Flying Solo

April 2 is always a tough day for me. In 1988, it was the day I married my late husband, Jack Gregory (Greg) Talbott. So I try to honor the day each year with a kindness to myself. This year, the kindness was to allow myself a weekend alone in Asheville at my favorite spot on the French Broad River at Wilson's RV Park. So I left work early on Friday the 31st and headed up Black Mountain.

Wilson's is immediately adjacent to the Asheville Outdoor Center where we have signed on to trips down the French Broad and through the Biltmore estate. Asheville also has an extensive system of greenway parks, one of which--the French Broad River Greenway, starts a mile east and runs right throught the RV park. It

was too cold that weekend, mostly rainy and damp, for comfortable paddling, but it was perfect for a weekend of reading, introspection and long river walks.

My friend Caroline, from the Cheraw trip, lives near Rutherfordton and joined me Saturday night for a craft beer and BBQ in downtown Asheville. It is always good to see her but the point of the trip was to be mostly alone. I needed to know I could manage the rig alone but more importantly, I needed to know I could manage being alone with the rig.

I will be 63 in June. I have been widowed 12 years now and hope to be retiring soon. The limits of my days of good health are becoming increasingly evident and there are things I still very much want to do. It is also increasingly evident that I need to be prepared to do them by myself. So this was a practice run,  and for the most part, it went well--with one tiny boo boo that taught me two things. #1 Unplug the brake cable when backing into a camp site. The truck and camper can turn so tight you (I) can pop the brake cable out of recepticle on the truck. Oops. And #2 Fearing I might lose brakes coming down the continental divide, I took the Saluda Grade home rather than Black Mountain. Easier and faster--good to know as I intend to be back.

Days in Rodanthe: Day 2

 Ben got in about 10:30 pm and went straight to bed. We all slept well. I was up with this lovely sunrise making breakfast. The point of getting LibraryAnn was to have a kitchen on wheels, and while I don't care for the daily routine of cooking at home, I do have fun in my little portable galley.

While Jessie took Franklin to the dog park, I returned to Bodie Light House with Ben. We got this shot from an observation deck at the end of a long boardwalk. It was a good chance to catch up with him and his first view of Bodie.

We decided to grill burgers and pack them along with fixin's for a picnic lunch at the Hatteras
Light.  Since I was not focused on pulling a trailer, I

could enjoy the scenery and was even more impressed with the fragility of these barrier islands. At some points, the sound was a couple of car lengths to our right and the dunes to our left encroached on the road with the ocean just beyond. There was considerable road construction and an obviously temporary bridge in place where the DOT had decided to bridge a new inlet rather than try to fill it in. An amazing dedication keeps the road open.

As we drove south towards Avon and Hatteras, we began to get an idea of the extent of flooding caused by the recent hurricane. For miles, both sides of the road were lined with piles of rubbish waiting to be hauled away--duct work, flooring, insulation, furniture, mattresses, toys--people's homes and livelihoods destroyed.

We stopped for lunch at the Buxton Woods picnic area

at the base of Hatteras Light. After that we wandered the grounds and gift shop. Jessie and I purchased National Park passports with a dream of visiting many more and having them stamped. As we walked across the way to the old light house location we were all nearly crippled with sandburs, particularly Franklin. Ben carried him to the pavement beyond and I fetched the car.

From there we drove to the end of the Island and the Graveyard of the Atlantic museum. There is a monument in the parking lot to General Ambrose E. Burnside's visit to Hatteras during the Civil War.  He was my grandfather's great uncle. I also have a Quaker ancestor from Yanceyville meeting. Maybe that is why North Carolina has always felt like home.

 On the way back, we hit the Food Lion in Avon for some fresh shrimp. I came to North Carolina in 1976 to enter a graduate program at the Bowman Gray School of Medicine in Winston Salem. A friend from Chicago who grew up on NC military bases told me I would hate NC but love graduate school. Well, I lasted a year at Bowman Gray but have yet to leave NC. I did enjoy several camping trips with other students that year, including tent camping on the Outer Banks. It was my first trip to the Carolina coast and I remember eating shrimp boiled in pickling spices at a picnic table, smelling the fresh sea air and tossing shrimp shells to the gulls. I don't think I'd ever tasted anything so good and wanted to do boiled shrimp for Ben and Jessie.

 We had a wonderful meal of shrimp, flounder, slaw, sour dough bread, corn on the cob, and later, marshmallows cooked over the grill.

Ben and Jessie took Franklin to the beach near our camp site to try to fly their kite (and get Franklin tired enough to sleep well). The sunset over the sound was just so lovely, I did a whole lot more gazing than dish washing. Eventually Venus appeared and so did the kids. They traded a very tired Franklin for me and we went back in the dark to fly the kite with glow sticks tied to the tail and then burn sparklers in the sand.

It has been just the trip it needed to be--family reconnecting in this beautiful natural world, away from the daily cares, over good food and good times. Back to reality early tomorrow as Jessie works tomorrow evening and Ben and I need to prep for Monday.

We will leave too early to get our passports stamped at Bodie--guess that means we will have to come back...

Days in Rodanthe: Day 1.5

 I left work on Thursday at noon. Jessie and I both had the slows so it was 3:30 before we pulled out. Our goal was modest, a campground in Four Oaks east of Raleigh. We took the "southern route" to avoid Raleigh and it's heinous traffic--US 421 to Buies Creek then I95  north to US 64 and east.

As tired as I was, hitting the open road just seems to peel layers of stress away. The truck and trailer feel like a happy team. We were cruising 421 just south of Raven Rock, about 40 minutes from Four Oaks, when we heard an odd noise.

We apparently have a very good guardian angel on duty. The truck wasn't jerked around, no equipment was damaged, we found a reasonably safe pull off, and we didn't get hit dismantling the back tool box to liberate the spare tire. And we had one of Greg's old channel locks to help with the job. AND a  kind deputy pulled over in time to do the hard stuff. We found air within a mile to fully inflate the spare and crept into Four Oaks.

Did I sat "Bates Motel"? Things looked a lot better in the morning, but when we pulled in, not so much. I joined a discount club and decided to stay in one of their campgrounds for the night as this was just a pass through. The campsites were part of a trailer park/cheap motel/RV park. The place looked a little rough at night, especially with odd Halloween decorations. At checkin, the clerk gave me a bath house key and a warning to lock the door behind me. He didn't have to say it twice. To their credit, the baths were very clean and I am sure we were fine, but we just might not be back.

The next morning we were up very early. The only tire place in the area was literally just across the interstate from our campground. We were there when they opened at 8a. Ronnie'a Country Store is a fascinating place.

It looks like a very large BP station. In reality, it is a 24 hour grocery/hardware/farm store with biscuits and coffee, Pointer brand work clothes, groceries, plumbing supplies and very much more. The building beside it sells tires and livestock feed from the same storage area. The issue with my tires was age (I was planning to replace them at the end of this season). They set me up with three new tires for about half what I expected to pay and did it in less than 30 minutes while Jessie and I picked up some better tools.

So off we went to Rodanthe and a couple of side trips. We made a stop in charming Tarboro where we all took a walk in the historic district. We walked beautiful tree lined streets past gorgeous old homes, including this one elaborately decorated for Halloween.

When we got to Columbia, we got out to walk again on a boardwalk through a Picosin Swamp--The Scuppernong River Interpretive Boardwalk. Sleepy with lunch, Rodanthe seemed to be getting further and further away.

We finally crossed the Alligator River into Manteo and were on NC 12, the Outer Banks highway. I am reading a just published history of NC 12 and am awed by the trouble and dedication involved in keeping this highway open. The way sand is deposited around these fragile barrier islands, they continually are moved to the west. In addition, great storms, like the recent Matthew, open and close inlets, continually redefining island boundaries and where the road and bridges must be located. Without a functioning NC 12, the only way to drive on the sandy Outer Banks is to drive at surf's edge with a receding tide.

We did stop to admire the lovely Bodie Island light house and chat with the gift

shop clerk who said the worst storm damage was south of us, yet to be seen. As I write this, we are comfortably parked at the Camp Hatteras RV Park with this lovely view of the sound out our back window. We have enjoyed supper and seeing the sun set out over the sound. We are snug and warm, safe on our new tires and waiting for Ben to join us for a day of adventure tomorrow.

Nite nite!

Under a Southern Moon

We have just returned from a stunning full moon paddle on Juniper Lake. We are at Cheraw State Park just outside Cheraw, SC.

I am a member (treasurer, in fact) of the Central Carolina Paddlers out of Sanford, NC. We are a club of about 25 members. This weekend is the annual camp out, the first I have been able to attend. My long time friend, Caroline joined me this weekend for her first paddle experience. It could not have been nicer.

Breakfast!

Cheraw State Park is a creation of the CCC, one of Roosevelt's "alphabet soup" programs that created many of our state and national parks. It is an exceptionally lovely place and important habitat for endangered plants and birds. Our campground is at the edge of Juniper Lake, a body of water about 2.5 miles long ending in an extensive cypress swamp.

We arrived before supper on Friday evening. My tiny rig managed to nab the only pull through campsite while large rigs around me were backing into wooded spaces. We have a great view of the lake AND we are right next to the bath house. Someone is smiling on us for sure. Most club members were staying in cabins across the lake and we arrived just in time to join them for a great hot dog cookout at cabin 7. The rest of the group hit the lake about 8p for the full Harvest Moon. Caroline wisely decided her first kayak experience should be in broad daylight so two happy campers hit the hay.

The next morning we were on the water at 9a. For Caroline's first trip, the setting was pretty spectacular. The morning was overcast and breezy. We paddled the length of the lake and then meandered among the cypress knees. Caroline is a soil scientist who has studied forestry and landscape architecture. She was the soil conservation agent for Chatham County (back when there was such a thing) and my first weaving student in the yarn store I opened in Pittsboro back in the mid 1980s. She currently works as a land management consultant and lives near her family farm in Rutherfordton. It was a treat to have her along as she was quick to identify native plants and animals. We saw herons and pitcher plants and water lilies in bloom.

While we didn't see any ospreys, apparently they are abundant here. It was pretty amazing to see a marker explaining their habits and habitat nailed to a tree smack in the middle of the lake. The endangered Red Cockaded Woodpecker and some 200 other species of birds reside here as well.

In the afternoon (after a generous nap) we drove into Historic Cheraw to explore "the prettiest town in the South". As if the gracious homes, beautifully renovated churches and buildings were not enough, Cheraw is the birthplace of the great Dizzy Gillespie. We visited the park at his
homeplace, found his statue downtown on the town green, and visited with a delightful gift shop proprietress who lives in the former town library--a gracious old home that served Sherman's troops. Apparently, the Yanks fell into some hidden wine and had a munitions accident that leveled much of the old down town, but the restoration of what is left is well worth the visit. And the annual jazz festival in honor of Gillespie sounds like a must-attend.

This evening at 8p, Caroline joined the club for her first night time paddle. The moon was an hour later this evening, but it made a spectacular entrance through the clouds and reflected in the glassy water. It was well worth the wait. Truly a moment of peace on Earth.

The entire weekend has been so special. And the best part of all of it is that Cheraw is only 1.5 hours from home. We will be back.

Dan River Adventure

I have known Cathy since I was pregnant with Jessie--over 25 years. She is a world traveler and far more intrepid than my timid self. But we do enjoy kayaking together and for my 60th birthday, she booked a sweet little cabin for us near Lake Tillery where we hiked and paddled and contemplated the next decade.

Now it was my turn to treat her to a special trip and on August 26 weekend, I did.

Twice now I have paddled sections of the Dan River with my son, Ben. The scenery is spectacular. The first time we went, Jacob from the Haw River Canoe and Kayak company, a dear friend, offered to go with us. I have this thing about wanting to do a new stretch of river for the first time with someone more experienced and Jacob's offer could not have made me happier. Jacob is seriously whitewater so I figured he'd be bored to tears and took his offer as a gracious favor for this old lady. Instead, as we traversed an almost continuous slew of Class 1 rapids, he noted that we were seeing Class 4 scenery on a Class 1 river and was duly impressed. The river passes by enormous cliffs. Apparently, it is these huge cliffs that typically break off the create the challenging Class 4 rapids. In this case, we got the great cliffs without the treacherous rapids.

I had so much fun on that trip, Ben and I went back this spring and did another section of the Dan that was familiar to him through his work at the Betsy Jeff Penn Environmental Education Center. I guess Cathy heard me talk so much about the Dan that when I offered to take her away for a weekend in LibraryAnn, she chose a trip to paddle the Dan.

I don't have a waterproof camera yet. The image on the right is courtesy of the Danbury General Store--a shout out to the owner who rescued us on our second Dan River trip when Ben locked his keys in my truck back at the put in and couldn't drive us home from the take out. Please buy your chips and drinks from her--she never let us pay her.  The image of the cliffs below is from the NC River Paddler Blog (I promise to get a GoPro soon...) and gives just a glimpse of the sights to be seen.

So despite the wicked heat, Cathy and I had a grand time. The trip we took was courtesy of the Dan River Company which has a private put in upstream of the most scenic stretch. The water level was perfect, the riffles were enough of a challenge to be interesting without being scary. And the air was cool on the river.

We were on the river about three hours. We took ourselves to historic Bib's BBQ in Winston-Salem for a late lunch then walked the art district until heat and rain sent us home.

Our home base was the Dan River Campground, 45 minutes away in Stoneville, NC. Apparently they have their own river adventures to offer. I was intent on showing Cathy the section of river I had enjoyed so much but couldn't find a closer place to camp (Hanging Rock State Park campground is lovely but was fully booked for this weekend). The Dan River Campground in Stoneville was very nice and I think it would be fun to go back and try their section of the river the next time. Always looking for a good excuse...

Kudos also to REI, the New River and the Virginia Creeper Trail

Did I mention that I like to kayak? Did I mention that the trailer was love at first sight? So blind a love that it never occurred to me to figure out first how I'd carry the boats before I made my commitment???

The trailer is a gooseneck and extends over the bed of the truck, way over when I make a sharp turn. No standard roof rack would do. I had seen a Thule canoe rack that extended completely over the truck bed to a T bar mounted on a rear trailer hitch and looked promising if I could use it over the hood. REI told me to call Thule. Thule said it was out of spec and wouldn't take responsibility since they hadn't tested this set up, but sent me a parts list. It's a long story, but the folks at REI were great. They installed it, let us put our heads together and get creative about how to use the parts, and came up with a system that puts the kayaks over the hood, away from the trailer, and if I load them from the bed of the truck, I don't have to lift the boats over my head. Me and my daughter or another grey-haired lady friend can load up just fine. And me and Jessie did.

So off we headed for the New River State Park. What a treat! Ben joined us from his job in Reidsville. Another Scamp owner, just learning to use her brand new 16' trailer, met us there for a weekend of bikes and kayaks.

We set up Thursday evening. Wicked storms that knocked power out at home passed us by. And early Friday morning we were barreling down the Virginia Creeper Trail, a 17 mile long (and ALL DOWNHILL) rails to trails project through deep woods and past lovely old train stations with snacks and bathrooms. We even found a nice cafe for lunch about 2/3 down. Ben found a Christmas tree he'd hugged the last time we rode the trail, about 5 years ago. He was as tall as the tree then but it had way surpassed him now. A good time was had by all.

But the fun didn't end there. The next morning we were being shuttled up the New River for a lovely trip back to the park. Mary had not done much river paddling and I am very proud of how my kids helped both of us navigate, portage, tie up for breaks and generally look after the previous generation.

 
The new power converter worked flawlessly. The dog behaved. Nobody found broken glass the hard way. And MOST of the odor is gone....

Ready for the next trip!

A minor misadventure...

I mentioned in the last post that the power converter, all of fourteen years old, failed and we were without 12v power. Not a problem as we had shore power and the important appliances (AC and frig) work on the 120v system. And once we were underway home, all the 12v lights run off the truck and not from the trailer's marine battery.

However, I am not an electrician and still haven't quite got my head wrapped around the idea of two separate electrical systems joined at the power converter. I do know enough to have done a thorough search for fuses and actually replaced all I could find, "find" being the operative word here. And when I called repair shop near the campground, they assured me there was not danger, just a little inconvenience, in the power converter being out.

So as soon as I got home, I called Americamp in Ramseur and arranged to bring them the trailer. As they are typically about 2 weeks behind and I had another trip planned, I raced to get it there--so fast that I sort of failed to check the freezer compartment in the frig while unpacking. Sigh.

They replaced the power converter only to discover two things 1. that the power converter was not the problem (yet the new one works so much better that I suspect the old one was ready to go and I do not begrudge the repair), rather it was a loose wire and 2. they discovered the pack of hamburger I failed to remove from the freezer compartment. After it exploded. Sigh. I actually discovered that it wasn't the power converter when I brought LibraryAnn back to the house to clean up the hamburger mess and try to remove the smell. All worked well for about 2 hours, then the 12v power failed again. I rushed again to get her back to them before work the next day only to have them discover 3. that I'd failed to latch the frig door after cleaning and two glass bottles rolled out and broke on the trailer floor. And they didn't charge me extra to work around the broken glass or rotten hamburger. They also simplified the fuse system and showed me where they all hide. Kudos to Americamp. And I got to take my next trip on time.

Did I say "learning curve"??