Hitch Itch
I took my trailer over to Walt Barksdale’s undercover Airstream repair business. He lives on the western edge of Ocala, advertises not at all and has more work than he can cope with just by word of mouth. He keeps threatening to retire which is bad news. On the way a wave of feeling rolled over me, close to glee, that I was on the road with my home behind me. I only had a week left at the plant and tree factory, but there was a powerful temptation to just keep on going.
And now, April 5, I am gone.
We left Ocala together, Don on his second trip with his new trailer and me bringing up the rear. He did the navigating so all I had to do was motor along behind. I stopped to say good-by to Hunter, and to my buddies at Lowes, tears shed on both, and some sadness to be leaving Ocala where I have spent 2 winters and will not see next winter. There is a comfort in knowing where the bank and etc is, but I am ready for new.
Before we left, we actually did some tourist things: drove to Daytona and saw the Atlantic, stuffed with people and cars and pretty seedy. A lot of the older hotels are being torn down. Funny to see cars driving on the beach. We went twice to Cedar Key on the west coast of FL, just about the only actual Gulf access in miles of swamps. It was the end of the first cross FL RR and a serious shipping point for all sorts of things that supplied the Confederacy. The name reflects the pencil business that flourished there, graphite imported all the way from Siberia. Now they are aqua-culturing clams. We went to a nifty museum which included the house of one of the pencil workers left pretty much as he lived in it, including a HUGE collection of shells which are just lying around in boxes the way he must have had them. It is a nice quiet small town, with only one set of condos, and a lot of older cottages and houses. The old main street is still standing, although it needs a job.
Another trip was to Homassassa where a big spring sends hundreds of gallons of 72 degree fresh water out to the sea. It was a hunting preserve and resort, Winslow Homer visited and prints of some of his water colors were in the visitor center. There is a zoo of sorts for injured or retired tropical animals, including a Hippo movie star, several pathetic bald eagles who can’t fly, wonderful noisy bird area with fluorescent flamingos, pelicans herons, egrets, cranes all making a mighty racket at each other. Poultry is poultry, even in fancy dress.
The real draw is the manatees which used to come in for the winter when the Gulf gets too chilly and now some tame ones are kept there, too tame to be in the wild. They need two years with Mom to learn the ropes and these were born in captivity. Very curious creatures, one single rounded flipper for a tail, two stubby arms and a great snout. They are related to elephants and they come to get treats so we can see them, nuzzling the interpreter like great water-going dogs. They get run over by boats a lot, too slow and phlegmatic to get out of the way. Unless they raise their heads, they really look more like a large oblong patch of seaweed moving along with the wind or the tide. The cute factor, which is on lots of stuff in the gift shops, would only be visible underwater where they look like a cross between the Michelin man and a seal. Early Spanish explorers thought they were mermaids which indicates they were way too long at sea or were hallucinating on ergot.
I liked the underwater viewing area that looks out over the great blue hole that is the spring, here all sorts of ocean fish are having a winter vacation, milling around in the sunlight, flashing silver. I hoped to see one of the mantees through it, but no luck.
So Northward. The first night at a truck stop, Flying J, in Brunswick GA. Masses of other RV folks are on the road north too, and many of them stay for free in certain truck stops. We got in a very slow line for cheap fuel and tucked ourselves in for the night with trucks idling on either side. It is very hot, so they have to run to keep their sleeping cabs cool. We don’t have the big generator that his motor home had and kind of melt a little with our 12v roof fans running. It was amazing, but after a while we didn’t hear the trucks, and it cooled down and we slept well.
Next night in Latta SC at another Flying J, this one has a whole empty field for us snowbirds to park in for the night. I thought it would be quiet, but even with a whole field to park in, a small motor home pulled up so close to me that I could hardly open my truck doors and turned on their generator. Geez.
It was oppressively hot and very windy, a line of severe thunderstorms headed our way and, ack, tornado warnings. The Fifth Wheel has only one 12v outlet, so none of my 12v toys are any use, we went into the AS to log onto weather sites and watch to see if we needed to make a quick getaway. The storms passed to the south and the temperature cooled way down, so we had a nice night. I did bring over my dinky 12v TV so he could watch basketball. Smug.
We parted ways and I went on north, the leaves getting smaller and smaller and the traffic getting worse and worse. I am finding it hard to adjust to sitting in the driver’s seat essentially doing nothing physical for hours on end. I get out of the truck and hobble for a few steps. I guess I should think about the seat and how I am sitting in it.
A night in Pocohontis State Park, blessedly quiet after the truck stops, and odd to be solo again. There I got talking to the camp host who lives with his wife in a 5th wheel. He started to describe what they had done to the interior and I just had to see it. The walls are painted maroon and white stripes or lilac, with funky neo-hippy stuff hung on the walls. They removed all the existing cabinets and put in antique pine kitchen cabinets instead, and since they have 3 dogs in there, they made tables that double as kennels. It was a little hectic looking, and the color choices were a little wild, but they get high marks for attacking and molding it to their tastes and needs, and very high marks for whimsy and good cheer. They were going to come over to see mine after the lady got home from work but didn’t.
On to Harley and John’s house on the Potomac. The corn field that hid the river is now grassy, so we can see the gray line of the water, and the wind blows all the way from Europe on this chilly day, rocking the trailer and sending me digging for hidden warm clothes. The windmill still creaks in the wind. John hates it and it is a horrible squeal and sometimes a barking that sounds like the sound track to a movie that will have a bad thing happen any minute.
I wonder about this windmill. I don’t understand how anything made of metal that makes that much noise can still be turning with no maintenance. It has been there since 1857, but no one knows when it was last serviced. The old guy in the old house doesn’t. Some Amish folk came to try and buy it, but he wouldn’t sell. It almost certainly has been turning for 20 years without service, not pumping anything. I would have thought that the bearings would just be worn away by now.
We have a jolly dinner and leave the next day for the famous Cherry Blossom Rally.
And now, April 5, I am gone.
We left Ocala together, Don on his second trip with his new trailer and me bringing up the rear. He did the navigating so all I had to do was motor along behind. I stopped to say good-by to Hunter, and to my buddies at Lowes, tears shed on both, and some sadness to be leaving Ocala where I have spent 2 winters and will not see next winter. There is a comfort in knowing where the bank and etc is, but I am ready for new.
Before we left, we actually did some tourist things: drove to Daytona and saw the Atlantic, stuffed with people and cars and pretty seedy. A lot of the older hotels are being torn down. Funny to see cars driving on the beach. We went twice to Cedar Key on the west coast of FL, just about the only actual Gulf access in miles of swamps. It was the end of the first cross FL RR and a serious shipping point for all sorts of things that supplied the Confederacy. The name reflects the pencil business that flourished there, graphite imported all the way from Siberia. Now they are aqua-culturing clams. We went to a nifty museum which included the house of one of the pencil workers left pretty much as he lived in it, including a HUGE collection of shells which are just lying around in boxes the way he must have had them. It is a nice quiet small town, with only one set of condos, and a lot of older cottages and houses. The old main street is still standing, although it needs a job.
Another trip was to Homassassa where a big spring sends hundreds of gallons of 72 degree fresh water out to the sea. It was a hunting preserve and resort, Winslow Homer visited and prints of some of his water colors were in the visitor center. There is a zoo of sorts for injured or retired tropical animals, including a Hippo movie star, several pathetic bald eagles who can’t fly, wonderful noisy bird area with fluorescent flamingos, pelicans herons, egrets, cranes all making a mighty racket at each other. Poultry is poultry, even in fancy dress.
The real draw is the manatees which used to come in for the winter when the Gulf gets too chilly and now some tame ones are kept there, too tame to be in the wild. They need two years with Mom to learn the ropes and these were born in captivity. Very curious creatures, one single rounded flipper for a tail, two stubby arms and a great snout. They are related to elephants and they come to get treats so we can see them, nuzzling the interpreter like great water-going dogs. They get run over by boats a lot, too slow and phlegmatic to get out of the way. Unless they raise their heads, they really look more like a large oblong patch of seaweed moving along with the wind or the tide. The cute factor, which is on lots of stuff in the gift shops, would only be visible underwater where they look like a cross between the Michelin man and a seal. Early Spanish explorers thought they were mermaids which indicates they were way too long at sea or were hallucinating on ergot.
I liked the underwater viewing area that looks out over the great blue hole that is the spring, here all sorts of ocean fish are having a winter vacation, milling around in the sunlight, flashing silver. I hoped to see one of the mantees through it, but no luck.
So Northward. The first night at a truck stop, Flying J, in Brunswick GA. Masses of other RV folks are on the road north too, and many of them stay for free in certain truck stops. We got in a very slow line for cheap fuel and tucked ourselves in for the night with trucks idling on either side. It is very hot, so they have to run to keep their sleeping cabs cool. We don’t have the big generator that his motor home had and kind of melt a little with our 12v roof fans running. It was amazing, but after a while we didn’t hear the trucks, and it cooled down and we slept well.
Next night in Latta SC at another Flying J, this one has a whole empty field for us snowbirds to park in for the night. I thought it would be quiet, but even with a whole field to park in, a small motor home pulled up so close to me that I could hardly open my truck doors and turned on their generator. Geez.
It was oppressively hot and very windy, a line of severe thunderstorms headed our way and, ack, tornado warnings. The Fifth Wheel has only one 12v outlet, so none of my 12v toys are any use, we went into the AS to log onto weather sites and watch to see if we needed to make a quick getaway. The storms passed to the south and the temperature cooled way down, so we had a nice night. I did bring over my dinky 12v TV so he could watch basketball. Smug.
We parted ways and I went on north, the leaves getting smaller and smaller and the traffic getting worse and worse. I am finding it hard to adjust to sitting in the driver’s seat essentially doing nothing physical for hours on end. I get out of the truck and hobble for a few steps. I guess I should think about the seat and how I am sitting in it.
A night in Pocohontis State Park, blessedly quiet after the truck stops, and odd to be solo again. There I got talking to the camp host who lives with his wife in a 5th wheel. He started to describe what they had done to the interior and I just had to see it. The walls are painted maroon and white stripes or lilac, with funky neo-hippy stuff hung on the walls. They removed all the existing cabinets and put in antique pine kitchen cabinets instead, and since they have 3 dogs in there, they made tables that double as kennels. It was a little hectic looking, and the color choices were a little wild, but they get high marks for attacking and molding it to their tastes and needs, and very high marks for whimsy and good cheer. They were going to come over to see mine after the lady got home from work but didn’t.
On to Harley and John’s house on the Potomac. The corn field that hid the river is now grassy, so we can see the gray line of the water, and the wind blows all the way from Europe on this chilly day, rocking the trailer and sending me digging for hidden warm clothes. The windmill still creaks in the wind. John hates it and it is a horrible squeal and sometimes a barking that sounds like the sound track to a movie that will have a bad thing happen any minute.
I wonder about this windmill. I don’t understand how anything made of metal that makes that much noise can still be turning with no maintenance. It has been there since 1857, but no one knows when it was last serviced. The old guy in the old house doesn’t. Some Amish folk came to try and buy it, but he wouldn’t sell. It almost certainly has been turning for 20 years without service, not pumping anything. I would have thought that the bearings would just be worn away by now.
We have a jolly dinner and leave the next day for the famous Cherry Blossom Rally.
posted by Thistledown24 at 12:53 PM
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