Author: Easin' Along

I’ve worn many hats in my life, but one role I am very proud of is my time as president of the Appalachian Anglers Society. This group is composed of men who love the sport of fishing for trout in the waters of our mountains and share a love of the great outdoors. Since 1957, our group has held a three-day event in the Cherokee National Forest near Tellico Plains, Tennessee. The founders of the Society dubbed the gathering Camp II. I spent my 30^th birthday at my first Camp II and attended regularly for at least two decades.

Over the last ten years, my attendance at Camp II has been sporadic due to our RV travel. However, I still visit the Cherokee National Forest at least once a year for “mind cleansing” and because I cherish my time surrounded by the unbelievable beauty of the area.  There is something about the roar of a mountain stream that shuts out much of life’s noise.

Camp II is usually held during the first weekend of May. For many years we had the event in a group campground. Still, due to a shortage of Forest Service personnel, we were asked to move the camp from McNabb Branch to the Holly Flats campground about six miles further into the forest near the North Carolina border.

I love Holly Flats and have often camped there with the Anglers and my family. Nevertheless, this campground is too small, and the road is too steep and narrow for our trailer.  I’m long past my tent-camping days, so I drove down for one day, taking my new dog, Mortimer, with me. I also had a mission on this visit.

The eighteen-mile drive along the Tellico River from Tellico Plains to the road over the mountain to Holly Flats is captivating. The fast-flowing and scenic river heightens the sense of what it means to be alive and in the presence of such beauty. I never tire of it. I paused once to enjoy the stream and give Mortimer his first taste of Tellico River water.

I arrived at Holly Flats just before noon. There was little movement in the campground. This was predictable—many of the campers were out for a day of fishing, and several of the younger guys were still sleeping off the first night’s usually raucous activities. Tucked into one corner of the campground were several friends of mine and veterans of Camp II—guys who learned long ago to pace themselves. I chatted away and enjoyed myself immensely recalling old stories of Camp II’s of the past. Mortimer made several new friends as well.

My overall mission for the trip was to honor one of our members who passed away recently—my brother-in-law, Jimmy Dean. Jimmy, Helen’s younger brother, died in a tragic fall at his home last November. He was a long-time Anglers member and loved every minute of Camp II. Jimmy is pictured below, bottom row, fourth from the left.

His lovely daughters gave me one of his hats and asked that I leave it somewhere in the campground as a tribute and a memorial to Jimmy. I was honored that they asked and accepted immediately. I wrote a short note to go with the hat and had it laminated before the trip to the campground.

I could have stayed well into the evening and feasted on the Prime Rib dinner being prepared on the smoker that a brave Angler towed over the mountain, but I needed to scoot before temptation took over. I spotted a tree in the corner of Holly Flats, overlooking the Bald River, that was the perfect spot to give Jimmy’s hat a home.

A number of the campers asked that I read the note, and another camper brought a ladder over, allowing me to nail the hat high on the tree trunk, away from trouble and perched high above a section of still water. Mission accomplished.

Leaving Camp II is always difficult; this year was no different. As I drove along the river, past Bald River Falls, and back toward Knoxville, I again found myself so grateful for another visit to this blessed sanctuary and that a piece of Jimmy was there, shared with his friends.

In no hurry to depart, I was Easin’ Along…slowly.

In all the excitement surrounding a new addition to the household, I passed over recapping the details of our trip home from California. I have shared our time in San Diego, Seal Beach, and Temecula, but there’s more to the story. I’ll wrap up the return and throw in a few activities from a busy month.

We left Vail Lake KOA Campground with the intent to stop overnight somewhere between Temecula and Las Vegas, Nevada, but we got an early morning start and decided to go all the way.  Helen called Desert Eagle Campground on Nellis Air Force Base to ask if we could arrive a day early. Desert Eagle is one of the largest (and nicest) campgrounds in the military inventory, so we didn’t expect a problem. Still, we wanted to ensure we could remain on the older part of the campground because it affords more shade than the recent addition.  No problem, we were good to go for three nights instead of the two we had planned initially. Our only stop was to take a picture of the scenic Nevada Desert.

I can’t recall how often we have camped in Las Vegas, but we enjoy being there because there is so much to do. On our second night in the city, we decided to visit the Golden Nugget, one of the older casinos in town.  Our daughter-in-law had visited the Nugget earlier in the year and brought home some unused poker chips from one of the gaming tables.  Helen had them in her pocket and was eager to use them at the Blackjack table.  She won on the first hand and immediately cashed in.  She owes our DIL a commission.

On the second afternoon, we decided to walk through some iconic hotel lobbies to get a feel for the current happenings.  Caesar’s Palace didn’t have much going on, so we walked the Sky Bridge to the Bellagio, where there is always a lovely display in the ballroom. Before we reached the presentation, I paused in the lobby to take a picture of the Chihuly Glass that covers the lobby ceiling. Stunning is the only word I can think of to describe this beautiful work of art.

Inside the ballroom, a fantastic display of flower sculptures filled the ballroom and surrounded a fountain and pool of water. A pair of flowered swans filled one edge of the pool and seemed to have a “thing” for Helen. We took lots of pictures before moving on.

Walking to one of the hotels, we passed through the Plaza leading from the parking lot to the Strip.  Overhead, a group of Zipliners flew over us from the balcony ledge at the Linq Hotel. Believe me when I say there is more to do in Vegas than gamble.

When we left for home, we were alerted to a weather forecast predicting threatening weather in the coming days. The mountains to the west had significant snow overnight, and more was predicted for the higher elevations. We were headed to higher elevations.

We called ahead to Fort Tuthill, a military campground in Flagstaff, AZ, to learn that the campground was closed due to the predicted snowfall.  We were offered a room in the inn on the base, but we decided to pass and keep moving to get ahead of the weather.  We reserved a campsite in Winslow, AZ, about 100 miles east of Flagstaff and several hundred feet lower in altitude.  Despite the elevation, snow showers moved over Winslow just as we arrived.  Fortunately, the temperatures hovered above the freezing mark, and the snow did not accumulate. 

Traveling on Interstate 40 by now, we spent the next night in Amarillo, Texas, in the campground we always use for the return trip home. The weather cooperated, and we had no issues.  Oklahoma was the next stop.

Again, we used a campground that works well for us traveling home.  We have camped several times at Tinker Air Force Base, but reservations are not accepted, and space is usually tight. Helen called the desk and learned that three campsites were available.  We pushed hard and made it with one site to spare.  The sunset that evening was brilliant.

We still had two nights on the road before arriving in Knoxville and spent one night each in Roland, Oklahoma, and Parker’s Crossroads, on the western side of Tennessee.  We managed to stay ahead of some bad weather all the way home.

Once home, we had to get up to speed quickly. My mother was moved into a nursing home while we were away.  My brother and sister did an excellent job of making the transition go smoothly.  Helen and I were now home to help with the furniture and other items that did not make the move.

Another task for April was getting an English Bulldog accustomed to living with us. Although Mortimer (dog) has been a joy, it does take time and effort to get him set up to live in a new house. I tried my best to get that task accomplished without involving Helen, but she fell in love with our new pet and welcomed him graciously, primarily because Mortimer was a gift from me to me for my 75^th birthday. She would have preferred to give me a box of chocolates, but I beat her to the punch and bought my own gift for the big day.

A big day needs a party, so we closed the month with a small gathering of close friends from our first neighborhood, plus my dear friend and business associate of twenty years.  In observance of my new dog, we served hot dogs and cold beer.  

April is a wrap…we’re Easin’ Along.

I’ve noted in previous posts that I love English bulldogs and have wished for one for many years.  Nevertheless, the timing was never right, and I was very picky about what I wanted in my future pet regarding color, facial features, and age…I did not want a puppy. I continued to look even though the timing was still not perfect at this stage in our lives.

Three weeks ago, however, I was perusing the pet section on Craigslist when up popped a creature with a face that only a mother could love. There he was. I messaged the current owner but did not hear back, so I assumed he was no longer available. 

The posting remained active for several more days, so I sent another message. This time the owner replied that the Bulldog was available for a small rehoming fee. I called the owner and asked a lot of questions. All were answered to my satisfaction. Kristin, the owner, lived in Easley, SC, about three hours away from Knoxville.  I had a lot on my plate at the time, and therefore, I didn’t commit to adopting the dog but told Kristin that I would call again in a week to see if he was still available.

The one variable in this process was Helen.  She had said that I could adopt a dog, but not until we were ready to give up the RV lifestyle we both are so passionate about. I remained hopeful that she would come around—after all, back six years ago, she was not eager to be an RVer either. I thought I would broach the subject…carefully.

“Ok, I said, I’m going to tell you something you don’t want to hear.”

“What?” she replied in her “oh no” tone.

“I’ve found a Bulldog that seems perfect for us!” There was a lot of emphasis on the “us.”

When I told her about the discovery and that I promised to check back in a week, her reply almost knocked me over.

“Don’t wait a week.  If this is the one, go get him!”

I called Kristin back and said I would be in Easley the next day.

I met Kristin and her daughter at the Tractor Supply store in Easley, where she usually bought food for her pets.  I arrived earlier than I planned and, by now, was second-guessing myself about whether this was the time to adopt a dog.  Thoughts about the responsibility, the expense, RV travel, and a myriad of other reservations rolled through my head until Kristin pulled alongside in the parking lot. She opened the door and out jumped an adorable (albeit heavy), peppy, very friendly English Bulldog that sauntered right up to my feet, looking for a love pat.  All of the reservations were immediately forgotten.

After buying a supply of food, Kristin and I had a long chat about the dog.  He is a year and a half old. He is potty-trained and crate-trained, and his diet is dry food (thankfully). Kristin had done an excellent job of teaching him voice commands. He understood “sit,” “stay,” and “come.” Registration papers and medical records came with him. She said he only barks when he is hungry or wants to go outside. Kristin raises dogs of different breeds and is currently raising a litter of seven.  She had given the Bulldog a home after the first owner became too ill to care for him, but there simply was no room for him now. Her loss was my gain. I loaded him in the car for the return trip to Knoxville. He sat in my lap and filled my cup holders with slobber all the way home—I guess he was as excited as I was.

He had a different name with each owner.  The original paperwork gave his birth name as Elvis, an OK name for a Tennessee dog, but not for me.  The first owner named him Ozzie, but Kristin didn’t care for the name and changed it to Brutus.  I thought about keeping that one, but I had always said that if I had an English Bulldog, I would give him the very English name Mortimer. Mortimer it is. He didn’t seem to care one way or the other.

Once home, Helen came out to greet him and fell in love as well.  We borrowed a crate from our friends up the street, walked him through the neighborhood, fed him, walked him some more, then let him explore the house. I put him in the crate at bedtime, fully expecting a nighttime howl until dawn, but never heard even a whimper…only snoring.

The next morning, I was up at 6:30, something I only do on church days, to walk Mortimer around the neighborhood. He had slept well with no accidents in the crate.  At first, I wasn’t sure about getting up this early every morning, but the more I thought about it, I thought a morning walk would be good for me, also.

The remainder of the first week consisted of more walks, a trip to the vet (ouch), and a trip to Walmart and Smartpet for crates, bowls, treats, and toys. Once those steps were complete, Mortimer was ours for the long haul.

In week two, we decided we better try him out on an RV trip to decide whether the RV stays or goes. Helen booked three nights at our favorite campground in Cherokee, NC.  The weather forecast offered perfect temperatures, and the wildflowers were reported to be in full bloom, so we loaded up Mortimer in the back seat of the truck and took off.  He handled the ride over exceptionally well and sat by our side in front of the firepit as Helen and I did some long sought-after creek sitting. He spent the first night in the RV like a veteran camper—no incidents, barking, or whining. I guess we can keep the RV.

The next day, we took him to Deep Creek Campground in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park to check out the wildflowers. As we walked through the parking lot, several groups of ladies came over to say hello and pet Mortimer. One lady dubbed him a “Chick Magnet” (hmmm–a factor I hadn’t considered).  A lovely young Park Ranger also gave him a stamp of approval.

He loved drinking from the creek so much that he even sat in it as if he was afraid that it would disappear.

So, he passed the RV test, he’s a “chick magnet,” sleeps all night, snores softly, slobbers in my cup holders, and is a dyed-in-the-wool love sponge.  What’s not to like about that? I guess we’ll keep him. He’ll be Easin’ Along with us on the road less traveled…for the long haul.