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Published: March 23rd 2017
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We really don't have a lot to say about our three-long-day forced march northeast from Paris to Redwood. (you have no idea how much I enjoy just writing "Paris to Redwood") We rigged-up one last time at the "North Paris RV Park", girded our loins for the trip, and headed out. Sixty or so miles of US 82 brought us to I 30, and then the long Interstate grind homeward.
It had been warm in Paris, warmer than Santa Fe for sure, I guess being some 5400' lower would have a lot to do with that. It quickly climbed up into the upper 80's as we drove, and we soon had the AC on. We slowly headed to the northeast, and then Texas gave way to Arkansas. We passed the town of Hope, but did not stop to visit the Slick Willie memorial, we'll leave that for another trip -- or incarnation. Little Rock went by around mid-day, so the traffic wasn't bad. We had laid out a route to by-pass most larger cities, so as we approached the Mississippi, with Memphis right on the other side, we swung north on I 55. Shortly after crossing into Missouri, we hung
a right on I 155, crossed Old Man River, and headed into rural northern Tennessee.
I like to look for certain things as I travel, the natural signposts that let you know where you are. When driving to Florida, for instance, it's the first palmetto, or the first sign of spanish moss that tells you how far along the route you are. Here, east of the Mississippi, as we began to climb out of the big river valley into a land of natural ridges and hollows, I began to see a great and familiar old friend. In certain areas along the ridge lines could be seen groups, not of the common southern loblolly pine, but of noble
pinus strobus -- our lovely eastern white pine -- I felt we were practically home. We steamed on, into southwestern Kentucky, and as it began to get dark, we looked for a place to land. Cathy consulted our "All Stays" phone app, and saw that there was a Cracker Barrel ahead in Calvert City. We staked a claim to one of their 4 or 5 RV sites, sampled some of their fare and then crashed for the night.
The next day,
we were to continue our long, diagonal run across the width of Kentucky. This route is planned, in the near future, to be one continuous section of Interstate 69. Now, however, it is a patchwork of interstate sections of various numbers, combined with "parkway" intervals. It's all a bit confusing, and twice our helmsman (
moi) went astray. The second time was a bit of a disaster, as we went the wrong way on a section of road that was under construction, and also blocked by a truck accident. Together, that amounted to a loss of almost 2 hours of driving time. I was a bit furious with myself, but Cathy, as always, was a (needed) calming influence. As a result of my faux pas, my day's objective of northern WV, or southern PA was not to be. As it was, we considered ourselves fortunate to get past Huntington WV, find a nice rest area, and settle in for the night. A word about overnighting in rest areas. This is what the truckers do, and they are in and out at all times, according to their log book rest requirements. So if you do this, do not expect it to be
quiet. I don't usually like to sleep with earplugs, but I used them here, and was damn glad to have them.
The next morning dawned overcast and COLD -- we were not used to that. We made an early start, and it was up past Morgantown and WVU. It started to spit some snow as we went west around Pittsburgh, but the sky cleared as we went north to I 90 at Erie PA. Then just east onto the Thruway to Syracuse, and up good old I 81 to the river. Not as much snow left from the last storm as I had feared, but it was very cold, like 60F less than we had seen just a couple of days before -- boo. A solid 12 hour stint at the controls put us back at dear old PBF though, so it was all good. Those were 3 not-fun days, but it was a price we were glad to pay for the wonderful adventure we had.
Just a few things in summation. A big salute to our great friend and mechanical workhorse Moby Dodge. He's 13 years old, rusty, and he shows 220,000 miles on his clock, but
he never missed a beat for the whole trip. We averaged just a bit over 15 mpg in total, that might not sound great, but when you think of all the hills and mountains that he dragged our 12,000 lb load over, it's pretty damn good. Fred was great too, our little aluminum nest, a pocket of comfortable homeyness that followed us everywhere we went. Our total was 36 days on the road, and nearly 6700 miles. Never having done it before, we can certainly see the attraction of this RV thing.
The one other thing I have to mention is my co-pilot, source of moral support, and partner in crime. This might come as a surprise to you, but in the 35 years since we met, this is the first time we have camped together. When the boys were little, camping was seen as a "Dad" thing, and Cathy looked forward to those breaks as "me time" -- and who could blame her? She had, however, always talked about the camping she had done with her family while growing up, and now I can see the result. Even though some would say this trip was too plushy to
be seen as "real camping" -- it was enough to show me that she is indeed a real camper. Upbeat, accommodating, resilient, resourceful, she carries a complete assortment of all the attributes a person needs to not just endure, but to truly enjoy a camping adventure. I'm not surprised to find this out, and after all this time certainly I shouldn't be, but still, it needs to be mentioned.
So that's it, this sortie has come full circle, and we are back in the comfort of the familiar. Our time away seemed mostly action-packed to us, and I hope any and all readers of my drivel were not too bored by my weak attempts to fill you in on our experiences. We'll no doubt be putting our heads together in the near future to scheme up some plan for our next adventure. I am reminded of a favorite quote by Robert Goddard: "God pity a one-dream man". When one dream is either fulfilled or destroyed, that means it's simply time to begin on a new dream.
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