights in one place, but it was also good to know we would be on the road again this morning. Most days we only drive 200 to 300 miles or so, and even with only a night, we still have some time to settle in and enjoy. We also took a bit of time in Wellsboro to upload photos and post all the blog posts that were backing up. We had no clue where we would spend the night, but with it being a Sunday and long after Labor Day, we hoped for something simple and accessible.

Before that, however, the Grand Canyon of the East called. It was raining, and I knew that it would be difficult to peer into a deep canyon under those conditions. But with no idea when we would be this way again, it was not a drive to be missed. Shortly after we crossed into Pennsylvania, we came to the Pennsylvania Welcome Center, one of the best centers we have seen since the South Carolina Welcome Center during our 2007 cross country trip.

The Pennsylvania Welcome Center was one of the best I have seen in the country

Matt, the attendant on duty, was friendly and helpful, and even called around to find out where I could get free WiFi.

The attendant, Matt, was helpful and informative, and gave me a bag full of maps, directions, and brochures to help manage the day ahead. Scenic Route 6 is a beautiful drive rated by National Geographic as one of the best in the nation. It is over 400 miles long, following a route through several geographic divisions from the east to the western border of the state. We joined the route about midway and followed it as far as the Allegheny River.

The side trip to the canyon was lovely, in spite of the rain, and the state park had no entrance fee, so hiking around in the fog was OK. The canyon was shrouded in mist, except for a few moments when Pine Creek appeared thinly. I bought a great book, however, that I read aloud for the rest of the route. I learned about the geology, the landscapes, the history, both natural and human, of the great forest we drove through. We approached the highlands of the Allegheny Plateau, and for the first time I understood the relationship of ancient inland seas and glaciations in this part of the world.

It was a beautiful green day, punctuated by charming small towns filled with unique houses, and main streets that looked like they came from a Rockwell painting. In the afternoon, along the Allegheny River, Mo had a spontaneous moment and decided suddenly to cross the river to a small town called Tidioute. I still don’t have a clue how to pronounce that name, but I won’t forget the town!

We drove across the river and down the main street, continuing toward the edge of town, and the street just kept going. And going. And going. It kept getting more narrow, and there were no turnarounds to be found. After a few miles the trees started closing in and we finally decided to unhook the baby car and get turned around. whew. Once we hooked up again and headed back through town, I became enamored with the homes and buildings, and suddenly we realized that we had missed the bridge. The road was once again getting narrow and wandering off into who knows where. Garmin Girl showed a single road, with no side roads, no turnarounds. So once again we drove into a gravel driveway near the city reservoir and tried to unhook. Problem was that we were on a hill, and backing the MoHo with the car behind it isn’t as easy as backing a trailer. After some tries, we finally managed to get unhooked, turned around, managed to get rehooked and finally back across the Allegheny River!

The rest of the evening was uneventful, meandering through small towns until we reached I-80 and I-79 towards our chosen campground at the little town of Mercer. The camp is pleasant, with enough space between sites, with electricity, water, cable tv and seriously good WiFi! I made some chicken quesadillas for a simple supper and have enjoyed the time to read and write a bit, catching up with my kids and friends, checking the weather, and basically reconnecting with the world again.

September 10 back home to the States

The rest of the photos for this day of travels are here

The morning was cloudy and damp in Ontario and the day seemed gloomier yet with our need to find a place to repair the Tracker. Our plan was to cross the border, and then stop to see if we could find some kind of repair shop to check out the transmission. Without a phone or internet access, it’s so difficult to function reasonably. Garmin Girl proved so dependable taking us through complex freeway systems that we didn’t hesitate to try it again today. I drove the MoHo with Mo following behind in the Tracker while we set the address for some unknown place in West Seneca, New York.

The border crossing was uneventful, without even a request for our animal papers. Understandable in the MoHo perhaps because the cat was safely tucked away in his carrier. In the Tracker, though, Abby was clearly visible, and the agent didn’t say a word or ask for anything but passports. In a matter of minutes we were in Buffalo, on US soil, with miles again instead of kilometers. I pulled into a large parking lot in West Seneca, and Mo pulled in behind me. She hollered joyously when the Tracker slipped into neutral effortlessly. Who knows. But finally we could hook up the car again and be on our way through New York to our next destination.

The sweet little neighbors in Toronto told us about Watkins Glen, in the Finger Lakes District, and after reviewing the maps and checking mileage, we decided it was a much more relaxing destination than Blue Mountain Lake in the Adirondacks. Especially when we realized that we could actually stay two nights and have time to enjoy the trails and waterfalls. With my iPhone once again operational, I checked out campgrounds while Mo drove through the winding, gorgeous landscape of this part of New York. The hardwood forests are thick, lush, and green, with only a touch here and there of brilliant orange or red tips on the trees.

The KOA campground seemed the most likely choice from what I could see on the phone, and when I called they said they were nearly booked due to the Vintage Road Race being held today in Watkins Glen. She found a nook for us, though, and we took it. Expensive as heck, but it is Friday and we had no clue where we might land. The state park was our first choice, but it was also booked except for the dry camps that were first come first served. We opted for the KOA and shortly were settled in to a somewhat bumpy, marginal site near the pond. This KOA has an indoor swimming pool and spa which hopefully we will have time to try out tomorrow. The rest of the amenities aren’t that great, and our site doesn’t have sewer, cable hasn’t been installed out here yet, and the wireless internet connection is as slow as dialup. Ah well. We are camped and settled at least.

After reviewing the excellent brochures provided, we opted to spend the afternoon traveling towards Ithaca and the waterfalls and trails at the state parks in that area. I kept trying to remember why Ithaca was so familiar to me, but of course, Cornell University is there. And the Moosewood Restaurant, home of the vegetarian cookbooks that were my cooking bible back in the early 80’s. Geez.

By the time we were back on the road, the skies had cleared except for huge white puffy clouds punctuating the brilliant blue. Ahh. blue and white and green again. The tiny town of Watkins Glen, however, was completely off limits because of the races and the closing of the main streets in town. In dead stop bumper to bumper traffic, we asked the policeman how to get where we were going. The only route was nearly 50 miles out of the way. Pretty stupid for them not to have some kind of detour set up for travelers trying to get around in the area. Back to the iPhone which allows me to see the actual aerial photo and maps and try to come up with a route. The GPS has no idea about closings and routes and only wants an address. Once again, I sit in the passenger seat, two fisted navigating, phone in one hand, GPS in the other, and a map on my lap trying to get us through the crazy back roads to Taughannock State Park

Eventually we were successful, and the falls were delicate but lovely, and at 215 feet, the highest falls in the northeast. The trail around the rim of the canyon and the upper falls was well marked, fenced for safety from the extreme cliffs, and dog friendly. It was a great walk and felt good to be again in a place less populated than we have been recently.

After our hike, we were ready for supper, and I searched the reliable iPhone again for a good restaurant in Ithaca. There were dozens, but we decided on the BoatYard. The evening was cool, with a nice breeze, so we left Abby in the car with the windows a bit open to wait for us while we enjoyed our dinner. The restaurant was great, the service excellent, and we had steaks for the first time in a very long time, with a glass of California old vine zinfandel. Ahh, delightful! Until half way through dinner the hostess came looking for us to report that the police were waiting for us because someone had reported animal abuse because Abby was in the car. Mo stepped out to talk with them, and it was all OK, but it was definitely a bit disconcerting. Our relaxing, somewhat spendy dinner cut short, we packed up what was left and headed out to see Cornell University and the rest of Ithaca.

The town had seemed so peaceful, but once we entered the Collegetown area it became obvious just how big Ithaca really is, especially with all the students in town. It was crazy traffic, and students everywhere, steep, winding streets, and no clue as to where we were trying to go. Even with my two fisted navigation, it was a mess. After a quick look at the main part of Cornell, we wound our way back through town and south to try to find our little KOA home. Again, with the roads closed in Watkins Glen until after nine, I had to find an alternative. This time we routed some very back roads, and over a very steep hill we hooked up with 414 south, just a few miles north of the KOA.

Whew! Home! Out came the leftovers, and we settled in to our evening at home with plans for more waterfall hiking tomorrow.

September 8 Toronto

The few somewhat gloomy photos I have for this day are linked here.

Glen Rouge Campground is owned by the city of Toronto, located in a linear greenbelt parkway called Rouge Park, dissected by the Rouge River. The grounds are well maintained, with laundry facilities on site. These consisted of two washers, one of them broken, and two dryers, one out of service. With more than a week of laundry collected, I decided to try to find a laundromat where I could actually get the laundry completed in something less than a full day. Mo decided to go with me so I wouldn’t have to wander off into the city alone, and we set out to find a laundry.

The camp hostess suggested a place a few miles west toward town on Kingston Street, which sounded reasonable, but at the early morning rush hour, Kingston Street was backed up cars in all four lanes punctuated by stop lights. The fresh, almost antiseptically clean suburbs gave way to seedier neighborhoods and crowded apartment buildings with varying degrees of window coverings that included aluminum foil. Maybe these are the kinds of neighborhoods that actually need laundromats, since most of the fancy townhomes near the area we left behind probably had their own in home laundry facilities.

About $12.00 Canadian, and four loads later, we emerged with clean bedding and fresh clothes. Watching all those folks doing laundry reminded me of the days when I did diapers for three babies in laundromats, too poor to own a washer that worked. Life is good. Now I only go to laundromats when I am traveling.

Another supposed amenity of Glen Rouge Campground is the excellent security. Last night it was severely lacking, however, and somewhere around 2am our next door neighbor hosted two cars full of drunken party goers. They entertained us with raucous conversation, loud music, singing, and falling down sounds until the last car pulled away around seven this morning. When we reported this to the camp hostess, she made some mumblings about security, and I got the impression that maybe the security personnel may have been part of the party. Our other neighbors are just fine, sweet and just conversational enough to be fun but not intrusive, and they love the cat and dog. We will be leaving tomorrow morning, and I am hoping that the rowdy neighbor is too worn out from last night to keep us up again tonight.

With laundry handled, we took Abby to a doggie day care and once more took the train to town for another day of exploration. Toronto has so many interesting offerings, but the Royal Ontario Museum called me most, with the exhibition “The Warrior Emperor and China’s Terracotta Army” in residence, it was something I didn’t want to miss. The ROM, as it is affectionately known here in town, is just a little over a mile north of Union Station on University Street. It was a great chance to walk more city streets and observe how the demographics and energy of the neighborhoods change throughout the city.

Queen’s Park is at the center of the University of Toronto campus, and has the most amazing collection of huge hardwoods, oaks, maples, and others, that I have ever seen. In the dark shade of a dreary day, I found it impossible to capture the immensity of these trees in a photograph. The main building of the University was as imposing as any castle I have seen anywhere, and the cosmopolitan atmosphere was impressive.

We finally found the ROM north of Queen’s Park and entered. There was an extra fee to see the Terracotta Army, but it was well worth it. After complete immersion into Chinese history of two hundred B.C., we emerged into the rest of the museum. Much like the Smithsonian, the sheer volume of the exhibits is overwhelming. I decided that the only way to truly visit a museum of this stature would be slowly, a day at a time for each section. Since we didn’t have that luxury, we wandered a bit aimlessly through the halls and rooms and stairwells. Photos weren’t allowed, but mental images include a totem pole from British Columbia spanning all four stories of the building and a domed ceiling tiled with gold and inlay that was as intricate as any we saw in Turkey.

After all that walking and wandering, we were starving, so took advantage of what is known in Toronto as “street meat’”, the hot dog stand. Hot dog is a misnomer for what we ate today, with the juicy succulent meat sliced diagonally and roasted on an open flame right before our eyes. The condiments included fancy colored peppers and a sweet corn relish among the usual goodies. We sat on the steps of the ROM and watched people passing by while munching down the best hot dog I ever ate in my entire life.

The Museum station of the TTC Subway was right there, and it was a quick, 4.00 jaunt to Union Station just in time to catch the express GOTRAIN to our home station at Rouge Hill. After two days we were getting to be old hands at finding the stairs, hallways, and platforms of the transit system.

After picking up Abby from her caretakers, we desperately needed some internet time to handle business affairs, and finally found free wireless at the local coffee establishment called Second Cup. Much like the Starbucks of the old days, they had great coffees, comfy chairs, a fireplace, and free wireless. Time to catch up on banking and email, and try to get photos up and maybe a blog post or two at least! By the time we left the place was full of interesting people, talking, computing, drinking and eating; definitely a hoppin’ place to be in the suburbs of Toronto on a Wednesday evening!

We plan to leave by 6 in the morning to drive to Niagara Falls and miss the worst of the Toronto traffic, so the alarm is set for 5. The rain comes and goes, but it stopped long enough for us to get the bikes and the kayaks loaded up again and get things ready for an early departure tomorrow.

Wintertime in Rocky Point (the cold one)

Laurie Brown commented that every time I mention Rocky Point, she pictures the warm wintertime Mexican RV destination. The Rocky Point where I now live isn’t warm in winter. Not even close. However it is quite lovely. In winters to come, we plan to keep the MoHo someplace where she can actually move forward without chains. In the mean time, she is safe and warm here in her special berth, an electric heater running full time. Mo is the one responsible for plowing the snow and I will snow blow and shovel when needed. The fire keeps us warm and cozy, and needs constant tending. It’s a nice place to spend winter when work doesn’t require daily trips to town over icy roads. Still, in spite of the lovely snow and the warm house, we sometimes decide to take a quick trip over the mountain to find a warmer, wetter greener winter, typical of Oregon on the west side of the Cascades.

Destination Roseburg and The Umpqua Festival of Lights. At one time, Klamath Falls actually managed a similar festival here in Moore Park, a walk-through event, with hot cider and chocolate, and beautiful light displays. Sadly, it wasn’t profitable enough and after 2 short years it died. Now, in order to see some of the animated displays, you have to drive all over town trying to find them. Not particularly fun, so instead we decided to drive 3 hours, over a snowy pass, stay in a hotel, and go see a great drive-through light show.

Driving west from Rocky Point on OR140 in winter can be challenging. We decided to take the baby car, our “toad”. With 4 wheel drive and studs, it can go just about anywhere safely. She handled the icy road easily and within an hour we were out of the snow and enjoying beautiful misty vistas of green Oregon mountains and moderate weekday traffic on I-5. I now have an iPhone, and get a big kick out of watching our progress along the highways, checking for traffic, looking at the satellite imagery of the landscape we are crossing. It’s the mapmaker in me again, I guess.

A bit beyond Sexton Pass, (clear, no ice) Mo mentioned that she might be thinking about someplace to stop and eat something. I opened my “around me” application and up popped the Historic Wolf Creek Inn, just about the time we saw the exit on the freeway. Perfect. Mo had been to this small Oregon state Park in the past, but had never eaten there. They have a nice little restaurant that is charming and authentic.Our lunch was delightful, probably the best BLAT I ever ate, with homemade mushroom soup perfect for a misty Oregon day.

…

We continued north to Roseburg and our hotel, the Quality Inn, right off the freeway. We had a dog friendly room, and everything was comfortable and perfect for the rest of the afternoon relaxing with a Beavers football game while we waited to go see the light show. The game was so bad that we left after half time for the show, just six miles west at the park. There were lots of big vans full of little kids hanging out the open windows wide eyed and excited. The last light show we saw like this was in South Carolina on St James Island. Roseburg put on an excellent show, and checking, I see that Roseburg and Klamath Falls are approximately the same in population. I really wish our town could manage this kind of special Christmas event again.

<img src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_rBpk0C4raa8/S4_v5W1kU1I/AAAAAAAAwnA/z9eXd6jCZsY/video1cf7f71af9a2%5B3%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="border-style: none" galleryimg="no" onload="var downlevelDiv = document.getElementById('ee3dfc82-b8ab-47b6-a729-c45d6acee815'); downlevelDiv.innerHTML = "

http://www.youtube.com/v/yU53YBTRPAk&hl=en_US&fs=1&&hl=en“;” alt=””>

Next morning we woke to a warm breakfast, decided that shopping for Christmas dinner early in Roseburg would be much easier than shopping during the busy mid day in Medford. We had fun exploring Freddy’s and Bi Mart, two of my favorites, no sales taxes thank you, and then headed south on I-5. At Canyonville we checked out the Seven Feathers RV Resort and were very impressed. What a great place to spend a few days when it’s snowy at home! We definitely will come back to stay at this place. There’s a huge heated pool and spa, a fitness room, 24 hour laundry, and included in the discounted 29 per day weekday price, are electric, wi-fi and cable. There are trails for walking and roads for biking, and oh, yes…the casino. Not so sure if that is a good thing or not, but everything else is just lovely, the freeway sounds are completely muffled, the sites are big and comfy, and there is no snow to plow! We just have to get that MoHo baby out of her snowy berth and over that mountain! Ahh, maybe next year.

We ambled on home, appreciated the beautiful green hills swathed in mist, dark green forests, and warm green hills. Topping the highway above Medford, we could see snowy McLoughlin towering over the valley. The towering mountain is a remnant of a Cascade volcano, visible from Medford, and from Rocky Point Road on the other side. We once climbed to the peak of the mountain, and are both glad that we did it then and don’t have to do it again! Home before dark to our freshly plowed road in time to build a big warm fire and settle in for Christmas.