Continuing on the Blue Ridge Parkway…the other good thing was that we were within three miles of Mabry Mill.  This is always at least a ½ day stop.  It is probably the most picturesque spot along the Blue Ridge.  At the right time, you’ll find them making applebutter, carding or spinning, weaving baskets, and working in the blacksmith shop or the sawmill.  Many years ago on a visit to this mountain country, I took a guided hike to a whiskey still on a moonlight night.  That was spooky but informative.  We had breakfast at the restaurant.  Sue ordered Mabry’s specialty, buckwheat pancakes, but they aren’t my favorite.  It is worth taking a whole vacation or whole season to see the Blue Ridge Parkway from North Carolina’s Great Smoky Mountains National Park up through Virginia’s Shenandoah National Park.  The Appalachian Trail follows the Blue Ridge and provides some great hiking possibilities.

It is also fun to take nearby back roads and get up close and personal to the old tobacco barns still holding their own in pastures with grazing cattle.  They are actually in pretty good shape and a few still have tobacco growing in the fields around them.  Other barns are often falling down, picturesque in their demise.

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I have two good friends who live in Lynchburg.  One is my son-in-law’s mother, Sue N.  We took off one day on the Blue Ridge heading north.  We stopped at anything interesting to see and eventually turned east off the parkway and wound up at the Saunders Farm Market where we bought yummy ice cream cones and fresh fruit to take home.  Sue is always eager for an adventure and y’all know I love exploring.

Another friend, Sue H, and I headed south on the Blue Ridge.  We stayed overnight in one of those rustic CCC Rocky Knob Cabins near the Meadows of Dan, VA.  They advertise “A step back in time - no phones, no TVs, no cell phones or computers.” It was charming, clean, and more than adequate.  It didn’t have indoor plumbing either but I had gotten quite used to the various “outdoor facilities” as I camped across country.  Sue wasn’t so sure and since we were in bear country, she asked for my company when she made an “outhouse call” at 2 a.m.  She chatted on about this beautiful middle-of-the-night hike.  I’m not sure she ever realized that this “escort” never opened her mouth in greeting or conversation.  If I talk, I wake up!  By the way, these pictures aren't it!

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By mid afternoon, I had changed my scribbled route and instead of exploring another long trail of twisty roads, I continued on down through Gauley Bridge.  I read the historic sign, “Here New and Gauley Rivers unite to form the Great Kanawha River. Piers still stand of the old bridge destroyed by the Confederate troops in 1861.  Here Thomas Dunn English, author of the ballad, "Ben Bolt," wrote "Gauley River."  Later on the Internet, I discovered Gauley Bridge was a major bloody Civil War Battlefield.  Since it was on the same sign, I expected the “Gauley River” poem to have something to do with it.  It didn’t.  You will discover as you travel, or have discovered, every little crossroads has its own fascinating history.  The author in the last few lines offered me a suggestion.

The world and its troubles I leave on the shore Of the waters of Gauley; That move evermore.

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I had forgotten about the Midwest dew factor so it took me a while to get packed the next morning.  The Ohio River provided fog cover as I hunted for a place for breakfast.  I finally saw a “bunch of good old boys” sitting at the picnic table outside a little café.  A cute little 7th grader waited on me.  She was active in 4-H and rattled on about all the animals that would be in their fair.  While I was there she received a phone call from the vet saying her horse had a lame foot.  Crushing news for this bouncy little girl.

The mother told me about the area and when they disappeared, the cook came in and wanted to know where I was from.  I explained I owned a lot in an RV complex in AZ.  “Oh,” he said, “a mobile home court.”  I could just see him tacking “Trailer Trash” across my forehead.  I didn’t try to change his mind by telling him about the beautiful stick homes, manufactured housing, or park models like mine in that complex.  His mind had already placed me in a broken down 1930s trailer.  Anyway, the hash browns, 2 eggs, toast with “homemade” strawberry jam and coffee were a bargain for $5.50.  This trailer trash took her Grapes of Wrath and took off in a blaze of 1930s dust!

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Hi from Ohio!

I headed into OH on Route #30 and just happened to hit the four-day “World’s Longest Yard Sale” along the Hwy 127 corridor south through western OH.  This has been going on since 1987 but Ohio didn’t get into the mix until about four years ago.   It was pure frustration. With a stuffed car, I couldn’t buy anything!  I’ll bet the truckers hated it.  They were weaving around parked and stopped cars and those making up their minds whether to stop.  Almost every house and farm on both sides of this two-lane road had something for sale.  It ends somewhere in AL but I got started at Van Wert, OH and went as far as Eaton before turning SE and winding my way across southern OH.

I think I hurt the very helpful ranger’s feelings when I pulled into Serpent Mound (Hwy #73) to get information for a campground for the night and told him I had never heard of Serpent Mound.  He was a little upset that I wasn’t planning to stay and look around.  O.K., so I felt obligated.  I dutifully climbed the tower overlooking the mounds.  Rangers are so dedicated and seem to always love their work.

 I have visited many mounds over the years, especially along the Natchez Trace.  This is supposedly the largest and finest prehistoric serpent effigy in the U. S.  It is an uncoiling serpent nearly a quarter of a mile long and the outline is very obvious when you’re looking down on it from the tower.  Eastern Woodlands American Indians believed the Great Serpent was a powerful underworld spirit.  According to the Internet, “The Serpent Mound head is aligned to the setting sun on the summer solstice and the coils are aligned to the summer and winter solstice and equinox sunrises. These alignments support the idea that Serpent Mound had a ceremonial purpose.”   They also have a museum which I was too late to visit.   It would have been fun to explore more of the park but the Shawnee State Park that the ranger referred me to for the night was one of those, “You can’t get there from here” kind of places.  There was a more direct route but he didn’t want me to go that way because it went over forest roads into the mountains.  I didn’t tell him those are my kind of roads but then it was getting late and apparently there was no sign indicating the turn off.  If I had tripped and fallen, I would have rolled into Kentucky it was that close to the state line.  The campground was very nice and I got the tent set up just before dark.

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     Friend Judy and I spent half a day at Warren Dunes State Park.  I was amazed that so few people were on the beach on such a perfect day.  I had intended to camp there for a few days and invite friends for a campfire as I did in 2004 but time ran out.  Neighbors from many moons ago, Bob and Noushi, took me for a ride in their Class B motorhome and we had lunch at a quirky little place in New Buffalo.  I love going to Cracker Barrel where I met Shirley and Peggy, and other high school friends.  Since my 2004 trip, the high school was torn down. Bummer!  Nephew Craig who teaches law at MSU, met me for a few hours of conversation in the beautiful MSU Gardens. Friend Eileen and I moseyed through Niles’ new farmer’s market and bought goodies to share.  Yumm! 

I revisited an old church in Pokagon, MI.  Out of 300 hymns he wrote, Rev George Bennard had the choir sing the final version of his most famous hymn, “The Old Rugged Cross” in 1913 in this huge old church that was built in 1862 as a hops barn.  After exchanging many owners and uses, the building is being restored to its 1913 Methodist Church appearance.  It was great connecting with old friends at First Pres church on the Sundays I was in MI.  Four different nations controlled Niles over its 300-year history, thus it is known as "The City of Four Flags."  I hated leaving because the weather was so perfect and I was having a great time.

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I traveled down the western coast of Michigan, stopping at Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore to watch the climbers of all ages taking two sandy steps forward and sliding back three as they made their way to a view of Lake Michigan, then running or rolling back down again.  Ah memories – further down Michigan’s mitten that included a lot of dune buggy rides and hiking over the years.  A storm drenched the tent fly at Ludington State Park but my gear received nary a drop.  RV neighbors asked how I had fared the night, then offered me a cup of coffee.  I eventually asked these new acquaintances where they were from – Dowagiac, where I grew up. 

With eight widowed sisters-in-law in Michigan, the rest of my 3½-week visit included stays and visits with each of them, as well as breakfasts, lunches, and dinners with high school chums, Presbyterian church friends, plus friends, neighbors in general, and I even got to pick fresh Michigan cherries on my late father-in-law’s farm.  Sis Vivian was subjected to a 16-day stay but was gracious enough to say she missed me when I left.  It was great to see everyone and catch up on their news and activities.  I often found myself listening rather than talking and that was my privilege. One-sided conversations were enjoyed with three of four late brothers (4^th bro and another sis-in-law are buried in AZ) and a lengthier conversation with my late husband, Jack.  We always have a lot to talk about.

I gave two talks on Alaska, one for a South Bend Lions Club and another for my home church.  They were all gracious in listening and I had fun telling my stories (and selling books).

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At Green Bay, WI, I turned NE, driving Route #35 and #2, camping on the very shores of Lake Michigan and my home state. The next morning I pulled into a county park with maybe 50 sites and found two campers!  It was primitive but had clean restrooms.  Sites trailed all along the water,  magnificent spots right on the lake.  Where are you campers?

I hadn’t seen the 550’ towers of the Mackinac Bridge crossing to the Lower Peninsula and Mackinaw City (all pronounced as “aw”) since 2004.  The next morning Shepler’s Ferry took me to Mackinac Island with the distant 1887 Grand Hotel welcoming the passengers with its Cheshire Cat 660’ front-porch grin, the same hotel where “Somewhere in Time” was filmed in 1980.  With rooms starting at $480/night, I went back to my tent for the night!

The Island’s French, British, Native American, and American history is fascinating. Along with its very rich fudge and souvenir shops, are the buggy rides, bike rides, and beaucoup restaurants.  In fact, unless you walk or take some form of horse or bike transportation, you are out of luck.  Only emergency vehicles are allowed on the island since 1898.  Delivery bikes wobble their way to the various hotels with luggage piled high on their racks.  Beyond the few streets clogged with tourists, is a marvelous nine-mile bike (or hiking) road around the entire island.  In June the fragrance is heavenly with lilacs.  It is even more fun to stay overnight after the ferry crowd has gone home.  I started a fiction story in that atmosphere once upon a time.  Hmmm.  Maybe I should finish it.

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I decided a long time ago that I wasn’t making those “beelines” across country any more.  It is pointless to go so many miles and not see whatever is along the way, but then again, I was a bit behind “schedule.”  “Schedule” isn’t a word that I like either but in making a loose guestimate of this trip, I figured 8,000 miles to completion and North Ranch.  I was already 2,000 miles over my guestimate.  Twenty-two years of full-timing meant many trips across country and up and down; therefore, this time I did not stop to see and hike around the fabulous Devil’s Tower National Monument near WY’s eastern border on I-90, but I recollected big time. This whole trip is about revisiting memories in case I don’t actually do it again. I do not dismiss eastern WY, SD, and MN as in “there’s nothing to see.” I know better.

In the Black Hills, I remembered “Mt. Mushmore” as my youngest referred to it when she was little, an amazing sculpture of four of our presidents, especially awesome in the moonlight. I would have liked checking again the progress of Chief Crazy Horse, the Oglala Lakota Warrior being sculpted out of Thunderhead Mt eight miles from there.  This was started in 1948 and aspires to be the world’s largest statue at some unknown finishing in the future.  The last time I visited Badlands Nat’l Pk, SD, I had my oldest dau and my granddaughter with me.  I did pull into the Wall Drug area for a fuel fill.  I took pictures at the Corn Palace and admired again the artwork.  Minnesota was green and its rest areas were clean and manned.

I crossed the Mighty Mississippi and started driving WI’s back roads.  Numerous deer were both dead along the road and jumping in front of me.  Traveling the narrow twisty country roads was dangerous but filled with photo ops of fascinating villages, old churches, closed stores, and falling barns.  Neat dairy farms sprouted along the horizon.

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Much to my surprise and delight, my daughter and son-in-law were excited about joining me in a camping trip to NE Montana.  Since I was continuing my trip from there, I followed their van, setting up the first night 7 miles off Rte #2 in the Flathead National Forest.  Mosquitoes weren’t bad and it was a perfect night for a campfire.  It was nice having company and I’ll tell you the “rest of the story” in my November column on Glacier National Park.

After a week of outstanding scenery, I was on my own again and headed south on Route #93 to visit friends Terry and Hank.  They live ten miles beyond electricity on Idaho’s Salmon River near the River of No Return Wilderness.  Thanks to an enormous bank of huge batteries and the sun, they live pretty much as most of us do.  They have a washer and dryer, dishwasher, microwave and all the other household amenities, all run by solar power with occasional generator use when necessary.  It seems appropriate that this is in Lewis and Clark stomping grounds and in fact, they drove me up to Lemhi Pass where the “Corps of Discovery” passed through.  I take credit for bringing this couple together at Life on Wheels many years ago and I find their history so fascinating that it will be my February, 2010 Valentine’s story.

I wandered in Montana’s mountain country and across northern Wyoming.  One night as I finished putting up the tent in a NF campsite, a wind gust pinned the tent, fly, and me to the car as it attempted to whisk the whole kit and caboodle to the land of Oz. I couldn’t pound the stakes into the rocks so I used big rocks to anchor the tent corners.  The storm hit just as I hauled the last necessities and myself inside.  It was cozy in my sleeping bag, reading by flashlight as the rain poured.

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