Great Smoky Mountains Mist to the Emerald Green Atlantic Ocean

 August 20 - 21, 2013

I was nearing the end of my journey and a very small voice whispered, just keep driving until you get to John's house.  A  calmer voice countered, slow down and stop one more time. I needed the space in my head to transition from road traveler to house guest and assistant to the boat builder. Twelve days had passed since I left Portland. Days of scenic wonder, white lines on black asphalt over rolling hills, semi trucks hurtling past in night rain, sunrises peeking thru morning mist behind century old trees, bison lumbering along side a  quiet park road. Days and days of being alone without loneliness. This was a new experience for me and I wasn't quite ready to let it slip thru my fingers.

I conferred with a ranger at visitor center and picked the Smokemount Campsite on the eastern side of the mountain so I could lessen the next days travel to the Carolina coast. I drove up towards mists hovering over the tree line as the two lane road began to curve and weave alongside a cascading creek. I shut off the AC and rolled down the windows to feel the air. But it wasn't enough. I found a pull out and pulled over.  There was a 20' ragged dirt path down to the creek's edge. Trees leaned over the water, shading the creek like a hand over the eyes. I knelled down to get some photos. How do you capture the peace and serenity of water flowing over boulders?  Of shades of light and shadow across textured leaves.  Of tone and vibration of water cascading, bubbling past you. Sounds and visions that are so familiar, that you are not sure if you are feeling them from nature's hand or from within your own soul.

Creek side at Smokey Mountain National park

                                       

Reluctantly, I rose and headed back to the car. In another hour I found the campsite area and picked a spot across from a creek. The campsites were all under big trees which help shield the intermittent light rain falling. The creek was close enough that a few times I wasn't sure if the muffled sound was rain hitting the trees or the roar of the water rumbling along the creek.

I set up my tent and then got my kitchen set on the picnic table to heat up some soup and spend some time writing. I tied up a line over the table and pulled a short tarp over it to protect my notebook and IPad from light rain.

After an early dinner, I grabbed my crazy creek chair and walked over to the creek and found a nice boulder to sit on so I could dangle my feet in the water.

Maybe the rushing water mimics the flow of blood thru my veins, pumping and thumping, sometimes wildly, and the pull towards this water motion and vibration is at a physiologic level.

I awoke before the morning light eased over the ridge line. I broke camp after some coffee and yogurt eager to head down and find my way to the ocean.

 I pulled into the public beach lot in Cedar Point, North Carolina and parked.  As soon as the AC stopped,the heat was thumping on the windshield. I slid in the reflector shield and opened the door. I grabbed my sun hat, changed into my Keen sandals, locked the door and headed for the beach.

It had been a long trip, but surprisingly relaxing. I was tired and a little hungry, that can be a bad combination for me, but as soon as I saw the green Atlantic rolling ashore, that was all forgotten. It was 5pm and the beach was more crowded than I expected for a late August afternoon. I reached the beach, peeled off my sandals, and wiggled my toes in the warm sand. A squadron of brown pelicans soared quietly northward in a wide V formation and along the wet shore line, a sand piper scurried after receding waves, repeatedly dipping his beak down into the sand searching for morsels.

I had called my brother John when I was about a half hour out to ask him to meet me at the beach instead of me coming straight to his house. I needed my ocean fix. I needed to breathe the salt air, feel the waters swirl around my feet, and stand at the oceans edge. About five minutes later, I watched my brother jogging across the sand towards me.  We hugged and spun in circles, sand between our toes, sun beating down, and the rolling Atlantic waves tickling our ankles. After 3,540 miles I was learning how to let peace in.

PS-

my Toyota Prius used-

76 gallons of gas

costing about $265

Averaged  46 mpg

signing off for now

The Center of Kentucky

Saturday, August 17, 2012 - travel day

I backed  my trusty Prius out of Brad and Becky's driveway, while the whole family gathered by the front of the house and waved. Family is a magical thing. You don't pick  the one you are born to. You grow with them as the years go by. I am so lucky to have been born into this family.  We are spread from coast to coast, but they have aways been there for me, through thick and thin, and I hope they can say the same of me. 

I was headed to Lobie's house in Danville, Kentucky. As I said, she may the the eldest, but she is always mistaken as my younger sister! It was a relatively short drive, all interstate except the last half hour down KY 150. It is beautiful rolling hill drive with old barns tucked up in the valleys, and neat trim houses.

Danville is a small town of 16,000 in the center of Kentucky - hence Centre College, named for its geographic location. It is a  private liberal arts college founded in 1819 and its faculty was recently ranked as top 5 in the nation for undergraduate teaching by US News and World Reports. This may be a small college, but is nationally recognized. Lobie's husband, Dr. Clarence Wyatt, is a professor of History and the Centre College Chief Planning Officer. The guy is tall and silver haired and doesn't  fit my Clarence meter, so I have always called him Wyatt.

A few years ago they bought a 1910 American Foursquare house.  Then Lobie led the design to morph this century old house into something grand.  The house was gutted , redesigned, and  renovated into a fabulously warm and inviting home.  It is right on the edge of Centre College, so under a rising moon and balmy breeze,  we walked to a Baskin Robbins shop, picked our scoops, then wandered the campus grounds with old classic buildings and magnolia trees whispering stories of old. 

I had a wonderful time catching up, however, Lobie and Wyatt had reserved a getaway trip prior to Fall classes starting, before they knew I was driving out. So regretfully, I headed out Tuesday morning towards Great Smoky National Park, as they made final preparations for their flight.

There will be a westbound return trip and hopefully I will get to spend more time with my brothers and sisters as I head back to Portland.

Signing off for now 

The push to St Louis

Thursday, August 15th travel day

I was going to stop along the way, but somewhere along the way, I shifted into just getting there that night.

600 long miles of interstate travel lead me though a lot of beautiful agricultural land from South Dakota across the Missouri River, south along Iowa, and then across the upper third of  Missouri by traveling across state highway 36. Let me say this about state highways. It was nice enough, smooth enough, fast enough, but there are no rest stops and not many gas stations. So fuel up often and take advantage of those gas station potty breaks.

While cruising along I -29, I saw a sign for Stone State Park, so naturally I had to exit and venture off onto some small roads and find this little green space.

It meanders for over a 1,000 acres along side the Big Sioux River and has over looks toward the South Dakota and Iowa border. Beautiful lithe, green trees interlock their arms and arch across the road,  like ballerinas.  It was quite peaceful, like driving through a live, lush  cathedral.  While inching along the narrow road, three deer came bounding across, trotted up the opposite side and then looked back. I was able to get a few shots without getting out of the car. I knew as soon as I opened the door, they would bolt. Mom stared at me from behind a tree and the two fawns were cautious and curious. After I switched out to a telephoto lens, they turned and walked up the hill, somewhat put off with my less than speedy lens swap out.

I made the turn at St. Joseph and plowed on across Missouri, arriving at my brothers house about 10pm. The Garmin GPS died about an hour out from his house and I navigated a dark,rainy night by using the google maps on my IPhone. It was wonderful to sleep in a real bed and wake to someone else already having made coffee. 

Brad and I spent the next two days working on one of his house projects.  Replacing large timbers for the terraced walkway that follows down behind his deck. Meanwhile his wife Becky, filled in the timbered areas with bags of gravel and topped them with large pavers.  We ran some errands and gathered more provisions from Lowes to move on to the next section of his path.  After my two year old Garmin GPS failed me during final approach to a busy metropolitan city, in the dark, in the rain, surrounded by semis...well, I had to take action.  So we went to Best Buy an I upgraded my Garmin.  So far I have been very happy with its performance on the rest of my venture.

It was wonderful to spend a few days with my biggest brother and ponder architectural/structural challenges as we made progress on his terrace. I did need to push off so I could spend a day and a half with my eldest sister- she looks younger than me, but that is another story! My nieces, Sara and Jenny,  who live near Brad and Becky, were able to swing by on Sunday morning and show off their children, so we did get a group shot before I left.

Next stop - the center of Kentucky

Signing off for now

Tatanka, IFO, and Acres of Yellow

Wednesday, August 14, 2013

I headed out of the Wind Cave National Park this morning and began my drive across  South Dakota's southern route.  This two lane road meanders thru some beautiful rolling  prairie land. Since 1913, this park has been instrumental in reintroducing  bison to their native lands. They started with only fourteen bison and now are thriving in several preserves in the area.  As I went around one curve, I had to slow to a crawl as a bison lumbered along the road's edge.

I stopped as he passed alongside the passenger window and was able to get a close up shot.  He was a very stoic looking animal, sort of in his on world, with his head lowered and in no particular hurry.  Of course, I was reminded of the great scene in the movie  Dances With Wolves, when they were trying to learn each others language and Kevin Costner was learning the word for buffalo -Tatanka.

This area along state highway 18 is mostly agricultural land and I was astounded by the acres and acres of Sunflowers. Their big round heads bursting in yellow, balancing on top of thick  green stem, all leaning their faces southeast as they tracked the suns path across the sky.

A little further down the road a movement in the sky caught my eye. Flashes of yellow, swooping and diving over sections of land. I pulled off onto a gravel road and watched for ten minutes as the crop duster weaved his path back and forth across the land. There is something magical about flight and this IFO -Identified Flying Object- left me mesmerized until he made a final pass and headed off in low flight towards the northwest.

I felt good, with energy to spare, so I pushed on and crossed the Missouri River by driving across the Fort Randall Dam as the clouds lowered and rain began pelting my windshield. By 9pm I was ready to call it a night. I really didn't want to stay in a motel, so I called the nearest KOA, which happened to be in Yankton, SD.  The man was very nice and said to come on into the campsite, park anywhere I wanted, and the showers were open. So I drove in under a light drizzle and configured my car into a quarterberth, had a nice hot shower and called it a night.

Tomorrow I will follow the Missouri River along Iowa and then make the turn across Missouri towards St. Louis.

signing off for now.

Mt Rushmore, Dandelion Ridge and Plan B

Tuesday, August 13, 2013

Just past Custer City, I saw my first glimpse of Mt. Rushmore and pulled over at a scenic turnout. There was an elderly couple in front of me using their IPad as a camera, taking turns posing as Mt Rushmore hovered behind them.  I offered to take a photo of them together. I told them it doesn't count unless you are both in it at the same time. 

She laughed and handed me her IPad, "Dear, do you know how this works?"

"Yes mam, I have one in the car"

"Ok then"

 I zoomed it in, took the photo, then pulled it up and showed  it to them. 

"You know", the husband said "there is another way to crop that in"

She interrupted him, "that's ok honey, it's a good photo"

They thanked me and turned to walk back to their car and I swung my Cannon digital camera up to focus on my first shot of Rushmore.

"Dear", she said as she walked back towards me, "Do you want me to take your photo, so it counts?"

I laughed and said "Sure, that would be great" 

I showed her the button and handed her the camera. She took a nice shot, so I can prove I was actually there.

It was an amazing monument. In fact if you look up the word "monumental" , the photo next to it would be Mt Rushmore. Took 400 workers, fourteen years to carve it out with jack hammers and dynamite. There were plenty of skilled workers in the area working the mines in the late 1920s and 1930s. They were making fifty cents an hour. So Gutzon Borglum, the sculptor, offered them more. It was hazardous work to hang off a 500ft high granite cliff from a bosons chair, dangling by a pencil thick cable,lowered by two guys operating hand crank winches. Heat in the summer is 80-90 degrees, add in the radiant effect off the rocks, and that  boosts it to over 100 degrees.  While down in the mines, it was downright cool in the mid 50s. So Borglum paid them sixty cents an hour. Typically, only thirty to forty men worked a day  with only five or so guys dangling off the side. But there was turnover,  no work in the winter time due to harsh South Dakota winters, and some guys wanted year round work. Still after all those years of high ropes, jack hammers and dynamite there were no fatalities. This kind of granite is projected to wear only one inch in 10,000 years. There was an amazing amount of technique in sculpting and planing this venture. You should come out here some time and see it -make sure you are in the shot-you'll want it to count.

So I made my way down highway 365 to the Wind Cave National Park. Beautiful drive skirting the Black Hills National Forrest, which looked pretty darn green to me, but with clouds building they did seem to take on a darker, dare I say, black matt finish. I pulled into Elk Mountain Campground and found a nice site just below a small rise and down wind from prevailing breeze. I made a quick hot dinner and took my bowl of clam chowder up to the rise. It was a small knoll with a downed Ponderosa Pine sprawled across the prairie grasses and a view of several valleys and rolling ridges to the north.  A steady moderate wind was skimming up the hill towards me and suddenly I was in the midst of dandelion flurries zooming towards me. Some completely intact balls with stringy little tentacles, reached out and grabbed onto any plant stem they could grasp, like they were caught in a torrent of flooding air mass whipping them along about four feet of the ground,  following the land contours.  I dodged, ducked, and weaved  so I wouldn't get one in the face. One little fragmented ball  sailed right by me -four perfect little feathers holding hands as they rode that current to a new spawning ground. So since I am in the west, sort of, I decided to name my spot Dandelion Ridge to commemorate the unsung heroes of dandelion feathers and their quest of propagation.

A few minutes later, the sky began to darken and I happened to get a brief signal on my IPhone, so I checked the weather and an alert popped up. Severe thunderstorm warning with 2" hail. Then they listed names of towns and miles between towns, which of course doesn't help when you don't remember where you saw the small town of Buffalo or which direction is Rapid City in relation to me now? So I did the only wise thing I could think of, I drove a half mile out to highway 365,  pulled over just as a Pronghorn Antelope trotted across the road and ambled down the valley. I crossed over and climbed up a small rise. Felt like  I was with the indians in Dances with Wolves as they snuck up the backside of the hill to peer over and spy on the buffalo grazing in the valley below.  No buffalo, but nice green valley with some dark clouds cramming close together as they moved across my position towards the east. Clearly, this is a great opportunity for some camera work. I zoomed in with my telephoto, then swapped out lenses and used my wide angled lens and then I needed to kneel down to steady myself against increasingly gusty winds. Suddenly, the clouds turned that seriously creepy black like a three day old black eye. Kind of dark and greasy, then  whitish wisps began peeling off the cloud bottoms. The wind shifted and I looked up.  Oh crap, it is headed my way. I scurried down the hill and drove back to camp to reconfigure my car. There was no tent raising effort now. Time for Plan B. Sleep in the car.  It's a Prius hatchback and the back seats were already down for all my camping stuff. I started moving boxes into the front seats and shoving things around.  Just then a U.S. Park Ranger came zipping up the road in his pick up truck and leaned out the window. 

"We got notice of tornado warning in our area"

"How certain are you for our area?"

 He said, "Well, I don't think we will get a tornado, but could get two inch hail, so we are opening  up the visitor center."

"Ok, I am on my way."

If hail starts crashing thru my car windows, I wanted another place to protect my cameras and other valuables, so I got in my car and headed out.  As I was driving that half mile, I could see those clouds turn blacker, thunder was rumbling, the bottoms started to lean towards the ground and dark cloud vapors curled and stretched into gnarly fingers reaching out towards our line of cars headed towards refuge. Lightening flashed in all kinds of directions. Vertical, horizontal with an zig zag in an  upwards incline and my favorite, I call Poseidon's  Spear, where a single bolt zaps down with two or three fingers shooting out from the end like a multi prong spear. About 15 campers went to the Visitor Center and several of us stood out under the long, low porch and watched the show. Rain pounded down, then pea size hail bounced off the ground and the flash and boom got closer together. It was quite the demonstration and it was pretty much over in about thirty minutes. Once the lightning cleared the area, we all got in our vehicles and headed back.

 So here I am tapping away on my IPad, cozy in my car.  It's set up nicely now, sort of like a quarter berth on a sailboat with big port lights surrounding me, as the rains tinkles down and the thunder recedes in the distance.

Signing off for now.

Keyhole State Park and Homemade Tear Drop

Monday, August 12, 2013 

Awoke around 6am to an orange disk rising thru a giant Cottonwood tree. 

And at my usual break neck pace of packing up, I drove away only three hours later! it's a vacation- who's in a hurry?

I veered off to small town of Sundance to provision and ice up.  Then back on the interstate.  And how come some of South Dakota's freeways are red? It's quite startling, to be driving along and then there is big long stretches of a faded red brick road meandering over hill and dale.

Pulled of the exit to find snow under the pine trees. what the heck? in August?

When I drove the park gate I asked the ranger and she said they had 5" of hail fall a few nights ago and had to get a tuck to plow the roads clear. She did say there was 50% chance of thunderstorms that night, but that was their summer pattern. Of course it also means there is 50% chance it won't - so there!

Passed two small fawns ambling across the two lane road and  no sight of mom anywhere around. Keyhole State Park hugs the Keyhole Reservoir - big lake, even has its own marina. I found a spot in the Arched Rock campground near the water's edge and set up my camp.

A bit later a mini van with a trailer backed in. It reminded me of a baby airstream. That is when I met Randy and Martha from Indiana. He works at the Toyota plant in the maintenance division. Clearly this guy has some major skills. The trailer is called a Tear Drop and there is a organization called the Tear Jerkers that meet and share ideas.  Anyway, he designed, drew it, put it in his CAD, and built it from the frame up. They even showed me their little scrap book. It took him 6 months to build and the exterior aluminum is from ALCOA and made from aluminum can tops. Reminded me a of a small sailboat. Very cool. There were on a three week vacation and just left Yellowstone. 

The geese wake up at 5:30am around here and their honking echoes eerily off the water. A small ribbon of red lay across the eastern sky and I shrugged out of bed and started my morning. After a leisurely break down, interrupted by geese walking thru the campground. 

Currently writing this from the Firehouse Brewing Company in Rapid City, SD. 

I am now only minutes away from Mt.Rushmore. After fortifying myself with a cheeseburger and coleslaw, it is time to move on.

signing off for now

More Than Just A Big Rock

Sunday August 11, 2013 adventures

So on the advice of Lissa, I veered north away from  my intended route to go take look at Devils Tower in north east Wyoming.  My intention was a quick drive by, check it off my list and then double back down south.

Wow, was I in for a treat. It is a spectacular massive monolith, like a giant tree surrounded with vertical creases and  bursting through the ground . It is impressive in a geological scale and welds a legendary tale from the Kiowa people. Bonus info: in 1906 President Teddy Roosevelt designated this  as our nation's first national monument!

 According to the National Park Service pamphlet, 50 million years ago molten magma pushed upwards into to sedimentary rock and then cooled. As it cooled, its exterior fractured into columns. Then over millions of year sedimentary rock eroded and exposed Devils Tower.  It rises 867 feet (think of an 86 story high rise) from it base and over 1260 feet above the Belle Fourche River. Its top covers 1.5 acres -can you imagine a football field up there - a whole new kind of out of bounds!  The base is 1,000 feet in diameter.

The Kiowa people's legend says eight children were playing until the brother turned into a bear and charged the seven sisters. The sisters ran to a giant tree stump and the stump told them to climb upon him.  Then the stump grew and rose into the air as the bear clawed at the bark of the tree trying to reach the sisters. The stump soared into the sky and the sisters became the stars of the Big Dipper.

Those are some tough siblings, my brother chased me plenty when I was little, but luckily he never turned into a bear!

As I  paid my day pass fee to the ranger, I noticed they had also had a campground fee. Hmmm, I had no idea they had a campground. The area surrounding Devils Tower was a valley of green prairie grass, big trees and rolling hills to the east.  I was tired after all and my back said it was time for a break. I was going to just drive through and give it a look see. A half mile from the  entrance there was a pullout and several people were gazing at the valley across from Devils Tower.  What could trump a view of the tower? So being the good tourist, I pulled over and got out. What was that chirping sound? Then I saw them.  Prairie Dogs! They are cute little buggers and don't stray far from their hole in the ground homes.  Animal cuteness trumps geological formations every time.

Made it to the campground and knew this is what I needed. Grassy areas for tents, huge old Cottonwood trees circled the campground, a picnic table, potable water spigot just steps away, and several recycling stations! Now we're talking! Set up my tent and drove up towards the Visitor Center, but along the way I saw a gravel road with a sign for a trail. So off I went. 

Joyner Ridge Trail is a mile long and runs along the north side of DT. It was a gentle rolling ridge with grasslands scattered with flowers and Ponderosa pines spewing that wonderful sappy scent. I found a weathered old cedar bench in the shade facing the tower and rested there, trying to soak it all in. A moderate breeze blew over my back cooling off the hot Summer day. Cicadas called out like the string section of a symphony warming up. Butterflies danced from flower to flower, sipping nectar and passing pollen like giggling girls passing notes in a classroom.  That  was the essence of a life force, right there, in that place at that time. I realized I wasn't tired anymore.

Big cumulus nimbus clouds were building to the east and their bases were flattening and growing dark. Time to head back. Had a nice dinner of soup and can of peaches. And by 5:30pm the thunder was rolling across the hills.  A brief lightning flash to the east got my attention, but the campground host drove by and said it typically moves around them. Why do they all say the same thing?

Rose early Monday and as I sipped my coffee, reviewed my plan and my maps and decided to slow this journey down another notch or two. Revised plan; Keyhole SP tonight, visit Rushmore and badlands on Tuesday, then head down to Hot Springs, Wednesday head out highway 18 across the southern part of SD and stop at Burke Lake, then Thursday turn south on I- 29 along the Missouri River and camp mid way down Iowa and Friday drive into St Louis.

Signing off for now.