#12 Meanwhile, back at Crystal Creek...

Hello, All,

Well, it clearly isn't going to be an amazingly quick recovery... DRAT!  
10 days later, things look, ---and feel,--- better than a week ago, but still...

I'm going to record some of the nitty-gritty to satisfy your curiosity and answer a few questions I've had from some of you. I surely don't recommend your having first-hand experience! (And, yes, the grass has been mowed! .

THE HIGH GRASS HIDEAWAY OF MR. SNAKE-IN-THE-GRASS

FIRST STOP, MENA REGIONAL HOSPITAL 

According to what we were told, our local hospital normally has 4 units of anti-venom on hand. However, we were left to infer that it had been a bad week for snakebite, and we were told that they had none this evening. They were in touch with the Poison Control Center (in Atlanta, I think, whatever its acronym is...). On their advice, 5 hours after the bite, I had my first ambulance ride to St Vincent CHI in Hot Springs....good job! Liberty EMS.

Once there, another mark was made on my leg, indicating the extent of the swelling, and observation continued. By now, several people had warned me that the response to the anti-venom was quite unpredictable, and there could be serious and long-lasting side effects. I don't remember the specifics just now, but I didn't like the sound of it. 

Part of the problem may have been that I never saw the serpent; I couldn't say definitely that it had been a copperhead, although that was the most likely culprit. If they had put together a generic anti-venom, it was obvious that I would receive a dose of venoms not necessarily related to what I needed. By now, I had had antibiotics and pain medicines, and I wasn't inclined to deliberately introduce more venom into my body unless someone convinced me it was clearly needed. So, we continued to observe while checking blood pressure and blood chemistry every few hours. By mid-day Sat. the swelling had stopped just below the knee, but the blood coagulation factor was still messed up. That sorted itself out overnight, and by noon Sun, we were cleared to head for home again.

The whole thing has been more "colorful" than I expected. The toes are still tinged with black, while the top of the foot is red and swollen.  The unexpected surprise has been the sickly yellow-green "bruise"  on the leg, up to the knee and beyond.  That is related to the muscle involvement, all the way up to the gluts, which feel sore, as though I had done some heavy, unusual exercise. 

   


Last week we celebrated the appearance of tiny wrinkles on the foot.  Who would have guessed that wrinkles would be a good thing??  But they are proof positive that the swelling is slightly less.  And, this week, I can detect where the large vein that crosses the top of the foot will appear in a few more days.  Progress...

Here's a laugh...the release papers from the hospital indicated I should do "activity as tolerated"---- which translates to, "if it hurts too much, don't do it, dummy!" 
But it is a two edged sword. The muscle soreness is made better by movement and circulation. The swelling, on the other hand, benefits from keeping the foot propped on a pillow in bed.  So, I'm doing some of both. I did as I challenged myself and basically stayed in bed for a week.     (2 books read aloud for Marv and me together, and another 2 1/2 for me. Thank goodness I can use the computer! Heaven help us if that were not the case.)  We also plowed thru a huge box of mail accumulated while we were gone.  

MOSTLY JUNK MAIL!

I've also been doing more texting than usual. Remember my tirades about having no phone service in the East? I had conveniently forgotten that we have the same situation here at Crystal Creek. We're "down in the holler", and get AT&T only because we have put a booster antenna on the roof. We discovered this week that the booster isn't strong enough to push the signal into the bedroom. I can text, but not talk....talk works sometimes, but is not reliable. I'm lobbying for the stronger booster in the future. I now have two "nesting" areas, one in the bedroom and the other at the kitchen dinette.

Then, after a week in bed, I grabbed my walker and, with Marvin's help, ventured out to an appointment with our family doctor. He confirmed that there really wasn't anything to be done, but that I shouldn't expect any long-term consequences. I just have to tough-it-out and give it every opportunity to re-absorb and heal, however long that may take.

ADDING INSULT TO INJURY...

The Dr also confirmed my self-diagnosis of psoraisis,--- what I had first regarded as a severe heat rash. On our trip, we had traveled through some days of extreme heat paired with extreme humidity. My main concern those days, though, was to ensure that Marvin stayed hydrated, with constant drinks to replenish his electrolytes, etc. Now, however, the intense itching on arms, legs, chest and back were adding insult to injury. It was an extra layer of misery I didn't need. Dr. Lachala's recommended Cortizone-10 is taming the itching and scratching, somewhat, which is a big relief.

So, obviously my exercise and Line Dancing classes (started this week) are on hold for a while, but, I can pick up other things if I want to do them badly enough,(and if Marv is available to drive for me.)  He is adapting wonderfully to the present situation where his job is looking after me, preparing meals, fetching and carrying, and ignoring any whining that slips out. 

He's a KEEPER. I can say that with absolute certainty, as yesterday (Aug 29th) was our 57th wedding anniversary---forever and ever, Amen!  ...a good day to think back and remember.  And, My Word, what an UNUSUAL Life it has been!

Cheers,

#11F Snakebite! Melodrama at the end of our journey

Hello, All,

We got home to Crystal Creek about 4:30 Fri afternoon, but not without incident. I had queried my neighbor about the creeks and flooding and been reassured that the drive, with its creek crossings, should be no problem. And, because it has happened before, the big hickory tree across the track wasn't a total surprise---just one more challenge before driving into the overgrown yard. Marvin would need his chainsaw to clear the tree away, but for now, we could gun the engine, and drive around the end of it.

Marvin was already talking about cutting the grass as one of the first jobs on his list.  We were gone more than two months altogether, and the grass was as bad as he expected. I was equally dismayed by the mildew on every surface inside the house. We had at least a week's work ahead of us before we could settle back in to our normal routine. My first chore was emptying the cat litter boxes; she had been free to come and go through a window, with food and water inside the house. I carried the litter box out into the meadow, and a snake-in-the-grass nailed me. I didn't see the snake at all--- most likely a copperhead, as we've seen them around the place.  I thought I must have stepped on a bee, but the two puncture marks told the story.

Marvin provided a fast trip into Mena to the ER. Our local hospital didn't have anti-venom on hand, so the next new experience was an ambulance ride to the hospital in Hot Springs. After several people told me about serious side effects, I decided to postpone having the anti-venom and see how my body reacted. The first hours in the hospital were spent tracking the progress of the swelling, from the edge of the foot to the ankle to the calf and up to the knee. The lower leg was a big around as my thigh---gross!---and the black color didn't help appearances at all. Pain medicine was working its magic as I settled into a room. The major concern was checking the blood chemistry multiple times. There was one element that was going up--- something to do with coagulation-, I think -- that needed to be reduced before I could think about being released. I was at St Vincent Fri night, Sat and Sat night; by Sun morning the blood chemistry was declared back to normal, and Marvin could take us home--again.

So, the melodrama is all behind us. It's ironic that we went the whole trip with the only mishap one blown tire---which turned out to be a serendipitous experience----only to arrive home and be bitten by a snake! Who would have thought it?! Oh, well... as the saying goes, "IT IS WHAT IT IS". I have some healing to do, but I'm counting on my general good health to pull me through as quickly as possible. Right now, with the leg still so swollen and tender, it isn't hard to lie in bed with it propped on a pillow. Down the road a few days, I know I'll be impatient with the inactivity. All the swelling has to be absorbed by my body, and I'm told that may take weeks. You can join me in hoping that isn't true!

 

 

#11F People & Rivers & such

Hello, All,

It was Sun., 31 July, and it looked and felt like a bad day when the ELF suddenly had a flat tire. Marvin quickly turned off the highway and I followed him down a gravel drive to stop in front of a maintenance barn with a school bus parked nearby. It took us longer than it ought to search out the tire patch kit, figure out how to remove the tube and make the repair. We had just finished when a van pulled up behind us and a man got out to ask, "Who are you and what are you doing here?"  And, suddenly, it wasn't a bad day at all, because when we explained our situation, Ken and Melinda were eager to do anything they could to help.

 

 The first thing was the suggestion that we move the ELF, the van, and ourselves into the welcome shade of their backyard tree. "Yes, of course we could stay there overnight." We had discovered we were going to need to replace the tire, and it being Sunday there was nothing we could do toward that until Mon. We were still researching bicycle shops in the surrounding area, when Ken came out to ask if we would like to go with them to their church annual ice cream social that evening. Wonderful! A surprising number of friendly folks introduced themselves to us and welcomed us, and all of us enjoyed brimming bowls of home-made ice cream in a dozen different flavors, with sides of brownies and cookies, even cherry pie. It was a genuine binge, a serious sugar rush! 

Back home, we watched TV (a rarity for us) with them while all our sweaty, smelly clothes went thru the washer and dryer. The program was something called American Ninja Warriors, a competition of extreme physical fitness, unlike anything we had ever seen before. 

On Mon. we drove to Murfreesboro to a cycle shop that said they could order the tires for us, and might possibly get them in by the following day---wonderful news! Ken, who drives a school bus and was presently on break, was around most of the day, mowing his acres of green lawn and tending the garden, with its surplus of tomatoes. When Melinda, who is a Hospice nurse, got home we went together to a Chinese buffet, and later sat on the porch swing, watching the storm clouds move in. It was all very comfortable; as we visited, we found we shared a lot of the same interests and values. 

Tues. afternoon, when we called the cycle shop, the tires were there. Another trip to Murfreesboro and back, and Ken was ready to help Marvin re-mount the tires and make sure the disc brakes were working properly. Ken said he was no mechanic, but his broad practical background with farm equipment, hang gliders, motorcycles and cars made him a better shade tree mechanic than Marvin will ever be. We were glad of his help. The ELF was all set to continue on our way on Wed., but that flat tire had brought us a couple of new friends, who might even make it to Mena to visit us one day.

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There have been other important people along the way. The first group pictured below is my niece, Becky, and her husband and 2 of her 3 children. We are not close, as neither of us picks up the phone to keep in touch. We figured out that it must have been 10 or 11 years ago that we last got together as we passed through Batesville, MS on one of our trips. 'Way, 'way TOO long. Children then, young adults now,... I think Lester and Sarah remembered our two dogs better than they remembered us. The family drove over to our campground to pick us up and take us to dinner at a nearby Fish place. It was a nice evening, and almost like starting from scratch, with new friends who just happened to be family. 

The next two pictures are of the "Small World" variety....you know, when you meet someone and are surprised to discover connections you hadn't know existed. 

 

Ian Curlewis, on the left, was Camp Host at Meriweather Lewis Memorial Park on the Natchez Trace. We immediately picked up on his Australian accent and told we had sailed REBEL, our first boat, a home-built 35-footer, to Sydney, decades ago. As we exchanged stories, we learned that Ian used to captain the large schooners across the Atlantic to the Caribbean and we had been in the Caribbean during the same years. A few more reminiscences later, we realized we had mutual acquaintances in the Virgin Islands, where we operated ENCORE, our 53-foot charter trimaran for 20 years. Who could imagine that we'd meet up in the middle of Tennesee?

Verl Farnsworth struck up the conversation at the foot of the bridge across the Tennessee River, drawn by my Ann-made sign on the back of the van. It read SENIOR PEDAL POWER, and was "framed" by the old tires tied on behind. This was one of our pre-arranged rendezvous where I was waiting for Marvin to arrive and change the ELF's battery. Verl was completely intrigued by what I told him about Marvin and his trip so far; he couldn't wait to see him come rolling down the highway to meet me. While we waited, I learned that Verl used to teach at Arizona State at Tempe, where Marvin's family had lived for a while. It felt like a connection, as we had visited in Mesa. AZ a couple of times. When Marv arrived he took pictures to share with his children, who, he said, would be as inspired as he was himself.

 

Verl was here now on a summer job, boss of the crew hired to sandblast and paint the bridge as soon as the work replacing the expansion joints was completed. Just now, the bridge had only 1 lane open and traffic was timed with a light. Verl advised that Marv should duck between the barrels and ride down the "closed lane" at his own speed, rather than hold back the traffic that had already been stopped for 20 minutes. Sounded like a good plan!

Mike Keenan was a 70-year old cyclist who stopped to visit one evening on the Trace. He had ridden for years, and was just getting back into it after a time out for back surgery. He liked to ride on the Trace for all the reasons I liked driving on the Trace. He said he tried to ride 3 or 4 days a week, for around 40 miles at a time. That is about the same distance as Marvin's average day's run. Mike asked if Marvin was taking supplements; nothing other than Gatorade to replace the minerals. He told about a couple of other things to look for. And, one thing he said was very surprising to me. "If you get leg cramps, you can slurp one of those little packets of mustard---regular yellow mustard. It will cure them in about a minute and a half." Marv hasn't had leg cramps, but I am curious to ask others I expect to be knowledgeable if that it true. Sounds very odd. 

Roy Phillips of Rison, AR is another example of how "Random Acts of Kindness" influence our lives. We hadn't intended to stop in Rison for more than a battery exchange, but we lost one another. We had been generally successful in our "bunny hop" method of travel in which it was my job to drive ahead of him and find a place near a pre-arranged spot, where I would be obvious from the highway as he came along. Service stations, church parking lots, and cemeteries were often good choices. This day, I was supposed to be near the intersection of highways 35 and 79. This was one of those times there was no campground available, and we were considering 3 possible motels in Fordyce.  Before setting out, we had decided that we would skip Fordyce, go only as far as Kingsland on 79, and turn N instead. It would be a long ride as far as Leola, where there was a campground, or we might find someplace to stop in one of the tiny communities along the way. So I was waiting at the Post Office in Rison on highway 35, but Marv's GPS took him on a short cut that by-passed me, and left him sitting in the parking lot of the Dollar General at the intersection. After a while, we each tried the telephone, but neither connected with voice, or voice-mail, or text. We weren't seriously worried, but considering whether to start backtracking, and maybe miss one another that way. I was just about to set off on a search when a pick-up with the Cleveland County logo on it circled around me, rolled down the window and said, "Follow me, and I'll take you to where he is." GREAT! Minutes later, we were back together, the pick-up driver honked and waved, and sped away. 

 

Relief! We were still comparing notes, when Roy Phillips drove up and wanted to talk to Marvin about the ELF and "his story." He thought we should contact the local newspaper editor, who often ran human interest stories, and would like to talk with Marv. As we were asking Roy about the roads between Rison and Leola, we asked about any campground, or similar place we might stay. The time we had lost in the confusion made it clear that we would smarter to stop here and continue toward Leola the next day. Roy quizzed us about what we needed--- basically a place to park where we wouldn't be hassled by the authorities,... and electricity would be a bonus. Roy immediately made it his mission to find such a place for us. He made a few phone calls, then led us to the old Fairgrounds and the Pioneer Village. We had a personal OKAY from the Mayor himself to stay. Roy made sure the electricity was operable and opened the restrooms for us.

The Pioneer Village was a collection of 8 or 10 historic buildings that had been moved to the old Fairgrounds and were in the process of being restored. They included a classic log building, the Mt. Olivet Methodist Episcopal South church, established 1867, from the nearby community of Calmer, a U.S. Post Office, the Dr.'s house, and the Mercantile. This last building was to serve as a Visitor Center, and the whole complex was to be a "living museum" celebrating the local rural life of the previous century. It was an ambitious project, indeed. 

When Roy learned that I am a Polk County Master Gardener, he contacted the local county agent, Les, who came down to check out the story of Marvin and the ELF, say hello, and show me the Community Gardens and hoop house, also at the old Fairgrounds. Roy was an enthusiastic booster, who enjoyed being part of just about everything going on in the town. He filled us in on the stories of each of the buildings, told us all about the little pocket park and beautification plans for the 3-blocks of Downtown, and explained where we would find the library and the Veterans Memorial Park. He summed up his feelings for his town for us: "We're good people here. We know how to treat people." I want to say that he was a shining example of the good people of Rison and we will remember him for his kindness toward us. 

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Rivers and Geography

For weeks, we had been saying we were going South down the Natchez Trace to Tupelo, then turn West to cross the Mississippi at Helena/West Helena.  That had become our prime example of the influence the rivers had on westward progress--- both the early settlers and our own. Now it was a connection between the past and present, because getting across the rivers was a challenge for us. There aren't many places where it is possible to cross the Mississippi on a bicycle. When we stopped in at the Welcome Center on the Mississippi side, the security guard told us that usually a bicycle had a police escort to cross the bridge, but he reckoned that my traveling behind Marvin was the same thing, so that should be okay. We made sure the ELF had a fresh battery so Marvin could use it aggressively and keep his speed no less than 20 mph going up; he would coast at 35 or more, going down. It was a relief to clear the bridge and negotiate the short distance to the chosen motel for the night. Being back in Arkansas felt like a major milestone!

The Tennessee River bridge, on the Trace, was over a mile long, but only one lane of traffic, due to construction. And, thanks to Verl's suggestion, we had a secret plan for that one!  

To cross the Arkansas River, we had to choose to go either north or south from DeWitt, AR. North, we'd cross at Pine Bluff, which we had done, outward bound, and didn't want to do again. We chose south, via Arkansas Post, largely because we had never come that way before. I snapped a picture from below, but the ELF was no more than a little blip on the bridge. 

I turned off the highway to view the Saline River at Jenkins Ferry Historical Monument. The brown, rushing river was lapping at the road, swollen by the rains of recent days. I read the plaques explaining the use of pontoon bridges to ferry Gen. Steele's Union troops across the Saline River in his retreat to Little Rock after the Battle of Camden in April, 1864. Today, we can enjoy a modern concrete bridge--- much easier.

We were having a LOT of rain! It is one thing to set off, then be caught in the rain. It is quite another to set off when it is already raining! This last picture is taken from inside the van, looking out thru the deluged windshield at the wavery sign for the Grapevine Cemetery. We sat here for 3 hours, enjoying a leisurely lunch while waiting for a break in the weather. We finally caught a lull, and set off again--- but, of course,it was only a lull. On the whole, the weather has been cooperative, but this wasn't the pleasantest day's ride! I felt guilty, cocooned in my climate-controlled van.

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And, all that rain has resulted in an amazing crop of mushrooms. Once I started to notice them, I saw them everywhere. They ranged in size from thumbnail to dinner plate. And, there were reds, yellows, browns, grays, and smooth, bumpy and wavy. They are always a good subject for my ever-ready camera.

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I'll close this report with a page of miscellaneous shots. 

The hungry barn cat is the best story. She did everything she possibly could to stow away and be rescued by us.  She was seriously undernourished and bony. When I began working on our dinner, we kicked her out of the van and closed the doors. She promptly jumped in through the window. Put her out again and ran the windows up, leaving a gap of no more than 4 inches at the top. She leapt, but couldn't make it, and slid back down, smearing muddy feet on the glass. Her next move was to settle down on the hood and watch us through the windshield, crying. Finally, she jumped up and was stomping around on the roof. Next thing I noticed, she was coming down from the roof, up-side-down, head-first, to squeeze through the top of the window. Marvin opened the door, grabbed her and roughly tossed her out. That frightened her, and we didn't see her again until the next morning. I fed her, of course, as we left. I wish we could have rescued her, fed her properly, but it wouldn't work....wrong time, wrong place. Regrets.

 

 

 

 

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# 10F Ann and the Van - Driving Lessons

Hello, All,

When we left Mena, back in June, it was meant to be a challenging adventure.  For Marvin, the challenge would be physical. He has been a runner for years, but had no idea what to expect when he switched to riding the ELF, his 3-wheeled "sissy bike", with battery assist, home from Virginia. It has been a learning experience all the way! He learned how to use his battery assist, how to conserve the power, and manage the re-charging. His average day's run has been 46 miles per day, and the longest daily distance so far has been 80 miles. We are generally on the road by 7 a.m., and try to reach our destination around noon. He has admitted to feeling "pretty tired" a few times, but doesn't appear to be straining; he's certainly not complaining. 

As expected, the heat and humidity have been significant factors. Marvin has sweat buckets, and gulped gallons of water and Gatorade to stay hydrated.  Any excess body fat has melted away. It is possible that by the time we get home, he will weigh less than I do; he only had about 10 pounds on me to start with. All I can say is that he looks as good in his Speedo as when he was 50 years younger!

My personal challenge was to be more psychological and emotional than physical. I did myself no favors when I allowed Marvin to do all the driving for us all these years; he enjoyed it, and I did not. Now, though, it was time for me to challenge my inexperience, face my fears, and grow a little. Of course, I know HOW to drive, I just haven't done very much of it. When we started out, my mantra was "HE THOUGHT SHE COULD DO IT, AND SO SHE DID."  When we reached my cousin's in Claremont, VA she shared one of her personal affirmations with me:

 

 

 

 

Early on in the trip, I was doing a lot of whining about the narrow roads. Yes, some of them were too narrow to rate a center stripe, but most were standard state highways. I felt a proper fool when I realized one day that they were exactly the same width as Hwy 8 that I drive from home to Mena regularly in my little sky-blue Subaru. The van IS bigger, bulkier,...but I'm getting used to it. I only flinch when I meet a vehicle obviously bigger than me.

I had less help from technology than I expected. It never occurred to me that we couldn't count on using our two cell phones to keep in touch when we were not together...and, I know I complained--- A LOT --- about the lack of AT&T service the first half of our trip. With no phone service, I was dependent on finding public WiFi, rather than having my own hotspot for email. And, neither of my pet phone apps for GPS would work.  My favorite app, Road ID, which tracked Marvin's phone and showed me in real time, on a map, on my phone, where he was at any time, of course, didn't work either. 

I was so concerned about not having the detailed directions that Marvin's satellite GPS provided, that I would copy out his step-by-step route, and tape it to the center of my steering wheel. I needed constant reassurance that even if I managed to get lost, we still would reach the same destination in the end. 

Pathetic... but, hey!, you do what you have to do...

I've described myself as Marvin's "Rear Guard and Bed'n'Breakfast". I'm also the charging station for the 2nd battery. He starts out with both batteries fully charged. After about 20 miles, we find a place where he can switch to the second one. The first one won't be exhausted --- often only half,--- so it doesn't take so long to re-charge on the van's inverter. We can utilize our rather long lunch stop to switch batteries back to #1 and begin re-filling #2. We have almost always been able to find an overnight stop with electric service, so we can finish charging on 110 shore power, ready to set off again the next morning with 2 full batteries.

I do play the part of Rear Guard on the busiest highways. If it is multilane, my following him with my flashers going is no problem, because there is a second lane that can be used to pass us both. On busy 2-lane highways, the same maneuver results in traffic backing up, leaving me hoping for either a passing zone or a place I could pull off. With the ELF being so much smaller and narrower, it is easy for drivers to see beyond him and zip around, double yellow line, or no. When I'm guarding his rear, I leave space enough between us for cars to duck back in line, if necessary.  Best of all is to find a route where travel on these highways is as short as possible.

Sometimes I have followed behind him on the back-country roads, just enjoying the early morning ride through the country. Bicycle speed is not a bad way to see the country. I can hear the birdsong and note the flowers in the ditch. I have the fun of watching the dogs race toward him, the chickens squawk and flap frantically, and the horses wheel and gallop to the back of the field. The cows mostly just stand there.

There were 3 sections of what I came to call "buffered" driving: The Blue Ridge Parkway, the Cherohala Skyway, and the Natchez Trace. The total lack of commercial vehicles, lower speed limits, and plenty of pull-offs to let traffic pass made these stretches my clear favorites. On these sections, I was quite comfortable going ahead  and waiting for Marv to catch up. In the later days of the trip, that same "bunny hop" procedure worked okay as we used state highways to make our way across Tennessee and Mississippi. 

I've definitely pushed the limits of my comfort zone back a little. I am still going to be driving 5 to 10 mph slower than the driver behind me wishes I'd drive, and I still will go to great lengths to avoid high speed and city traffic, but, "YES, I CAN." I've advanced in both competence and confidence; after all, with almost 1500 miles behind me, how could I NOT?

 

 

# 9F - (July 21-31) Cherokee, Folkmoot Festival, Cherohala Skyway, Cherohala Mountain Trails CG nr Tellico Plains, TN, Fall Creek Falls SP - LOTS of pictures!

Hello, All,

The Southern End of the Blue Ridge Parkway deposited us in the town of Cherokee, where we found lots to hold our attention. From Mt. Pisgah,  a few days previously, we had used the van for a scouting trip, a technique we've used a couple of times. It served as a layday, giving Marvin a respite from pedaling, and allowing us to check out, or preview a route, or a road, or a campground we had some question about. We more or less stumbled onto Bradley Campground, situated on the banks of the Oconoluftee River, right in downtown Cherokee. And, it was perfect for our stay, because we could easily walk into town to explore, visit the Museum of the Cherokee, and the Qualla Crafts. The Bonfire on Friday night was added to my list of things to do in Cherokee while we waited to attend the Folkmoot Festival in Waynesville, all day Saturday.

My first impression was that Cherokee was very commercial...remember, we were coming off the Parkway, with no more than the occasional Visitor Center, so the hustle and bustle, and traffic was a real contrast.  Two different groups of costumed dancers were on opposite sides of the street, calling and gesturing for people to stop and watch.  "Bring the kids and take pictures with the costumed Cherokee" sounded like a hard-sell come-on.  But it wasn't... when half a dozen or more tourists has stopped, they gave a free performance, including a bit of history and posing for photos. The "Tip Jar" was prominently displayed, but there was no pressure. I decided it was just friendly and educational. I couldn't resist snapping the picture of the man in his full regalia, holding his cell phone to his ear--- just like all the rest of us!

We both were pleased by the fact that everybody,---tourists and locals--- enjoyed the river.  Fluorescent green tubes floated past our camp site, and kids waded and skipped stones in the river, and fishermen cast from the banks. Island Park was just what the name suggested, with a pavilion, a river walk, and a couple of bridges to take foot traffic onto and beyond the island. More than one family reunion was in progress that weekend, and the Island was the venue for the summer Bonfire nights.

Some time in the past, the town had a "Bear Project". Twenty-five larger-that-life-sized fiberglass bears had been decorated by local artists, then scattered around the area. I grabbed my camera and set off to see how many I could find and photograph. This one, titled "Sequoyah Syllabeary" honored Sequoyah, the individual who invented and developed the entire written language of the Cherokee people. His name and turbaned image appears on all manner of things in the town.

The Museum and Qualla Crafts were both excellent, and contained far more information than I could absorb or retain. I spent an enjoyable few hours in each one. (As is often the case, Marvin was busy at home, studying the Gazetteer and maps to calculate our route in coming days.) He could always "see" the museum by viewing the myriad pictures I had taken.

The Bonfire was all that was promised. There was history and philosophy, there were legends & storytelling for the youngsters, and there were marshmallows to toast in the flames. The whole presentation was very well done; it was educational as well as entertaining. I could easily imagine John, equally at home standing before a college class, Younger school children, or a group of professional businessmen.  He was serious about teaching us something, and he knew how to use humor and questions to involve his audience and hold our attention. 

 

He explained about the role of women among the Cherokee. Land and rank pass through the woman. If a man marries, he goes to her village, and their children carry her name. He told a little about his costume and tattoos. He debunked the idea of the Indian war whoop in battle. "You know, the yell and the hand patting the mouth?... that's all John Wayne stuff. Can you imagine that happening when I'm riding my horse at a dead run, and handling a bow and arrow? My hands are full; that's nonsense."  

 

But the story that will stick with me longest began with his asking "What do you call me? How do you name my people?... Cherokee? We don't have that word in our language. Indian? American Indian? Maybe Native American?" He approached a young woman from the audience to help him. When he asked where she was from, and she answered, "India", he shot a significant look at the audience, "Ah..." he said. With his leading questions, she told of immigrating to this country, getting an education, then a job, getting married, then having children. He turned to the young boy, "So", he said," you were born in this country, is that right? That makes you a native, right? Your heritage is Indian, right? So, who is the real Native American Indian here?" He had the audience smiling and nodding their heads with him in agreement.  

 

I'm afraid I was so caught up in his logic that I missed the one or two words naming what the Cherokee people called themselves; it wasn't anything I had ever heard before, and I'm sorry that I missed it.  Google filled in the gap by naming them the "Principal People."

Mary, the Storyteller, told a few short legends, and enlisted a few children from the audience to help her act out the story, "How the possum lost his beautiful tail".

Then, Sam gave a masterful presentation all about the efficiency and effect of his war club. He made it clear that if he was in a fight, his intention was to kill his enemy--- not just hurt or injure. He explained the effect of a blow to the stomach, or the windpipe, or the jaw, or the temple, or the back of the head, or the spine. Each option was outlined with almost clinical results, and each ended with the death of his opponent. Actually, quite chilling.

 

The town of Waynesville struck me as a really nice place to live. There was quite a lot of street art along the Main Street. I loved the giant musicians! And, of course the giant sunflower deserved a picture. We had driven over from Cherokee quite early in order to be sure of finding a place to park. The Festival was a really big deal, and our planning paid off. Not only did we find a convenient, shady place to park, but Marvin also picked and held onto a perfect place to watch the parade and take my pictures. It was in the shade, on the curb, and with a bench I could stand on to get above the heads of the other folks standing in front of us. Take a look at the picture of the two of us. I'm standing on my bench, so I'm actually taller than Marvin, for once!

 

 

 The parade was very well organized and executed. Other than the initial Color Guard, it was all the participants from the different countries. Each group had its own musicians, and they advanced about a block, then stopped and did a short performance for the crowd lining both sides of the street before moving on. And, colorful!,... I should say!

 

 We were tickled to spot the stilt-walkers accompanying the Dominican Republic. That is very representative of the Caribbean; in St. Thomas/St. John they are called "Mocko Jumbies" and are part of every parade and festival. The other two groups shown here---Mexico and Uganda--- were both incredibly high energy dancers---wonderful! Their faces were running with sweat; it was obvious they were melting in the heat, but it certainly didn't dampen their enthusiasm for their performance!

 

 

 

 For the afternoon performances, the Dominican Republic's pounding rhythms and bright costumes were real crowd pleasers. Then it was  the turn of the Folklorico de Mexico. The girls' skirts swirled and the cowboys postured, their thumbs caught in the pockets of their jeans. VERY high energy! I was disappointed in the results of my pictures, as the indoor lighting---and the speed and motion of the dance--- were challenging in the extreme.  I tried a bit of video that turned our fairly well. Video is a new direction for me.   

Is there anybody out there who can tell me more about the unusual instruments pictured below?

I first spotted these two in the parade, making music for the group from France, and sought them out later. The accordion was not new to me, but take a closer look at the instrument on the left. It is melon-shaped, somewhat like a mandolin, but it has both buttons, like the accordion, and frets and strings, like a guitar. Most intriguing of all, was the handle in the musician's right hand, which he turned around and around--- like some kind of hurdy-gurdy. ???

In the next picture, the instrument on the right could only be called some kind of bagpipe. But what intrigued me was that the player had two bags, one under each arm, and there were two chanters (I think that's the right word for the pipes), but he never brought the chanters to his mouth. Very interesting. 

Our next highlight was to ride the Cherohala (Che-ro-HAY-la) Skyway from near Joyce Kilmer Memorial Forest in NC to Tellico Plains, TN. This twisty mountain roller coaster was similar to the Blue Ridge Parkway in that it had plenty of sharp curves and plenty of ups and downs, along with frequent pull-offs with exhibits and views. This area of the mountains boasts a number of these challenging motorcycle rides, with names like the "Dragon's Tail" and "Devil's Triangle", but the Cherohala Skyway has become known as a "destination ride", ---a little similar to our own Talimena Drive, back home in Mena, AR.

And, there were plenty of motorcycles, traveling singly, in pairs, or in one case, in a group of 8 Ukrainians. Their speaking in a foreign language was the first thing that caught my attention. Then I took note of the flags and "Ukraine" on their jackets and vests. Naturally, I started a conversation. I asked if they had shipped their bikes over, or had rented bikes here in the U.S. They called over their "translator", with the best English, who sheepishly explained that, actually, they were all members of a Ukrainian Club, out of Chicago. We chatted, then Marvin caught up with me, and they clucked over his ride, then they roared off again.

There was a distressing number of these big trucks, all servicing the road work going on. As Marvin and I were playing leapfrog, and stopping at most of the pull-outs, pretty soon the trucks began looking for us---happy to see us at the pull-outs rather than in front of them, I reckon! They would beep as they passed us, and again on their return journey.  It felt friendly, except when they were trapped behind me, shifting down on a hill, while I hoped the next pull-out would be just around the next curve.

The end of the trail was the excellent family-run Cherohala Mountain Trails Camp Ground near Tellico Plains. With cabins and RV and tent sites, and excellent amenities, including WiFi, Wayne and Kelli, who have done extensive motorcycle touring themselves, modeled their place on the best they had encountered, and incorporated what they would have liked to find on their travels. I was particularly delighted with functional sculpture high in the peaked roof of the pavilion---the motorcycle wheels are giant industrial fans that really moved the air around.

 

 

 

Fall Creek Falls State Park was another overnight destination that persuaded us to stay an extra day to indulge ourselves in a hike. And, there was more to see and do there than our one extra day allowed us. We never got to the Nature Center, and I stumbled onto George's Hole, a fabulous swimming spot, only on my way out of the Park the next morning.

But the two waterfalls we viewed were spectacular.  Piney Falls was very tall, very thin, and shot out from the lip to fall clear, a silvery ribbon in the sun. The Suspension Bridge at the nearby location was an unexpected surprise. It must have been 100 yards long, and bounced and swayed in a most satisfactory manner. Fun!

The setting for Fall Creek Falls was magnificent. At 256', it is the highest waterfall east of the Rocky Mountains. The lip of the Falls is a huge, curved cliff, reminiscent of a volcano crater, and the water plunges into a dark green pool at the bottom. The gorge carved by the water is called a "gulf" here, and it contains one of the last stands of virgin forest in the east, with mature hemlocks and yellow poplars. All in all, it was pretty spectacular.

 

 In this summary I have tried to share highlights of 10 days' travel. It seems that almost every day has its story. We were moving steadily across Tennessee, aiming for the Natchez Trace, where we would take a sharp turn to the South for another welcome bout of what I call "buffered" driving.

 

 

 

Horses and a Cat

Bridlewood Farm (overnight 8/3).  Beautiful, early morning light.

  This picture is of a hungry barn cat that did everything it possibly could to stow away and be rescued by us.  She was seriously undernourished and bony. When I began working on dinner, we kicked her out and closed the van doors. She promptly jumped in through the window. Put her out again and ran the windows up, leaving a gap of no more than 4 inches . She lept, but couldn't make it, and slid back down, smearing muddy feet on the glass. Her next move was to settle down on the hood and watch us through the windshield. Finally, she jumped up and was stomping around on the roof. Next thing I noticed, she was coming down from the roof, up-side-down, head-first, to squeeze through the top of the window. Marvin opened the door, grabbed her and roughly tossed her out. That frightened her, and we didn't see her again until the next morning. I fed her, of course, as we left. I wish we could have rescued her, fed her properly, but it wouldn't work....wrong time, wrong place. Regrets.

 ***********************************

Every day has its story.  At Meriweather Park, we were surprised to learn that our Camp Host, Ian Curlewis, was an Aussie sailor. He said he used to deliver the big schooners from the Med to the Caribbean for years.  We hadn't met before, but discovered we had mutual friends in the Virgin Islands----Manfred, the sailmaker on Water Island, and our St. John neighbors, Silvia and Augie Hollen.  Consider the odds of encountering each other in the middle of TN.  Who woulda thought it??


With his directions, we headed into the town of Holenvald in search of the "storefront" for the Tennessee Elephant Sanctuary. We found the building, but it was closed. Too bad... The elephants were rescued from circuses and zoos from around the country. Ian had described a room with a series of closed-circuit video cams focused on the elephants in their retreat, resting and living out the remainder of their lives in peaceful retirement. Certainly it was an unusual and unexpected element in the TN countryside.  

Marvin # 3 F - Elf Wear & Tear

Hello, All,

At just over the mid point in our journey from Claremont VA to our home near Mena AR, my ELF started showing signs of wear and tear.

On a country road a few miles west of McMinnville TN, the left front tire went flat. Ann was following in the van, just thinking about passing and going on to our next check point. I turned into the next driveway, which led to a barn with a school bus and some farm implements, and Ann followed. All of my tools and spare parts were in the van, to save weight in the ELF.

We tilted the ELF to raise the flat tire, and rested the chassis on a convenient piece of firewood. The tire was so flexible I could pull it loose from the rim by hand, and remove the tube. We quickly located a tiny cut in the tube, and applied a patch. But when I inspected the tire, I found the tread worn right through the cords in the spot the tube was punctured. We had no spare tires, so we glued a patch inside the tire to act as a boot, and re-inflated the tire. The repair held, but I doubted that we'd get far before the "boot" wore through.

We needed a new tire, but the nearest bike shop was 40 miles away, and it wouldn't be open today (a Sunday).

As we were  deciding what to do next, the property owner, Ken Beck, arrived, naturally suspicious about strangers at his barn. But when he saw our predicament, he and his wife Melinda quickly became Good Samaritans, and suggested we park the ELF and van behind their house under a shade tree next to their camp trailer. Since the temperature was in the mid-90's, that was a very welcome offer.

Ken, who is a motorcycle enthusiast, and a better mechanic than I am, inspected the ELF, and pointed out that a bolt holding the left front disk brake caliper was missing, and the remaining bolt was loose and bent. But he said we could probably find replacements at the Lowes in McMinnville, open on Sunday.

Ken and Melinda were about to go to their church's annual ice cream social, and invited us along. So we got our bolts, participated in their song fest, met lots of friendly people, and had all the ice cream and cookies we could eat!

The next morning, Monday, we drove the van to Murfreesboro to shop for tires. The ELF has 24"x3" "fat tires" on the front, chosen for use on rough rocky roads near our house. They weren't available in Murfreesboro. But Moab Bicycle Store agreed to order them from their supplier in AL. They arrived the next day, necessitating 2 round trips to Murfreesboro. But now the ELF has 2 new front tires, and the brake calipers are securely fastened.

Ken and Melinda went out of their way to make our unexpected 3 night layover enjoyable. We had the ice cream social the first night. The next night we went to a Chinese restaurant together. And the third night we went to Subway, and finished with ice cream and peach cobbler at the Beck's house. Melinda "insisted" we do our laundry in her machines (while watching TV with them), and she offered the use of their shower.

I'm unhappy that the ELF's front tires lasted less than 1,000 miles. We think we're all set for the rest of the trip, and are happy that we now have new friends.

Marvin

# 8 F- Summary - 2 Weeks on the Blue Ridge Parkway (10 July - 23 July)

Hello, All,

The Blue Ridge Parkway was a wonderful experience. I have a hunch it will be my favorite section of the entire journey. For one thing, the driving was less stressful for both of us because the speed limit was only 45 mph, with plenty of Pull-outs where we could let folks pass us by. And other drivers were warned to expect slower traffic, including bicycles. The total lack of big-rig 18-wheelers and timber trucks would be reason enough to make it a firm favorite.

And, of course, it IS spectacularly beautiful. We went from one viewpoint to the next, and you know I was taking pictures at almost every one. I was intent on capturing the "layers" of blues and grays receding into the distance. It was not as easy as I thought.

 If you look VERY closely, you might be able to spot the tiny little white speck in the middle of the Parkway below that is Marvin and the ELF.

 The Parkway guide published a table documenting the rise in elevation in each section as we went along. Marvin studied it diligently to predict how difficult each day's ride might be.  I preferred the pictorial representations like those below. Take note of the descent from Craggy Gardens and the High Point; that's a roller coaster ride for sure.  Whee!  The ELF hit 40 mph before Marv's good judgement kicked in, and he started using the brakes.

 The sign for the Spiral Curve is an accurate representation of the curve that grows tighter as you go around. Fun! The tunnels, too, added to the general excitement. Some were long and curved, so that there is no "light at the end of the tunnel" until you have progressed quite some distance into them.

We have a solid respect for the many cyclists we saw traversing the Parkway under their own power. We spoke with one young man who was celebrating having climbed "the last big hill" before the end of his journey. I think the primary difference between his and Marvin's challenges lies in the single word, "young". He was probably 50 years younger....  I say, "Viva! le batteries!"

Visitor Centers were great places for people watching. There were plenty of opportunities to capture photos of the unusual.  There were lots of motorcycles ---including this spectacular hand-made "Woodie" trike. Incredible workmanship; he had to show off his built-in storage drawers, with neatly dove-tailed joints. It was powered by a Chevy Corvair engine. Lots of people with dogs, reminding us of the many years our dear, old Cappy was an important part of our travels. He is missed! Lots of bicycles, too, with most "serious" cyclists traveling singly or in pairs. This one family lived nearby but came to the Parkway on weekends to bicycle as a family, sharing quality time with their two young daughters. In one of those "small world" experiences that sometimes happen when traveling, we met this same family the weekend following at the Orchard, where they had come for the clogging and hayride activities.  Of course, they recognized Marvin and the ELF and struck up the conversation.

Never without my camera, I felt I had to record everything I saw.  I snapped exhibit signs to help keep me accurate when I began writing about the details.  The wildlife was pretty scarce--- probably too much human wild life! But I had some nice shots of  a mother turkey with 6 young ones, and glimpses of deer, and fox and one young black bear. I focused on people, too, both our fellow tourists and campers, and performers at special events. And, as always, I found myself zeroing in on  flowers. The two weeks on the Parkway produced slightly more than a thousand photos to be sorted through! That's the problem with doing summaries rather than a daily posting.

We stayed one or more nights at each campground along the Parkway. The distance between Mt Pisgah CG and Cherokee was 70 miles, with significant elevation gains. That was a bit ambitious for one day. We chose to "sneak" an overnight at a "hidden" viewpoint. We were quite prepared to plead our case with anyone official questioning us for stopping: It was getting late; it was dusk; he was too tired to pedal any further, etc., etc. Besides, two different Rangers had told us that stopping overnight was what they would do in our circumstances... As it happened, no one at all cared that we were there. A group of about a dozen youth, from a summer camp named SOAR, just down the road a piece, came to play ball and frisbee in the open space for an hour or so before dark. One of their number, a boy about 14 at most,  separated from the rest and settled down on the grass and began to practice his violin. He explained that he had a good chance to become first chair in the orchestra if he kept up with his practicing through the summer. I took him choc chip cookies to thank him for the nice dinner music. 

One of the first special events was the Sunday Afternoon Musical on the Grass, at Mabry Mill. We toured the mill, with its demonstrations and exhibits, then happily joined the other tourists, sitting in the shade, enjoying the trio of volunteers who were "jamming" a fine toe-taping mix of mountain music, gospel and "old-timey" tunes.

A stop at the Blue Ridge Music Center the next day was only slightly more formal, where two friends who had played together for years entertained in a cool, shaded breezeway between the Visitor Center buildings. They played all afternoon, so we were able to listen a bit, then go back inside to absorb a bit more of the information presented in the exhibits.

Along with the music came dancing. One of our rendezvous points was the Museum of NC Minerals. I struck up a conversation with the young woman who was telling me details about the weekend Bar-B-Que and Bluegrass Festival. When Marvin arrived, she was totally entranced with the ELF. She and her husband were motorcyclists, and she teased Marvin about taking the ELF over the notorious "Tail of the Dragon" and a few other biker thrill rides toward the end of the Parkway. When I asked about seeing some clogging, she directed us to the Orchard, a few miles back down the road.  Not only that, but she volunteered to put our battery on to charge while we were enjoying the high energy performance of the Cold Mountain Cloggers, an award winning group. I loved the whole afternoon; I even got to join in on one number when the audience was invited to participate.

At Linville Falls CG, we stayed over a second night in order to do the hike to view the waterfalls. Even though the hike was neither very long nor very difficult, it was still a physical exercise, but at least it was a change of pace from pedaling. The premiere view of the Falls was from across the Gorge, but there were other viewpoints as well, on several different levels, making the water views readily accessible to the crowds who came to enjoy this justifiably popular waterfall.  There were stairs and handrails where they were needed. The primary activity seemed to be taking "selfies" and group pix with the waterfall in the background; everyone was good-natured about waiting their turn, and we heard conversations in French and Spanish as we waited.

No matter where I am, I am always drawn to photograph flowers.  And there were plenty to choose from. First impression was the abundance of mountain laurel, all along the Parkway. The pink, going to white reminded me of apple blossoms. And, then there were the Turk's Cap lilies. They were brilliant splashes of orange that commanded attention as we drove by, and up close, rewarded me with classic shape as well as color.  My floral assortment included the common dark red monarda  ("Bee Balm") and an unusual group of purple and lavender ones. The Ranger at the Visitor Center where I snapped those said they were red and white the first year they were planted, but came back the next year as purple and lilac; she wondered why--- I did, too. Yellow jewel weed, and the curious, and rare Indian pipes completed this particular album page of flowers. 

 The Blue Ridge Parkway extends 465 miles along the crests of the southern Appalachians. We drove 300 of those miles, and came away feeling appreciation and gratitude that the land was set aside as a National Park for the enjoyment of all of us for all time.