Nashville

OK, the next stop falls more into the "when in Rome" category...Nashville, Tennessee. I guess I could have lived my life without regret had I never been to this city, home of country music and the Grand Ole Opry. But Nashville happened to be an appropriate number of hours away from Asheville and in the right direction (West), so we went there, and I don't regret it...

We camped at a private campground not two miles from the famous Grand Ole Opry, but we did not go there to see a show. See, the problem is, it seems only country musicians perform there! Neither Nancy or I is what you would call a country music fan. The closest either of us have ever come to enjoying the genre would be some of the twangier of Jimmy Buffet's songs, maybe an Eagles riff or two, and a few of Johnny Cash's tunes. Nothing against it - don't get me wrong. If a-pickin' and a-grinnin' is your bag, if you like some twangin' in your sangin', that's cool. Just because I'm not a fan doesn't mean it's not perfect for you, right?

But before we get to our lifetime-supply-of-country-music-in-one-evening story, first my bit about the Gaylord (ha!) Opryland Hotel. Nancy had wandered around in there once before and was impressed, so she wanted me to see. I had no expectations - it's a hotel. Whatever. But when we passed through the back entrance and into the Delta atrium, I have to admit, I was pretty amazed. Picture, if you will, a monstrous luxury hotel built so that all of the rooms overlook a giant covered courtyard. Now double that. Double it again. Multiply by nine and divide by seven, then add the square root of pi. That's how big this place is. Fill the football-stadium-sized courtyards with lush tropical foliage, koi ponds, pools, waterfalls, and a freakin' river with boats in it, plus an island with shops and restaurants. Yeah, crazy stuff.




Not just potted palms and ferns thrived there. There were tree species I've never seen before, flowering shrubs, groundcover plants, mosses, water plants, annuals, air plants, and orchids. I think I even saw a truffala tree!




So then there's the music:

I already said that we didn't go to the Grand Ole Opry. I'd have gone, actually. I've found that almost any kind of music is much better when performed live. I bet even bands with names like "Insane Clown Posse", or "Wayne Newton" would be entertaining live. But we didn't go because you pay a bit of money for the privilege, and then file in with 10000 old people, and if you don't like it, then what? Instead we went downtown...


...to Broadway, where all of the Honky-Tonk bars are.

Dozens of these venues line the street, always have live music, and no cover charge. Plus, they serve alcohol! So, we bar-hopped, and checked out three honky-tonk bars and one that was more upscale. In order, they were Legends Corner, Second Fiddle, The Stage and Benchmark. At the first we listened to a five-piece band play straight-ahead country, and just as I suspected, it wasn't objectionable at all played live! And the more we drank, the better it sounded!


Lead signer looked as if his shampoo bottle ran out a while back, but he sang good, I reckon, and he taught us to "Holler 'n' Swaller", which will surely come in handy. Next stop featured a four-piece band that played country that was a little more rock-n-roll, which we actually kind of liked. But in the interest of experimentation, we moved on to The Stage, where there was like a 10 piece band, doing something like country-crooning, and we got the heck outta there. Lastly, at Benchmark, we heard a lot of variety, from country to rock to blues, and it was good.


So, that's our Nashville Country Music experience. Checked off the list (well, first we had to write it on the list, then we checked it off). I won't be so adamant in my dislike for the genre anymore, and if you like it, we can still be friends.

Asheville revisited

Asheville is a great town, but getting there this time ranks as our new number one most annoying drive in two years of travelling. Third place goes to the last few miles of our drive into St. John, New Brunswick.
Second place goes to our drive from Astoria to Troutdale, Oregon (through Portland). This drive was the worst because of multiple and agonizing traffic jams between Columbus and Asheville, North Carolina, on Interstate 26. For reasons that will remain unknown, traffic came to a stop in the mountains. We crept along for 1/2 hour or so, then it picked back up. Not for long. Another creeping session. Seemed over, but no. The closer we got to Asheville the worse it became. Ultimately I looked out over several bends in the highway and saw zero movement.
So, barely containing my road-rage, I somehow managed to cut across the lanes of stopped traffic and onto an off ramp, and, ignoring the protestations of Madam Garmin, feel my way around the east side of the city and pick up the highway over there. It worked great, but by that time we'd already suffered 1.5 hours of delay. What should have been a 3.5 hour drive took 5. I hate traffic jams under any circumstances, but I really, really hate them with 11000 pounds in tow.

ANYWAY...it was with great relief that we pulled into our campsite,
15 feet away and parallel to the French Broad River. It's constant gentle rushing soothed my soul. Well, that and a stiff santo libre! (That's dark rum, Sprite and a wedge of lime).

The rest of our stay was great, a sequence of sights and experiences that reminded us why Asheville ranked so high on our list of favorite places. Such a funky, relaxed and hip little city, bursting with culture and spirit, its inhabitants free-spirited and healthy. We went into town on the first day, an unseasonably warm Saturday, and Saint Patrick's Day to boot, and found the place hopping. The street musicians were out...

...and impressed us with their quality and originality. We had a tasty lunch at the far-out Mellow Mushroom:


There we learned what Ronald McDonald looked like back in the 60's before he got all corporate:


Also while in Asheville we did laundry at (why didn't anyone think of this before?) a laundromat/bar, called Bar of Soap. We took the dogs to a very well patronized dog park, where Toby engaged in a butt-sniffing contest and some mud wrestling, leaving much less white than he went in:


The summery weather was perfect for a stroll through the North Carolina Arboretum, where the daffodils were still in their glory, and the magnolia and redbud(?) trees were popping:


A trip to Asheville wouln't be complete without some mountain biking, and we both took to the trails at Bent Creek. It was very hot and hilly, so Nancy joined me for a short loop before I went back out to ravage the trails on my own. No pics this time, so imagine if you will, fast and swoopy winding trails, each climb rewarded by a rocketing descent, and punctuated with freqent drainage berms for plenty of opportunities to take flight. It felt great to get back in the saddle and tear up some single track.

Capping off our 2012 Asheville experience was a top-notch BBQ dinner from 12 Bones. We missed this last time because they don't stay open for dinner, but happened by on our way to the dog park and had to pull over to stock up for the evening meal. Crazy-good baby-back ribs, seriously tasty mac-n-cheese, and finally a reason to eat grits - all loaded up with cheese and jalapenos. Still, the ribs, oh, the ribs... If I ever find their equal I'll be sure to let you know.

Gotta love Asheville. I said it before, and I'm sayin' it again. This is a place worth spending a lot more time...

On the shores of Strom Thurmond Reservoir

We returned to Hamilton Branch State Park, on the shores of Strom Thurmond Reservoir, because we really enjoyed our stay there back in November of 2010, and wanted to attempt to recreate that experience. And recreate it we did. If anything it was better. Too short, but better. Amazing campsite - huge, water on three sides, no-one else around. Being early season and mid-week, it was like we had the entire campground, even the entire lake to ourselves. Just the sounds of the birds kept us company - rafts of moorhens, flocks of canada geese, loons. Looking out from camp we could see no sign of human beings at all - it was awesome!

View from camp:

Nancy paddles in the reservoir - look carefully and see The Whale along the lakeshore, all by itself:


What brought us (and by us I mean me) here the first time was a mountain bike trail system called FATS (Fork Area Trail System), a highly rated trail network that is a model for trails everywhere. Last time it was just me who marauded the trails, but this time Nancy joined me to put her Mamba to good use!


Look at her go!

We rode the 6 mile long "Skinny" trail together. It was pretty hot, and Nancy is just getting started, so she was pretty tired by the end, but she did great. The next day I went back to really hammer the trails, getting lots of air, and carving up the turns. Excellent trails - I had a blast!

The Brown Wave trail is so named as it feels like surfing and endless wave of brown dirt track:

So, just two full days, days of pedalling and paddling...



...two perfect, peaceful, blissful days to remember always.

Next stop, another return visit, this time in Asheville, North Carolina.

Huntington Beach, SC

After over a week of short stays we were ready to settle in for a while. Huntington Beach State Park on the shores of South Carolina was the perfect place. A nice campground with a mixture of sunny sites out in the open and large private sites nestled in the trees (we chose the latter), situated south of Myrtle Beach, in Murrell's Inlet, on miles of white sand beach. Temperatures in the 60's and 70's made it possible to kick off the jeans and sweatshirts and don our shorts and tees.

At least a mile of beach was dog-friendly, so we took most of our walks there, enjoying the sun, the salt air, the surf and seagulls.




The hard packed sand below the high-tide mark was great for bicycle riding too.

Seafood markets were in abundance, so we made most of our meals from the ocean's bounty, mostly local shrimp:


We had a couple of less-than-perfect moments, though, to spice things up. Firstly, Toby took a break from being cute & good, found a nasty festering heap of shit in the woods, and rolled and rolled and rolled. The reek preceded him as he emerged from the brush at the edge of our campsite! Gagging, we turned the hose on him, then shampooed him all over. The smell still lingered, so we shampooed him again, and this time he was allowed inside. Vile beast!

The other misadventure began at 4:30 one morning, when I slowly came to realize that the cracking and breaking sounds I was hearing in my dreams were not dreams, and I bolted upright in bed. I ran out into the living room and could tell that the sounds were coming from the roof, specifically from our air conditioner. Something was tearing the plastic shroud to pieces! I ran outside with a flashlight, but it was gone before I got up there. In the morning's light, this is what I saw:


The chunks of plastic, still laying there on the roof, were large, and showed few, if any, tooth marks. The hole was around 4 inches wide and 6 inches tall. I believe that it was a raccoon that did the damage. Perhaps it smelled the aroma of the shrimp that I'd boiled for dinner earlier that evening. I removed the shroud, collected all of the pieces, and found that I could fit them back together. So I superglued all but the smallest pieces back in place. Then I cut a coathanger up into pieces that would fit in the groves formed by the plastic, and bedded them in place with 5-minute epoxy.


The repair came out well, and is hardly noticeable from the ground. It'll save me having to find an RV dealer who could order one for me, and the hassle of figuring out where I'd be to receive it. Now I can deal with it when we get back home.

So, back to the fun stuff. We biked down to the town of Murrell's Inlet,a fun mix of small town and tourist destination. A shoreline shopping & dining area called the Marsh Walk featured lots of seafood restaurants with names like The Dead Dog Saloon, Bubba's Love Shack, and Drunken Jack's. All along the frontage was a nicely made boardwalk, following the shoreline contour, and providing dock space for waterborne patrons and fishing vessels. It was nice - exactly the kind of thing our home town should do with its waterfront.





Another nearby attraction was Brookgreen Gardens. This place was really great - we went twice. The first time we walked all around through the various planned gardens, admiring the indigenous plantings, the pools, fountains and sculptures:





The second time we went to their zoo of indigenous animals, all of whom were either born in captivity or rescued and unable to survive on their own. There were herons, otters, 'gators, foxes, and birds-of-prey.

This is a black-crowned night heron:

A white ibis:

A 10 foot long alligator:

It was a great and relaxing time on the Carolina coast. We could stay there for a very long time. Maybe someday we will...

Colonial Williamsburg and Newport News

It was a short drive from Fredericksburg down to the Newport News Park, so we skipped the manic interstate and instead drove on more secondary roads - a more peaceful, less frenetic pace. Upon arrival we found that our site was perfectly level side-to-side, but front-to-back required us to use every inch of our front jack's adjustablility to get the Whale level. Still, we got trued up OK.

We weather was poor during our stay, and it limited our activities. We had both been looking forward to taking our bikes out on the mountain bike trails within the park, but it was either raining, or had just stopped raining, or was just about to start raining, so trail conditions were too poor.

We went in to see Colonial Williamsburg, but between work and rain got their mid-afternoon. Tickets to get into all of the staffed old-timey buildings were expensive, so with only a couple hours left in the day, we opted to wander around and look only at free stuff. They've done a nice job creating an island within the town that is true to our colonial times. If you took away all of the ambling tourists, the iPhone wielding parents trailing wild-eyed kids, all hopped up on root beer and swinging plastic swords and rubber band pistols, you could really imagine yourself in 300 year old Williamsburg. Most of the structures are private residences, but there are no visible indication of modernization. Cars are kept enclosed in garages, exterior lights look oil-fired, electric wires are underground. The staff manning the museum buildings (the taverns, blacksmith, chair-maker, armory, etc.) are all in period costume, and in character. They speak loudly of political issues, like that rumor about the folks up in Boston throwing tea into the harbor (that's hahbah, if you're from Boston). They wear powdered wigs, knickers and stockings. They side-step horse poo, bathe once a year, might die from a splinter, and are lucky to live past 36. Anyway, it's a fun place to visit, and we didn't do it justice. Speaking of justice:


Scenes from about the village:




The next day we went into Newport News to the Mariner's Museum, which was really good. Having grown up in and around boats, this is my favorite type of museum. Others of note are the Mystic Seaport in Connecticut, and the Maritime museum in Astoria, Washington. This one had a section devoted to Chesapeake bay, which was appropriate, and showed some of the shallow draft sailing work-boats of the day, like the sharpie, which was the basis for the boat that my father built:


Another section focused on the maritime aspects of the Civil War, a big focus in these parts. We spent most of our time, though, in the area which followed man's seafaring endeavors through history, from Indian dugout canoes, early China's first cargo vessels (junk), Arabic Dhows, to the heyday of Britains Navy and the career of Admiral Horatio Nelson. The exhibit also went on into modern times, submarine warfare, luxury liners and even cargo freighters.

There was one amazing room full of the models of Winnifred & August Crabtree: incredibly detailed and beautiful ship models, encased in glass, and ingeniously illuminated. It was magical.



Lastly was the small-craft exhibit, which featured examples of craft from an Eskimo skin kayak to an Italian gondola to an experimental sailing hydroplane (clocked at over 35mph!):


I enjoyed seeing a catboat, similar the one in which my family cruised the coast of Maine when I was young...


...and the coracle, a small "wearable" boat, that you could carry on your back when you weren't desperately trying to keep it afloat and pointed in a direction loosely approximating that in which you'd like to travel:


This area of Virginia certainly deserves a dedictated trip all its own. There's so much to see and do, and we hardly scratched the surface. Didn't get to Jamestown or Yorktown at all. Next time... But now, we're hellbent for South Carolina and warmer weather.

On The Road Again...

Funny that the title of one of my least favorite recordings, Willie Nelson's "On the Road Again", would be too perfect a title for this first post of our second tour...

But indeed we are back on the road, having pulled Gigantor and the Whale off of the market so that we can do it all over again in 2012! Most of you readers will know that Nancy sold her business, Network-IT, and plans to start classes towards an MBA in September. Then there's me, back at work designing for Mark Levinson audio, and requiring only an internet connection to be productive. So, once more, we saw the opportunity to live "location independent" and began preparations to depart. But this time...it's all about the girl!

It was Nancy who was hunched over a keyboard, her face illuminated in the cold blue light of a computer monitor, stressing over her business, trying to earn enough income to pay for our campground fees and diesel fuel. I was the one planning our stops, preparing meals, doing dishes, cleaning house, walking dogs, going for hike and bike rides, until she was free for the day. This time it'll be reversed, mostly. I'll be the one clicking a mouse, poking at keys, designing audio components for the super rich, earning our keep, and Nancy will have her turn at enjoying more of the scenery and life about camp. This is for her - it's only fair!

My remote office:
She's got an awesome new mountain bike with which to attack the trails - a Trek Mamba hardtail 29er. Sweet! We put it to use at our first stop, Lums Pond State Park in northern Delaware. But wait, I'm getting ahead of myself. First, we had to get there...

So, Gigantor and the Whale were both all shined up for sale. It was nice to have them both so showroom perfect, but I couldn't help wish I'd known we'd be going back out when I spent a week unloading, and now spent another week loading it all back in! Anyway, the day of departure dawned, with just a few simple tasks remaining to put the house to bed. But it wouldn't be that easy...Gigantor refused to start! It was a cold morning, in the low 20s, and the old girl doesn't like to get her diesel going when it's chilly out. But she's never failed. Now it seemed the batteries were spent (it takes two big ones to get her started, if you know what I mean). I tried every trick I knew, but nothing worked. AAA came when called, and still she put up a fight. Not until I laid down my money to replace the one bad battery did the engine roar to life. So, two hours delay, still enough time left in the day to make it to our destination, so Nancy, Kinsey, Toby and I hopped in the truck and off we went...

...down the Connecticut coast and right through New York City.
Seemed like a good idea at the time, but let me tell you this: I've driven this rig all around, coast to coast, through 38 states and 5 provinces, towing 24000 miles, and no where (NO WHERE!) are the roads as thoroughly disgracefully miserably disgustingly rough, potholed and uneven as those in the greater metropolitan area of New York City. We took a beating! Anything that wasn't nailed down in The Whale was scattered throughout. Our bikes beat each other up and the new bike-rack's bolts all loosened. One of the storage hatch doors came unlatched. It was brutal. Never again. It's like the song, you know the words:


-
-
-
If you can make it (through) there, you'll make it (through) anywhere, New York, New York!


But we did make it through, and I never thought I'd say this, but it was with great relief that we settled into a comfortable cruised down the New Jersey Turnpike...

...to arrive at the nearly deserted campground at Lums Pond State Park, in Bear, Delaware. Here we got set up and began tallying the list of items that we forgot to bring! Nothing critical. Then Nancy managed to slip on the steps in the camper and injure her pinky toe, so she was limping around.


During our day at Lums Pond SP I had my first work-day away from my home office, and had no problem getting my hours in and still taking time to walk dogs and go for a nice long mountain bike ride around the pond with Nancy. She did great. It was mostly level, but had a few spots criss-crossed with roots, and some rutted mudholes, all of which she powered over and through. One short, steep climb she cranked up, passing an older man who had just walked his bike up. He was impressed!


Our next drive took us farther south, around Washington D.C.'s beltway, and into Virginia, where we set up camp in Fredericksburg. The next day we were to tour around the copious Civil War attractions, but it rained like end of days, so we hunkered down, working and watching the puddles rise and become one, and the rivulets of water passing through camp become babbling brooks. I dangled a line out the front door and caught a trout! OK, that didn't happen, but the rest is true...

The next day was sunny and 70 degrees, and it felt soooo goooood! I forced myself to put in a few hours of work in the morning, then we headed back to Fredericksburg to check out some of the living history, like Doctor Hugh Mercer's Office and Apothecary...


...where we learned about the medical practices of the 17th century. (Bleeding by leaches, anesthesia by drunkenness, purging with antimony or mercury, etcetera). Then we checked out the National Park Service's Battlefield Visitor's Center and walked along the site of a bloody civil war battle, Mayre's Heights, where Confederate soldiers hunkered down behind the sturdy stone wall along Sunken Road and mowed down advancing Union divisions. Not a good day for the North.



The house situated along the wall was perforated with gunfire, but survived, along with the lady who lived in it, even as war raged around (and in) her home:

And we strolled through the graveyard where over 15000 soldiers, or fragments thereof, were laid to rest. All but a few hundred were unidentified at the time of burial. It's a sobering sight, and as Robert E. Lee is credited with saying "It is well that war is so terrible lest we should grow too fond of it."