Posted in Fun

While the Raven Watched…

A raven studies the scene

With not a whole lot going on, I decided to rerun a post from three years ago about a camping trip to the Cherokee National Forest, my favorite place in the entire world to recoup and regroup (and a place I plan to visit very soon). I was camping with my fishing club, the Appalachian Anglers Society.  I had to leave camp for one day and return to Knoxville for engagement I could not reschedule. An account of the events of that morning are in the following paragraphs.

The Appalachian Anglers Society had assembled in the McNabb Creek campground for its annual gathering, an event known as Camp II. I arrived on Wednesday, a bit earlier than most, to secure an optimal camping spot for Bertha (trailer) and Sophie (truck). In the days leading up to Camp II, weather reporters had been predicting heavy rain and high winds during the time we would be camping. Inclement weather has been a part of Camp II for most of the 39 years I have attended, and no prediction would prevent me or anyone else from attending this year.

Bertha and Sophie

The first night of camp was relatively uneventful insofar as the weather was concerned, and the handful of campers enjoyed a casual evening around the campfire. On Thursday morning, the weather reports proved to be accurate. High winds arrived around 6:30, and several tarps collapsed.

McNabb Creek campground sits near the bottom of a bowl-shaped valley that is bisected by the North River. I had just poured my first cup of coffee when I decided to step outside of the trailer for a breath mountain morning air. Once out, I could see the tops of the enormous pine and poplar trees surrounding our campground bending with the quickening winds coming across the upper reaches of the valley. In the distance, I could hear limbs cracking as they surrendered.

Heavy rain on the campers

I had a few hours until it was time to load a few things into Sophie for the hour and a half trip back to Knoxville for an engagement I was unable to reschedule, but, with rain on the way, I decided to leave earlier than I intended rather than sit around and wait for it to arrive. As much as I hated to leave Bertha behind, I had positioned her well and felt sure that everything would be ok.

8:30 am: I left McNabb Creek. With a little time to spare, I turned left out of the campground amid a few sprinkles and drove a mile or so along North River to check out North River Campground. I wanted to see if it was suitable for a future trip with Bertha and Helen. The campground was empty, but even if it was full, I reasoned that it would be no problem to back Bertha into any of the campsites. Pleased with this discovery, I returned to the road, and within minutes Sophie was engulfed in torrential rainfall.

By the time I reached River Road, the main road back to the town of Tellico Plains, trees everywhere were swaying frantically in the gusting winds.  Leaves and small limbs covered the way. A large tree had fallen over the Tellico River. The crown of the tree rested on the entire left side of the road. As I rounded the next curve, a Forest Ranger was approaching from the opposite direction.  I flashed my lights to warn him of the impending danger.

I drove around several more trees before reaching Bald River Falls.  The rain had subsided somewhat, and I wanted to take a picture of the falls, now gushing from the earlier rainfall.  In hindsight, I could have made better use of my time.

Bald River Falls

Now, back behind the wheel of Sophie, I crossed the bridge at the falls, which placed the river on my right, and drove for another mile only to find a huge tree blocking the entire road. The root ball, a mass of dirt and twisted roots about as large as Sophie, was balanced precariously on the side of the mountain some twenty feet above the road. Resigned to the fact that I wasn’t going anywhere soon, I decided to return to McNabb Creek and hope that the Ranger I passed was meeting fellow Rangers, equipped with very sharp chainsaws. Once again, rain fell in buckets.

Driving back toward camp, I noticed that several more trees had come down since my earlier departure.  Turning left onto North River Road, I ran smack into a roadblock created by an oversized pine tree. I was now blocked in both directions as the wind gusts picked up in frequency and intensity.  My options at this point were to leave Sophie and walk the two miles back to camp in the driving rain and wait it out in Bertha or, turn around once again and drive a short distance down River Road to a small picnic area with the hope that a road clearing crew would come to our rescue. I chose the latter.

Barely a half a mile back down River Road, I witnessed a Birch tree drop from the right side of the road about 200 yards in front of me. I drove up to the trunk. Although the tree wasn’t substantial, it was too large for Sophie to climb, too large to move by hand, and I had no saw. I was stranded. I turned the key and shut Sophie down. By now, the winds were gusting hard, and, with each gust, I could hear another tree fall somewhere in the forest.

Nevermore

Just beyond the Birch tree, a crow flew in suddenly and landed on the road.  He was the curious sort and walked to and fro along the tree trunk as if inspecting the damage. Simultaneously with the crow’s arrival, a massive gust of wind shook Sophie, and, in the woods above me, I could hear the unmistakable sound of a very sizeable tree hitting the earth with a resounding thud.  I was startled, but the crow only moved enough to look straight at me. Recalling Poe’s epic poem The Raven, I named him “Nevermore.” Another limb hit the road. Nevermore flew to a small tree beside the road and waited there. For what I wondered? Perhaps he was sent to witness my demise. I trained my thoughts elsewhere.

10:00 am: I realized that I had no food, but I wasn’t hungry. I had no water either except for some melting ice still in my cooler. Next to the cooler was a box with five bottles of Perrier, a 750 ml bottle of Scotch, and two bottles of cheap red wine. Casting a glance toward the rising river, I had difficulty in deciding which to drink first.  I opted for the Perrier.

10:35 am: The rain had trailed off to a sprinkle, and the wind eased. I assumed that I was now in the eye of the storm as it was passing over the region.  Soon the winds and rain would begin again.  Taking advantage of the break, I moved Sophie to a new place on the road and out from under a tall pine that had been swaying wildly in the high winds. I don’t know that I was any safer, but somehow, I felt so. Nevermore remained on his perch…

11:00 am: About the time I needed a bathroom break, the rain returned. After ruling out the use of an empty Perrier bottle, I reluctantly decided it was time to get wet. I grabbed my raincoat and stepped outside. On the far side of the river, another tree fell.

11:30 am: No sign of anyone as of yet. I continued to believe that a crew of Rangers would arrive and remove the trees. Surely they were working by now and would reach me eventually. I also felt that some campers might come along soon.  Campers always have chainsaws…all campers except me. It’s been years since I was a seasoned camper.  I made a note to bring a saw with me when I returned from Knoxville.

11:45 am: I tried the cell phone, knowing that it was an exercise in futility.  There are no towers in the National Forest. I tried the CB radio I kept in Sophie, hearing nothing but static. A softly gurgled “croak” from Nevermore was barely audible from the tree above.

11:50 am: I started Sophie and turned on the radio.  I hoped that Garrison Keillor would keep me entertained for a few minutes, and then I could find some news somewhere.  I always listen to Writer’s Almanac from NPR. Garrison told the story of Peter Minuet’s arrival in New York in 1625. I was grateful for the distraction because the river had risen a few more inches, and no rocks were visible now.

Tellico River – Raging

Noon: A radio station in Knoxville came in sufficiently enough to hear the news, which was all about the wind gusts expected to reach 80 mph and the downpours that would follow. “Swell,” I thought. I refused to panic and kept the radio on, so Rush Limbaugh could ride out the storm with me. Sophie’s gas tank was two-thirds full, and I had probably three gallons in a gasoline container for my generator in the back. I opened another bottle of Perrier.  Thankfully, I was still not hungry.

12:30 pm, and I felt the need for another bathroom break.  I left the truck in the driving rain, hopeful that I would hear chainsaws in the distance, but no luck. Nevermore was hunkered down in the storm but watching my every move.

1:00 pm: By now, I was stranded for three hours and, while hopeful that help would arrive soon, I was beginning to resign myself to the fact that I would be spending the night somewhere in the forest.  I worried that Helen would be looking for me, and I had no way to contact her.  If the rain subsided, I would move Sophie to the side of the road (away from the river) and walk the now two and a half miles back to McNabb Creek, where there would be food and a dry bed inside Bertha. Thinking of food, I reached for another bottle of Perrier, opened it, and took a drink.  When I put down the bottle, I looked to my left and was staring straight into a pickup truck and the smiling faces of three men there to rescue me. I could have kissed all three.

Mountain Loggers

These men were huge guys who lived on the mountain and had ventured out in the rain and wind, knowing there were people like me in need of help. Each had a large chainsaw and cut up the birch tree in less than a minute. I was so gleeful about being rescued that I neglected to take pictures of their work.  The photos here are not my rescue party, but readers will get the idea. I followed them down the road to the edge of the National Forest. 

In the three hours of waiting, many trees fell and, it took a while to pass through them.  One tree was lodged overhead between two other trees and stretched from one side of the road to the other. It was sitting low enough that there would be no way to get Bertha underneath.  Thankfully, all was clear when I left the area on Sunday.

At the edge of the forest, the line of cars pointed in the opposite direction stretched for almost a mile.  All expressed their gratitude to the timber cutters as they drove around some downed trees onto the freshly cleared roadway. Like me, several offered to pay them for their efforts, but these hearty souls only wanted to help and refused all offers.

Somehow, these men will be rewarded in some way someday, of that, I remain convinced. After thanking them once more, I left the area and made my way to Knoxville. I’m forever grateful that there are still good people in this world.

Nevertheless, I’m equally convinced that Nevermore left frustrated. While the Raven watched, my guardian angels arrived, denying him the opportunity to witness a perilous sequence of events. As he gave us a muted “croak,” Nevermore departed for places unknown.

Easin’ Along never felt better.

Posted in Fundamentals

Dear Big Daddy’s Granddaughter…

 

Author’s note: One of my New Year’s resolutions was a pledge to send a letter to one of my four grandchildren every week. Last week, I mentioned a reply from my granddaughter about how excited she was to meet Smoky, the travel trailer we would be bringing to her and her brother.  I mentioned her letter in last week’s post and received a comment from Mary who authors Reflections Around the Campfire, a well-written travel blog I follow.  Mary suggested that I send our grandchildren on the West Coast a letter from Smoky, who would not be making the trip now due to the COVID-19 pandemic.  I took Mary’s suggestion.  Here is a reprint of the letter from Smoky to our granddaughter. This was her week.

February 23, 2020

Dear Big Daddy’s Granddaughter,

First, let me introduce myself.  My name is Smoky, and I am the new trailer that BeBe and Big Daddy planned to bring to California and give to you and your brother.  Trailers are made to travel and I was so very excited that I was about to go across America to meet you and take you camping.  Big Daddy tells me that those plans have changed and that it might be a while before we get to meet.  When I heard the news, I told Big Daddy that I would write this letter and let you know how disappointed I am.

Big Daddy spent a lot of time getting me all dressed up and ready for the trip.  He peeled all of the stickers off of my sides and then rubbed and rubbed until all of the glue came off too.  I have to tell you that all of that rubbing tickled my sides.  I tried not to laugh, but that is hard to do when someone has their fingers in your ribs.  Have you ever had someone tickle your ribs? I bet you have. After all of the glue came off, Big Daddy spent a lot of time putting a fresh coat of wax on me too.  I put a picture of me for you to see.  Don’t I look great?

Although trailers don’t get sick, I will have to stay at my home in the storage lot until BeBe and Big Daddy can take me out again.  That makes me very lonely.  Sometimes, I turn on the new TV that Big Daddy put in my kitchen so I can watch cartoons, but I get bored after a while and find myself wishing I could go camping with my friends like Timmy Trailer, Carla Camper, Teddy Truck, and Vickie Van. Here is a picture that I took on our last big camp-out. We had a great time until Teddy had a squirrel get under his hood and started running around inside. He cracked up and stuck a roasted marshmallow in his windshield.  Most of us laughed at him, but Teddy doesn’t like to get laughed at and he pouted for hours.

There are other trailers in the storage lot, but most of them are a lot older than I am and all they do is worry that their grandchildren are ok. BeBe and Big Daddy worry about all of their grandchildren constantly.  I’m too young to have grandchildren, but I really hope and pray that you and your brother stay well, wash your hands often, and stay home until all of this passes.  I’m sure it will pass soon. BeBe and Big Daddy are using a lot of hand sanitizer after they go to Trader Joe’s or the drug store.  I think that is a very good idea. 

I will close my letter now.  Once again, I’m sorry that I won’t get to see you for a while, but I promise that when we do go camping, we will have a wonderful time. When that happens, I can truly say that Smoky will be a very Happy Camper. 

Until then, I will think of you often.

Smoky

 

 

 

P.S. BeBe and Big Daddy love you and miss you muchly and can’t wait until we are all Easin’ Along together!

 

Posted in Fun

Virus, 2 – Easin’ Along, 0

Coronavirus

No, we’re not sick. Actually, we’re feeling pretty good. The same is true for our friends and family.  As of today, there is only one case of COVID-19 diagnosed in our county and not that many more in the State of Tennessee. We’re grateful for that and send thanks and best wishes to our health care workers and our state officials after taking swift, decisive action. However, this week the coronavirus outbreak removed two RVers from the road.

Smoky, our new RV

The fact that we’re in good health at the moment is what makes this situation so incredibly disappointing. Helen and I have spent the last month preparing for an RV trip to the west coast to deliver a new travel trailer to our son and our grandchildren. Ever since we won the trailer last October, we planned to take a slow trip to California and present our grandchildren with the opportunity to share the RV experience that we enjoy so much.

Flamingo, Las Vegas

We didn’t cancel the trip.  The trip canceled us.  Beginning Monday of this week, the operators of campgrounds where we had reservations began sending out cancellation notices due to concerns over the spread of this virus. Cancellations from the California campgrounds were the first to arrive. Next came Oklahoma.  Finally, we received notice that our much-anticipated booking in Las Vegas was gone. It was like death from a thousand cuts.

Point Mugu, CA

I considered just going on the trip anyway but stopped short when I thought about being stranded somewhere with health, food, or road issues and no one to turn to for help. At that point, we both realized that the best thing to do was to postpone.  We called the family.  My granddaughter had just written a beautiful letter telling me how excited she was to meet Smoky (the name for trailer), and camp at Point Mugu, a military campground near Malibu Beach. She took the news in stride, and that helped. Everyone agreed that we would make this happen as soon as possible.

The Cathedrals – Sedona, AZ
Texas cowboys

The next thing to do was to cancel the few reservations that were still open. I had devoted a lot of time to this task because RV reservations are often not easy to obtain on the dates you need them. After some tough navigating and remaining flexible, I was able to arrive at a very workable itinerary. Having to cancel them now was not at all easy.  Besides, I was so looking forward to seeing some Texas tumbleweeds and a few cowboys.  I was eager for some warm Arizona sun and a few of those stunning sunsets that we witnessed last year in Apache Junction. The timing for desert wildflowers was also going to be spot on, and that is an event that leaves one spellbound.

Desert wildflowers

On trips like the one we planned, there are always fun surprises, and we look forward to those very much. One year ago this week, we visited San Antonio on St. Patrick’s Day and had a delightful time along the Riverwalk.  We enjoyed a food festival in El Centro, CA, and a street festival in Biloxi, MS.  I suppose that none of those events, or ones like them, will take place this year. That’s a shame but, it is what it is.

St. Patrick’s Day – San Antonio Riverwalk

The only thing we can do is make the best of the time we have. I plan to view some webinars to improve my camera skills. There are always those home projects that get ignored or postponed while we take another road trip. My deck is in bad need of some attention. I have closets to clean out, a garage that needs organizing, and my tax return needs a thorough review. None of the above includes the lengthy “to-do” list that Helen adds to daily now that she has me somewhat confined and within arm’s reach.  I have pledged to convince her that she needs to get out more often.

Arizona sunset

All of this will pass in due course. I have to admit that my real concern is that, at our age, we never know how many opportunities like this we will have. Nevertheless, we have been so very blessed since we retired and have every expectation that opportunities like the ones we have enjoyed so much will continue.  If there is a silver lining arising from this most unusual time, it is that when those opportunities come again, we will cherish them even more.

Uh-oh…I hear footsteps. I’d better be Easin’ Along before another list finds its way into the man cave. Let’s talk again next week.