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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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