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Stop at the Florida Visitor’s Center and you are greeted with a big smile and some fresh squeezed juice.
AHHHHHHH! Let the sun shine!!!
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Tag Archives: Adventures
On being flexible
Because it has been hovering around freezing in the mornings and much warmer in the afternoon, I changed up my usual meander schedule. Instead of driving where I want to explore with fresh eyes and energy in the morning, I have decided to stop mid-afternoon and enjoy myself while the sun is high and the air is still warm, leaving those freezing temps for drive time.
I was really glad that I did, because after a lovely drive over the mountains anticipating lunch at my favorite rest area on Nickajack Lake and finding it closed (bummer) I had the opportunity to camp at Cloudland Canyon, a beautiful state park in North Georgia near Chattanooga (of choo-choo fame.) On travels this way in the past I have always wanted to at least go for a mid-trip hike but it has always been too windy, wet, or cold (seeing that I have always made this trip in the winter not spring.)
Despite it suddenly being an hour later (I am now on Eastern Daylight Time) there was enough time to select a campsite and take a hike. The Waterfalls Trail dropped 350 vertical feet from my campsite into the canyon below. It does this in a a little less than a mile; I think the ranger said something about over 900 manmade steps and that does not count the non-manmade ones!
The going down was not too bad as I kept stopping to take photos along the way. Yet, there is no getting around that basic rule of the universe — what goes down, must come back up. Now that was a hike to be remembered!
It was late and the sun was no longer shining in the bottom of the canyon but the waterfalls were spectacular. Well worth the effort. I already plan to do it again on the way home, weather permitting of course.
For the first time, the night was warm enough to sit outside after dark so I built a campfire, took the last of what I have been snacking on the last few days — grilled chicken, tomato, cheese, and pineapple — threw it all in a pan and feasted on a nice, hot, home cooked meal. Funny how the same foods can taste so different when you add a little ambiance.
I was hoping the morning sun would offer an opportunity to go back to the first of the falls and photograph it again. Though the day broke cold but with a promise of a sunny day, I took my time getting out of my sleeping bag. I started out for a gentle warm up along the rim of the canyon to the observation area. Was I glad I hiked the trail last night because a front came through that dropped the temperature drastically, accompanied with high winds, and even a few snowflakes. Time to hit the road.
Go that way young bear, that way!
After a lovely meander yesterday, ending at Cloudland Canyon State Park in Northern Georgia, a hiked to two spectacular waterfalls, and weather conducive to cooking out, a cold front came whipping in this morning that told me it was time to hit the road running.
Since I traveled from one end of Georgia to the other, I would not call that a meander. It is more like making time. But as Kenny Rogers is known to have sung, “You have to know when to hold ’em and you have to know when to fold ’em.” Today was a fold ’em kind of day.
Will send photos and a description soon.
Meandering
When I travel, unless inclement weather, my goal is not to go the fastest or the farthest in the shortest amount of time, it is to enjoy the journey. Today was a perfect example of that philosophy — no deadlines, no particular place to go or be, no final destination to make by the end of the day. That leaves one free to explore the day and the area, step by step, mile by mile, moment by moment, stopping or moseying at will.
The roads are narrower, the towns smaller, and the pace slower — takes me back to an era when you really could “see the USA in your Chevrolet” rather than just flying down the Interstate.
Here are a few things I discovered along the way…
Paducah, KY — It was a cold Sunday morning and outside the tourist season, with no paddle-wheelers expected, so it was pretty quiet downtown. Driving through the Lowertown Artists District and into downtown, checking out the old steam train (should I be the conductor or the engineeer?) and seeing the brightly painted flood wall reminded me of previous trips on a warmer day. Here are a few that might entice you to visit the arts district some summer weekend or maybe the end of April for the International Quilt Show.
Land Between the Lakes — When I head South and East, I always go a little out of my way to drive my favorite byway in these parts — The Trace, a rustic and very , scenic road that runs along a ridge of land called Land Between the Lakes (a National Recreation Area) between Kentucky and Barkley Lakes (formerly and still under there somewhere the Tennessee and Cumberland Rivers).
I feel a little guilty enjoying this beautiful natural area filled with trees, water, and wildlife because of the way the Tennessee Valley Authority (TVA) and US government, in the name of progress and the greater good, went about acquiring the land by forced condemnation. Families were forced to leave to make way for the damming of the river and thus flooding of their ancestral farms, homes, and businesses. The thing is that between 1960 and the late 60s, some families were forced to move, not once, not twice but in some cases three times, eventually having to leave their land between the rivers altogether to create the “park” itself.
Between sightings of wood ducks, hawks, and a majestic eagle soaring over my head, cement steps leading to nowhere, seas of daffodils in now empty clearings, the occasional dilapidated barn or shed, and the cemeteries are all that is left of these town.
I ended the day at Montgomery Bell State Park, West of Nashville, TN. The park is 4000 acres, the former lands of a young man who came here from Pennsylvania seeking (and gaining) his fortune mining and smelting iron ore until The Civil War put an end to the industry. If you are in these parts, stop by for a visit. A creek babbles along the edge of the campground (or for you city slickers you can get a room at the lodge/conference center), miles of hiking trails will give you a work out, several lakes, some accessible only by foot, provide beautiful reflections — the whole place is just serene (at least in the off-season.
On the Road Again
Old Willie just could not “wait to get on the road again” and a few hundred miles into this trip I know the feeling — the joy of discovery today and the anticipation of what tomorrow might bring.
I hate straight Interstate driving so I usually meander a little to see the sites a bit off the beaten path. Since it was cold and overcast, and on a long trip it feels good to get some significant miles under ones belt the first day, I drove down I-39 a lesser used Interstate and made a slight detour to St. Louis, where every chance I get, I stop at Forest Park, the site of the 1903 (I think) World’s Fair, now a fabulous park with three museums, a zoo, a botanical conservatory, fountains, gardens, trails, gazebos, a golf course, a few ponds, waterfalls, and more. It is a wonderful treasure for the city and much better than the usual rest area.
After a short hike and a picnic lunch, I was off to Paducah to take one of my favorite side trips, “The Trace” on the Land Between the Lakes. But that will have to wait for tomorrow because sunset comes early this time of year.
For tonight I am in Metropolis, IL, feeling SUPER!
Snow or Sun – there is no question
Have you wondered what I have been up to the last few weeks? You know I have too.
I returned from Mexico to Massachusetts to welcome new baby, Isaiah, into the world. It was a hectic time filled with dirty diapers, late night feedings, lots of laundry , and adorable big sisters. All was wonderfully, marvelously well despite going from 85 degrees to the mid-20s with piles and piles of dirty snow, and melty, icy puddles.
Three weeks later when I returned to Wisconsin though, that is another story!
I think I mentioned in a previous post, that I have multiple chemical sensitivities (MCS). This is a disorder where your body has an allergic type reaction to very minute amounts of things most of us would not even think twice about — things like fragrances in shampoos, soaps, bathroom deodorizers, and any number of other things, which in my case includes forced air heat in a closed up space in the winter time (which is why I go to Mexico, I might add.)
Well, I returned to my Wisconsin apartment, which since it is mighty cold outside, is closed up with the heat on and BAM!!! within 24 hours I did not know what truck hit me! I was laid out flat with the biggest, baddest sinus headache you can imagine, one of those don’t make me open my eyes or sit up types. Then what fills up has to run out, so it has been over a week of coughing, hacking, sneezing and well, you know. (I should buy stock in Kleenex!) Needless to say, I am not getting much sleep (or anything much done for that matter) and I am exhausted.
Since I do not see much hope that any of this is going to clear up until the heat goes off and I can open those windows wide (and considering what a winter Wisconsin has had this year, that does not look like anytime soon), I have decided to take drastic action and have loaded the camping gear in the van and am heading South where as the old song goes, “The weather suits my soul.” (Anyone remember Midnight Cowboy?)
I am trading in this… for this…
Now really, is there any other logical choice?
Marcia and Lowell, here I come!
It may not be the end of the world but…
The superintendiente (CO) is in town so that has meant many travels visiting people in their homes. Between mountain climbing in Tetipac, and Indiana Jonesing it in Dolores, I have had my share of adventures right here in Taxco.
Taxco is built on several mountains, and I can safely say that, with the exception of the zocolo, a small park area in the middle of town, if you are not climbing up, you are headed down.
Houses are perched on the side of a steep hillsides. Sometimes there are proper steps and other times, there is a dirt path to scramble up or down. And sometimes the dirt path, leads to a set of steps that for some reason adorns just part of the hillside (often the part in the middle.)
I have joked about needing to be part mountain goat when walking in some parts of town, and that was true of a recent day in service. We started at the bottom of town, walked up a not too steep hill, past the chickens and pigs, and headed out into the outer reaches where the cobblestones stop and the gravel road begins; but that was not the most challenging part of our day.
On our way back, we were going to visit Veronica. We came to a house set about 8-10 feet below the level of the road. There was no obvious way to get to this house, still, it was apparent that someone lived there. It was indicated to me that we should go down the hill, but how? Where?
Never fear, there is always a way. In this case, it was a few tumbled rocks, next to an unfinished building foundation, that led to a dirt path with a trickle of water running down the middle. Now how was I supposed to know that this was the callejon (little street, aka alley) and not a drainage path???? I followed Sarah and our Mexican companion and picked my way down the path, thinking we were going to the house, but noooooo! we walked right by, and then it really got interesting.
Tame compared to where I was walking.
The path beyond the house dropped steeply down the mountainside. Now a mountain goat I am not, but believe me I needed to be as this path, all twelve inches wide of it, winds steeply, like the roads, down the hillside, with plants, most of which have some sort of burr or thorn, grabbing at you from both sides. There were rocks in places, giving some footing in the loose soil, which cascaded down the hill as we walked; tree branches and even a discarded tire or two formed make shift steps along the way.
Veronica & Luis Angel
Down, down, down we went, step by slow, careful step, when suddenly we came to a set of stairs. Oh good I thought, when just as suddenly as they started, they ended 50 feet (and one house) later at a 4-foot high platform which we had to scramble around, hands in the weeds, to get back to the path. After descending probably 300 yards in this fashion, we came to the house. Veronica, her husband, and 6 month old son live in one room – about 12 x 12 or so – in a 3 room house probably shared with one or the other set of parents.
There is a small plastic table with a few plastic chairs, a two burner gas cook top and a small refrigerator, plus a dresser, double bed, and a mattress on the floor where she sits pulling a cord that rocks the baby suspended in a makeshift cradle (created with a blanket wrapped around a couple of ropes and secured with clothes pins. ) The mattress, covering most of the floor, is not only where Veronica and her husband sleep, the double bed serving as a changing area for the baby, is also a safety measure in case the baby falls out of the cradle. (Think about this family the next time you complain about what you do not have.)
When it was time to go, we stepped over the dog and scrambled up the dirt path with the rocks and sticks, around the base of the stairs to nowhere, climbing the hillside, up and up, over the old tires, until finally, all weak knees and out of breath (at least me) we reached the road at the top. I can’t imagine carrying a baby or groceries up or down this way, but they do.
Later, our Mexican companion confided to Vanessa that she was worried about me the whole time. “What would I tell the brothers if I broke her?” she said.
Today, I had the opportunity to view the path from a house across the way. Doesn’t look so bad from there!
What was that about a rickety slat bridge?
Someone recently commented on my adventures, saying I was only missing having “to cross a rickety bridge over a river chasm.” Well, guess what!!!!
Wooden bridge, Indiana Jones style
OK, it wasn’t quite a chasm but it sure was rickety.
The Adventures of Blue Bear 