Thursday, February 21, 2013

2013 Florida Vacation


3:35am, to the bathroom and then back to bed. At 4:00 the alarm is supposed to go off to wake us for our early drive to the airport. Not much rest being done here. At twenty to five we drove to Leroy's to pick up Jim. Always the great friend, Jim had volunteered to take us to the airport and then park the car at his house for the three weeks we would be in Bristol, Florida at the Camel Lake RV Park with Dave and Joy. By 5:20 we are checked in and waiting for our 6:10 departure.  Whew, that went OK. 

The first leg, to Salt Lake, flew by quickly; until we began to enter the approach pattern. A weather inversion was holding a fog blanket very close to the ground. The first approach was aborted. After several minutes consumed by circling the rugged Rocky Mountain terrain we began our second attempt. The captain advised us that if we couldn't make it in, we would fly to Twin Falls. That wasn't a happy prospect.

I caught a last glimpse of the nearby snowy peaks as the wings of the CRJ200 began to merge with the fog. Then all went gray. Recent deployment of GPS guidance systems permit a pilot to exceed the 200 foot minimum ceiling limit which restrained the traditional Instrument Landing System (ILS) found at all major airports.

Medford residents are used to winter time inversions and thick fog. It is not uncommon for folks to wake up to a thin layer of snow on their front lawns on some very foggy mornings. This is created from salt crystals that have been spread aloft by a small aircraft. The crystals seed the moisture dense air causing the water to fall out as snow.  Doing this effectively raises the fog ceiling, permitting near normal airport operation.

I had a rapid flash of darkness just prior to feeling the jolt of the jet hitting the runway. It took an  instant to recognize that I had just landed in near zero conditions and that the darkness had been a non-snow covered edge of the runway.

The captain announced his welcome to Salt Lake City as he began the long taxi to his yet to be assigned dock at the terminal. The aircraft came to a stop. We were advised that ground control would not permit further movement under these extreme overcast conditions. So, we waited. Our scheduled time between flights was 40 minutes and the clock was running. 

Finally at the terminal, we knew the chance of having missed the plane to Atlanta was very real. Anne and I walked fast to Terminal D, Gate 3. As we approached Gate 3 we noticed there was no one around. Anne spotted a status board and said that we were supposed to be at Gate 1. So much for up-to-the-minute guidance from the Departure Gate staff.

Never have we been blessed by leaving from the first gate on any flight. We have been conditioned to walk to places like Gate 87 and beyond. As we walked back we saw a couple of folks near the still open doors. We had made it. However, we weren't the last ones to get on the huge 767 airliner. In fact, we were to wait over a half hour passed our departure time for a few later arriving passengers.

The takeoff was as blind as the landing had been. Only a couple of non-gray objects were sighted as we lumbered rapidly down the runway. The sensation of still accelerating on the ground didn't go away until distant peaks became visible floating in a white blanket of clouds. We were indeed flying again.

When we had reached our cruising altitude of 35,000 feet the captain announced we would be late in our arrival to Atlanta. Instead of 3:20 it would now be 4:00. Boarding for the final leg to Tallahassee was to begin at 3:42. I wonder how far away this gate is going to be?

Well now we know. The plane docked at terminal A. Our Tallahassee connection was currently boarding at gate D46. We grabbed a ride abroad the A train, soon to become the D train, and after short stops at B and C we were at the escalator to ride up to terminal D.  We hurried past D1, 2 and 3 on our near jog to D46 -the last gate in terminal D. 

My legs were aching as we neared the exit door.  The desk attendant was preparing to close and lock our access. The attendant smiled warmly when Anne cautioned her not to close the door. We made it once again. Delta Airlines seems very efficient in their scheduling. The wait between connections is quite short. Too bad they can't program in some flux due to circumstances beyond their control. Sit back, relax. This last leg is going to be just a half hour.

Northern Florida is 75 degrees and partly cloudy. I'm liking this place already. Flying is over for the next few weeks, but wait, not yet for our bags. We made the connections, just barely. I understand why the bag transfer didn't happen. The Delta luggage fairy said the bags will be on the 7 o'clock plane. That is only a bit more than an hour away.  We hadn't eaten today and Dave and Joy wanted to grab a bite, too.

The truck's Garmin was tuned to nearby eateries. We decided on giving the local Crab Shack a try. Ten minutes from the airport with easy access and outdoor picnic tables, this is the spot. Anne and I ordered Talofa, Dave and Joy had Catfish. This is a great local, home style carryout food service treating the local townsfolk. Our first Florida picnic was great.

The Delta luggage lady greeted me by name when we returned to the baggage claims office. Our two pieces were waiting for us. A short hour later we were driving through Bristol, just 12 miles north of Camel Lake Camp Ground; our digs for the next 3 weeks.

On February 1, 2012 Dave and Joy set off on the first of their retirement Great Adventures. They had selected a quality tenant to rent their Ontario, Oregon home and farm for the next two years. They had spent the winter detailing their large 5th wheel camper into their new home away from home. The travel plan was firm, but flexible; they were going to visit America. 

Dave and Joy came upon Camel Lake in October. By early November they were invited by the Forest Service to be the camp hosts. They were already in love with the facilities and they leapt at the request. The camp host duties will keep them in Florida until early March. That will be a good time to be moving westward to avoid the onslaught of biting bugs and hot and humid weather.

Sunday greeted us with a beautiful sunny blue sky. This was a work day for Dave. The nighttime gates at the park's entrance needed to be opened, the rubbish disposal containers located in the camping and day use areas needed to be checked and emptied, and the bathroom lights needed to be to be turned on and the doors unlocked for the day use facility. With the morning cycle completed, we were able to focus on some more important things.

A friend Dave had made, Tommy Dugger, owns a 23 foot Europa Class B motor home which he rarely used. The Europa was offered to Dave for our use while in Florida. Fantastic. Now all Dave needed to do was get it running.  Dave had tinkered with it prior to our arrival, had it running well and parked next to his 5th wheel at Camel Lake. Joy had tidied the unit up and is was beckoning to us as we drove from the airport.

The Europa has a battery for the engine and one for the cabin. We soon discovered the cabin battery hadn't been charging, though Dave had it plugged into shore power. Sometime, around midnight, we discovered an undocumented GFI plug socket at the foot of the bed. The GFI had been tripped. With that reset we were now getting shore power to the cabin and to its battery for a trickle charge. That is how Saturday had ended.

Today we needed to find out why the generator wouldn't start and what kept the fridge from converting to gas operation when the AC is unplugged from shore. Tinker, tinker. An hour later we had discovered that the generator's carburetor float valve had gotten stuck and it wasn't letting gasoline flow in. This will happen with gas engines that sit for long periods of nonuse; gunk settles on the parts and clogs things. Some squirts of starter fluid got things running, and some taps on the float bowl dislodged the gunk. The engine warmed up fine.

While working on the small motor we had damaged a cork gasket. The ladies wanted to drive to Bristol today for food and to visit the library for some baby quilt patterns for son Sean and Maria's soon to arrive second child. Great. This meant Dave and I could visit the hardware store. Besides gasket material, Dave had a list of do dads needed for the camp ground.

While I waited for the departure, I spent a few minutes shooting arrows at the target I had placed on the sandy grass piece near the trailers. A while back Dave had shared photos I had sent of the bows I had been making with a long term camping guest named Tom. Tom had expresses how much he would like to have a longbow. Dave had shares the story of Tom with me and I had made a longbow and brought it along for a gift for Tom.

When I was shooting Tom joined me and I asked him to take some shots. He instantly fell in love with the bow. Following a few ends of successful shooting Tom handed it back to me and thanked me for letting him shoot my bow. At that moment I corrected him and told him he had been shooting his bow. Tom spun around in glee and gave me a hug. The man was truly excited. I told him, however, that I got to shoot it while we were here.

Tom said he had been disappointed in the quality of the local Indian made bows. He was certain he would be passing along lots of requests from friends he would show it to. He asked for my name, address and phone number.

The trip to the grocery and hardware stores and to the library went well. The four of us left satiated with our internet adventures. Now, back to the wilderness.

We all rested a bit and then began to organize duties for the dinner preparation. In Joy's unit the red potatoes and salad were prepared. In Anne's RV green beans with almonds were created. Dave was assigned to flame barbecuing the steaks, and I chopped wood and began the fire. Within half an hour of dashing to our tasks we all sat at the picnic table eager to chow down under the wispy bright glow of the propane lamp. This was a great meal.

Wednesday brought an overcast morning. The air was unsettled with a constant breeze and occasional gusts. This was an on-day for Dave and Joy and I joined him in the site's golf cart for the morning gate opening. Two days on, then two days off. Gary and Pat are the co-hosts, with whom Dave and Joy alternate. On a normal day the routine is: open the gates by 8, unlock the day only bathrooms, great arriving guests, check the rubbish bins, lock the gates at 8, and lock the day only bathrooms. Sometimes chores can spoil an otherwise tranquil day: the ground's water chlorinator gets blocked, a campsite's welcoming pile of firewood needs replenished, relatives from Oregon show up and their borrowed RV needs fixed, etc. In all, for the benefit of the exchange for a no cost, cement slab full service RV spot in the winter sun, hosting seems like a pretty good deal.

Dave and I found ourselves again in Bristol for a stop at the post office, where any mail is forwarded. We then drove 4 more miles to Blountstown where we picked up 7 dozen fresh eggs from the owners of the local pawn shop. Then it was to Dugger's barber shop to update Tommy, the owner of the Europa Class B, on recent discovery needs. The latest being two more of the aluminum wheels had cracks in them and needed replaced.

We were greeted by Steve, Tommy's clip joint partner. He hadn't seen Tommy today and didn't know where he may be.

The trip to town today was also an opportunity for me to test drive the Europa. So far, I had discovered: the steering wasn't too positive, acceleration was wanting, but the cruise control worked great. When at the post office, Dave lay on the ground to have a look at what may be keeping the side door steps from automatically retracting when the door closed. While inspecting, an elderly man approached and told Dave he may get run over by someone not paying attention to their driving. Dave looked up and greeted Skip.

A while back they had met when Dave had asked this knowledgeable looking man where he might find a welding shop. The extension step on the 5th wheel had broken, and although not needed at the Camel Lake Park, this was a good time to get it fixed. Skip had not recognized Dave until there had been a re-introduction. Then they visited.

On the way out of Blountstown we stopped at the Harvey's Pay Less Market for some pale ale. The Piggly Wiggly in Bristol doesn't sell beer or wine because its owner wishes not to. This means a round trip extra distance of 8 miles for that after five glass that permits Dave and Joy to unwind after a typically hectic day. The need for a fine glass of west coast ale, occasionally, also gives them two chances to look up and down the Apalachicola river while motoring over its long concrete overpass.

After the in and out at Harvey's we pulled into Strickland's Hardware. Here we were looking for replacements for the three missing lug nuts on the Europa. The store had none, but all was not lost. On the way to the RV we ran into Tommy, with his grandson, on a hardware mission of his own.  Tommy told Dave he thought he recognized his Europa, but this one was too clean to be certain. Dave had taken it to a station where he had scrubbed the near barnacled cover off the outer surface.

Tommy and Dave visited about the newly discovered wheel cracks and the need to buy at least two more new wheels; one had been replaced when the new tires were just put on. Dave suggested to Tommy that he go ahead and spring for a forth so the rig would have a matched set. The difference would be remade upon resale of the RV. Tommy agreed, and he would order them right away. Dave also told Tommy about the need to replace the circuit board that switches the fridge from shore power to gas. The current one worked intermittently. Tommy asked Dave to go ahead and order one.Boy, what a busy day in town. It was definitely getting near time for one of those Harvey specials.

The winds had only become more resolved as the day passed. Tornadoes had touched down at a few spots in the southeast and Florida's governor has issues a severe storm warning. Perhaps the worst had not yet come.

Anne prepared chicken and dumplings which she wanted to heat in the Dutch oven over the fire pit. I chopped a few pieces of fire starter and got the blaze going. Dave and I hung the closed pot over the best heat of the fire, stood back and enjoyed our brew. Gary walked over with his small dog at the pull of its leash. He accepted ale and we visited of the trials of the day.

Anne came out with a bowl of gruel and told us it was the chicken. We asked her what was already in the pot. What do you mean nothing; should have looked inside. We poured her bowl into the empty, fire hot pot and re settled it on the flames. It was boiling within minutes and needed more broth. There, that's better.

We began to feel a few sprinkles. Dave disappeared to the shed and returned with the golf cart. He wanted to close the gates before it started to come down hard.  Too late. As we were crossing the open grass sections towards the gates, Dave steered close to fallen pine cones which I scooped up with an extension pinch grabber. The cones were a source of quick flames in the fire pit. It was coming down in buckets before we reached the first gate. Wind was blowing the downfall through the open sides. Heck with the cones let's get the gates and get out of this.

By the time we returned to the RVs both of us were dripping. A saving grace was the fact that the air was still warm and the dampness wasn't cold, yet. Oh, and another blessing, according to Dave, was that he no longer needed to take a shower. I changed into my jammy and slippers and Dave reappeared wearing his new pair of black jeans. We were ready for an inside dinner.

The downpour had put an end to the Dutch oven cooking, so we brought the sooty pot into Joy's kitchen. With care not to mar the stovetop with the pot's cast iron feet Dave placed it over the front burner. Anne baked some biscuits from leftover dumpling batter and Joy ladled steaming bowls of chicken with dumplings. Tossed green salad, biscuits with honey, and a glass of chilled box merlot; what more could one ask for on a stormy north Florida night.

The lug nuts we had found at Auto Zone were the wrong size, but the day did open with clear blue skies. The temperature was in the low fifties, which is not too bad, but with a constant breeze off the lake staying outdoors wasn't too pleasant. Rugged up we all weathered Joy's wonderful vegetable omelet at the picnic table. My fingers were numb. It is time to go inside.

In the recent history of the Europa some batteries were dead. A normal response today is to hook on a battery charger and try again in an hour or so. Not having a charger, one might use jumper cables and connect to the battery of another car. When cables are used starting is tried right away. With either approach, users beware. With today's engine support electronics using either approach may lead to ruined components. This happened to the Europa.

The RV has a battery for the engine, lights, etc., and another one for the many 12 volt functions of the coach. The coach battery runs lights and controls the on/off functions of things like the gas heater and the refrigerator. The interplay between the two batteries is under the auspices of a power distribution control board. The long and short of it is: you don't want to randomly connect outside power to the RV.

The control board has been zapped. Dave had ordered and received replacement transistors in case one was needed. It may be an RV owner's plight to have loaned his treasure to a couple of former electronic technicians, but this circuit board was going to get repaired. Dave had called the manufacturer of the board and was told: no replacements were available, and no circuit diagrams were available. This had directed his approach to the parts order.

The picnic table was orderly laid out and the solder sucker was plugged in. A magnifying glass had been placed on the surgery tray. It was soon discovered that a diode was bad and we didn't have one. We searched Bristol and Blountstown in vane for a diode supplier. A car radio installation company owner, Matt, said he had some diodes at home and would bring in a couple tomorrow.

Tom, the new bowman, was in the process of replacing the directional tv antenna on his Class C with an omni-directional one. Dave had offered assistance, but Tom was adamant about getting it done by himself. Tom is a Vietnam vet. He lost his lower left leg to shrapnel and now wears a prosthetic. To watch Tom move, one wouldn't know he was part titanium.

In the recent history of Tom and Brenda's RV someone had snagged the rear bumper, bent it, and in the process had snapped the ladder rails at the first step. Dave took the damaged pieces to the welder Skip had recommended and got them re-straightened. In the meanwhile Tom wanted to borrow Dave's stepladder. This he would use to lean against his damaged ladder and permit himself to reach past the yet non-repaired section. Dave wasn't happy with the idea but I suggested that if Tom bungee the stepladder to the RV's ladder, it would be stable enough. Neither of us wanted to give Tom the impression he was less capable just because he leg had been rebuilt a bit different.

I joined Tom on his roof. He and Gary had fished a new section of coax from the new antenna to his tv set. There was a problem with the new connection on the roof. I brought along Dave's multimeter and checked the cables for integrity. They both looked good. Sometimes the signal was good, sometimes there was none. Strange. I made a connection which produced a signal and climbed down from the roof. We were being beckoned by our ladies to get to Bristol to do the shopping.

The ladies had a list for us to fill at Harvey's. Dave and I had a list to fill as well. On the way to town we stopped at the welder's shop. The welder wasn't there, but his shop was open. We located the two ladder stubs and left. We stopped at the car audio shop and Matt had brought in a few diodes. Matt asked $5 for the parts, which sell for 5 cents on the internet. We then stopped at AutoZone to get a refund on our undersized nuts. At the Napa store the clerk found a set of four lug nuts in his catalog which fit our specs. We asked him to order them and give a call.

The last stop was at Harvey's. There we found everything on the want list. We amended the list to add a six-pack of red ale and two apple filled snack bars, both of us had missed lunch. The bars were eaten on the road, the ale saved till later.

I had told Tom we would help again when we returned. The groceries were delivered and the ale put on ice, I walked over to Tom's rig. Tom was beaming with pride. He had completed the antenna mounting and was receiving a clean picture. He, Dave and I finished the repair to the ladder. It turned out well. Tom and Brenda were ready to hit the road tomorrow, and we were ready to light the fire and prepare for dinner. Tonight it would be grilled flounder followed by a couple of rounds of cards. It had been a very full day.


Camel Lake is roughly circular and a little more than a mile around. It is a spring fed body and has no apparent in or out vessel. Government road 105 runs east and west between highways 12 and 65. Road 105 is unpaved and very full of potholes. The next Forest Service grading of the road will happen once the raining season is over. It is 2 miles to the entrance of Camel Lake, east of highway 12.  Highway 12 runs north and south between two lakes, Camel and Mystic.

Mystic Lake is enormous compared to Camel Lake. This lake has a rather amoeboid shape to it. The Apalachicola river runs by Mystic Lake but it is not connected. When one considers that the average elevation of Florida is 12 feet above sea level, and that the state is basically just a jetty into the Atlantic, then the concept of spring fed may be just another way of looking at a high water table and the makings of a swamp.

Near the junction of the road to Mystic Lake and highway 12 is Mystic Lake Baptist Church. Dave and Joy had located a one room church south of road 105, but liked the more conveniently situated Baptist church better. Anne and I joined them today. The marching order was to depart Camel Lake by 9:20 to arrive at the church before 9:45. On the way to the church is the Forest Service Worksite, home for the area Rangers and where the fire crews are stationed. Important for Dave is the worksite is where he weekly carts the bags of campground garbage he has collected. If we stop on the way to church we may be late. The garbage got to attend the parking lot services at the church.

At the walk which fronted the church and led to the side classrooms we were greeted by Dave and Faye Duncan. Dave introduced the Duncans to the Duncans. Floridians, much like the Australians and the Brits, talk funny, and it takes intensive listening to understand what you are hearing. The Duncans presented warm and sincere smiles as we visited. In fact, we met this morning the largest collection of smiling, hand shaking friendly people we have ever run across in one place. There needs no further explanation why Dave and Joy enjoy being part of the congregation of the Mystic Lake Baptist Church.

Dave led us to the last classroom. We entered and were warmly greeted by the folks seated in the dozen or so pews. A man behind the lectern asked of our home town and fondly recalled his onetime visit to the state of Oregon.

This classroom is where our Sunday school lesson was presented. The discussion leader was a former teacher and she was well versed on the letters of Paul to Timothy. This was the focus of today's lesson.  She and a couple of others dissected Paul's letter of instruction to Timothy. It turns out that young Timothy, the poor lad, had his hands full with the tribes of northern Iraq; much like the world does today.

Much of the lesson flew right over this heathen's head and I found myself wandering to 1st Corinthians 13. This has always been my favorite chapter in the Bible. These verses speak of the strengths found in love and charity. They seem to me to encapsulate everything it means to be a Christian, albeit, the belief of Christ being our savior is the trump card.

The walk between the row of classrooms and the church had warmed wonderfully by the morning sun while we had been inside. On the walk we met up with Tommy Dugger and his wife. The Dugger’s own the Europa we are using. We learned how they had bought the RV for his mother, who had soon taken ill and was unable to enjoy the rig, and how they had never had an opportunity to use it themselves. Dave had first met Tommy while attending church services, as he and Joy have come across many of their new friends.

After many more greetings and handshakes we found ourselves seated near the center of three rows of pews. Three young boys, perhaps still preteen, sat behind us. We turned to greet them and were soon engrossed in a conversation with the lad in the middle who told us of his recent bagging of a doe deer while hunting in Illinois; he pronounced it with an S at the end of the name.

The boy was hunting with a compound bow from a tree stand at the edge of a meadow. He retold how this deer had wandered within 20 feet of his stand, how it looked up at him, and how he had shot it behind its shoulder. Ten minutes later he had walked into the meadow, located the deer's blood trail and quickly came upon it lying dead in the grass.

The church quieted when the Pastor appeared wearing a white robe in a window below the large cross at the front of the church. The window was inside the church and was several feet above the seated choir. He introduced a woman who had chosen to join the church and who was going to be baptized this morning. When the Pastor turned to invite the lady to join him at the window I noticed he was standing to his waist in water. They were in a large glass fronted bath which afforded the congregation the opportunity to witness the baptism. He asked us to think back on the promises and commitments we had made to the church when we had been baptized. I did as asked, and the only thing that came to mind was how I must have just wanted to get of this place, as my younger brother, Bill, had done while the gathered adults chased him around the church he was baptized in. The lady received warm applause when she arose from the dunking. Perhaps as she was redressing, she was giving some small blessing to the fact she hadn't bothered bathing this morning.

Today's sermon was on the Pastor's similes between the members of today's Super Bowl teams and the makeup of the church. Who was the owner the players needed to please? Who was the coach? Who were the linemen and support people, and who was the quarterback. By the way, there was to be no service tonight because there would be a 4 o'clock Super Bowl tailgate potluck in the parking lot. In all, these Baptists have their act together.

We drove the short way into Bristol to have lunch after the final barrage of warm smiles and handshakes. Joy and Anne had rightfully declared today a day of non-cooking. The parking lot at the Apalachee Restaurant was packed very tightly, bet we found a spot. It was buffet style eating and the main entrees were fried chicken, what did you expect, or green pepper rice bowls. I took the pepper route. We all enjoyed the meal and the padded booth visit.

Dave pulled to the gate at the Forest Service work station. As a camp host he had a key which allowed him to enter to dump camp garbage. We drove to the rear of the yard to the green dumpsters. The back of the facility had rows of old, and some what decrepit, equipment. I noticed one steel latticed 6 foot trailer that had a young sapling growing through the mesh of the floor. Had I found this trailer at the Medford site, I would have asked if I could take it off their hands.

Back at the camp Anne quickly changed and settled into a lounge chair to enjoy her novel and the afternoon sun. I had become aware while at church that my jeans had a large grease stain on one knee. I had found myself keeping my legs crossed so it wouldn't be so public. As a result, however, I didn't need to change clothes when we returned. Today I was going to walk the lake trail and see if I could find a stalk of native wood I could make a bow from when we got home. Knowing that the Service land would frown on harvesting anything still standing, this would mean trudging through the vines of the undergrowth into nearby back woods.

I had had a bad experience with the postal service when I had shipped a longbow to Gabe for Christmas. The post office managed to break the bow through the thick cardboard tube I had carefully wrapped it in. As a consequence, I had made a carrier out of 4" hard plastic drainage pipe for the bow I brought to Florida for Tom. This time the bow traveled well. The tube had cost around $11 to build. Its cost as extra luggage had been $25. So the decision was to throw it away, or to pay another $25 to have it return to Medford loaded with something special. That is what I had decided to do.

Dave and I loaded into the golf cart, armed with two extension grabbers for picking up pine cones and a foldable limb saw. We drove to the path circling the lake. As we drove we would both reach out with the grabbers and snatch up a cone and then reach over the cart's roof to drop it into the dump tray behind us. The cones were used as fire starters, but I don't think Dave and Joy will use the pile they already have. But the cones are there, so they were cleared from the trail.

Half way around the lake my wrist was tiring from grabbing cones. I had become so absorbed with the cones I hadn't been looking for possible stave material for bows. I son spotted a distant stand of vine maple some 100 yards off the trail. Dave turned the cart into the scrub and he quickly weaved his way to the edge of the thicket. I was looking for a straight piece that was a couple of inches in diameter. I would then split it down the middle, let it cure for several months, and then begin forming it into a longbow.

The thicket had some wonderful potential staves, but they were all too small to have split. I chose one, however, that may make a good round bow. It was about an inch across. We returned to the trail and drove a bit further. We ventured off the path to look at another possible stand. More small maple. Wow, look at that one back there. It was as straight as an arrow and longer than twelve feet. It had a very soft and small cedar-like leaf pattern. The bark was grayish brown and also quite soft. The young tree was just at 2 inches at the base and narrowed to only an inch and half at the top. This one I wanted.

The sapling was cut down and its few small twig branches were trimmed off. At the camp I cut from it two 73" lengths. These would fit into my carry tube. From the two feet of leftover, I cut a 4" length. On the chopping block I gently tapped the end with the hatchet and it split easily and cleanly down the middle; perfect. We took turns sniffing the split wood, trying to identify what it may be. No conclusions were drawn. The wood may not have enough tension strength to become a strong bow, but it will be fun to work with.

The night had once again been chilly and it seemed to me that I had been awakened a dozen times when the furnace fan started on the Europa. In the morning I checked the wall gauge for the LPG level, and it was reading empty. After breakfast Dave and I drove to Bristol to get the RV's propane tank refilled at Strickland's hardware. Joy had given Dave an extensive list of green stuff he needed to pick up at Harvey’s.

We stopped first at the post office. A white car pulled in next to us in the parking lot. It was the Dugger’s. They had just passed us, going the other way, turned around and came to meet us. They told us that the three new alloy wheels and the lug nuts had been delivered to the tire store and we could stop to arrange a re-mounting day and time.

The tire store was at the end of the street we were on, so we stopped and arranged to do the wheels first thing tomorrow. We filled up with propane, collected the veggies and were back at Camel Lake by 4 o'clock. At Harvey’s, we had picked up a barbecued chicken for dinner. This hadn't been on Joy's list, but we figured it may win us a few points. The chuck was well received and dinner was set for 6 o'clock.

The dinner time sunset was once again beautiful over the pines on the far side of the still lake waters. Perfect mirror reflections of the reddening orb nesting in the trees sparkled at the lake's edge. The soft glow of the sunset sky faded from bright to dim as it stretched out onto the lake.

It had become a bit too chilly to eat outside tonight so we shared chicken, sliced baked potatoes, tossed salad and wine in the 5th wheel's dining room. After supper we pulled out the pinochle deck for lesson number two for Dave and Joy. We reviewed how to count meld and began the bidding. Joy was my partner and she passed. Anne went a couple of rounds and passed. I worked Dave up to 350 and passed. This was going to be his first trump hand.

Anne coached Dave into how and why he should get as many trump cards out as possible. The first four tricks he took were with aces of all suits. I asked why he hadn't counted 100 aces in his meld. Anne had passed back to him one of the aces and he did not notice its significance. Despite the extra points, Dave won handily. It was 8 o'clock, and time for the Antique's Road Show, which Anne and Joy both loved. After the show, Anne and I went to our rig for an early night.

I set the clock for a 7 o'clock wakeup. A bowl of granola later I was ready to head to the tire store. We arrived at 8:30 and were told that three jobs had come in ahead of us and that it would likely be around 1:30 before our wheels would get changed. This was unsettling, given the commitment the shop owner had given us yesterday. I left the decision to Dave as to what to do about it. He called Tommy, explained the reason given for our rescheduled work and asked if we could go to another shop. Tommy consented. Dave did some internet work and I wrote on the travel log for the next hour and half. In frustration Dave called another store and found out we could be serviced in about a hour.

Dave walked to the post office and came back and stretched out on the bed. Aaron,the shop owner knocked on our door at 11:15. He was ready to begin.

Aaron quickly had a rear wheel removed. Within minutes he again knocked at the door. He had discovered the new alloy wheel wouldn't slip on the hub over the 5/8" studs. Dave and I got out and had a look. Too right, Aaron, those wheels aren't going to fit. He then removed the new front wheel and rolled it to the rear to give it a try. The wheel would go on, but not without a struggle.

We looked both wheels over carefully to see how they may be different. We discovered that the first one was rated for an 80 psi tire, which is what the Europa required, but the new one was rated for only 60 psi. This meant the new wheels wouldn't be safe, even if they fit.

We left Aaron to return to the dealer Tommy had bought the wheels from. Dave explained the problem and asked the shop owner to find the answer and give him a call. We then headed home. It had not been a day for folks suffering from high blood pressure problems.

The evening was filled with dinner, cards and a Nova program about the founding electronics giants who established Silicon Valley as a semiconductor hub. This was a great history piece.

We agreed that we would get an early start tomorrow to drive to Wakulla Springs for the infamous river boat ride. Wakulla Springs Lodge and State Park is on land purchased by Edward Ball in 1934. He had bought up several thousand acres for the purpose of preserving the abundant wildlife and their habitat. He completed the lodge in 1937. The park is on the National Register and is a National Natural Landmark.

Humans have occupied Wakulla Springs for nearly 15,000 years. Recent archaeological digs have revealed that members of the same peoples have lived there for over 5,000 years. Wakulla Springs is the largest single source spring in the world. It pumps out between 150 and 600 million gallons of 68 degree water every day. The spring created Wakulla River, America's shortest at just 4 miles, which runs into the Apalachicola River, and then on to the gulf.

We learned that much of Florida is built of limestone, which, over billions of years has been leached away to form massively extensive caves filled with water from above. The cave network has created a huge aquifer, from which Wakulla Springs has sprung.

We arrived at the lodge just in time to enjoy BLT sandwiches for lunch before the next scheduled flat bottom boat tour of the river. The bell rang, announcing "All Aboard". We grabbed front-of-the-boat seats and we were welcomed aboard by Pat, the boat's captain and tour guide.

Pat floated us gently down the river, carefully guiding the boat near the shore's edge. He told us of the area's history and the people involved. Every few yards Pat would point out a special swamp water plant formation, or a Blue Heron, or a Swanee Sliding Turtle, or an alligator, or a Manatee, or another of a vast number of Florida water fowl. The ride took around a hour, and it was visually stunning and very relaxing. When we returned to the lodge, we treated ourselves to bowls of ice cream. What a great afternoon this had been. Thank you, Joy and Dave, for thinking of it.

The RV was calling for it, so I bought a bottle of Soft Scrub cleaner for the plastic sink and bathtub. Anne and Joy left early to go to the library, I set into some domestic work. In an hour's time I has a brand new RV.

Around one o'clock we were called my Linda Dugger. She was on her way back from Tallahassee with the three needed alloy wheels. By the time we had driven to Liberty Tire in Bristol, Linda had delivered the wheels. In a little under three hours I had new shiny wheels and a full tank of gas. We are leaving Camel Lake for a week and caravanning with Dave and Joy to enjoy some sandy gulf beaches.

After I had done my house cleaning I helped Dave take the 5th wheel off of its leveling blocks. The front of the 5th wheel has jacks to hold it up when it is not hooked to the pickup. The jacks can then be used to level the rig. To keep the RV from rocking when walked in, Dave had put two large blocks under the rear steel frame. We used a twenty ton hydraulic jack to work the blocks from each side.

Slowly the small piece of Camel Lake frontage property which has been a home site for several months was transformed into a just occupied looking lot. I chopped wood to take along for our next campfires. I stuffed a plastic bag to near full with pinecones Dave and I had collected the other day for fire starting. I passed Dave tools as he lay under his rig reattaching water tank slings he had removed to repair the polyethylene tank's small corner crack. I walked the black water disposal hose to drain it into the septic holding tank, and then hosed it out and stored it. Dave and I used a splitting maul to straighten the Europa's retractable step after it had been bent while driving into a Burger King for lunch yesterday. The step, unknown to us, had come down while on the highway and was high centered when entering the burger joint's lot. 

We pulled out of the camp at 2:30. The roughly potted section of road 105 took us about 15 minutes to conquer the short 2 mile stretch to highway 12. A few miles south, Dave turned left onto highway 79. This was a 7 mile short cut to state highway 65, which would take us all the way to the Gulf's highway 98.

While on the 60 some miles of roads from Camel Lake to highway 98 we had one small white pickup pass us. No other cars were on the road this Saturday.

At Eastpoint we drove onto the 7 mile long causeway which crosses a small bay and brings you into the historic section of Apalachicola. Apalachicola is a beautifully quaint coastal city; one we need to visit more completely.

Our destination is St, Joseph Peninsula State Park Wilderness Preserve. Growing off the Florida panhandle, which juts with a bulge into the Gulf of Mexico, is an 8 mile ell shaped peninsula named St. Joseph. The peninsula shelters St. Joseph Bay and the gulf city of Port St. Joe.

We arrived at the park entrance at quarter to five. Joy had prepaid for our 6 day stay on the internet. She had received a Floridian 50% discount with the purchase. When we signed in for our reserved spots, we learned that the discount was reserved for campers owning Florida driver's licenses. Whoops! There went our special deal.

Anne and I were assigned spot 31 in the Gulf Breeze Campground. Dave and Joy were placed at site 38. Theirs was a much deeper lot, suitable for their 50 plus feet of length. In the blink of an eye we were plugged into the shore power, sipping on a chilled Pale Ale and relaxing with our novels. It had been a long day. Anne and I both felt like saving our initial discovery walkabout for tomorrow.

A day ago, Anne had made a cooking fire and filled the Dutch oven with a roast, potatoes and carrots. For several hours she tended the blaze and read while sitting at the picnic table. This was a proudly made meal, and it went down wonderfully that evening. Tonight she and Joy got stuck into the leftovers and prepared open faced roast beef sandwiches, with gravy and mashed potatoes. A great feed; followed with a bit of card play wrapped up this adventurous day.

The Gulf Breeze Campground seemed overflowing when we parked last night. It had been anxious for Dave as he gently pulled his long rig around the tight noose-like roadway through the campground. Some of the existing units were parked within whiskers of being scraped as he passed by them. This morning, many of those same rigs had left. Last night's cluster had been too urbanized. This was a lot better; if only it will stay sparsely filled.

Joy was ready for breakfast: when everyone else was. She and their pet dog, Cleo, had been up for a few hours and had been birding on the beach. An advent birder, Joy eagerly shared her morning's find when we had all collected at her dining table around 9:30. Following breakfast we took the short boardwalk across the dunes to the gulf shore.

The tide is on its way out. White and black Scallop shells have created a two foot band stretching the entire beach and drawing a line in the sand at the high tide point. Above this line, the white sand is loose, consuming my Birkenstocks. Seaward of the shells, the sand is moist and packed. Some sections of the beach are wide from the shells to the lapping waves. Other patches are quite short, signifying a rapid drop-off into deeper waters. It was at a steeper piece of beach where we came upon several young men shore fishing. Dave and I learned he was using shrimp as bait and he was bottom fishing for whiting. No luck yet today, but yesterday he had pulled in four.

The ladies, meanwhile, had been sitting in wait and were visiting with a couple from Michigan. Dave and Joy shared some of there travel memories of northern Michigan. The sun was buffered by a thin, wispy cloud layer. The leeward breeze was lightly scented with the presence of both the salt of the gulf, but also of the neighboring acres of marsh that spread along the length of the peninsula between its parallel beaches and beside the boardwalk to our campground. Yes, I could probably get used to springtime life on the gulf.

Gulf Breeze Campground is a palmed section of the Peninsula with a ten foot high strip of sand dune.  The dune has a patchy covering of sea oat grass, creating a network of green. The sea oats were planted by the state to help keep the dunes from taking over the campground. The hidden waves create a nonstop background rumble which, from inside the Europa, gives the impression that a storm front is always in the process of moving in.

This morning brought a mostly blue sky. The few clouds were spread to a hazy thin white, as if the sky god's attempts to form majestic cumulus lumps was defeated by the constant sea winds. The 9am air was balmy and in the mid sixties. Rain is forecasted for today and tomorrow and we are planning to drive to Apalachicola for a day trip, where we will intermix sightseeing with laundry washing and internet browsing. It seems that vast sections of the Florida panhandle have yet to be seeded with the AT&T towers that seem to grow in most other parts of the country.

The park has a small concession stand adjacent to a bay-side marina. The concession isn't open this time of the year. I guess it waits until the weather gets hot and muggy; when the Miamians migrate north to escape their own version of hot and muggy.

The concession does, however, have an open web hotspot. This is what spurred me to hop on one of the bikes and pedal the flat mile to reach it. Boy, it has been too long since I have ridden a bike. The trip seemed to be all up hill.

I linked to the web and got my waiting mail, nothing exciting there. I mailed my many bat phone photos to myself and saved them in the IPad library. Then I checked in on Chris' guitar web site: alpacaguitar.com. His Kickstarter fund raising campaign rose, in less than a week's time, all but $9k of the $40k needed to begin manufacturing his Alpaca guitar. Most of the money has come from pledges to buy the new guitar. The campaign needs 75 pledges for guitars. To date, he has received 68. He should be a shoe-in to get the remaining amount within the week.

The Laundry Basket is on Reid Street in downtown Port St. Joe, the town in on the mainland, directly across the bay from the campsite. We loaded the darks in one Sear's Kenmore, and the lights into another; four quarters per load. I hope the change machine doesn't run out.

Dave and I stayed behind and the ladies drove to the Port's museum. In front of the laundry are two benches. They are in the shade and afford a comfortable spot from which to watch the traffic and to catch up on the travel log. It may also be a good place to snooze.

The forecast is for rain, and the weatherman is spot on. From early evening until the next morning, the beaches, dunes, marshes and campers were cleansed with a warm, wind driven deluge. While we slept, small lakes formed in the campground. By midday the evidence was gone.

Dave and I drove to Eastpoint, where I hoped to find a furniture builder. This craftsman used Cyprus wood that had been buried, and water seasoned in tributaries of the Apalachicola River for a couple hundred years. The harvested timber had fallen from rafts, or otherwise lost while on its original journey from riverbank to the down river sawmill.

The Cyprus logs lay in the black tannin rich water of the slow moving branches, unrecoverable because the stream level was too low to re-float the timber, or to drag it free of its secluded native homeland. Over time, the Cyprus' sap was replaced with the dark, tannin rich waters of the tributary. The still arteries collect plant material, which decays, turning the stream into a dark, tannin rich haven for alligators, and other monsters of the black lagoon.

Inside the aged, and water-logged Cyprus tree lay a dozen or more richly marbleized two inch planks. Light and dark gently intermingle on the surface of each board. This is the wood the Eastpoint craftsman is looking for.

I didn't want any special piece of Cyprus; I was just looking for bow stave wood that is not found in the Northwest. Cyprus is a good candidate. The furniture builder maintains a wood shop at the rear of the furniture store. What he creates, he then sells through the storefront. He was not in his shop this morning. I left my phone number with one of the store's clerks. The young man showed us some of the Cyprus furniture, and offered us whatever we may find suitable in the discard pile. Dave came up with a couple nice looking sticks, which would either get shipped to Oregon, or burn in our campfire, we'll see later.

The clerk told us the furniture maker gets his timber from the shop owners a few doors down. The Cyprus Garden is a local art and handmade crafts store. He thought they may be a good resource. A thin, elderly woman greeted us at her door. Her name was Barbara Butler. After our introduction, and referral from the furniture store, she spun into a rapid, deeply southern diatribe about how she and her husband didn't keep anything known as scrap. All of the Cyprus they had lying about, regardless of size, was priced a minimum of $30 per linear foot. Small pieces of Cyprus were bought by artisans to add special detail to a bird house, or maybe to be laminated and then turned on a lathe to create a one of a kind bowl.

Mrs. Butler’s  husband had been a river rat since his early youth. At the age of three he had been caught floating in a washtub off the home site shore of the Apalachicola. That was the year he received his first boat. In his early teens, the young man was earning good money diving for the needs of local fishermen. This experience is how he evolved to what he does today.

The man is a Cyprus salvage logger. He has spent years diving the Apalachicola and its tributaries. He formed a company with a couple of non-swimming loggers. He dives, and by feel alone identifies sunken Cyprus. He knows now where that log is located and he dives again for the touch of another. The diving and locating of Cyprus may go on over a span of several years; it all depends on the weather.

The woman used to be a full time nurse. She told Dave and me how her $75k annual salary had been used to keep her husband afloat in his endeavors to find cyprus which had sunk. The cost of the permit to log the river is $7,000 per year. The fee is wasted if the logs can't be removed. This is where the weather comes in. This winter has been wet. The rivers are running high and the logs can be moved. A permit will be bought this year.


A special boat has been invented which can navigate the tributaries and is tough enough to pull logs to a collecting point. The logs are then tied into rafts, which contain a mixture of water soaked, non-floaters, and logs which can hold their own. When the raft is tied, the wife joins her husband and brings along a barbecue, ribs and grits. They enjoy themselves on the raft while it slowly journeys downriver to their small, at home sawmill. 

The recovered logs are then sawn into two inch thick boards, stacked with air gaps between layers, covered and left to dry for a rear or more, until ready for the crafter's marketplace. This is why, the woman explained, they do not have any scraps of cyprus.

Boy, we drove from that store with some learning. Dave was ready for a strong cup of coffee. The GPS in the Dodge found him a latte cafe in Apalachicola. From Eastpoint, the causeway stretches flat across the bay. Pelicans glide effortlessly a hundred feet above the water. Their bulbously chinned beaks turning slightly port side, and then starboard, as if always vigilant for air-fowl which may be flying a collision bound course.

The causeway abruptly climbs to cross the mouth of the Apalachicola River, and then, just as rapidly swoops down, and to the right as it blends smoothly into the city's streets. The approach to town reminded me of my many right-downwind short field landings at the Medford airport. We cross E Street, which is the continuation of Highway 98 that goes to the peninsula and forks northward through Port Joe up to Panama City.

The latte cafe is on D Street. Dave finds a parking spot and we walk past a collection of novel odds-and-ends stores on the riverfront avenue. The cafe is on a section of sidewalk that is several feet above the street. We walk the ramp and turn by tables located under the roofed section of storefront walk in front of the cafe.

We leave the cafe with steaming cups stirred with creamed espresso. Each of us also had a pita sandwich. The day was warm and we enjoyed our short respite as we ate and watched fishing boats come and go from the fishery docks across the street.

On the way out of town, we stopped at an Ace hardware store. I wanted to find a draw blade That I could use to begin to shape one of my new cyprus pieces. I bought a scraper and a milling file, and I was content.

At the camp, Dave dug a battery powered saw from one of the 5th wheel's richly endowed storage bays. We measured 6 foot lengths and trimmed the narrow pieces of wood. Cyprus was used for bows by the Seminole Indians. The wood is of medium density and flexes well. It will be a fun learning experience to see if I can, also, build something from this once sunken treasure.

This morning the yellow flag at the beach has been replaced by a red one. The winds were strong and the waves were beating more harshly. The flag was a warning for caution if going into the water. There could be strong rip tides and currents. We stood at the high water mark and must have appeared mesmerized to on lookers. Myself, I was trying to determine by the action of the beaching waves, whether the tide was on its way in, or out.

A few miles to the south of the campground the peninsula forms a sharp ell bend. It is at this bend that Elgin Air Force Base has a remote satellite tracking station. I happened to glance in that direction and I saw a flight of four birds slowly working its way towards us. They were flying in a perfect V-formation. I half expected one to peel off in a missing man tribute, as they so often do over parades. As they grew in size, I saw they were all equally nosed a slight amount to the left. This was to correct for the force of the crosswind coming off the gulf. Not once, since I noticed them, did the flight of pelicans flap their broad wings. They seemed to be on a very long and shallow glide path to some landing point far up the beach. None glanced our way as they slid silently past, 20 feet overhead.

An avid birder, Joy is often heard exclaiming, "Look at that." when I heard her this morning, I only casually looked around. She had been first to notice it, but we all followed her gaze. Joy had spotted a bright yellow spot about 100 yards out. The spot crept its way towards the beach. We were all watching as the thing was calmly lifted by a forming wave. The wave crested early and we all saw the arm being flung high. The yellow spot may be a life vest. The arm was definitely human.

Without giving it a second thought, I found myself handing Anne my cap holding my wallet and phone. Quickly, I kicked off the Birkenstocks and tossed the warm over-shirt Dave had loaned me onto the dry sand. I dashed toward the water; shouts of better ideas were heard as I splashed into the surf. I made it about 20 feet before I dove into a breaking wave.

The water stung, and I could feel the grit of the suspended sand; like a million bullets striking all exposed surfaces. I kept my eyes shut until I had come above the surface. The thought of ruined vision flashed through my mind. Within a few yards, I resurfaced. I did not see the yellow life vest, but a glimpse back assured me I was still on the correct heading.

The breaking waves were a nightmare to swim through. I did not have the benefit, either, of an outward current, as was suggested by today's red flag status. On I went, ducking through breaking surf. I still had not glimpsed the jacketed body. As I reached out my left arm for its next stroke, My fingers struck something.

Wait a minute, I've digressed.

I often think of someday writing a novel. Instead, I seem committed to spend my writing talents, limited as they are, on logging often very tediously presented travel journals.

Dave needed to find an Ace hardware store. This morning he had shouted out to me and he asked me to quickly shut off the water at the hose. The kitchen faucet had failed, and it was making a mess. 

We had more laundry to do, and driving past the dumpster gave me the opportunity to haul out a large bag of trash. We stopped at the forestry station near the entrance. Joy had Anne and me paid through Saturday, while she and Dave were only booked through Friday. The forester at the desk quickly gave me a rebate for the extra day and a new orange mirror tag which reflected our changed status.

At the gate, Dave set his trip meter to zero. He measured the drive to Port St. Joe to be 21.3 miles. Our first stop was the Laundromat. We are second time visitors now, so we knew the machines. Dave had brought along detergent and some OxyBright. We had around 20 minutes to kill, so we went to the Ace hardware for his needed faucet parts. I took advantage of the visit, too. I bought a second length of thin wall sewer pipe that I would use to carry my pieces of Cyprus. We checked out, and returned to put the loads into dryers.

The owner of the Laundromat guided us regarding how many 7 minute quarters we should put in for the kinds of things we were drying. Five quarters in each dryer should do it. We had 35 minutes to locate a spousal keep out of jail card. Tomorrow is Valentine Day.

The next stop, however, was Radio Shack. Dave needed a few small gauge wire, butt splice connectors for a repair on the 5th wheel. The man at the counter told us there was a florist next door who may be able to aid us with tomorrow's gifting pickle.

The flower shop was loaded with ideas and it was very busy. It seems other folks may be in the same fix. We each selected a small arrangement the ladies could use to brighten the rigs with. I think they are very pretty choices, plus they smelled good.

Are clothes were ready to fold and pack for the short trip back. On the way out of town, I treated us each to a McBurrito at the local arches. They were very small, and totally unlike the ones in the large color poster which had attracted me, but they hit the spot.

This was our first night for a campfire. Grilled hamburgers were listed on the menu. While the fire settled into a good bank of cooking embers, Dave and I put together a bucket lantern. He had the parts to turn a 5 gallon white plastic bucket into a camp light by affixing a socket and bulb to the underside of the lid. We plugged it into the outside socket on his RV, and presto, he had made a wonderfully bright, yet soft, light to cook hamburgers by. The meat tasted great, and the ladies had put together another winning meal.

Highway 98 follows the beach along the gulf. The intersection for the peninsula is half way between Apalachicola and Port St. Joe. Mexico Beach is a couple dozen miles north of the Port. True to the name, Mexico Beach is loaded with motels and cafes with Spanish handles. Although there appears to be nothing at all natively Mexican about the city, the passage on Hwy 98 leaves one wondering. The city is host for the longest stretch of uninterrupted palm lined white beach on the Florida gulf coast. Multistory condominium complexes block long stretches of apartment buildings and dozens of boutique stores peg Mexico Beach as a retirement and tourist destination city.

Another 30 miles and we arrive at Panama City. This populous port town has been built around the edges of the mainland where, in ancient times, a gigantic sea monster had risen up and taken a bite of the sun bleached coast line. Today the city supports 890,000 citizens.

In Springfield, a suburb of Panama City, is the home of Jerry and Linda. Dave and Joy met this couple at Camel Lake. Joy reflected on how, upon meeting Linda, she had almost immediately been asked if they would like to be the next camp hosts. And now you know the rest of the story. We were visiting today because Dave had promised Jerry he would drop off an antenna extension post that had been built using a 5 gallon plastic bucket, a couple gallons of concrete, and 5 foot length of 2" galvanized pipe. Extension lengths could be added to the ballasted pipe for added height.

Jerry was assigned to flu recovery duties so it was just Linda who joined us for lunch, quilt and fabric store shopping, and a drive through tour of a couple of the city's richly boated marinas. One marina was home to tri-masted replicas of the Nina and Pinta. This is a wonderfully diverse and thriving city. A must revisit, with more time.

This has been a great sightseeing day. We returned to the camp in the dark, arriving at 8:30. We said our goodnights for an early turn in.

Friday morning broke sunny, warm and windless. Check out from the campground will be at one o'clock. We plan to purge tanks and arrive at Camel Lake by late afternoon. Prior to that, however, we are going to enjoy a late morning breakfast of campfire cooked bacon and pancakes.

This was the best weather day we have had in Florida. Smoke from the breakfast fire rose quickly, spiraling into the still blue sky. Dave used the flat underside of the Dutch oven lid for his skillet, and he skillfully converted two dozen listless and slippery strips of cut pig into delicious, come back for more bacon. Meanwhile, the ladies had whipped up an omelet and pancakes. Butter, maple syrup, Dugger's Cane Sugar, blackberry jam or peanut butter, we used them all this morning as we wolfed down our pre-departure brunch.

Dave and Joy stopped in Eastpoint and topped up the Dodge. When Anne and I found a convenient pullover to wait, we had driven out of radio range. Wait, or drive on. We drove on. The 5th wheel made a stop at Gadsden Historic Site, five miles south of Sumatra for some birding.

We didn't expect to have our old electric spot when we pulled into Camel Lake Campground at 4:30. Just two tent sites remained. Joy had called ahead to Gary and he had put a folding chair in one of them to display it was already taken. Just before dusk, we heard the powerful diesel truck lumbering into camp. In a half hours time we had the camp hosts resettled on their cement pad. 

Clam chowder and cheesy bread was the fare for this evening. Later, Anne and Joy whipped Dave and me two games straight in pinochle.

The clear skies meant cool night time temperatures. The weatherman was wrong, it was a cold night. The single battery serving the cabin should have been replaced a long time ago. Its reserves were quickly devoured by the small demand of the circulation fan on the gas heater. We both shivered through the darkness of the long night.

I wanted to drive the Europa to Bristol to fill up the gas and propane tanks. Our departure from Tallahassee was in the early afternoon on Tuesday. I didn't want to interfere with the day's commute to the airport; fussing with the reloads before delivering the rig back to Tommy.

Later this afternoon Skye, Victoria and the girls were due to arrive with their camper. The family had left Fort Bragg, North Carolina, yesterday. Last night they billeted in their trailer at Hunter Air Force Base in Savannah. An empty tent site was reserved for them at Camel Lake.

Joy had penned a long list of Piggly Wiggly items for us to collect while in Bristol. While we were gone, they would begin the preparation of tonight's rib dinner. Once that was underway, the ladies refocused on the quilt for Sean and Maria's soon to be, special Stork delivered son John.

Anne braved the cold winds and grilled chicken and Sweet Baby Ray's marinated ribs on the campfire. Nine of the Duncan Clan were now nested in the campground.

While camping through California, Dave had purchased two, 2,000 watt Honda generators. He delivered one to each of our, no AC available, tent sites. Tonight the forecaster was to be correct, it was cold.

We charged the Europa battery while we supervised the final charring of the ribs. Joy was preparing the picnic table for the meal. Skye and I paced back and forth in front of the fire's wind whipped smoke. We quietly decided that, if there were two of us, speaking as one, we could over rule his mother's plans for us to eat outside. When Skye presented the need to change consumption venues, it was met with a few moments of chair counting, tied together with who could be seated where. It was resolved. There was ample seating in the 5th wheel for all of us to enjoy Anne's clothing smoked presence, and scrumptious food in the warmth. 

Our fully charged cabin battery lasted a couple of cycles of the cabin's furnace. This was enough to float me into dreamland. I awoke around 3:30, shivering uncontrollably. I gave up trying to overlook my discomfort. I braved the cold to go to the dash to start the Europa's onboard generator. The battery said, "No go." The last option was to dress, go outside, and wake up more completely while pull starting the Honda generator. Five yanks later, it coughed to a steady hum.

Earlier, in her slumber, Anne had tried to turn off the heater. She had done that; plus, she had managed to turn on the air conditioner. I used the shielded glare of the flashlight to shut things down and to re-establish order on the rig's environmental control panel.

The cabin still wasn't warming. The furnace was blowing cold air. I gave up, turned the fan off, and uncovered the stove burners to light one, or more, for some heat. Nothing happened. I had discovered the problem. The battery had gotten so low that the propane tank solenoid had opened and shut off supply. If my stealth-like maneuvering had not awakened Anne, the next thing I did, would. The propane control panel blinked green. It wasn't shouting out, "Reset me." When I did reset the switch, it began its chorus of beeps until once again locking the tank solenoid on. The stove burner lit. I shut it off and turned the furnace on. It fired up. I left my warm clothes on and was soon back in dreamland.

We all planed to muster at 8:20 for the drive to Mystic Lake Baptist Church for Sunday services. Yesterday, Tommy had told us there would be a breakfast served prior to the gathering. Joy beamed with a broad grin when she learned she was given a reprieve on that mealtime's chores.

Sometime, way before I was scheduled to reawaken, I heard Anne telling someone we wouldn't be joining them at church. No sleep, needed a shower; it pacified the request to hustle up.

The campers using Site 3 pulled out. I found Gary, and told him we wanted to move to the newly vacated shore power site. He said ok. No more generators; easy heat, Yea! Hooray, a few minutes later, the hunters using spot number four left. I jumped out and took the red five gallon gas can for the generators and placed it squarely in the middle of the entry to that spot. Now, Skye and Victoria will also have shore power.

What a warm, blissful night of sleep. Our last full day began with bright blue skies and gentle breezes. This is going to be a fun busy day. Dave requested that I set up an archery target for the girls. Some time ago, Joy bought a small beginner's compound bow, arrows, and a quiver. I built a target just like the one I had used for the bow I gave to Tom.

I discovered the fletching on the arrows had been glued for use with a longbow, two fletches on each arrow snagged the arrow rest when shot. This could be remedied if I could turn the nock 90 degrees. Dave suggested we soften the glue holding the plastic nocks by gently heating them with his propane torch. We had a couple of near meltdowns but, on the whole, this worked ok. Six of the arrows ended up with nocks which needed a new shot of super glue. With arrows fixed, and the bow sighted for 15 feet, we were ready.

The kids were told I would instruct them on the proper way to shoot the bow. They each paid close attention and, after several chase-um shots each, they were doing quite well. When it was dad's turn to shoot, I asked the kids to tell me anything about how dad was shooting that was in bad form. God job, Skye. No trophies today, but no faults seen. I secretly think the girls had been a bit biased.

A new canvas awning had arrived last week for Skye and Victoria's trailer. Three people were needed to ready the new fabric and to manipulate it back into its top mounted railing. We discovered that our learning curve for this project took about an hour and half for the one hour job. It looks great and it rolls up beautifully straight. Good work, guys. Time for a sit down, and a tinny.

While I was helping Dave and Skye, Anne was packing our things and confirming tomorrow's Delta reservations. The campground has a very spotty and weak internet connection. Anne finished her on-line work in about the same time it took us to do ours. Confirmed, and packed. The evening was free for both of us.

Sheppard’s pie was was on the menu for tonight. This meant starting an early fire and establishing a nice set of coals for the Dutch oven. While Dave and the girls scooted around the campground in the golf cart, doing official Camel Lake sorts of things, like picking up pinecones, Skye and I got the fire going.

I enjoyed very much the chance to visit with Skye about his long and distinguished career in the Army. He is two years away from putting in his twenty. Last fall he received a promotion to Lieutenant Colonel. Skye's service has been centered on the deployment and setting up of field communications systems. He has served tours in Iraq, Afghanistan, Korea, the Philippines and many other far flung places. Some of his assignments were for short stays.  

Today Skye is serving as the communications Officer in Charge for the Army's component of a multi-service special operations and allied forces training group. Skye and Victoria feel they will retire at the end of twenty years, depending on where they are assigned next. If it is a good assignment, then he would consider accepting a promotion to full Colonel That promotion would require two years to be able to retire in that pay grade.

Dave joined us and we brazed some chopped onions and browned a couple pounds of ground beef. To the Dutch oven, we added a package of frozen mixed vegetables and topped it off with a thick blanket of mashed potatoes. The lid was put on and covered with a large pile of hot briquettes. In about forty minutes it would be opened and ready to eat.

It was a calm, albeit chilly night. We all agreed when Joy asked if we should eat outside. During dinner, Victoria and Skye told us of their unforgettable trip to Israel. Victoria described sightseeing the many historic sites as if she had just returned. She and Skye were spitting out awkward foreign names of temples and mounts In had never heard of. They truly treasured their experience; and the Sheppard pie was delicious.

We all crowed into the 5th wheel at 8 o'clock to watch Antiques Road Show. It seems that The Bob is the only one of the crowd who can't pass the week without a junker's eye view of overpriced attic finds.  Secretly, I think the attraction is in witnessing the outlandish appraisal values placed on some of the eyesores.

A great Joy made breakfast with the whole crew. It has been fun to stay with Dave and Joy. They have a wonderful way of life in their campsite adventures across America. Anne and I are starting to discuss our own pros and cons about finding a camper for ourselves. We have already firmed up that a Class B, like the Europa, will be too confining. That leaves a Class C, with a toe behind, a 5th wheel, or a trailer.

We looked through several new rigs while we were in Panama City. That was a startling beginning. They all seem so big, and option varied. We have to do a lot of narrowing of the field.

Anne had last minute English muffin duty for the girls. Mom and dad had already driven off for a few day get away at Wakulla Springs. Grandma is the designated baby sitter. Although grandpa isn't going to get off Scott free. I see lots of extra, official, golf cart trips in his near future.

We left Camel Lake Campgrounds at 11:30. Dave had us at the Delta terminal by 12:30. We said our goodbyes and headed for check in.

The flight to Atlanta rose roughly through the low hung and drizzly rain clouds. It seemed the pilot was seeking a radio vector to his designated route, but he couldn't decide whether he should go right, or left. Once above the clouds, he seemed to have locked on and the rest of the short trip was comfortable.

We boarded the subterranean inter-terminal train for a quick trip to Terminal A. Wow. Two lucky gates so far. Both have been at the front of their long terminals. We had an hour and half to wait. Anne dashed off to find a Starbucks. I relaxed and anticipated finishing my ham sandwich. Boy, do we sometimes load down travel logs with tripe.

Room 5003 was on the fifth floor, just beyond the elevators. It had taken the airport shuttle bus only a few minutes to cover the short distance from the ground transportation doors of LAX to the Hilton Hotel.

The enormous Boeing 767 was having a bad afternoon. It had to be tugged back to the hanger for some TLC. The airplane pulled to the gate as a replacement required to undergo a "security sweep". For the next 45 minutes, the Delta agent at the gate would periodically broadcast her apologies and assure us that we would be boarding once the security sweep was completed. It was amusing to watch the elevated Delta service truck being loaded with bag after bag of trash from the plane. Shoes off, pockets emptied, full body electronic imaging scan; so this is what they call a security sweep. I guess it may present better than: We've got to take a bit of time to remove the heap of rubbish that last lot left behind.

We arrived at the LAX gate with two minutes to spare. Now, where is our Medford gate? The Delta desk agent presented two delayed flight options: one, we could fly to Salt Lake City, and on to Medford; or second, we could take the 8:30pm direct. Both happened tomorrow. The first option would land us home at noon, the second, around dark 10:30. We selected option one.

The agent then issued new flight vouchers. She also gave each of us three vouchers for dinner, breakfast, and lunch. We now each had $18 we could splurge on food.

We were up at 5 am, dressed, and at the hotel's entrance a half hour later. The airport shuttle was just pulling up. The bus was equipped with GPS location linked announcements that periodically announced where we were, and how long before our arrival. Awfully fancy.

We were ticketed for seats 5a and 5B. The gate was 50B. A few minutes with TSA's probing and we were in the secure sanctums of LAX International. We readied ourselves for the trudge to our gate. I felt ok, though, because we could break up the hike with a stop for a voucher breakfast. What's this? Gate 50B is the first one on the left! Whoa. Now what are we going to do?

We hiked pasted 50B and a few gates later found Lemonades. Lemonades is a food vendor. We each grabbed a tray and stood in the Que. The total for both of us came to $53.08. Right. The three meal vouchers we each should cover this. Twenty dollars more, with some small change later, and we grizzled our way to a table. I guess this will give The Bob something to rectify once he has returned to Medford.

No comments: