The road to the North Rim winds through meadows.
Monsoon season was just starting.
A little piece of heaven camping in the Kaibab
National Forest.
Western Tanager
Vista Encantada
Angel's Window
Cape Royal
Cliff Rose
Cape Royal
Cape Royal
Walhalla Lookout
The North Rim Lodge has
exceptional views.
Sofa Room at the Lodge
Lodge Dining Room
Sun Porch at the Lodge
Bright Angel Point trail
Bright Angel Point
Bright Angel Point
Hiking in the Kaibab forest
We came across a clearing overflowing with lupines.
The aspens cluster together.
Point imperial Lookout
Imperial Point
Ken Patrick Trail from Point Imperial
Grand Canyon - North Rim
June 24 - July 13, 2008 - We left Flagstaff in search of cooler weather,
and we found that and much more at the North Rim of the Grand
Canyon. The road from Jacob Lake to the North Rim is 44 miles of
graceful beauty.
After descending through dense woods, some of which were badly
burned in a wildfire in 2005, the road shakes out its curves, the tall
pines step back, and you fly along through lush meadows. These
meadows were green when we arrived in June, but by the time we left
in July there were wildflowers of all colors scattered about. The
elevation in this part of the world hovers between 8,500 and 9,000
feet, making the warm summer season very short. When we first arrived the sun was abundant and the air was warm.
By the time we left the summer monsoons were in full swing, bringing
thick, black storm clouds every afternoon. You could almost set your
clock by the 2:00 thunderstorms. We camped in a little forest glade
that was pure heaven. Our only neighbors were a jackrabbit and a
deer, both of which made several appearances, and a gorgeous male
western tanager who appeared near the end of our stay. Our little
clearing was lined with aspen that quivered whenever the wind blew.
Our first evening in our little paradise we watched the sun set while
listening to John Denver sing about nature. The warblers chimed in and
the aspen seemed to laugh and
dance in the orange glow of the
setting sun. It was magic.
Our first trip to the Rim itself took us
on the farthest reaching road,
passing Vista Encantada and taking
us down to Angel's Window and
Cape Royal. Vista Encantada was
bursting with wildflowers. Yellows,
oranges and even the bright pink of a prickly pear cactus flower
enhanced the rust reds of the canyon. The North Rim is not heavily
visited, and we were the only people at this lookout, gazing at the jaw-
dropping vistas while clicking away on the cameras.
Cape Royal, a massive lookout area, lies at the end of this road.
There is a charming paved walking trail through the scrub brush and
woods that leads out to Angel's Window as well as Cape Royal. We
couldn't believe that we were the only ones on the trail. Angel's
Window gives you a glimpse of the Colorado River if you peak
through, but once you climb onto the top of this arch formation you
get an unobstructed view.
As we walked we were overcome with the sweetest fragrance. A
trailside plaque told us that the Cliff Rose was responsible for this
heady aroma. We breathed deeply and walked slowly. We were
here at the perfect time of
year.
Returning towards the
buggy, we stopped at some
of the viewpoints we had
skipped on our way out.
Walhalla Lookout is the
gathering place for a daily
ranger talk about the
ancients who lived in this
region, growing crops on a plateau 5,000 feet below at the Colorado River in the winter and moving up to the Rim in the summer.
There were some Indian ruins from 800 years ago, including a granary where they stored seeds for future planting. From where
we stood we could easily see Mt. Humphreys in the San Francisco Peaks back in Flagstaff. A 200 mile drive by car, the mountain
was just 50 miles away as the condor flies. I watched the clouds gathering over Mt. Humphreys as the afternoon monsoons began
to build, and suddenly I understood why the Indians have always viewed the mountain as sacred. From that hot, dry plateau way
down on the Colorado River, it would be only natural to believe that the mountain held a mystical power to create clouds and rain.
Those clouds and their life-giving moisture drifted over the canyon
and a light rain began to fall.
Another morning we walked the Transept Trail from the campground
to the North Rim Lodge. This dirt path hugs the rim and occasionally
peaks out at a view that grows broader and broader as you approach
the Lodge.
The Lodge was built in 1928 and reflects the
elegance and simplicity of that earlier time. It is a
stone and timber structure with enormous windows
overlooking the stunning view. In the early days
visitors were greeted by singing staff members, and
the first view they got of the canyon was through
the immense windows that drew them across the
wide lobby floor. Those windows are equally
alluring today, and comfy leather sofas fill the
room.
A beautiful dining room also
has towering windows that
look out at Canyon views,
and it is impossible not to
feel a tie to the past when
seated beneath these
chandeliers.
The Lodge also has a
sunporch with open-air
seating in front of the
spectacular view. What a
place to enjoy a latte, soak in
the view, and maybe even
read the paper.
From the Lodge we wandered out on the paved Bright Angel Point
trail. This is a pretty walk that takes you to the very end of the
peninsula that the North Rim Village is built on.
We clambered up onto the towering rocks to check out the many
views. At the end you can see the widest part of the Canyon laid out
before you, stretching 21 miles to the South Rim. We were able to
make out the tower at Desert View but couldn't see the other buildings
on the South Rim. The immensity, colors and shapes were a feast for
the eyes.
We felt very blessed
to be able to stay in
the area for three
weeks. After each
visit to the Rim we
would spend a day or
two back at the trailer
looking at our photos,
absorbing the
experience. There is
a lot to see in the
Kaibab National
Forest as well, and
we did a lot of cycling
and hiking, checking out
the maze of dirt roads in
the area.
As we stayed more and
more flowers began to bloom
and on one hike we found
ourselves in a lush bed of
lupines. There was a variety
of shapes and hues, and we
came back to this area
several times to enjoy the
rich colors. A little further
down this road we found bunches of
yellow flowers that grew in clumps, like
nature's perfect little bouquets.
Mark noticed these little black butterflies
zipping around us periodically, and one
finally stopped long enough for him to
get its picture.
We drove out to Point Imperial
and hiked a portion of the Ken
Patrick trail to the south. From
that viewpoint you can see the
Little Colorado River in the
distance. It is a sheer canyon
that looks like a crack in the flat
landscape. It almost looks like a
child took a stick and dragged it
across the sand in jagged motions,
leaving a deep trench in its wake.
Point Imperial is not hard to miss.
As we walked along the trail we saw
it shrinking in the distance behind
us. There were many wonderful old
trees and tiny yellow and red
flowers along the route. We felt so
grateful to be alive to be able
to experience these wonders.
It was hard to leave our little paradise in the
woods at the Grand Canyon, but the monsoons
turned nasty and we found ourselves in
sweatshirts and long pants for several days in a
row. We even got hailed on twice -- pea-sized
hail that piled up on the ground for an hour
before melting. We hadn't seen everything at the
North Rim, but we always leave a few discoveries
for future visits. We wanted to head a little
further north towards Kanab and Bryce Canyon
in Utah.
Sunset Crater, AZ – Looks Like it Exploded Yesterday!
Getting weighed
Campsite at Bonito in Flagstaff.
Boondocking in the Cinder Hills OHV Area
Solar panel installation
Sunset Crater erupted 800 years ago
Smooth cinder hills alongside the road
Cinder hills and lava flow
San Francisco Peaks
Cinders are black gravel and red gravel
San Francisco Peaks
View from the top of the Lava Flow Trail hike
Vermillion Cliffs near Lees Ferry
Neat spot for a house!
Vermillion Cliffs - many colors in the rocks
Start of the climb out of the desert up to the Kaibab Plateau
Sunset Crater National Monument, Arizona
June 4-24, 2008 - We drove from Chanute, Kansas to Flagstaff, Arizona (1,200
miles) in just 3 days. We stopped long enough to weigh the truck and trailer at a
Flying J truck scale and found we were right at the limit. Even though we had filled
only 1/3 of the cabinet space, our weight (with water and propane) was 13,850 lbs --
and the GVWR (Gross Vehicle Weight Rating) is 13,995 lbs. No wonder the truck
noticed the load!! This wasn't the little Lynx any longer! We had met a lot of fifth
wheel owners whose cabinets and closets were stuffed to overflowing. They must
run about 2,000 lbs or more over their GVWR.
As we traveled across
country the air got dryer
and the terrain got craggier. On I-40 in Texas, 10 miles west of the
New Mexico border, there was a very distinct transition from open
plains to a desert landscape. We had left tornado alley in the middle
of tornado season and we were glad to leave the severe storm
warnings and tornado watches behind. However we drove straight
into a vicious headwind all the way across the country, and in New
Mexico and Arizona the winds were staggering. We were paying far
more for gas than we ever had -- and we were getting 8.2 miles per
gallon!!
At an Arizona
visitors center
we heard
another fifth wheel driver discussing routes to Wasington with the host,
trying to find a way to get out of the horrible winds. Not possible! When
we arrived in Flagstaff it felt good to be among the tall pines under clear
blue skies again. The winds eventually subsided, and we relaxed at our
favorite campground northeast of Flagstaff, Bonito Campground. We
retired the truck for a while, sticking to our bikes as much as possible.
Flagstaff has a fantastic store for solar power related items (Northern
Arizona Wind and Sun), and just like the previous year, we used our
time in town to purchase a complete solar setup. We upgraded to
490 watts of power (from 130) and a permanently installed pure sine
wave inverter. We boondocked in the Cinder Hills OHV Area and
Mark took his time installing the new panels on the roof and the
charge controller and inverter in the basement. After three days it
was done, and the system has been phenomenal ever since.
Wherever we are, it is always as if we have full electrical hookups.
The hummingbirds loved our feeder, and we
enjoyed watching them zip around. One
morning a pair of warblers came to the feeder
for a visit. Their beaks weren't shaped quite
right for the feeder, so they didn't stick around,
but I was thrilled to get their picture through
the window.
We took some leisurely bike rides through
Sunset Crater National Monument. This is a beautiful area for cycling, as there is no traffic and the road is smooth and scenic.
Sunset Crater blew its top 800 years ago, filling the skies and covering the ground with cinder ash. The cinder ash (black gravel) is
so thick that little can grow in it. This makes the area seem as though the volcano erupted just a few years back. The cinder hills
seem smooth from a distance, and there are places where the gravel is actually black sand. In other spots the black gives way to
shades of red and brown, again making it seem as though this mountain were engulfed in volcanic flames sometime within my own
lifetime. There is a region where the lava flowed, and today it is an impenetrable strip of sharp black rock. If you look closely you
can almost see the ripples and waves as this thick angry goo washed down from the mountain.
In the distance the San Francisco peaks were still snow capped.
Standing over 12,000 feet high, the tallest of the peaks is easily visible
from the North Rim of the Grand Canyon some one hundred miles
away as the condor flies. The Navajo and other native peoples have
long felt that the San Francisco peaks were sacred. I had never really
understood exactly why until a few weeks later when we were camped
on the North Rim and were looking back at these peaks across the
canyon. Every afternoon, like clockwork, the clouds would begin to
form over Mt. Humphreys. There was no doubt that those mountains
attracted -- or were even the source -- of rain. Looking down at the
barren plateau on the Colorado River at the bottom of the Canyon I
could understand why the ancients revered that distant mountain. It
brought them much needed water for their crops.
We took a hike with friends up the Lava Flow Trail and
found some spectacular views of the San Francisco
peaks and the valleys surrounding the mountains. It
was a steep but short climb up the hill and well worth
the view at the top.
When we first arrived in Flagstaff the overnight
temperatures were in the 30's and daytime highs were
in the high 60's. After a few weeks the highs were
getting into the 90's. Even boondocked in total shade
(we found it was a miracle that the solar panels still
fully charged the batteries everyday despite being in
full shade!), we were too hot. It was time to move on
to somewhere cooler.
We headed to the North Rim of the Grand Canyon. It
is a significant drive to get there. Even though
condors and intrepid hikers
can cross the chasm in just 21
miles, it is a 200 mile trip by
car, because you have to go
way to the east, then a bunch
north, way to the west, and
then drop south to get there.
The drive takes you through
some beautiful desert
areas. The Vemillion
Cliffs are stunning, jutting
up out of the desert floor
in vibrant shades of
orange, red, and even
turquoise. There is little
in the way of towns on
this drive, just occasional
hamlets with perhaps a
store and cluster of
trailers. We drove with
our eyes glued to the
beautiful scenery.
After taking the big left turn near Lees Ferry to head west, the red desert
suddenly gives way to greenery and you begin a steep and winding climb
up onto the Kaibab Plateau. The desert floor is at about 4,000 feet
elevation and the top of the Kaibab Plateau is at about 9,000 feet. North
Rim here we come!!
Chanute, KS – Tour of NuWa / Hitchhiker RV Factory
Train engine in Santa Fe City Park
Chanute, Kansas
Historic bridge, Santa Fe Park, Chanute
Waterfall in the park
Families come to the park every evening
Goose family: mom, dad,
5 goslings & a nanny
The World Harmony Run RV
NuWa Industries !!
A fifth wheel frame
Holding tanks being installed in the frame
Walls are vacuum bonded Blue Dow
styrofoam and gel-coat fiberglass --
a winning and unique combination
Walls being installed on a frame
Slide-out walls lined up
A slide-out being built
A slideout being installed on a trailer
Ceiling/roof trusses lined up
Windows lined up
Cabinets get assembled
Furniture ready to be installed
End of the line
Hey - we have that exact same wall trim
in our Fleetwood Prowler Lynx !!
Hitchhiker & Lynx side by side
Goodbye Little Lynx !!!
We join the other NuWa owners at the Chanute city RV park
Chanute, Kansas
May, 2008 - We had been kicking around the idea of upgrading to a fifth wheel
trailer since our winter months in Quartzsite and Yuma, Arizona. We loved the
little Lynx and it had taken good care of us. If we were traveling only part-time, six
to nine months a year, then there would have been no need to change. A 27'
travel trailer is ideal for skipping around the country seeing the sights if you have a
home to return to. However, with fulltime travel we found there were periods
where we needed to stop and simply live for a while. We couldn't keep moving
continuously. We had to catch our breath, absorb what we'd seen, and simply be:
watch TV, read, talk, write, maintain the rig, etc. During the cold months, on rainy
days and during long winter nights, we always secretly wished we had just a little
more room. So we began researching fifth wheels.
By May we had a stack of brochures three inches thick and had been in and
out of hundreds of trailers on maybe 20 different dealer lots across the
country. We had interviewed anyone and everyone that was in a fifth wheel
to find out what they liked and didn't like about their brand. We had
narrowed down the search to three prospective manufacturers: NuWa
(pronounced "New Way" as in "New Way of Camping" coined circa 1965) in
Chanute, Kansas, Alpenlite (Western Recreational Vehicles) in Yakima,
Washington, and Arctic Fox (Northwood Manufacturing) in LaGrande,
Oregon. We had seen the Arctic Fox plant the previous summer (along with
Fleetwood which has a plant 50 miles away). When we had planned to go to
Florida we had decided to stop at NuWa in southeastern Kansas on the way
home after passing through the Ozarks.
Chanute is a small city largely supported by the NuWa manufacturing plant and
its companion plants, Young's Manufacturing (which makes trailer frames,
including some for NuWa), and HiLo Manufacturing (which makes trailer furniture
and cabinets, including some for NuWa). When we signed in at the town's
historical center, of the fifteen people who signed in before us, fourteen were
visiting the NuWa plant and one was looking for a job.
We slipped out of
sightseeing mode as
soon as we arrived in
Chanute. We were
there to visit the factory
and learn more about their fifth wheel trailers. While we stayed in the city
park, a pretty park with an area for RVs, we took many afternoon and
evening jaunts around the park, on foot and by bike. It is a lovely place
with an old train engine you can climb on, a historic bridge and a waterfall
that gushes with amazing force when it rains hard.
There was a family of
Canada geese that we
watched grow up during
our stay: two parents, five goslings
and a nanny. The nanny was
always with the family, but she (or
he?) wasn't a Canada goose.
Other geese came and went, but
this family, including the nanny,
always stuck together. There
were ducks at the park too, and
one pair was on eggs.
The city park is well used by the
locals and by all kinds of travelers
too. Ninety percent of the RVs in
the park were NuWa owners
who were in town for warranty
or other service work on their
trailer. However we saw
several traveling cyclists come
through with panniers and
tents, and at one point a
carnival came into town and
their trailers filled the park.
One night as we walked we saw some very fit people milling about, and they
turned out to be part of the World Harmony Run, a group that was running relays
around the US all summer. There were eight runners with them in Chanute, and
they were running about 100 miles a day as a relay.
NuWa opens its doors to
visitors with a formal factory tour every morning. We took the tour three times,
and each time there were at least 10 people on the tour. The NuWa employees
were extremely hospitable, and Debbie in HR and Brett in Sales made us feel
right at home. We mingled at the plant almost daily, saw familiar faces fishing in
the park in the evenings, and bumped into Ed Cox, a sales manager and the city
mayor, repeatedly, all over town. We became more and more enamored of the
company. It is well run and tight knit. We visited the plant at one of the worst
possible times in their 50-year history. With the US economy slowing and gas
prices skyrocketing, the RV industry was not happy. While we were in town we
learned that four major high-end RV manufacturers had closed their doors:
Travel Supreme, Western RV (Alpenlite and Alpine Coach), Alpha (See Ya!), and
King of the Road. These were all direct competitors for NuWa. In preparation for the downturn, NuWa had consolidated two plants
into one and streamlined their workforce to carry the company forward.
We talked extensively with all the NuWa owners in the RV park.
Most would come in for just three or four days, so we ended up
becoming friendly with quite a few owners during our month in
town. Many invited us in to see their trailers, and all talked
extensively about their experience with the trailer, their dealer and
the factory. Everyone was in town with problems to be fixed, but
there was no pattern to the problems. The only pattern we saw
was that people liked their trailers (many were repeat buyers), and
they seemed very happy with the service they received.
When we arrived in town we thought we might eventually order a
Discover America 333RL, and we peppered everyone who would
listen at NuWa with questions about its various options and what
modifications might be coming up in the future. By the time we left
we had found there was a 2007 Hitchhiker II LS 34.5 RLTG sitting
in the back lot that had never gone out to a dealer. It was one of the last 2007's built and it was in the color I liked (which had been
discontinued). NuWa sells through dealerships exclusively, so we worked out a deal with Russ Herron at NuWa and Carl Fogleman
at H&K Camper Sales in nearby Columbus, Kansas, and suddenly we were the proud owners of a new trailer!
NUWA FIFTH WHEEL FACTORY TOUR
H&K Camper Sales is a fantastic dealership, and they allowed us to park
the two trailers side-by-side in the VFW park in Columbus for a few days while we moved things over and got organized. The
amount of extra floor space was startling, and the new rig felt very luxurious. It was a sad day, however, when John from H&K
towed the Lynx away. But our smiles quickly returned when we set ourselves up in the Santa Fe city park in Chanute, right along
with all the other NuWa owners!
After testing out all the systems in the new trailer and making sure
everything worked properly, we were ready to go back out west
again. We had been living in Tornado Alley for the peak month of
Tornado Season and had already been evacuated once to the Super
8 motel across the street. When you're living in a trailer in Kansas
and the cops knock on your door and tell you to evacuate, you do as
you're told!! Luckily, no tornados came through Chanute, but the day
we were evacuated, Pricher, Oklahoma, 80 miles away, was
devastated.
A man living in a 1980's vintage Holiday
Rambler travel trailer that ended up in a
million pieces was really interested in
buying the Lynx from H&K. Hopefully he
worked out a deal and was able to move
in. Meanwhile we wanted to get to
northern Arizona to install our solar
panels and start our summer travels.
Ozarks (AR) – Pretty Scenery
Ozark Bathhouse
Public confederate pride
Ed's Flags
Private confederate pride
Scenic Route 7
Overlook in the Ozarks
Diesel prices jump
Ozark Mountains, Arkansas
May 2-4, 2008 - After leaving the Natchez Trace we were on a
mission to get to Kansas, but we took the scenic route through
the Ozark mountains rather than the interstate to get there. We
stopped briefly in the town of Hot Springs which is famous for its
hot baths. Fancy bathhouses were erected along the main
drag for tourists to enjoy steaming in the hot baths. We didn't
take a dip, but the buildings were intriguing.
We were also
intrigued to find that
the Confederate flag
was flown in many
places here as well,
including the front
courtyard of a public
building.
Ed's Flags was
doing a bang-up
business, and he
included the
Confederate flag
in his lineup.
The most
common place
to spot a
Confederate
flag was in the
front yard of a
home.
The Scenic Route 7 through the mountains is a hilly, twisty drive. It was
a little bit of a struggle with the buggy, and Mark had to concentrate as
we wound our way up and down through the range. We saw lots of
motorcycles and even a motorcycle rally. This would be an ideal
place for any kind of two-wheeled vehicle.
There weren't too many lookouts with views, but we did stop at one
where we got a good view of the valley.
We weren't near any major cities, and the gas prices reflected that.
When we arrived in Florida on February 5th, 2008, diesel was $3.11
a gallon. Now, a mere three months later, diesel in Arkansas was
$4.39. Little did we know that by the time we got to the North Rim of
the Grand Canyon, two months after we took this photo, diesel would
be $5.34 a gallon.
We passed through several fascinating little communities where all the signs were in Spanish. I had always thought that the border
states had the most Latino residents, but here in the heart of the Ozarks we discovered some thriving Hispanic communities.
We had been told at two visitors centers in Arkansas not to miss Eureka Springs. It is a quaint
town, they said, with a very cute main street and lots of charm. Unfortunately, it is not RV
friendly. In fact, it is not tourist friendly. We stopped at the visitors center on the edge of town to
find out where we could park so we could walk the town. It turned out that in order to see the
town you had to pay $5 to park your RV for the day outside of town and then you had to take a
shuttle bus into town -- $9 for two people. So in order to see this quaint, charming town we had
to shell out $14. On top of that, the restrooms in the visitors center weren't even in their
building. They were way around in the back behind a bunch of shops, and they were decrepit
and dirty. So we skipped Eureka Springs. One theme that has been repeated over and over in
our travels is that the more you pay the less you get.
From the Ozarks we scooted through Missouri and finally landed in Chanute, Kansas, a small
town tucked into the southeastern corner of the state.
Natchez Trace Parkway, MS – Echoes of History!
Natchez Trace Parkway
The Old Trace
Mount Locust "stand"
Dining room - with seating for 6
Parents' bedroom
10 kids slept here (5 in each bed?!)
Grandmother and eldest daughter slept here.
Driveway to Stanfield
Stanfield, where Andrew Jackson was married.
Rocky Springs Campground
Rocky Springs:
Population 1860 - 2,616
Population Today - 0
Bank vault
Rocky Springs Church, built 1837
Rocky Springs Graveyard
French Camp
Natchez Trace & Jim Henson Museum, Mississippi
April 29-May 2, 2008 - We left Natchez and ventured onto the Natchez
Trace Parkway, a 444 mile road that follows a primitive trail linking
Natchez, Mississippi with Nashville, Tennesse. The Parkway is a
remarkable two lane road that is closed to commercial traffic and has a
speed limit of 50 mph. The National Park Service oversees the Parkway
and maintains three free campgrounds along its length. Because of the
low speed limit the traffic is non-
existent and we often drove for many
miles without seeing another vehicle.
There is a lot of history along the
Trace and at times it felt like we were
viewing layers of history. We saw
Indian burial mounds from 4,000
years ago and travelers' "stands" or
inns from 150 years ago.
The original Trace was created by buffalo and other animals migrating north-south. The ancient
peoples used the trail for their own migrations. In the 1700's European traders would bring furs
and other goods down the Mississippi by boat, sell their goods in Natchez (and even sell their
boat for lumber) and then walk back to Nashville and other points north to do it again.
The Trace became a popular
place for highway robbers, as the
folks walking north from Natchez
had money in their pockets and
little protection. In the early 1800's, seeking to bind the vast and
turbulent frontier to its northeast seat of power, President Jefferson
ordered the army to widen the trail and make it a road passable by
wagon.
As was noted by the Secretary of State at the time, "the passage of
mail from Natchez is as tedious as from Europe when westerly winds
prevail." The Trace vastly improved communications, but by 1830 it
fell into disuse as steamboats going up and down the Mississippi
river offered easier transportation. The Natchez Trace Parkway
weaves along the original Trace route. At times the original Trace is
visible. It is a mere hiking trail. After the Trace was built into a road,
"stands" or inns popped up along the route. These offered food and
lodging to travelers -- on a very simple scale.
We visited the Mount
Locust stand. A family
operated this stand with
51 slaves. In the main
house the parents slept
in one bedroom. The
grandmother and eldest
daughter in another.
The other ten kids slept
in the remaining
bedroom. The
mattresses were made
of corn husks and rope.
Visitors made do on the
porch.
Looking at these
cramped
accommodations it was
hard to imagine that
arriving at one of these
stands was all that
inviting. However, after
walking or riding a horse
all day on a dirt trail
these intrepid travelers must have been accustomed to truly roughing it.
Nothing like us, with our motorized transport, smooth paved roads to drive on
and a buggy with a well stocked fridge, freezer, hot shower and 12 inch mattress.
We stopped briefly at Stanfield, the mansion where Andrew Jackson was married.
Like others we had visited, there was a long tree-lined drive up to the house, and
the house was a
pillared beauty.
At Rocky Springs Campground, one of three lovely and free
campgrounds on the Trace, we were treated to a gorgeous morning
with filtered sunlight pouring through the trees.
On the edge of this
campground is the
ghost town of Rocky
Springs. All that
remains of this once
bustling town is the church, the graveyard and two bank vaults. The abandoned
bank vaults reminded me of the vault we had seen in the Gulf Coast town of Bay
St. Louis, MS. However, the once prosperous rural town of Rocky Springs wasn't
devastated by a hurricane. Instead its death came from many sources: bad land
management that cleared hillsides for cotton leaving
erosion scars that can be seen today, the Civil War, a
yellow fever epidemic in 1878 and a boll weevil infestation.
It was eerie to walk a small trail through the woods where
there had once been cotton plantations and 2,616 residents.
There is nothing but trees now.
Up on the hill the church is still used, but
the cemetery's stones all date from the
1800's. How can a town vanish in just a
little over 100 years?
Port Gibson is one of the larger towns at
the southern end of the Trace. At one
time it was considered "too beautiful to
burn," but we didn't find it particularly
inspiring. There was an interesting mural
on the wall of one building, and a small street with a handful of
stores, some in business and some shuttered. More intriguing were
the homes on the outskirts of town where the Confederate flag was
flying. Some flew the flag along with the American flag, and some
flew it alone.
We took advantage of this ideal area for cycling to do a few rides along
the Trace. With no noticeable traffic, modest rollers, and interesting
historical sites every few miles, we thoroughly enjoyed our rides. One
day, while camped further north on the Trace at Jeff Busby
Campground, we rode our bikes down to French Camp. This was a
bustling community in earlier days and had several pretty buildings.
Besides the recent historical sites that can be seen on Natchez
Trace, there are a lot of prehistorical sites as well. We stopped
at several Indian ceremonial and burial mounds. Archaeologists
have dug through these mounds and made some startling
discoveries. At one site, when the leader of the tribe died it
seemed that all his attendants were killed and buried with him.
Often they were killed by strangulation. Likewise, when a parent
died sometimes the rest of the family would be strangled and
buried with the parent. As I pondered all this back at the
campground -- in the pretty setting sun -- it occurred to me that even though lots of people have concerns about individual rights in
our culture today, at least we don't do that.
After we left the Natchez Trace Parkway we headed west and
north towards Arkansas. I was dozing when suddenly Mark
said, "Look, Kermit the Frog...!" I woke up just in time to see a
billboard for the Jim Henson museum. We spent a very happy
hour at this little outpost in Leland, Mississippi that is a
charming museum of Jim Henson memorabilia. It is run as a
labor of love by a woman who raised her children watching
Sesame Street.
I remember when that television show first aired in 1969. As a
nine-year-old its alphabet and numbers lessons were a little
juvenile, but I remember loving the gentle humor and I
watched it for many hours with my younger sister.
Mark knew the show from raising his kids watching it. He had been a
teenager when it first aired, so he never saw the episodes I did. It was
amusing standing around with the proprietor and realizing that all three
of us had watched it during different eras and we remembered different
things -- even different muppet characters.
This little stop in Leland rounded out a delightful visit to Mississippi.
From there it was on to the Ozarks in Arkansas.
Natchez, MS – Conjuring Another Era
Cherokee, 1794
Magnolia Hall, 1858
Driveway to Longwood
Longwood, 1859
Griffith McComas House
Glen Auburn, 1875
Melrose - from the front.
Melrose - from the back.
Slave quarters at Melrose.
Ravennaside, 1902.
Natchez, Mississippi
April 25-28, 2008 - Driving inland from Bay St. Louis, we stopped in Natchez, Mississippi
for a few days before starting up the Natchez Trace Parkway. This plantation-era city,
the first city built on the Mississippi River, is loaded with beautiful homes. Some are
"antebellum" mansions, which we learned means "before the rebellion," that is, before
the Civil War. Plantation owners engaged in serious one-upsmanship with each other,
building homes that were ever more elaborate. The most stunning of these homes grace
the outskirts of town where they still stand on very large and grand parcels of land. Most
of these mansions have been
lovingly restored and are open
to the public as museums.
Some are even available to host weddings.
Urban aristocrats of the 1800's built elegant homes in town, many of
which now offer overnight accommodation as guest houses. Wandering
around this town and these homes made us feel like we were peering into
a bygone era of immense wealth and of gracious, slow--paced, elegant
living. We toured much of the town by bike. It was a perfect way to
experience it. The traffic was fairly light, and the downtown area was so
tightly packed with mansions that we were constantly hopping on and off
the bikes to admire them. Each mansion has a a story to tell.
Perhaps the most dramatic was the story of Longwood. At the time
that this mansion was being built, it was on track to be the largest
mansion by far. Being octagonal, its construction was complex. It
took 600 slaves 9 years to build it, and by 1859 only the exterior
was completed. However, when the war broke out construction
stopped. After the war ended the man of the house died. His wife
raised their ten children in the basement of the house -- the only
finished part -- and she lived in the basement until her death, some
25 years later.
The Longwood
mansion was
beautiful, but its sad
story hung like a
cloak over the whole
estate. The ancient
trees on the
property were
loaded with Spanish
moss, giving
everything a heavily overgrown feeling. It made me think of Sleeping Beauty
and the prince who had to cut his way through the thick overgrowth to find his
beloved fast asleep in her cobweb filled castle. Up close Spanish moss has
the appearance of cobwebs growing between the leaves.
As we rode back into town one afternoon we discovered
that the Natchez Bicycle Club was hosting their Belles on
Bikes century ride that day. The ride was strictly for
women -- the men in the club were relegated to providing
SAG support!! We hung around and chatted with some
club members while the women came in from their
vigorous ride along the Natchez Trace Parkway. After a
morning of mansion-gawking and pondering Mississippi life
in the mid-1800's, it was refreshingly familiar to hear about
the hills and wind out on the Parkway. Mark chatted with
the bike mechanic about the bike
business while I snuck behind the club's
peep-through painting of a 19th century
Belle with a Bike.
There is a certain fantasy about
wearing those beautiful long
hooped dresses and wafting
about your plantation mansion
as an elegant and beautiful
young southern belle in 1850.
It's a girl thing. The bike club
had it right when they painted
the peep-through dress for
photos of their Belles on Bikes.
The Natchez Bicycle Club jersey is certainly a cool
jersey, and at times in my life I've probably worn more
cycling jerseys than any other garment. But when we
went into the visitors center and I saw the pink
hooped dress on display -- the real thing -- my inner
princess came alive. What fun it must have been in
those days. It might have been impossible to sit
down, but wouldn't it have been a thrill to be the Belle
of the Ball in that dress in one of those mansions?
Sadly, not everyone was able to live
that way, and when we climbed on
our bikes again we decided to go to
other parts of town to see how the
non-mansion-dwellers lived. It was
startling to see the degree to which
the mansion owners shoved their
wealth in the faces of those around
them. Just one street away we
found rows of homes that
were as modest as the others
were lavish. Suddenly the
conspicuous wealth that had
seemed so dreamy a
moment ago now felt
offensive. We wandered
beyond these homes to
back parts of town that were
truly struggling, even today,
and we heard loud voices.
Turning a corner we came
across a group of men
shooting the breeze on a
dilapidated porch. They
were seated on battered
couches and kicked back on
broken chairs, laughing and
joking together as we rolled by. I waved, and they waved back and called out, "Hi there
Lady!" I felt as though we had finally found the real Natchez, the one that isn't mentioned
in all the brochures about the civil war, the plantations and the mansions.
The Mississippi River was cresting at a record high during the days we were in Natchez.
We rode to a bluff that overlooks the river and Louisiana on the far banks. We got talking
with the folks around us and discovered we were surrounded by local people who had
come to see the swollen river. Several told us they had lived in Natchez all their lives and
never paid much attention to the river, but now they were watching it everyday because it
was rising higher than it ever had. We rode down to "Natchez Under the Hill," the rowdy
part of town in the old days. We found it was not only under the hill but under water! The
Isle of Capri casino boat was still tied to the docks, but the parking lot for the casino was
totally submerged. As on the bluff, we found more local residents down in this area
staring and taking pictures of the high water.
A group of adorable kids
was out for a look at the river with their moms. They were so cute
Mark asked if they'd mind lining up for a picture. They were tickled at
the idea and huddled around him afterwards to look at the shot in the
back of his camera. They had been searching for alligators because
there were warning signs posted at the water's edge. They weren't
lucky enough find one, but that didn't matter. They started looking for
sharks instead!
The National Park Service maintains Melrose, one of the antebellum
plantation estates. It is a large complex with outbuildings in addition
to the main house. The back of the house is almost as grand as the
front. I was surprised to learn that some of these Natchez mansions
were essentially just winter homes for their residents. Several
families spent summers in the northeast or touring Europe and
returned to Natchez for just a few months a year. It was hard to
assimilate the idea of that lifestyle with the slave building at Melrose
which housed several families in very tight quarters. Kids began
helping their parents work at age 6, parents were deliberately split up
and sold to separate owners, and the only rest anyone got was after
sundown.
Back in town we
cycled past
Ravennaside.
This gracious
home was built
in 1902 by the
woman who
spearheaded the
effort to create the
Natchez Trace
Parkway -- the next
stop in our travels. We
just liked the look of the
house and the sculptures in the back yard,
and we paused for a moment to admire it.
What a surprise it was when the gates
suddenly swung open and a Lincoln
Continental pulled out of the driveway. It is
still a residence!
After enjoying the history and culture of Natchez
we struck out to the north along the Natchez
Florida’s Gulf Coast – Something for Everyone
Apalachicola, FL
Alice Jean - Have a Coke and a Smile
Southern Florida & the Gulf Coast
April, 2008 - We dropped down to the northern suburbs of Miami from
Daytona, swimming at Hobe Sound, Hollywood Beach and South
Beach. Each beach had a different flavor, and we enjoyed the beach
scene at each one. The water was turquoise and warm and we played
like children. In Miami we were hosted by my brother and his family
and he took us to a local park with banyan trees and mangrove
swamps. It was dense, exotic foliage, and we had a great time traipsing
along the trails.
An iguana showed
up as we passed and
he paused for a look
at us before he
scampered off into
the underbrush.
We were intrigued that an old building
in the park had been built using coral
building blocks, rather than
the stone you might find at
in an old building elsewhere
in the country.
From Miami we scooted
across to Sarasota and the
southern Gulf Coast. The
gulls flew overhead as we
struggled at times in traffic.
Southern Florida is crowded,
and parking can be quite a
challenge...
In Sarasota we walked along Siesta Beach where the white sand is
groomed and resembles Dutch apple pie topping, soft and crumbly.
I had never felt sand quite as soft. The scenic drive along
Sarasota's coast was lovely, and a little further north we had a
leisurely picnic at Coquina Beach. We watched the sailboats
passing through the drawbridge and felt like we were in the tropics.
We wandered north along
the Gulf Coast, watching the towns get smaller and sleepier as we got away from the big
cities to the south. As often happened in our first year travels, there were things we
missed as we skipped along. But we felt pushed by the growing heat and humidity at the
end of April, and after three months in the Sunshine State we were ready for other kinds of
adventures.
We stopped in the little
hamlet of Carrabelle to
stretch our legs and found
the World's Smallest Police
Station and a cute 50's
inspired coffee shop.
Sailboats were anchored
across the bay and it looked
like a glorious morning to sit
in the cockpit and sip coffee
while watching the world
wake up.
We were charmed by the small
town of Appalachicola. It is a cute
walking town with fishing boats tied
up at the pier.
We poked our heads into a guitar
store because Mark needed new
strings for his guitar. We got talking
with the store owner (and her
cockatiel), and it turned out her 90+
year old mother was an art teacher
in a studio down the hall from the
music store. It was a few minutes before the art class was starting, so
we dropped in to check out the gallery and say hello to the teacher. It
turned out her name was Alice Jean and she had been a Rockette and
a Coca-Cola model back in the days when Coke ads were hand painted. She had some
memorabilia from that era on the wall. What fun to talk to this elderly lady and imagine the
years peeling back to reveal such fresh beauty as we saw in the painted ads.
Continuing west along the
coast of the panhandle the
scenery got prettier and
prettier. We drove out on
two peninsulas capped by
state parks --
St. George's
state park and
St. Joseph's
state park.
Each was
lovely.
We began to
see homes
built on stilts, and the grassy sand dunes swept down to the turquoise sea. This
area held the promise of long lazy days sipping cool drinks while dipping your
toes in the water. But a sadness hovered over it as well. Almost every home along the coast was for sale. The country was in a
terrible real estate slump and credit crisis, and this area had been hit hard by hurricanes in the last few years.
Insurance companies were pulling out, and many people, like their stilt homes,
were being left high and dry. We saw so many housing developments that had
been abandoned. The plot plan billboards were faded and peeling, and the
homes stood half-built, knee deep in weeds. I don't know how an area like this
can recover. We traveled in an awed silence, searching the roadsides for
homes that didn't have a for sale sign out front.
Leaving the panhandle we zipped through Alabama and landed on the Gulf
Coast of Mississippi at a fascinating town called Bay St. Louis.
Bay St Louis, MS – From Sunk to Funk
Words of hope on a building in Old
Town Bay St. Louis, MS
SOLID
One building reborn. Another waits its turn.
Missing steeple but lots of faith.
Weathervane
Old Town Bay St. Louis, Mississippi
April 20-24, 2008 - We drove along the Gulf Coast of Florida and, after crossing
Alabama on I-10, we dipped down to the coast again in Mississippi. The further west we
drove the more we encountered the fallout from Katrina. It was startling to see how
extensive the damage was. Not living anywhere near this area, it had been easy to think
that life returned to normal once Katrina was out of the headlines.
Instead, we found a
coastline still reeling
from the devastation
three years earlier.
The coastal road in
Mississippi was in the
process of
being rebuilt.
The once
gorgeous
mansions
that lined the road were stark
reminders of the raw power hidden in
the innocent, sparkling waves that
lapped the shore. Only one in five of
those coastal mansions had been
repaired. The rest stood forlorn and
vacant, windows blown out, roofs
collapsed, walls wrapped in "caution"
tape. The weeds grew thick and tall
around the foundations and the
gracious lawns that swept down to the sea were
overgrown. We drove in awed silence. We had had no idea.
We stopped in a visitors center,
and the host spoke almost
reverently of the Mississippi
governor whose savvy use of
federal funds had apparently
begun to breathe new life into
a region that had been like a
war zone. On his advice we
took a detour and stopped at
the tiny coastal community of
Old Town Bay St. Louis. What
a delightful find.
This town shared the epicenter of Katrina with eastern New
Orleans. A tiny community, it sits right on the water. Some of
its businesses used to line a waterfront road. After Katrina
roared in from the Gulf, all that was left of a one-time bank
building was the bank's vault. The massive door was totally
rusted and was stuck partly open. The concrete wall on the
side of the vault had a single spray painted word: "solid."
Today Old Town Bay St. Louis is rebuilding itself as a kind of artists' colony, with
cute, funky homes and shops. As we drove into town with our huge rig we were
greeted warmly and shown where to park so we could walk the town. What a
contrast from Gulf Breeze, Florida, which we had just left, where the visitors
center had a huge sign out front, "No Motorhomes," and the mammoth
empty parking lot across the street had similar signs posted every few feet.
In Old Town Bay St. Louis, with its tiny streets and tight parking, they were
hungry for visitors, even those pulling large trailers.
Reconstruction takes a very long
time. Next to a building that had
found new life we would see one
that was still hoping for help.
However, the homes that were
completed exuded a relaxed kind of
charm, with pleasant porches and
beautifully tended gardens.
A beloved Live Oak tree was
encircled with a pretty white
deck. Graceful stairs
beckoned visitors to climb up
towards the heart of the tree.
This tree was tougher than
Katrina and still stood straight
(for a live oak) and proud.
Others leaned to one side.
Looking around town there was no
mistaking which direction Katrina took
as she blew through the area. Trees
and signs all leaned in one direction,
and lampshades were dented on one
side. It was startling to imagine the
force of the wind that would leave
sturdy trees forever tipped.
But today the town was filled to
overflowing with colorful flowers.
There was an air of happiness,
purpose, accomplishment and
whimsy everywhere. Pretty
gardens, funny weathervanes, and
unique gingerbread houses made
the tedium of reconstruction seem
almost fun.
Relaxation seemed important in this
town too. Many homes were fronted
by inviting porches cradling comfy
chairs and bright flowers.
A row of little homes right in the center
of town has yet to be rebuilt. I have no
doubt that these cute buildings will be a
focal point in a warm, chatty community.
As we walked around we saw that
little houses weren't the only ones
hit hard by Katrina. Even the
county courthouse came away
from Katrina battle scarred and
was now wrapped in a bandage of
scaffolding.
Not everyone displaced by
Katrina ended up in a FEMA
trailer. Some simply took a
trailer frame and erected a tiny
traditional house on it. We saw
one parked and another
heading down the road. They
were cute, but we still loved our
little Lynx. We were interested
to learn later that our Lynx was built to the same
specs with the same materials by the same
people and in the same factory as over 300 of the
FEMA trailers. Our trailer was a delightful home
and I wrote to the Fleetwood factory workers --
who were so saddened to see their hard
work after Katrina maligned in the press --
to let them know they had a happy
customer here. Maybe the difference in
our experience with our trailer is that it was
our ticket to freedom, and we paid for it out
of our own pockets.
From the Gulf Coast of Mississippi we
made our way inland to historic city of
Daytona, Florida – The heat is on at Spring Break!
Daytona, Florida
March 6-31, 2008 - Slipping down from northern Florida, we arrived in Daytona
just in time to watch the Daytona 200 motorcycle race. When we first stepped
into the grandstand and heard the motorcycles go by I had to brace myself. I
could feel the roar of the engines in my chest. The speed was shocking -- and
exciting. It was a duel between a pair of Honda riders and a pair of Kawasaki
riders. The Honda rider #1 led every single lap, trading pulls with #98 for the
first third of the race. Then #98 had a mechanical problem and #1 was on his
own. The crazy thing about this race is that the leaders lap the losers many
times during the race, and it is absolute mayhem as the leaders weave through
the pack of slower riders.
#1 held out and
won the race
handily -- only to be disqualified the
next day for having illegally polished
part of his engine. Mark caught the
checker flag moment with his camera
-- quite a feat given that the bike was
going 180 mph! The winner took a
victory lap and we staggered away
breathless. What a thrill !!
We wandered down to Daytona Beach and discovered it was the peak of
Spring Break. What luck!
Daytona Beach has several areas where you can drive your vehicle right
on the beach. This is where the "cruising" action is. Parked cars, beach
towels, and vendors line the breakwater below the hotels, while the kids
cruise up and
down the strip of
sand just beyond
the waves.
It was a study in
showing off your
assets while pretending not
to care if anyone noticed.
The girls banded together in
an impenetrable group,
while the boys hung out with
each other a healthy
distance away.
The girls strutted. The boys tossed a
football. It was the mating ritual of
the college crowd. Even the pelicans
cruised the beach in a tightly packed
formation, twenty feet above us.
We noticed a bevy of beautiful babes
approaching us on the beach. They
had caught our attention going the
other way twenty minutes earlier.
Without doubt, they were the hottest
things on the beach that day.
We were delighted
when these bathing
beauties surrounded
Mark for a photo.
As the angels radiated
youth and promise, the pelicans soared in the heavens above.
Not far from Daytona we looked to the heavens once again as we
watched a rocket launch at Cape Canaveral. We stood four miles
from the launch pad, but the rumble from the rocket shook the
ground. This particular rocket was launching a satellite that
would support a new startup company's venture. The company
was planning to provide satellite based music and movie
entertainment as well as GPS, internet and telecommunication to
drivers across the US. The launch was broadcast on TV monitors throughout the viewing area, showing the progress of the rocket
as it flew through the sky towards the equator where it finally unleashed its load into orbit.
The pride of the Space Coast was evident everywhere, with Space
Shuttle icons displayed all over the place, from McDonalds to
convenience stores. It is a close-knit community of people who
work in a really cool industry.
We returned to Daytona Beach for a post-Spring Break stroll.
Our punk-rock friend, the Royal Tern, surveyed the ocean views
while a sandpiper played in the waves.
Like clockwork, the waves
swished on the sand and the
birds dashed in and out of
the foam. It was a pattern
that seemed relentless in its
consistency.
I turned and looked at the
highrise behind me hanging
over the beach. It held a
similar pattern, manmade,
rhythmic...and relentless in
its consistency.
It was a beautiful day on a
beautiful beach, and we
happily left our bare
footprints in the sand.
From Daytona we ventured to Miami and the
sights of south and western Florida.
Northern Florida – Beach, Swamps & Pools
Mixed flock of gulls and Black Skimmers.
Royal Tern
Swampy marsh
Mark always has the luck of the Irish
spotting shamrocks.
Timucuan Trail
Northern Florida
February 5th - March 5th, 2008 - After freezing to the bone in Arizona in January we
decided to dash across the country to Florida. Besides warming up, we had lots of family
that was in Florida for the winter, so it made a great destination. When we first arrived we
spent a few weeks in The Villages in north central Florida. This was a hub of activity for
much of Mark's extended family. The Villages is a unique masterplanned community of
60,000 people surrounding two town center facades -- they are real, in that there are real
shops selling real goods, but
they are fake in that the
buildings and environs were
constructed in the last twenty
years to resemble old fashioned towns from another era. The
mirage is exceptionally well executed. We walked along the town
lake, past the "Bait Shop" to the town pier. It was odd to discover
that the boats in the water were props, including one that was
"shipwrecked" on the pier. The scene was lovely to look at, but had
no heart. As we
walked we
listened to The
Villages radio
station piped over the intercom throughout the town center. Ads for housing in
this massive development played constantly. We turned and saw that the
largest building in the town square was the sales office -- a lovely building with
pillars and a huge
inviting front porch.
But the sign above
the porch bore The
Villages logo and
said "Sales
Information."
It is a kind of Santa's
Toyland for retirees, a
great place to spend a
week of escapism
vacation but (for us) a scary place to spend your golden years. Happy hour was
at 4:00 everyday with insanely inexpensive drinks and community-provided live
entertainment. We boogied with WWII vets and drank two-for-one margaritas til
we stumbled. We had a blast, but it felt good to get away and get a dose of reality
in Jacksonville.
Jacksonville Beach, and its neighboring
Neptune Beach and Atlantic Beach, is a simple
stretch of sand lined with tall grasses, beach
houses and seabirds. The seabirds were
especially engaging. The Royal Terns looked to us
like 1980's punk rockers, with damp saltwater
stiffened feathers on their heads that looked like
mohawk hairdos. The laughing gulls careened
everywhere, cackling their high-pitched cries as
they flew.
The far north end of
Mayport Beach is home
to a mixed
flock of
seabirds,
primarily Black
Skimmers that
have a fierce
predatory look
with a bright
red sword of a
bill.
We took a
daytrip to Mt. Dora.
This small town has
a cute cycling statue and a sign marking the trailhead for a bike path. What
a surprise to find out that this town has no bike path! Just some artwork and
a trailhead sign.
However, the town does have a
beautiful boardwalk out into the swampy
marshes on the edge of the town lake.
Snakes and birds and exotic swampy
plants line the boardwalk. Our best find
was an alligator swimming around
partially submerged in the lake.
We spent some time in Ocala National Forest. One
evening as the sun set we had all our windows open in
the trailer. One by one the swamp creatures began to
sing their evening songs. The forest came to life around
us. We sat for an hour letting the darkness descend, listening closely as the strange noises
from these animals filled the night air.
After a heartwarming visit with one of
Mark's cousins we were packing up the
trailer to head over to the Gulf Coast.
Busily bringing in the slide and raising the
jacks, we talked to his neighbor -- now
our friend. She started describing her
favorite local camping area, Alexander
Springs. By the time we got in the truck
to drive away we had changed our
destination -- to Alexander Springs.
It is a beautiful little jewel in the forest, a natural, clear,
warm spring with a lovely boardwalk trail through the
swamps around it.
We wandered along the trail, marveling at the lush
plants and the bright turquoise water of the
springs. Some scuba divers were there that day,
and after watching them sink down a few feet they
vanished into their bubbles, and then even their
bubbles seemed to vanish, surfacing only as gentle
disturbances to the glassy surface.
Our travels took us up and down the east
coast and central parts of Florida several
times. Daytona was our next big stop.