tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-46743519232789173212024-03-21T03:57:46.013-07:00OurPodTravel updates for family and friends, loosely based on actual experiences with our 17' rPod travel trailer.Mark and Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04183988039150610221noreply@blogger.comBlogger44125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4674351923278917321.post-58151016783375083302011-07-07T07:46:00.001-07:002011-09-05T15:02:30.145-07:00June 11, 2011 - Ziplining<div class="MsoNormal">
Yesterday we moved from Tobermory to <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Meaford</st1:city>, <st1:state w:st="on">Ontario</st1:state></st1:place>, and set up camp at the county park in town. It’s right on the water, and has a great day use area for families with a playground, picnic tables, swimming area, and a snack bar. Also free Wi-Fi at your site.</div>
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Today is the climax of our trip: a treetop walk and ziplining tour. Our tour starts at 11:00 AM in nearby Collingwood at Scenic Caves Nature Tours, but we need to be there a half hour early for orientation and paperwork.</div>
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The waiver warns us of the dangerous nature of the activity we are about to undertake, including, but not limited to: sprains and strains, slips and falls, cuts and bruises, running into or falling onto rocks, trees, or other members of our party, or being impaled on tree limbs and/or plunging screaming to our deaths should we decide to jump from the suspension bridge or treetop walkways. It further warns us that tours are not cancelled due to inclement weather, with the exception of lightning, and we acknowledge that we might get rained on, or the view might be obscured by fog, or we might get sunburned, and we further acknowledge that we have come equipped with appropriate clothing and footwear, and acknowledge that we will not be allowed to hike wearing flip-flops or swim fins or spike heels or snowshoes. Small cameras and packs are acceptable, but large backpacks or bulky items or babes in arms are not permitted, and if in doubt ask your guide whose decision is final so there. We will not be permitted to take the treetop walk using a walker or crutches or if we are blind or carrying oxygen tanks or only have one leg or must be carried by another person. We must be able to understand English and pay attention to the guides at all times and will be instructed in the correct and safe usage of all that clanking junk we have hanging off us. Further, we will be expected to demonstrate our understanding of and ability to use said junk before being allowed to participate in the tour. Also, we agree to release and hold harmless all people involved in the tour in the event of injury due to acts of God, equipment failure, short attention span, or our own stupidity. If you understand and agree to all items in this document and your eyes have not glazed over yet, sign here and initial here, here, and here. Have fun!</div>
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Okay, I embellished a bit for (hopefully) comedic effect, but the waiver was quite long and pretty comprehensive. Seriously, they’re serious here. They check all the equipment for damage and/or defects every day, and the guides at each end of the ziplines constantly communicate with each other to avoid an accident. If they’re not within hearing range of each other, they use their radios to make sure everyone’s clear on what’s going on and they don’t send people zipping to their death. They can contact the base by radio if needed, and they have all the equipment to handle emergency situations, such as lowering someone to safety should they become unconscious. So I’m really not worried. </div>
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Once we arrive we’re herded together with the rest of our group, 14 total, and fitted with chest and waist harnesses, helmets, carabiners, pulleys, trolleys, and lanyards. On top of all that, some of us have small camera bags and fanny packs. After gearing up we waddled over to the scales so our weights could be recorded. There’s a 250 pound limit.</div>
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The first part of the tour is the suspension bridge. While we take in a panoramic view of <st1:place w:st="on">Georgian Bay</st1:place>, our guides point out significant features and give us a brief history of the area. All the while, the wind whips in from the bay and the bridge sways. We are assured that the bridge is grossly over-engineered and completely safe. It’s around 1000’ above ground and stretches almost 500 feet over a protected forest. Since they were not allowed to use any heavy equipment in the forest during the construction of the bridge, an archer was hired to shoot a line across the gorge. Using this thin tracer, they attached and pulled across successively heavier cables until they were able to begin construction. Pretty sneaky, I’d say.</div>
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Next is the treetop walk. This is a series of 10 inch wide spans that vary from 20 to 60 feet above ground, allowing you to look down at the forest canopy below while you walk. There are 14 spans in all, totaling about 1000 feet in length. They’re suspended from thin cables and attached to the trees at each end by wide straps wrapped around the trunks. Nothing is attached permanently to the trees, and we’re asked to limit the number of people on each span to 3 at any one time to minimize trauma to the trees. Also, to help reduce trauma to the tress, not to mention each other, don’t be an ass and bounce up and down on the walkway spans. Thank you.</div>
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But before we begin, we must go through “ground school”, where we’re given instructions on the proper use of our safety gear. Each of us has two lanyards, attached to our chest harnesses at one end and fitted with carabiners at the other end. There’s 4 “spans” mocked up at ground level with trees between each span, just like the real walkway overhead. There are two safety cables overhead running along the walkway, and our mission is to demonstrate that we understand the proper way to clip and unclip from them whenever we come to a tree. The critical point here is that you must always have one lanyard connected at all times as you go by each tree, so you must press the safety release on one of the carabiners, remove it from the overhead cable, reach around the tree, and attach it to the cable on the other side. Then, and only then, do you remove the second carabiner attached to the other lanyard, and attach it to the other safety cable on the other side of the tree. Plus we’re encouraged to use the buddy system to keep an eye on each other as we make our way around the walkway. The lanyards are short enough so that even if you were to slip and fall completely off the overhead walkway, you’d only fall about a foot or so before you came to an abrupt and bone jarring stop.</div>
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Once we’ve all demonstrated our competency, we head up the curiously designed steps to the beginning of the treetop walk. I say curiously designed because the handrail only comes up above the steps about a foot or so. Perfect if your inseam measures 16 inches, but for all others pretty useless. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Treetop Walk</td></tr>
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Once we get up into the walkway you begin to hear a lot of stuff like “holy crap” and “nyaaahh” and “oops” and lots of giggling. Most of us, but unfortunately not all of us, quickly catch on to the fact that you can’t walk in sync with the others that occupy your particular span. If you do, the walkway will begin to bounce, and as mentioned earlier, that makes you an ass. </div>
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At the end of the walk we get back to ground level via our first short zipline, around 300’ in length. This part of the tour is meant to weed out the meek before the grand finale, so if you’ve recently discovered that perhaps this whole treetop zipline thing isn’t your cup of tea, there’s an escape ladder to take you back to ground level, or winches and cables to lower you down if you’ve lost consciousness and a tractor and wagon to take you back to base. </div>
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If you’re still a “go” at this point, the guides give you some brief instructions, hook your lanyards and pulleys to the zipline, and if you’re still hesitant, they put their foot in the middle of your back and push you off into space. No, not really. They’re very good at telling you what to expect, giving you tips on how to enjoy the ride down, and assuring you that it’s really safe. There are several strapping fellows at the bottom to help catch you and get you unhooked. So really what they do is loop a short line around your lanyards while you step off into space and take a few seconds to get used to hanging there. They ask you if you’re still OK, and if so, they count to three and then release you. The zipline is a catenary, low in the middle and high on the ends, so you actually zip past the point where you’ll eventually get off and start to go uphill, slowing down and then slowly coming back to the center, where the strapping lads politely grab your legs to bring you to a stop. Then they use a winch to pull the line down to ground level, unhook you, and get ready for the next victim. As people continue to zip down from the overhead walkway, the guides give instructions on how to do stuff like hang upside down or do the “Nestea Plunge (copyright)”, or stick your arms and legs out and spin, or you can just hang on for the love of God and scream like a maniac. It’s all good.</div>
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Once we’re all back to ground level, it’s on to the cave tours, where we hike down into the rock formations and learn a bit about the geology of the area and how the caves and crevices were formed. We also learn about the history of the area, for example, how it was used as a strategic choke point for various Indian tribes in the past to slaughter their enemies. At one point we’re given the opportunity to attempt “fat man’s misery,” a crevice only 14” wide at the far end, which I do not attempt – but not because I’m fat. Then up to a precipice for another panoramic view of the <st1:place w:st="on">Georgian Bay</st1:place> and to the final zipline of our tour.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">See ya at the bottom!</td></tr>
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This is a 1000 foot line from the top of the Niagara Escarpment back to the base, and quite a lot more complicated than the first zipline. Remember how we all got weighed back at base? Well, this is where it comes into play. This line is so long and steep that if you were to freewheel down like we did earlier, presumably before you got to the bottom you’d reach terminal velocity and risk bursting into flame. So the pulley used here has a built in braking system that’s adjusted according to your weight, limiting you to around 35 MPH, keeping you un-combusted and giving you time to enjoy the spectacular view. Once you’re hooked up, there are three steps that stick out into space, so you just walk right off the end, which tends to go against every instinct in your body. Also, the other end is raised to working height and lowered to allow you to unhook via a hydraulic system, and there’s also a spring loaded brake system to slow you down at the far end. </div>
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Again, I stress how safety oriented they are here. Before casting you off into the abyss, the guides contact the base on their radios to see “how the line is running.” Apparently there’s some additional brake compensation that sometimes needs to be dialed in depending on temperature, whether the line is wet or dry, and whether you’ve shown yourself to be a screamer or not previously. They also check to make sure the other end of the line is raised up to the correct height so you don’t inconveniently smack the platform when you arrive, to make sure there’s nobody lounging down there unauthorized on the platform, and to make sure all employees have set down their can of Jeremiah Weed (copyright) and/or Jimmy John’s Sub (copyright) and are ready for you to descend. I’m kidding about the employees. They’re all focused, professional, and polite. Fear not. </div>
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Once I was hooked up and perched out on the edge of the steps of death, the guides told me there was nothing left for me to do but jump. The guides dared me to jump off backwards, so what could I do? The view was spectacular, as promised. I wonder how often they comb through the brush underneath the zipline and collect all the wallets, keys, glasses, cameras, change, etc., that must get dropped.</div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/4CyXdzMSelo?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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Beth took video with her pocket camera on the way down while attempting to keep herself in a somewhat upright position too. Press the arrow above to play.</div>
Mark and Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04183988039150610221noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4674351923278917321.post-81463185160894176812011-07-05T12:21:00.000-07:002011-07-07T17:07:49.539-07:00June 9, 2011 - The Grotto<div class="MsoNormal">The weather today is a bit drizzly and gray, so we took our time this morning, had some extra coffee, and scrapped our original plans of taking the Achilles and spending the day out on <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Flowerpot</st1:placename> <st1:placetype w:st="on">Island</st1:placetype></st1:place>.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkom4db_WWeMKKZCnlQcK5FqHJ3RbggJxlmU2fTXCkn1VzWJID7wPrJKsukbLCaQ6ShKgNgpf2tFNg5AsfQtLk0KhrbuD9la0N8eppUBMvIz-LM1u61j7xGnxhPpEvVZ2Sp0s8bB119wE/s1600/Beth+at+The+Grotto.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkom4db_WWeMKKZCnlQcK5FqHJ3RbggJxlmU2fTXCkn1VzWJID7wPrJKsukbLCaQ6ShKgNgpf2tFNg5AsfQtLk0KhrbuD9la0N8eppUBMvIz-LM1u61j7xGnxhPpEvVZ2Sp0s8bB119wE/s320/Beth+at+The+Grotto.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beth at The Grotto</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal">Instead it’s a car trip through the <st1:placename w:st="on">Bruce</st1:placename> <st1:placename w:st="on">Peninsula</st1:placename> <st1:placetype w:st="on">National Park</st1:placetype> to see the Grotto caves on the <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placetype w:st="on">shore</st1:placetype> of <st1:placename w:st="on">Georgian Bay</st1:placename></st1:place>. After stopping to pay the daily admission fee we continued on to the Grotto parking lot, and from there it’s about a 1K walk over an easy trail to the shoreline. The caves themselves can be a bit treacherous to hike down into, especially if it’s been raining and the rocks are slick, but we managed to visit a few. We’re told there’s one that you can access only from about 15 feet underwater. The fellow that works at the campground says he’s dived on it several times by just holding his breath. Or you can use diving gear. We did neither, just hiked what we could see without getting too wet. The 800 K Bruce Trail ties into the trails here in the park, and between it and the park’s own trail system, there’s quite a lot to cover. The trails are all well marked with maps at critical intersections.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dVE3bHyqpQE/TfYgTAUGwEI/AAAAAAAAFt0/o5vL-hlYKmc/s1600/Lady%2527s+Slipper+4+01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="264" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dVE3bHyqpQE/TfYgTAUGwEI/AAAAAAAAFt0/o5vL-hlYKmc/s320/Lady%2527s+Slipper+4+01.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Small Yellow Lady's Slipper<br />
Bruce Peninsula National Park</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal">There was a group of about 10 young Asian folks at the Grotto while we were there, and I don’t think it would be an exaggeration to say that they took around ten thousand pictures. They climbed all over the rocks and cliffs, putting themselves into what seemed like some pretty precarious spots so they could take photos of each other making goofy faces. After taking each photo the rest of them would make comments and laugh hysterically. They also tended to move unpredictably, so I have quite a few dramatic landscape shots showing the rugged shoreline formations with one of their heads or an arm sticking into it. </div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Mark and Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04183988039150610221noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4674351923278917321.post-44326625509245274612011-07-05T11:40:00.000-07:002011-07-07T04:30:25.971-07:00June 8, 2011 - Port Elgin to Tobermory, Dangerous Mosquitos<div class="MsoNormal">We had a tree down right in front of the truck. Fortunately, we were able to move it by ourselves, and no hail damage was done to truck or pod. It’s a good thing they got started clearing trees as early as they had. If they had waited until daybreak I’m not sure we could have gotten out of the park that morning. There were piles of cut wood everwhere along the road, and they were still using a tractor to haul downed trees off the park roads as we left. The park entrance was closed to visitors when we left. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The power was out again, for the second time in three days. Even though, as stated earlier, there’s hundreds of windmills not too far from here, and one of the world’s largest nuclear power plants, Bruce Nuclear Generating Station, is just down the lakeshore a bit. But I guess it only takes the loss of one wire. The Ontario Provincial Police had the main road closed just beyond the park, so luckily we were going the opposite direction. A petrol station in town was running under generator power, so we were able to top off our tank. Shortly after getting back on the road, we passed a convoy of Canadian Hydro (power company) trucks headed back the way we’d come. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We checked in at <st1:place w:st="on">Land’s End</st1:place> Campground just outside of Tobermory. This is a private park, and very beautiful. The folks there are constantly working on the landscaping and maintaining the grounds. Most of the sites are pretty small, but OK for our purposes. The standard sites are dirt and not that level, but have electrical service and fire pits. The deluxe sites have level gravel pads, power and water, fire pits, and grassy areas to sit. WiFi is available for free if you go to the picnic table just outside the office. If we had been just a tiny bit closer to the office we probably could have gotten online right at the campsite. There’s two shower buildings, a playground, pond, interpretive trail, and a beach across the road. The camp roads are winding and a bit confusing at first, and yes, we managed to get lost inside the park, stuck in one side loop for a while. I imagined the people at one site saying to each other, “Look at that rPod. Never seen one before, and today I’ve seen four of them!” <br />
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The park is pretty empty right now, but they tell me as soon as school wraps up for the summer, starting next week, they're booked solid all summer long until the schools get back in session.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1L6glGAKeStpe_brOVhS6pNOW7mD3abcKVl7kc7FuuMHcF04RkvhOL1t38xxM8gatE3nYmVjhZ85f2dWwnsAG3LTztxu63C-Q-3XDKJ3GuR3pnFmHaLs263NoTfv_Z7T7S4qQiw7gK5k/s1600/Flowerpots+1999+10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="203" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1L6glGAKeStpe_brOVhS6pNOW7mD3abcKVl7kc7FuuMHcF04RkvhOL1t38xxM8gatE3nYmVjhZ85f2dWwnsAG3LTztxu63C-Q-3XDKJ3GuR3pnFmHaLs263NoTfv_Z7T7S4qQiw7gK5k/s320/Flowerpots+1999+10.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Flowerpot Island</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal">Tobermory looks very much like it did last time we were here by boat: Craigie’s Fish and Chips is still down by the boat launch, located in a converted White Rose petrol station, and still has succulent whitefish. The Chart Shop is still there by the docks, and most of the little shops are still there too. The Crow’s Nest Bar apparently burned down a while back, but is being rebuilt and is set to reopen in two weeks. Pity, I was looking forward to sitting on the outdoor rooftop patio, drinking a Black & Tan, and staring at the harbor while the car ferry Chichimaun (Big Canoe) loads and unloads. The service dock and harbormaster’s office have been moved since our last trip there by boat. They used to be way down inside the harbor, causing lots of congestion due to the limited maneuvering room, but they’ve been moved out toward the mouth of the harbor, and things are much less chaotic now. You can still take the glass bottom boat tour of the shipwrecks in nearby <st1:placename w:st="on">Big</st1:placename> <st1:placename w:st="on">Tub</st1:placename> <st1:placetype w:st="on">Harbor</st1:placetype>, or a day trip on the giant inflatable Achilles to <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Flowerpot</st1:placename> <st1:placetype w:st="on">Island</st1:placetype></st1:place>. Oh well, been there, done that. Tomorrow we’ll see some new sights. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Today we still have time to walk the interpretive trail in the campground before dark, so off we went to get started. Beth had the pamphlet that explained what we were seeing at all the numbered stops along the way. At first, we paused thoughtfully at each station, read the pamphlet and carefully studied the flora and/or geology explained therein. However, as dusk approached, the chiquitos (cross between a mosquito and a chicken) came out and we had to pick up the pace. By the time we got to the end, Beth was in full gallop up ahead, and as she passed an interpretive spot, she would throw out her arm, point, and without breaking stride she’d holler over her shoulder “Wetland!” or “ Glacier Striations!” or “Sinkhole!” as appropriate. I’d holler back “Yep!” or “Okay!” or “Gotcha” and keep running. Once we got out of the woods and got a nice smoky campfire going we were no longer in danger of needing blood transfusions.</div>Mark and Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04183988039150610221noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4674351923278917321.post-14512204951009747802011-07-05T11:01:00.000-07:002011-07-07T08:06:01.087-07:00June 7, 2011 - Port Elgin and Bad Weather<div class="MsoNormal">Today we biked from MacGregor Point park to <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Southampton</st1:city>, <st1:state w:st="on">Ontario</st1:state></st1:place> and back again. The trail from Port Elgin to <st1:place w:st="on">Southampton</st1:place> is a converted rail trail, very flat and easy, well marked and pretty busy. Beth and I are geocachers, so it took us quite a while to make our way to <st1:place w:st="on">Southampton</st1:place>, stopping quite often to find and log the caches hidden along the route. <st1:place w:st="on">Southampton</st1:place> is a lovely town, very tourist-y and friendly, with unique stores, cafes, and coffee shops. We had our lunch down by the <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placetype w:st="on">shore</st1:placetype> of <st1:placename w:st="on">Lake Huron</st1:placename></st1:place> underneath the giant Canadian flag in the park, then turned around and headed back to the park, following a different route. The return route is fairly new, and a bit more hilly, and unfortunately, the section in town is not well marked. It’s well worth the risk of getting temporarily lost, though. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The return route takes you through the waterfront park and its marina, band shell, boardwalk, and fabulous beach. Next comes a wooded park with a small gauge railway for the kiddies to ride, picnic tables and pathways, and then on to an absolutely stunning section right down on the lakefront. Like a small scale version of the <st1:street w:st="on"><st1:address w:st="on">Pacific Coast Highway</st1:address></st1:street>, it’s a curving, paved, two lane road following the lakefront, with a refreshing lake breeze and great lake views. Whoever put that section of the trail together, my hat’s off to you. That is without a doubt the prettiest bike trail I’ve ever been on.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">By the time we got back to camp we’d covered about 30 miles. I was sore in places I won’t mention in polite company. Also while we were gone, a raccoon had gotten into the trash can we forgot about and left out for his dining pleasure. It also looked like he or she tried to eat a box of wooden matches.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">That night we had several hours of high winds, strobe lightning, and even hail. You can’t believe how loud a hailstorm can be from the inside of an rPod, like wearing a motorcycle helmet while someone pours a bucket of marbles over it. It ended about 3:00 AM, and almost immediately, park personnel were out clearing downed trees. So if the thunder didn’t wake you up, and the hail didn’t wake you up, chances are the chain saws would. </div>Mark and Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04183988039150610221noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4674351923278917321.post-87647614589544113992011-07-05T11:00:00.000-07:002011-07-20T14:08:52.125-07:00June 6, 2011 - Port Elgin and Poutine<div class="MsoNormal">Today we’ve decided to more thoroughly explore the bike trails in the park. They’re more suited for mountain bikes than road bikes, but all are pretty clear of tree roots and rocks. We did come across a spot or two with recently downed trees across the trail, but were able to duck under them as we rode. At least Beth was. I didn’t duck quite far enough and ended up putting a gouge in the top of my bike helmet. Plus for a few minutes afterwards everything sounded sort of echo-ey, like I had fallen down the well.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Just across the road from the park is the beginning of a very nice, flat, easy trail. It’s about a 20 minute ride into Port Elgin. After exploring town a bit by bike we decided to stop for a bite at a local diner. I had a hankerin’ for fish and chips, so I scanned that section of the menu, and while noting the various combos one can put together when ordering their fish, I had an episode of déjà vu. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The menu said that you could have either chips, fries, or “poutine” with your fish. I saw poutine on the menu board at a Canadian McDonald’s earlier in our trip, and filed it away in the back of my mind for later investigation. So now here it was again. This is no coincidence. It must be a popular regional delicacy, like Pennsylvania Scrapple, New England Chow Mein Sandwich, or Alaskan Akutaq. Or maybe it was a seasonal thing best eaten fresh, like morel mushrooms, baby asparagus, or rhubarb. It was time to get to the bottom of this mystery. Too embarrassed to ask the waitress, I Googled poutine. Turns out that it’s “french fries with brown gravy and cheese curds.” So then I had to Google cheese curds. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I love you Canadians, but c’mon. Seriously?<br />
<br />
On the other hand, Canadians have a succulent delicacy known as "butter tarts" which we have become familiar with during our previous trips by boat. Butter tarts, in their purest form, are basically brown sugar, flower, and butter. They can be jazzed up with walnuts or other fillings, but we like the untainted plain ones the best. Beth likes to warm them up just a touch in the microwave, but I like them cold. A fair way to describe the taste might be liquid caramel corn. I'm sure they only have around 384,000 calories each, but still, you must buy some to try. Be sure to buy from a baker or local shop. They have them in the grocery stores, but frankly, they just don't cut it. I'm just sayin'.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNoYbqPbm8oKmqVUWOW9M-_fcsulnQZtLFyx0eOtnHF6lPvL8ZWmOEl7ZNSC4upNAbhY4kNctAMKymDpEY_ioOny4h42vEw1xMn1AbLVwvdKPlvEvtzGY8VsB9bunD1SQcOZbOgFEj-Rc/s1600/Butter+Tarts.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNoYbqPbm8oKmqVUWOW9M-_fcsulnQZtLFyx0eOtnHF6lPvL8ZWmOEl7ZNSC4upNAbhY4kNctAMKymDpEY_ioOny4h42vEw1xMn1AbLVwvdKPlvEvtzGY8VsB9bunD1SQcOZbOgFEj-Rc/s320/Butter+Tarts.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pure, untainted butter tarts. Oops, there's two missing!</td></tr>
</tbody></table></div>Mark and Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04183988039150610221noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4674351923278917321.post-12353833261189585982011-07-05T10:59:00.000-07:002011-07-05T10:59:23.786-07:00June 5, 2011 - Home to Port Elgin, Ontario<div class="MsoNormal">The Bruce Peninsula of Ontario sticks out into Lake Huron in a northwesterly direction, dividing Lake Huron proper from the <st1:place w:st="on">Georgian Bay</st1:place>. If you’re got a <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Michigan</st1:place></st1:state> road map, you’ll still have no idea what I’m talking about, because the mileage chart always covers this area up. So if you want to actually see it you’ll probably have to Google it. But in short, the western side of Lake Huron is in <st1:state w:st="on">Michigan</st1:state> and the eastern side is in <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">Canada</st1:country-region></st1:place>.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Several times in the last two decades we’ve made the trip by sailboat from <st1:city w:st="on">Harrisville</st1:city>, <st1:state w:st="on">MI</st1:state>, across 115 miles of Lake Huron to <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Tobermory</st1:city>, <st1:state w:st="on">Ontario</st1:state></st1:place> to visit the Bruce. Unfortunately, we’ve never gotten very far from the harbor, because after making the 13 hour trip over the water we tended to walk in circles and stumble a bit when our feet first hit land. It was a bit embarrassing, especially if we were anywhere near the Crow’s Nest Pub at the time. Inside sailor humor: we always called it “involuntary tacking” – HA HA HA! Never mind.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Anyway, we’re excited to see the area by rPod. This road trip will be a circumnavigation of the <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Bruce</st1:placename> <st1:placename w:st="on">Peninsula</st1:placename></st1:place>, starting at the southern shore at Port Elgin, travelling west to the very tip at familiar Tobermory, then back east along the north shore to Meaford before heading home.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Crossing the border at <st1:city w:st="on">Port Huron</st1:city> into <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Sarnia</st1:city>, <st1:state w:st="on">Ontario</st1:state></st1:place> was pretty uneventful, as is usually the case. From there you’re only on the expressway for a short time, then it’s two lane blacktop through lots of rolling farmland and pastures and many small towns. As you get nearer to Port Elgin we saw windmills by the hundreds scattered around the fields, turning slowly and quietly. I personally think they’re neat to look at, and I know most farmers like them in their fields because they’re a source of steady income and very easy to grow.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">When we arrived at <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">MacGregor</st1:placename> <st1:placetype w:st="on">Point</st1:placetype> <st1:placename w:st="on">Provincial</st1:placename> <st1:placetype w:st="on">Park</st1:placetype></st1:place> in Port Elgin we quickly went through the check-in process and headed for our reserved site. However, when we got there, there were already campers in that site. We were just a bit early, but it was pretty close to checkout time, and there was no sign of anyone about, and it sure didn’t look like any departure preparations were underway. Oh well. There were lots and lots of empty lots, so we headed back to the office to get it straightened out.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFrrSKFKi1T-bKsHuw3HfOuV9x1Vn9-XppVzohZnTeet0hjJpruFuHP90Z33zxxxF-0GQmwNoMwT7GP32txnXI24ykNMSoTRC19AnDElo2yQ-mTmdUyW6Vnz8YECUoKlOVtawSsVGj6LQ/s1600/MacGregor+Point+Camp+01_sm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFrrSKFKi1T-bKsHuw3HfOuV9x1Vn9-XppVzohZnTeet0hjJpruFuHP90Z33zxxxF-0GQmwNoMwT7GP32txnXI24ykNMSoTRC19AnDElo2yQ-mTmdUyW6Vnz8YECUoKlOVtawSsVGj6LQ/s320/MacGregor+Point+Camp+01_sm.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our camp at MacGregor Point park. No worries.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>When we explained the situation to the very nice young lady ranger at the office, she checked her computer and told us that our site was supposed to be vacated by now. She proposed calling security and sending them to the site to hustle them along. However, she warned, if there was nobody at the site, security could do nothing, and we would have to wait until they returned and could be give a good stern talking-to. Such enthusiasm! But I had to be a buzz kill, and offered to set up in the empty site next door to them. After checking the computer again, she said that would probably be OK too.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">You’re not allowed to bring firewood across the international border, so we headed to the camp store to grab a few bundles, and maybe an ice cream cone before they closed for the day. When we got there we had to wait briefly while they finished getting all the computers, credit card machines, etc., back online. Seem the power to the park had been restored only a short time before we arrived, having been out for over 12 hours. So all the ice cream had melted and had already been tossed out. Aaaarrrgh!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We did have time to unload our bikes and check out a few of the great bike trails in the park. More biking on the agenda tomorrow, but for now it’s time for supper and a campfire, so SWMBO can make s’mores. I will go out on a limb here and publicly admit that I don’t really care for s’mores. I like all their components individually just fine, but put them all together, and it’s like, “meh.”</div>Mark and Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04183988039150610221noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4674351923278917321.post-66477205178307125442010-12-06T14:53:00.000-08:002010-12-06T14:53:11.649-08:00Aug 18, 2010 - End of UP Tour - Home Again<div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: Arial;">First thing this AM the little guy from the camp next door jumped on his bike, looked back over his shoulder, and yelled to an unseen somebody at the top of his little lungs, “I gotta go to the bathroom!” Then off he zoomed in the direction of the bathhouse. Seconds later a lady from their camp walked into view and said to us, “Well, so much for peace and quiet, huh?”</span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: Arial;">We told her we didn’t mind. It seemed like the kids were having fun. Shaking her head, she followed with, “Well, I’m the grandma, and I’m not sure I’m going to make it!” Turns out the HHR was hers, and she was looking pretty hard at our rPod, wondering out loud if her vehicle could pull it, because it might be just the ticket for her. All by herself.</span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: Arial;">Then it was time to pack and head on home. We took a different route back to the Xway to avoid that nasty washboard road we took on the way in. On the way home we passed an Airstream trailer being pulled by a Lincoln Blackwood pickup truck. Sheesh. Those two things together are probably worth more than my house is right now. I’m not even sure you could call that camping.</span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: Arial;">We plan to come back to da UP next winter and snowshoe back into some of the frozen waterfalls and ice caves, and maybe next summer to take a shipwreck tour of Grand Island, and get some more waterfall and lighthouse viewing in.</span></div>Mark and Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04183988039150610221noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4674351923278917321.post-71321209893988880462010-12-06T14:52:00.000-08:002010-12-06T15:07:06.212-08:00Aug 17, 2010 - Wilderness State Park<div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: Arial;">Today we took a ride into town to check out some of the other parks in the area, pick up a few staples, and just have a look around. It’s really too cold and windy to sit by the water anyway. Hey, check it out! Next time we come up this way we’re going ziplining! When we left there was a tiny popup tent in the site next to us, but when we returned later that afternoon, there was a ginormous travel trailer cleverly wedged in that tiny spot, along with a Chevy HHR (obviously not the tow vehicle), several bicycles, a grill, picnic table, cooler, lawn chairs, etc., with just enough room left for the missing tow vehicle. Nobody around. As if the whole mess just fell from the sky and landed there.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin: 0px; text-align: left;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGMHWm8Go5q7Wm6JTKXkIsinCwuaUFHHvNMu187iPBb_-gI8Au_xjwyyDIWqu5n_ZGBZjhK7bt1oSA6CmXBAJFQYxaKTzmEOA0hLKOs2EXZN4ocVYWeJ2kWWjrjsGTXi0KW3k5QDpddCA/s1600/Wilderness+SP+01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="234" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGMHWm8Go5q7Wm6JTKXkIsinCwuaUFHHvNMu187iPBb_-gI8Au_xjwyyDIWqu5n_ZGBZjhK7bt1oSA6CmXBAJFQYxaKTzmEOA0hLKOs2EXZN4ocVYWeJ2kWWjrjsGTXi0KW3k5QDpddCA/s320/Wilderness+SP+01.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Engadine Dolomite. Everybody knows that.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: Arial;">We walked a few of the many hiking trails they have here at the park, then took our bikes out past the camp store with the intention of checking out the four rustic cabins they have for rent right on the water, a 7 mile round trip. Unfortunately, it looked like they were all occupied, so we didn’t get a close look. Afterward, we took a 3 mile round trip back the other way to some sort of giant rock with a big sign beside it. Every time we pass this thing there’s somebody either sitting on it or having their picture taken in front of it, so we just gotta see what it’s all about. Turns out it’s a boulder made of engadine dolomite (I THOUGHT it looked familiar) that was pushed there by a glacier from St. Ignace about 10,000 years ago. Huh. Geology. Don’t understand it that well. Must have rocks in my head! Sorry …</span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: Arial;">Returned to the camp for dinner. It was windy and pretty cool outside, so we dined indoors in Chez Pod. Afterward, Beth told me, “Baby, get out there and light my fire!” She’s a big Doors fan. So, figuring the time to hesitate was through, I hustled out there and started burning stuff. About dusk the neighbors returned, but all we could see was their feet underneath their trailer. Two little kids got out and ran into the RV, followed by three adults. We could hear the two little ones thumping up and down the length of their trailer, giggling hysterically. It didn’t last long, so either they fell asleep or knocked themselves out on something. A simply splendid night for a fire, with lots of coals, and so, lots of marshmallow roasting. Our friend’s father would call this fire a “good potato fire.”</span></div>Mark and Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04183988039150610221noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4674351923278917321.post-28818564907210057462010-12-06T14:51:00.001-08:002010-12-06T14:51:29.795-08:00Aug 16, 2010 - Back to Flatland<div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: #002060;">Left Indian Lake to try for a spot in Wilderness State Park near Mackinaw City, right on the water. Now that we’re back across the bridge and back in <i>flatland<sup>23</sup></i>, we’ll have to drop the Yooper vernacular. Sorry.</span></span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia;"> </span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: #002060;">Warning: there’s about a two mile stretch of Wilderness Park Road that looks like it was pushed together slightly from both ends; it has a perfectly formed undulating surface with just exactly the right space between humps to make your trailer and tow vehicle seesaw and gyrate like a mechanical bull. The posted speed limit is 35, but believe me, there’s no way you’re gonna drive it faster than about 20 MPH and keep all your wheels on the ground. When we finally got there at the office, there were several parties already in line checking in, which was OK, because while I was waiting I got a chance to let my liver settle back into position. </span></span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: Arial;">When I got to the desk, I asked, “Do ooh ooh<span> </span>yoo ooh ooh ha ha have any si si sites<span> </span>oh oh open for th-th-th-ree nights ss ss?”</span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: Arial;">“Rough road, huh?” she replied.</span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: Arial;">As it turned out they had quite a few sites open, so she marked us up a map with all the open spots so we could take a drive through to scope them out. </span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: Arial;">Our spot was pretty small, and when we got the pod pulled in it was just big enough for it and truck, but not big enough to put the rDome out without totally rearranging everything, or possibly the use of a chainsaw. A short trip to the camp store for some firewood and ice and we were settled in for the day. We were in the Lakeside campground, which is the older and smaller of the two campgrounds in this huge 10,000 acre park. The sites here are pretty small, as I mentioned, and some are uneven. Most are suitable for tents, popups, or pods, although we did see some pretty big rigs cleverly wedged in, as we’ll explain later. The other campground is the Pines campground, across the main road back in the woods, and it looks newer, with larger level paved sites, but not on the water. Either one would be a good choice.</span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: Arial;">There’s plenty to do in the area. You can go shopping in Mackinaw City if you’re so inclined, where you can get some famous Mackinac Island Fudge. (Side note: in 1998 we went to Sedona, AZ, and the first store we saw when we drove into town was “Kilwin’s Mackinac Island Fudge.”) Colonial Fort Michilimackinac is there in town. Or you take the ferry to Mackinac Island, getting a cool view of the Mackinaw Bridge and several lighthouses in the process. You can’t take your car though; only bicycles and horses allowed on the island. You can also buy more fudge on the island if you run out. They also have an excellent selection of Minnetonka moccasins, and you can stock up on rubber tomahawks as well. When you disembark from the ferry, you’ll be struck by the two predominant smells on the island: fudge and horse poop.</span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: Arial;">I kid about the island because I’m a native Michigander and so have an automatic license to do so. It’s actually very beautiful. Rent a bike and circumnavigate the island. Take a horse drawn guided tour, or, if you’re really brave, rent a rig and drive your own. The horses know where to go anyway. It’s not all shops; there’s beaches, rock formations, some beautiful old homes, as well as the harbor if you’re a boat person. It just so happens there’s another fort there too: Fort Mackinaw. Lots of skirmishes involving the French, British, and the upstart Americans back in the day.</span></div>Mark and Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04183988039150610221noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4674351923278917321.post-21061450821042749082010-12-06T14:50:00.001-08:002010-12-06T15:25:42.039-08:00Aug 15, 2010 - Da Big Spring<div style="margin: 0px;"> <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiXvI9pyrsp9bnaOtNipnjSDjGMLEpx4Q44Cy6vmK1FQj1a9DJlRDDn7Z2auGGS5GFW0WERSV8ZS3bjCJvtB5YQPY8jG_9zk2GRKstWbvcW7JLMrholmXvJ_9KruQC0JjwH2IPhyphenhyphengM1No/s1600/Kitchitikipi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiXvI9pyrsp9bnaOtNipnjSDjGMLEpx4Q44Cy6vmK1FQj1a9DJlRDDn7Z2auGGS5GFW0WERSV8ZS3bjCJvtB5YQPY8jG_9zk2GRKstWbvcW7JLMrholmXvJ_9KruQC0JjwH2IPhyphenhyphengM1No/s320/Kitchitikipi.jpg" width="234" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Kitchitikipi</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table> <span style="color: #002060; font-family: Arial;">Headed out today to Palms Book State Park to see Kitch-iti-kipi (big spring), pronounced with all short “i” sounds like in “wind.” The water is about 40’ deep and emerald green, spring fed and a constant 45 degrees year round. You can take the self-powered, cable guided, glass bottom raft out to the middle of the spring to get a great view straight down to the bottom. You’ll see spots where the water is gushing up from underground, trout or other <i>trash fish<sup>21</sup> </i> that appear to be suspended in midair, and the occasional pair of sunglasses.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM5g6kjB9bCW-oXBkyRi8N40vBcKefUBhA7CH-bmA3es5dIVcHfn_uI6iCs-nmYojOLv-Q1XrdFjNNpGTeg_voYuQHDjFOIuVvMXgq15Nn6i92WKYV9IOTNuoCQYgg8avk1KQyhZkGw1Q/s1600/Tree+Fungus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM5g6kjB9bCW-oXBkyRi8N40vBcKefUBhA7CH-bmA3es5dIVcHfn_uI6iCs-nmYojOLv-Q1XrdFjNNpGTeg_voYuQHDjFOIuVvMXgq15Nn6i92WKYV9IOTNuoCQYgg8avk1KQyhZkGw1Q/s320/Tree+Fungus.jpg" width="234" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Palms Book State Park</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table> <div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: #002060;">On the way back to camp, we tried to find a couple of geocaches but had no luck at all. It did give Beth a chance to walk in the water in Lake Michigan, which she says was warm like bathwater. The rest of the day was spent relaxing at camp, enjoying the view of the lake, and a cold <i>kalja<sup>22</sup>.</i></span></span></div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0px;"></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: #002060;">21. Fish other than native brook trout</span></span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: #002060;">22. Pronounced “kay-yah”, Finnish for beer, also known as the “nectar of the gods.”</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Mark and Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04183988039150610221noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4674351923278917321.post-64068622323733367832010-12-06T14:49:00.001-08:002010-12-07T05:06:53.381-08:00Aug 14, 2010 - Fayette Historical Village<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0px;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div> <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_mQGPaLU7jsweDB-TPebdqIrwoKDAPDSNe3zzGeZYNDZCNzRcLvM1kELKVVBzSJTUGxGpNLbRzDTsFrQHrVebg08hDTau39Nhe0g6nQc6FJeiDlkq54vhi1HJlanmIDprBBCECa6UBBU/s1600/Snail+Shell+Harbor+Fayette+MI.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_mQGPaLU7jsweDB-TPebdqIrwoKDAPDSNe3zzGeZYNDZCNzRcLvM1kELKVVBzSJTUGxGpNLbRzDTsFrQHrVebg08hDTau39Nhe0g6nQc6FJeiDlkq54vhi1HJlanmIDprBBCECa6UBBU/s320/Snail+Shell+Harbor+Fayette+MI.jpg" width="234" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Snail Shell Harbor - Fayette State Park</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table> <span style="color: #002060; font-family: Arial;">Today we went to Fayette State Park to visit the Historical Village there. Fayette was an iron smelting town in the 19<sup>th</sup> century, and many of the old buildings are still standing, in various states of repair. The old hotel is still standing; when it was in operation it was equipped with a fancy-schmancy two-story outhouse. Also remaining are parts of the old coal burning power plant, machine shop, company store and several houses. The remains of the old piers are still visible too. </span><br />
<br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0px;"></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: Arial;">This weekend is their annual Heritage Days; they have organized activities for the kiddies like egg toss, croquet, hoop toss, sack races, watermelon eating contests, etc. Well, the parents can play too. They also have folks dressed in period costume scattered throughout the park, explaining what you’re seeing in front of you, and how the town and households in it functioned back in its glory days. Also available were horse-drawn carriage tours, a blacksmith demonstration, and the Escanaba City Band. If you got hungry, you could take advantage of the concessions being provided by local civic organizations (whitefish dinner, yum), or go to the park’s visitor center for some hand-dipped ice cream.</span></div></div><div style="margin: 0px;"> <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0UbuduvgumOcOE7mSl3oxBlWkRR_JDKHEXCWGu42mgXAN23eHsV-OEcdKeiG1fUz3NVB8jUfpgx6hx2D1BXX5O9A52fkR3VtHgj6aPGE_XJOSI25a7fYl21qPxblz4Wv9ttUXuvO8KOw/s1600/Inside+the+Charcoal+Kiln+Fayette+MI.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="234" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0UbuduvgumOcOE7mSl3oxBlWkRR_JDKHEXCWGu42mgXAN23eHsV-OEcdKeiG1fUz3NVB8jUfpgx6hx2D1BXX5O9A52fkR3VtHgj6aPGE_XJOSI25a7fYl21qPxblz4Wv9ttUXuvO8KOw/s320/Inside+the+Charcoal+Kiln+Fayette+MI.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Inside the Charcoal Kiln</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: Arial;">The harbor itself is pretty small and was crowded with private boats tied to the docks, but a significant part of the space was taken up by the tall ship Madeline, which was open for tours. </span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">The blacksmith had a good fire going, and I kept circling back there hoping he’d be hammering on something so I could get some good photos. However, the entire time we were there he was occupied helping kids make interlocking puzzles out of two twisted horseshoe nails. He had a little jig clamped in his vise, and he’d show the kids how to set the nail in the jig just right, and then use a small pipe to bend the nail into a circle. Two of those make the interlocking puzzle. It went something like this:</span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"> <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIdI0BZg99mCftnYp7xg2RDLflp_5sY_lCeNxdU3NfKZIrm8bo0QZBvEQREYpD3dGpN5cd0X8JjEHRwNLqxDA-Kd86rItf6yLH2RFCv09wHzOvAi6wk_cKf-xJM5nqdsxzyxPc8dK1E64/s1600/Historical+Reenactor+Fayette+MI.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIdI0BZg99mCftnYp7xg2RDLflp_5sY_lCeNxdU3NfKZIrm8bo0QZBvEQREYpD3dGpN5cd0X8JjEHRwNLqxDA-Kd86rItf6yLH2RFCv09wHzOvAi6wk_cKf-xJM5nqdsxzyxPc8dK1E64/s320/Historical+Reenactor+Fayette+MI.jpg" width="234" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Historical Reenactor Fayette SP</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">"Hokay, just drop da nail inna this little slot here, and make sure da head of da nail is up tight again dis liddle bump here. Den take dis here pipe, and sorta wrap da nail aroun like dis until ya bump up to dis little thing right here. Good job! Holy smokes, ya gotter bout perfect dere!"</span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">He must have had a box of 50,000 horseshoe nails, and the line of kids stretched forever. So no blacksmith pictures. But he and the kids were both having a great time.</span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: Arial;">On the way back I was impressed with the <i>sisu<sup>19</sup></i> shown by the Yoopers. You do what ya gotta do to get by, like the sign in front of one business: “Holistic Medicine & Seasoned Firewood.” Or this one: “Small Equipment Repair”, and underneath that, “Homemade Pasties.” It looked like a lot of the locals had turned their <i>crotches<sup>20</sup></i> into home businesses.</span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><br />
</div><blockquote style="margin-right: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: Arial;">19. </span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: #002060;">Loose translation of a Finnish word meaning endurance. </span></span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: #002060;">20. It means garages. Get ur mind oudda da gutter!</span></span></div></blockquote><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Mark and Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04183988039150610221noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4674351923278917321.post-17291341907112107542010-12-06T14:48:00.001-08:002010-12-19T10:16:19.222-08:00Aug 13, 2010 - Munising to Indian Lake<div style="margin: 0px;"> <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidcEXzTIeGgfk1YoVlkixKIMajYeT9KWYVXqRcb6GI_vqG9wNhWN40if3Ayt6ZpexybNsjljO1NCpGomtFWElRbmvgmKXdIJ4tKjJ7Wab4oxTotwW-0TfENygrrBsu6PK2Sd9SdwcEdIo/s1600/rPod+Deer+Mount.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidcEXzTIeGgfk1YoVlkixKIMajYeT9KWYVXqRcb6GI_vqG9wNhWN40if3Ayt6ZpexybNsjljO1NCpGomtFWElRbmvgmKXdIJ4tKjJ7Wab4oxTotwW-0TfENygrrBsu6PK2Sd9SdwcEdIo/s320/rPod+Deer+Mount.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Had to have this for the rPod</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table> <br />
<span style="color: #002060; font-family: Arial;">I know I’ve been hitting the Yoopers pretty hard here, but seriously, this is some gorgeous country, and we’ve never been treated with anything but courtesy by any of the locals. We’ll still be in the UP for a few more days. Today we leave Munising, but we’re coming back this winter to snowshoe back into some of the falls and see some of the ice caves in the area. Our destination today is Indian Lake State Park in Manistique. </span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: Arial;">On the way out we have to stop at the sanitation station, to, you know, dump the <i>dootaa <sup>16</sup></i>. However, when I donned my latex gloves and went to get the sewer hose, a situation presented itself. Somewhere between our first stop in Onaway and here, the cap came off the sewer hose storage tube. Now the hose is gone. </span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: Arial;">Aaaaooooggaaahhh! Aaaaaooogggaahhh! Red Alert!</span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidXxsT1hjbGpVU3XWJst2W9QlldPHD2IAdjn9UuzYi2OktlNKFF19ttC7bvHNVUirNkOBIU7wKsW_sXrvnZis2oRJrL-jzgz5DxGuOcjiW3zd-1YhIJyoG0xS2maUALmBBXmHEqmmZgmo/s1600/Beer+Keg_sm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="234" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidXxsT1hjbGpVU3XWJst2W9QlldPHD2IAdjn9UuzYi2OktlNKFF19ttC7bvHNVUirNkOBIU7wKsW_sXrvnZis2oRJrL-jzgz5DxGuOcjiW3zd-1YhIJyoG0xS2maUALmBBXmHEqmmZgmo/s320/Beer+Keg_sm.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="color: #002060; font-family: Arial;">Geez, hopefully it didn’t end up wrapping itself around some biker’s neck.</span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: Arial;">Thankfully, they have a replacement at the camp store right there by the dump station, very reasonably priced (ahem). After I told my story to the lady behind the counter, and handed her my credit card, she said, “Ya, well, ya know it’s gonna be a good day when ya can spend ur <i>raha<sup>17</sup></i> on a new sewer hose, <i>ya know<sup>18</sup></i>?”</span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><br />
<span style="color: #002060; font-family: Arial;">So the situation was contained. Or maybe it would be more accurate to say no longer contained. </span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><br />
<span style="color: #002060; font-family: Arial;">Cancel Red Alert!</span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><br />
<span style="color: #002060; font-family: Arial;">It’s only a little over an hour to Indian Lake. This is an old state park; the pavilions were built by the CCC during the Great Depression. Not to say that it’s run down. On the contrary, this is a great park, with picnic areas, playgrounds, nice showers, a buoyed swim area, boat rentals, boat launch, and lots of sites right on the lake. We scoped it out for you: the best sites are 79, 80, 86, 88, 90, 91, and 94-109. All are level and are either on the lake or have unobstructed views of the lake. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #002060; font-family: Arial;">Once we got set up we headed back up the Seney Stretch to the Seney National Wildlife Refuge, where we took a self guided driving tour. Lots of Trumpeter Swans there, as well as loons, eagles, and other wildlife. We may come back here and do some snowshoeing or XC skiing next winter.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQK_IEteYwCJlyee-Zxcjz8aS2ng55HZ0OGjjwgJ2H9dQoJdDpbxBE2oS7UsRIsFo7may2OuIknKvOguViH8pDzTNPXNmd9AkMJJCw3zLuojnH8YvC0zNtLSvxqv3MyaytXllt0ERmdr4/s1600/Trumpeter+Swan+Seney+NWR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="291" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQK_IEteYwCJlyee-Zxcjz8aS2ng55HZ0OGjjwgJ2H9dQoJdDpbxBE2oS7UsRIsFo7may2OuIknKvOguViH8pDzTNPXNmd9AkMJJCw3zLuojnH8YvC0zNtLSvxqv3MyaytXllt0ERmdr4/s400/Trumpeter+Swan+Seney+NWR.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Trumpeter Swan - Seney National Wildlife Refuge</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div style="margin: 0px;"></div><ol start="16" style="margin-top: 0px;"><li style="margin: 0px;"><div><span style="color: #002060; font-family: Arial;">Sitt</span></div></li>
<li style="margin: 0px;"><div><span style="color: #002060; font-family: Arial;">Money or other exchange medium.</span></div></li>
<li style="margin: 0px;"><div><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: #002060;">See footnote #5</span></span></div></li>
</ol>Mark and Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04183988039150610221noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4674351923278917321.post-2137085745260012172010-12-06T14:47:00.002-08:002010-12-19T10:07:46.872-08:00Aug 12, 2010 - Grand Marais<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0px;"> <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha4Og-10P3NiantHOOYn8HSkldtpJV-bjXoQ_JCGQk5vStM2fsDUcplJ3vEHadEn_rnAMSIrBE3VUxOryJDpQTpkNzUvFuLF_ifPyjWYYxlv7vWQPE8irkNdf4iDGKsErUxaHLOf73akw/s1600/Chapel+Falls.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha4Og-10P3NiantHOOYn8HSkldtpJV-bjXoQ_JCGQk5vStM2fsDUcplJ3vEHadEn_rnAMSIrBE3VUxOryJDpQTpkNzUvFuLF_ifPyjWYYxlv7vWQPE8irkNdf4iDGKsErUxaHLOf73akw/s320/Chapel+Falls.jpg" width="234" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Chapel Falls</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: #002060;">Today we decided to drive to Grand Marais, and take in some more waterfalls in the process. Luckily the nice lady at Fuzzy’s had clued us in about the detour between Munising and Grand Marais; part of the paved road was completely closed, so we had to detour down 12 miles of gravel road to get there. Along the way we noticed all the snowplow guards in front of the mailboxes, and also that most of the speed limit signs had two parts: one for cars, and one for snowmobiles. They get lots of snow up here. I’d be willing to bet that once the snow starts to fall, you’d better have yourself a <i>Yooper crotch rocket<sup>13</sup></i> to get through until spring. Either that, or you’ll have to get out your <i>lats<sup>14</sup></i> or maybe stay <i>snowed in<sup>15</sup>.</i></span></span><br />
<br />
</div><div style="margin: 0px;"></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: Arial;">Chapel Falls was my favorite of the day. We also saw Sable Falls and the Sable Dunes. But once again, it was too stinkin’ hot to hike out to the AuSable Light Station. We’ll save that for next time.</span><br />
<br />
</div><div style="margin: 0px;"></div><ol start="13" style="margin-top: 0px;"><li style="margin: 0px;"><div><span style="color: #002060; font-family: Arial;">Snowmobile made up of random parts, held together with duct tape</span></div></li>
<li style="margin: 0px;"><div><span style="color: #002060; font-family: Arial;">Skis</span></div></li>
<li style="margin: 0px;"><div><span style="color: #002060; font-family: Arial;">What a Yooper is when da wife is sick and can’t shovel.</span></div></li>
</ol><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqyWJd450Imb-mgKKhokNmR-yRj7flbH61njRjwkTZxycTi4fKBkMGtFk31lOichJDFUyG9ikeGDDkOteTXRUed_Woc7XWacYYIayGt6BhrJ8aL_0q_0p01fPhbJoHiLZF7GsVsZZ1onU/s1600/Miner%2527s+Castle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="292" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqyWJd450Imb-mgKKhokNmR-yRj7flbH61njRjwkTZxycTi4fKBkMGtFk31lOichJDFUyG9ikeGDDkOteTXRUed_Woc7XWacYYIayGt6BhrJ8aL_0q_0p01fPhbJoHiLZF7GsVsZZ1onU/s400/Miner%2527s+Castle.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Miner's Castle - Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore Trail</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>Mark and Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04183988039150610221noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4674351923278917321.post-6909388076958366952010-12-06T14:47:00.000-08:002010-12-19T10:03:14.557-08:00Aug 11, 2010 - Waterfalls<div style="margin: 0px;"><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0A51ZDX_rE8004yRXlqZsTPhBJsWJp7PA5eBZdP6JhXe_9tQMTlU61Yw7hfJAlYinWvu073TjTyllx_V1m9vTE8NPCx8Fyv5T27Yl1uL9Z7oXaa7hhq4kBDxN3pxOdsetxcvjtsS6ARc/s1600/Behind+Munising+Falls.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0A51ZDX_rE8004yRXlqZsTPhBJsWJp7PA5eBZdP6JhXe_9tQMTlU61Yw7hfJAlYinWvu073TjTyllx_V1m9vTE8NPCx8Fyv5T27Yl1uL9Z7oXaa7hhq4kBDxN3pxOdsetxcvjtsS6ARc/s320/Behind+Munising+Falls.jpg" width="234" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Behind Munising Falls</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: Arial;">Today was threatening rain, but we decided to hike to more of the waterfalls in the area early in the day. We managed to hike to Munising Falls and Miner’s Falls before the humidity and heat wrung the last drops of moisture from our nearly mummified bodies. <i>Holy Man<sup>6</sup>!</i> Enough of that <i>sitt<sup>7</sup></i>! Back in the air conditioned truck we go, and <i>give ‘er tarpaper<sup>8</sup></i>for Munising.</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div></div><div style="margin: 0px;"></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: Arial;">Once back in town we stopped at the Fuzzy Boyak Welcome Center to pick up some info, and look at some great pottery and photos by local artists. I was especially taken by one photo of a twisted metal sculpture, but the location wasn’t identified, so I asked the friendly lady behind the desk if she knew. She did not, but she picked up the phone and called the photographer. After a brief conversation, she told us the picture was taken in <i>Shagago<sup>9</sup>. </i>We also visited a local pottery shop and had a nice conversation with the folks that created all the art there, and ended up buying 3 pieces.</span></div></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div></div><div style="margin: 0px;"> <br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnpdPcMXcblVD0kvnYkanh_8ydDWwKj5HCjqeTr-zR1lIrxxQGwJTRsX76Egaw5gBCdZfFk7Qu5o8JX5kFTBbO0vqP7WXUt9lBJiE-sKaP8xwghjZO1x9Isl_tpK47PXd99gjyd_yovac/s1600/Mark+at+Wandering+Wheels+Munising.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnpdPcMXcblVD0kvnYkanh_8ydDWwKj5HCjqeTr-zR1lIrxxQGwJTRsX76Egaw5gBCdZfFk7Qu5o8JX5kFTBbO0vqP7WXUt9lBJiE-sKaP8xwghjZO1x9Isl_tpK47PXd99gjyd_yovac/s320/Mark+at+Wandering+Wheels+Munising.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Almost starved trying to light the fire</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table> <br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: Arial;">Stopped at the grocery store and headed back to the campground by mid-afternoon. We wanted to grill some steaks over the fire, but we figured we’d be lucky to get that fireproof firewood lit and get any decent coals before dark unless we got started ASAP. By making a huge pile of chips, and using several fire starter sticks, and blowing on the embers until we both nearly passed out, and drinking several <i>jummies<sup>10</sup></i> in the process, we did manage to finally get a nice fire going.</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: Arial;">The steaks were succulent, the fire was going like a, ah, uh, house afire, and dusk was falling fast. We’d heard lots of horror stories about the UP’s huge <i>chiquitos<sup>11</sup></i> that come out at night, so big that they can only eradicated with a flamethrower or 12 GA shotgun, but this entire trip we’ve not been bothered at all. Must be they don’t like the taste of us <i>fudgies<sup>12</sup></i>.</span></div></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div></div><ol start="6" style="margin-top: 0px;"><li style="margin: 0px;"><div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: Arial;">The A-bomb of Yooper expletives, used when a mere Holyowha does not suffice.</span></div></div></li>
<li style="margin: 0px;"><div><span style="color: #002060; font-family: Arial;">Do I really need to explain this one? C’mon!</span></div></li>
<li style="margin: 0px;"><div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: Arial;">To work feverishly, or move with great speed.</span></div></div></li>
<li style="margin: 0px;"><div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: #002060;">Chicago</span></span></div></div></li>
<li style="margin: 0px;"><div><span style="color: #002060; font-family: Arial;">Plural of “jumbo”, or a quart of beerage.</span></div></li>
<li style="margin: 0px;"><div><span style="color: #002060; font-family: Arial;">A cross between a mosquito and a chicken.</span></div></li>
<li style="margin: 0px;"><div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: Arial;">Trolls that buy lots of fudge while on Mackinaw Island, or at the locks in Sault Ste. Marie. Referred to as "Da Locks" and "Da Soo" by locals.</span></div></div></li>
</ol><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwX9MEoXKUtVfYKUgjeDMVvmIw_4DYJP4JOAbrCaFbkNE0c1y49kS2ZW30MekjD3SMRkr4lGUAxZBQgc7FCisDQOs0gNdV6KoT1OxLxQbzDdo8qo89p06YjFwp2qetcLbaL9Q9VSFzNuw/s1600/Miners+Falls.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwX9MEoXKUtVfYKUgjeDMVvmIw_4DYJP4JOAbrCaFbkNE0c1y49kS2ZW30MekjD3SMRkr4lGUAxZBQgc7FCisDQOs0gNdV6KoT1OxLxQbzDdo8qo89p06YjFwp2qetcLbaL9Q9VSFzNuw/s640/Miners+Falls.jpg" width="467" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">Miner's Falls</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>Mark and Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04183988039150610221noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4674351923278917321.post-31428888369019733952010-12-06T14:45:00.001-08:002010-12-19T10:01:24.639-08:00Aug 10, 2010 - Pictured Rocks<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0px;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div> <br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8mlGzmDQRLOkoS_ar7fif24rLKPgSSZu45TsEuwRtPEBDojTm6_mKceh356kP8J_454uPrQdHluFmK6ck7_es9PBbm2pK29u0FQ-OM-W481iX99SxdJxn9bjMQepgiW16yms8kYYax7k/s1600/Hoop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="228" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8mlGzmDQRLOkoS_ar7fif24rLKPgSSZu45TsEuwRtPEBDojTm6_mKceh356kP8J_454uPrQdHluFmK6ck7_es9PBbm2pK29u0FQ-OM-W481iX99SxdJxn9bjMQepgiW16yms8kYYax7k/s320/Hoop.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A National Scenic Site - this way ...</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="color: #002060; font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Today we decided to go see some of the many waterfalls in the area. Drove west on 28 out through Christmas, MI, with gorgeous Shelter Bay and AuTrain Bay on our right. Our mission was to get to Laughing Whitefish Falls, a National Scenic Site. According to our county map, we could get to it by going down Deerton Road, which was not too far away, so we headed that way. It started out as a fairly decent gravel road with a few houses on it. Just before the road started to deteriorate, we passed a house with a couple of guys enjoying their <em>beerage </em>(beer) on the front porch. They gave us a funny look as we went by, then smiled and waved as we passed. Little did we know what lay ahead.</span></span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0px;"></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0px;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6P-qpv1qg7NUqVAVkQ2HXdzfvIdV8s2N3FZ-B6WmW9rq-fUB0ESWcR7mwDdRQgM3zBJbgI7XZ-ExJB9aovkW0oLqvCjY5cK9sTVpPeTKH0YF1j_lDC8V2465AzdYQbcy8n8OdvtWXxRA/s1600/Grand+Portal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6P-qpv1qg7NUqVAVkQ2HXdzfvIdV8s2N3FZ-B6WmW9rq-fUB0ESWcR7mwDdRQgM3zBJbgI7XZ-ExJB9aovkW0oLqvCjY5cK9sTVpPeTKH0YF1j_lDC8V2465AzdYQbcy8n8OdvtWXxRA/s320/Grand+Portal.jpg" width="234" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Grand Portal - Pictured Rocks</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: #002060;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Soon the road turned into a two track, which we naively followed for a few miles before it then got so narrow we literally could not get the truck down it. It still showed as a road on the county map, but to compare a road to this rutted trail would be the same as comparing an Intercontinental Ballistic Missile to a bubble gun. Fortunately we were able to get turned around and headed back out to 28. <em>Holyowha<sup>2</sup>!</em> The only thing you could possibly get down this trail is an ATV or a <em>yooka de<sup>3</sup> .</em> As we passed that same house with the two guys on the porch, they once again waved, but this time the looks on their faces could best be read as meaning, “wow, they actually came out alive.” No wonder there were no signs directing us to the falls anywhere along this route. Ur not supposed to go dat way unless ur an <em>apple knocker<sup>4</sup>, ya know<sup>5</sup>?</em></span></span></span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0px;"> <br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Once again consulting our “trusty” county map book, we found the other end of the access road and headed toward it. That end of the road was much, much better; paved and everything. Even though the falls is a National Scenic Site, the road is so lightly travelled that the local kids actually use it for a basketball court.</span></span></div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0px;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk1YQjGndx0M80q6lbeRiE11qOd7jJ7EvqTdBTcDrwwRM10ER8qpN_nQariHlW24-ZRUUDyE50uSoeUCtpIPsmR9helEqRajwWnZmO02jDEqVteluQaaeO7D0NIUcKyUDvKC669D2nwpc/s1600/Lovers+Leap.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="234" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk1YQjGndx0M80q6lbeRiE11qOd7jJ7EvqTdBTcDrwwRM10ER8qpN_nQariHlW24-ZRUUDyE50uSoeUCtpIPsmR9helEqRajwWnZmO02jDEqVteluQaaeO7D0NIUcKyUDvKC669D2nwpc/s320/Lovers+Leap.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Lover's Leap - Pictured Rocks</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We also took in Lower AuTrain Falls while we were out. That night we took the sunset cruise of the Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore. If you ever come up this way, you absolutely must not skip this part. Seriously. Today, young folks use the word “awesome” to describe almost anything, like a good song or an enjoyable vampire movie. Those things are nice, maybe even great, but they’re not awesome. The Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore, now that’s awesome.</span></span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin: 0px 0px 0px 0.25in;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">2. Holy s#*t!</span></span></div></div><div style="margin: 0px 0px 0px 0.25in;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">3. Bush buggy made from any piece of junk that runs.</span></span></div></div><div style="margin: 0px 0px 0px 0.25in;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">4. A troll who likes to hunt in the UP.</span></span></div></div></div><div style="margin: 0px 0px 0px 0.25in;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">5. “Do you agree?”</span></span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div></div> <br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span> <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfEdyJXcVlFo5GnXgIBpWbZH-CT64aGV2dU76uiMwAbJ1FodrfvTlWMveHgoiO7ZqtTb45O9oMWehjSk23xNSXPpTuJ22lTMIpdxtkr2aQ9UendvtUgy1LuCC9WhQGelTpcc4RJt-2qps/s1600/Pictured+Rocks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="291" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfEdyJXcVlFo5GnXgIBpWbZH-CT64aGV2dU76uiMwAbJ1FodrfvTlWMveHgoiO7ZqtTb45O9oMWehjSk23xNSXPpTuJ22lTMIpdxtkr2aQ9UendvtUgy1LuCC9WhQGelTpcc4RJt-2qps/s400/Pictured+Rocks.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Unamed Pictured Rocks</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpuDA4ABgDV3n8agrPpgXC9Bj7Cf-Ho5WfceN_Ve6_dsjIHGFhOa6ZxSj7H0yPTAOlQ2H5v8ePF_QVNTchTNunh8GLHYxxaLQSCkkfXgO6EeVA9DLxT2HW3uUwabZ1kOqabpxmN434RiI/s1600/Painted+Caves.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="290" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpuDA4ABgDV3n8agrPpgXC9Bj7Cf-Ho5WfceN_Ve6_dsjIHGFhOa6ZxSj7H0yPTAOlQ2H5v8ePF_QVNTchTNunh8GLHYxxaLQSCkkfXgO6EeVA9DLxT2HW3uUwabZ1kOqabpxmN434RiI/s400/Painted+Caves.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Painted Caves</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5QBVbw4w1eCBnjP2BwxHGIV6Wlaij97_emoEUkLv8YNbi6BbBIzUh3_lQW-QR-VeYvfBty7WS7wb9FO_p52_1YoCVMfrxyB3NFAc39_KXtcUSPofdkY18rhWtpVvS_ri0H_jNawoUfb4/s1600/Chapel+Rock+Pictured+Rocks+Natl+Lakeshore.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5QBVbw4w1eCBnjP2BwxHGIV6Wlaij97_emoEUkLv8YNbi6BbBIzUh3_lQW-QR-VeYvfBty7WS7wb9FO_p52_1YoCVMfrxyB3NFAc39_KXtcUSPofdkY18rhWtpVvS_ri0H_jNawoUfb4/s640/Chapel+Rock+Pictured+Rocks+Natl+Lakeshore.jpg" width="467" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Chapel Rock - Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>Mark and Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04183988039150610221noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4674351923278917321.post-5403358282356093462010-12-06T14:44:00.000-08:002010-12-19T09:51:19.692-08:00Aug 9, 2010 - Start of Upper Peninsula Tour<span style="color: #002060; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Today we cross the bridge into the Upper Peninsula (hereinafter abbreviated UP), where we are considered by the residents there (referred to as Yoopers) as either terrorists, trolls (we live below the bridge), flatlanders, or lopers, depending on who you talk to. From now on, we will attempt to use the Yooper vernacular whenever possible. The dialect will be in bold italics, and I will include definitions in parentheses or provide footnotes as needed.</span><br />
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</div><div style="margin: 0px;"><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8OipnCFzkifDhIhFMKg4JOCHRAbmeybcj4cVFq3LvcIdOP_n6GYQjKH95hyphenhyphenhDwJ1Vy1hq32swfQjJa0Wr2084rjeudHLm_5ecOEy4_ZkzqAynBbQSK2dpUpUeAFLSIIswqxhw_lPIpQE/s1600/Pop+a+Pasty.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8OipnCFzkifDhIhFMKg4JOCHRAbmeybcj4cVFq3LvcIdOP_n6GYQjKH95hyphenhyphenhDwJ1Vy1hq32swfQjJa0Wr2084rjeudHLm_5ecOEy4_ZkzqAynBbQSK2dpUpUeAFLSIIswqxhw_lPIpQE/s320/Pop+a+Pasty.jpg" width="228" /></a></div><span style="color: #002060; font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Our first stop was for lunch at one of the many small diners along US2, in this case the Whitetail Inn, where I ordered a beef pasty. That’s a short “a” like in “cat.” If you say it with a long “a” like in “way”, you’ll be referring to the decorative tassled things exotic dancers wear, and will be immediately identified as a troll, and possibly have your face slapped by the waitress. Pasties are dough covered pocket pies whose main ingredients are diced rutabaga, onions, shredded carrots, sometimes diced potatoes, and a meat filling that can be anything from your normal chicken and beef to the more exotic elk, moose, buffalo, or bear. They were introduced to the UP by miners many, many years ago and you can buy them everywhere. I. Mean. Everywhere.</span></span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When I told the very nice waitress there I’d never had a bear pasty, she replied, “<em>Yah hey! </em>(I don’t believe it.)”</span></span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Afterwards we crossed the Cut River Bridge (a million dollar bridge over a two dollar creek) and hit the <em>Seney Stretch. </em>The Seney Stretch (77) is the longest stretch of road in the area, where Yoopers go to burn the soot out of their <em>beaters</em><sup>1</sup>. Then we hit 28 West to Munising and the Wandering Wheels Campground. This is a private campground just east of town. Nice sites with water, electric, and cable TV at all sites. Wi-Fi is available on a hit-or-miss basis depending on how far you are from the office, and whether or not any big rigs get parked between your campsite and the office. Their showers could maybe use a little updating, but are serviceable enough. Basement laundry room, sort-of putt-putt course, nice pool, some short hiking trails, and a camp store with the usual staples, a few camper parts (I’ll get to that later), etc. I sure wish I knew what kind of firewood they sold there; I’d build a house out of it – I guarantee it will never burn down.</span></span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><br />
</div><ol><li><div style="margin: 0px;"><br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><sup><span style="color: #002060; font-family: Arial;"></span></sup><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #002060; font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A beater is anything that’s drivable; a car or truck, but sometimes a bike or riding lawnmower.</span></span> </span></div></div></li>
</ol><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A few shots from Michigan's upper Lower Peninsula, before we crossed the bridge:</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0px;"></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span> <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8cxfhcqQNDessHeNKgUs8NcPlcAs1jEw6zPfkL2WjPgaW0V00SDmsJolsvIZ0o_nDf8iUnfs4lIGrXRlPSZ3HOscd8r-ZP6l9R4xF3bt0Z10Y60jzPXvsVDoqUlgWW82vk4D8um63aTA/s1600/Sunset+on+Black+Lake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="291" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8cxfhcqQNDessHeNKgUs8NcPlcAs1jEw6zPfkL2WjPgaW0V00SDmsJolsvIZ0o_nDf8iUnfs4lIGrXRlPSZ3HOscd8r-ZP6l9R4xF3bt0Z10Y60jzPXvsVDoqUlgWW82vk4D8um63aTA/s400/Sunset+on+Black+Lake.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Sunset on Black Lake</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjgQlnfrY_j4_ku0JREJjHi2XWbvczxSSf6chLhqqTBIoMN3j47aFHhmjvlg8R9TzhdES-aT0vIlbjHCJXuWd1XFwtTmHjz2S6ccdI_ietud0Hv2R5KwrARK8FrMVZXLAJ3sh7EGKbKnA/s1600/Onaway+State+Park.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjgQlnfrY_j4_ku0JREJjHi2XWbvczxSSf6chLhqqTBIoMN3j47aFHhmjvlg8R9TzhdES-aT0vIlbjHCJXuWd1XFwtTmHjz2S6ccdI_ietud0Hv2R5KwrARK8FrMVZXLAJ3sh7EGKbKnA/s640/Onaway+State+Park.jpg" width="465" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Onaway State Park</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijaqorJJDMTOsHkSGjpTad1agiV-aUhluzoi6_cnsEh9s9zRuRXYVA10ZXeKxJTecDzFZZIZJirpPo_Bd24nCe9UgfWBI4dLqGy05xgE_Arbl7u5qOb6cL4XTeLsNW3N3r_ZTVODTQvB4/s1600/Forty+Mile+Point+23.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijaqorJJDMTOsHkSGjpTad1agiV-aUhluzoi6_cnsEh9s9zRuRXYVA10ZXeKxJTecDzFZZIZJirpPo_Bd24nCe9UgfWBI4dLqGy05xgE_Arbl7u5qOb6cL4XTeLsNW3N3r_ZTVODTQvB4/s400/Forty+Mile+Point+23.jpg" width="291" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Beth at Forty Mile Point</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD6c-ewjprCt43GCBXT1YlXLwkVNrmJNvmmpE2yzdR4zkQOn_GYdoJrc6Ubc93jZYf2GTdn95IYkVLZ8tbs1t-DdozZa4VZOItfzvWvhM44WkqNPYK7LHU6s0TItUM17im5uRJvjw3ZHk/s1600/Moonrise+Over+Lake+Huron.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="640" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD6c-ewjprCt43GCBXT1YlXLwkVNrmJNvmmpE2yzdR4zkQOn_GYdoJrc6Ubc93jZYf2GTdn95IYkVLZ8tbs1t-DdozZa4VZOItfzvWvhM44WkqNPYK7LHU6s0TItUM17im5uRJvjw3ZHk/s640/Moonrise+Over+Lake+Huron.jpg" width="464" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Moonrise over Lake Huron</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></div>Mark and Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04183988039150610221noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4674351923278917321.post-51195509991365866362010-12-06T14:40:00.001-08:002010-12-06T14:40:53.016-08:00Feb 28, 2010 - End of Florida Trip - Home Again<div class="bvMsg" id="msgcns!5CC0938D06274520!384"><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Stayed at the Comfort Inn Hall of Fame in Canton OH last night. Much nicer than last night’s stay, it was quiet and comfortable. Plus it was about 2/3 the cost of yesterday, since yesterday I’m sure we paid extra for the "free" airport shuttle service. Flurries last night, but nothing to write home about. Oh wait, I just did, didn’t I?</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Other than some lake effect snow from Lake Erie along the Ohio Turnpike, there really wasn’t much snow at all today. We’ve only got maybe 3 or 4 inches left here at home, but it took us several hours to shovel/blow our way into the driveway. We’ve had some warm weather the last week, and the snow in the driveway was pretty dense and very heavy, like shoveling wet clay.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In the entire month we did not see another rPod, but we did see two </span><a href="mailto:T@B"><span style="color: #0066cc; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">T@B</span></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> campers, both going the other way on the xway. As expected, gas mileage was worse on the way home than on the way down, 10.5 MPG vs. 12 MPG. On the way down we took I-75, on the way back we took I-77. There was way more mountain driving on the way home, plus we had some pretty strong winds while coming home through the mountains. They had "high wind warnings" in the VA and WV mountains on the way home. So the difference was not that surprising.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Thanks for following along on our trip. Hope to do it again soon.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Mark and Beth</span></div></div>Mark and Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04183988039150610221noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4674351923278917321.post-42607530697380102612010-12-06T14:39:00.002-08:002010-12-06T14:39:57.650-08:00Feb 27, 2010 - NC to OH<div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Note to self: never stay at a motel that has airport shuttle service unless you’re taking the plane. This place, which shall remain unnamed, was nice enough, but man was it noisy. People were coming and going at all hours, and they all must have arrived at the airport in open biplanes or cropdusters, their hearing shot, because they were all talking REALLY REALLY LOUD. Plus, our room was next to the elevator shaft, an enormous ice maker, and the laundry, which ran most of the night. On the plus side, we know they have clean sheets there. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We planned to be on the road about 7:30, but we finally gave up and just left at 5:30 AM, as soon as we were able to get a cup of coffee from the breakfast bar. Lesson learned. Moving on …</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Stopped at Jonesville NC for breakfast at – wait for it – Cracker Barrel! There was a huge diesel RV idling in the parking lot with the curtains drawn when we pulled in around 7:00 AM. Once we got inside, I asked the manager about their policy regarding RVs spending the night. According to him, as long as there’s adequate parking available for RV’s, ususally around the back or the side, most CB’s don’t mind at if you spend the night, but they like it if you come in for breakfast in the morning. He even gave us a map with the locations of all the Cracker Barrels in the US on it. There weren’t many customers there that early, so we got to chat with all the ladies working in the store. The conversation started with how unusual the weather has been this winter. We’ve been hearing that a lot. One lady said she’d gotten more snow this winter at her house in Jonesville NC than her daughter had gotten at her house in Alaska. There was no snow on the ground today, but she said they’d had snow on the ground from December 18th until just a day ago. They had a huge fire going in the fireplace, and the manager kept throwing more logs on the fire, we had some nice friendly conversation going, so we really wanted to just settle in for a while in front of the hearth. But we tore ourselves away and hit the road.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Flurries started not too much farther north of there, and once we started climbing the mountains, there were a few inches on the ground, and flurries off and on. Temps dropped from the mid 30s to the mid 20′s, and stayed that way until we got well out of the mountains and into southern Ohio. Roads were OK, but there were high wind warnings in parts of the mountains. The pod behaved OK, but you could feel the effect of the wind. The truck was struggling a little at times, like being on the boat on Saginaw Bay going into 6 footers. Plus we both thought the mountainous stretch of the trip lasted much longer going north on I-77 than it did coming south on I-75. I expect our gas mileage will be worse than on the way down.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">After 8 hours on the road, we stopped just north of Canton OH for the night. It will be a short four hour drive for home tomorrow. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">No photos today.</span></div>Mark and Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04183988039150610221noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4674351923278917321.post-51329082205915493942010-12-06T14:39:00.000-08:002010-12-06T14:39:21.028-08:00Feb 26, 2010 - FL to NC<div><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">I don’t think it got nearly as cold last night as they were predicting, when we pulled out at 8:00 AM the thermometer in the truck said it was 34 degrees outside. But it’s supposed to be a beautiful sunny day today.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Just south of Jacksonville we exited to have some breakfast at the Cracker Barrel restaurant. The sign at the city limits read: Jacksonville – Logistics Center of America. Now <b><i>there’s</i></b> a snappy sloga … ssnnnxxxxzz! Oops, sorry, dozed off there for a second! </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Big mistake trying to exit here. The roads all around the expressway twisted and turned and split and merged at weird angles like I’ve never seen before. I have a theory as to how this happened. Before construction, at the road engineer’s planning dinner, one of them knocked his plate of spaghetti on the floor. The rest of them, in an alcohol haze after their third Bloody Mary, looked down at the spaghetti piled there and said, "Hmmm. We may be onto something here …" Anyway, we could not find the restaurant. We could see the sign peek out from behind a post or a building or another sign once in a while, so we knew which direction to head, but we just could not get there. There were no signs anywhere along the way directing you to the restaurant. Whenever we thought we were fairly close, the road twisted and took us farther away. We doubled back, and when we drew close again, the road forked and away we went farther away from breakfast. Finally we gave up and got back on the expressway, figuring there had to be another Cracker Barrel coming along soon. Once we got back on I-95 and looked down, it was pretty obvious which way we had to go, but once you get off the expressway you’re like a rat in a maze. Just north of Jacksonville another C.B. came along, so we started moving over to leave the expressway at exit 86A. However, almost as soon as we got in the right lane, the overhead sign read "Exit 86B only" so back over to the left one lane we went. After exit 86B went by, it was immediately followed, without further notice, by exit 86A, and right on by it we went, still hungry.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Note to Jacksonville city fathers: you need to worry less about logistics, and more about signage.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Not too much later, in Kingsland, GA, we came across yet another Cracker Barrel, and were able to get there without any trouble. Shortly after we received our order, another couple came in and sat at the table next to ours: a very large gentleman and his female companion. This guy was gigantic: each of his legs looked like a Sequoia tree, and his hands were the size of dinner plates. His companion was at the opposite end of the spectrum. She was a petite little stick of a thing, like Popeye’s girlfriend Olive Oyl. They were studying our plates pretty carefully, and after a second or two the man leaned over to speak. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Now, I would have expected a booming voice that blew the loose napkins off the table, but he spoke in the most pleasantly soft, perfectly modulated voice, "Excuse me, ma’am. Are those blueberry pancakes?" After Beth answered his questions, he said, "Oooh … I LIKE blueberries. That’s what I’m getting." Then his lady friend asked me what I was having, then asked a few follow up questions. All the while, she looked at me with her eyes wide open and a slightly surprised look on her face, as if her inner thoughts were mirroring my inner thoughts, which were: "Holy smoke, look at the size of that guy!" </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">After a few more pleasantries were exchanged, conversation came to an end, and they placed and then received their breakfast orders. Shortly thereafter, we stood up to leave, and the gentleman said to us in his beautiful Georgia accent, "Y’all be blessed, now." "Thank you, sir," I said, "and you as well." Just gotta love that southern courtesy. Makes me want to move to Georgia.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">We continued up I-95 to the NE, then curved around and headed NW, then NE, then NW, tacking back and forth. Once a sailor, always a sailor, I guess.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Spending the night just south of Charlotte NC. Tomorrow we’ll be passing close by Mt. Airy, NC. So what, you say? Mt. Airy is the boyhood home of Andy Griffith, and the model for his fictional town of Mayberry. We’ll swing through there unless the weather is really bad. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">No new photos today.</span><br />
</span></span></div>Mark and Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04183988039150610221noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4674351923278917321.post-8516818509316442782010-12-06T14:37:00.001-08:002010-12-07T09:51:18.860-08:00Feb 25, 2010 - St. Augustine<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"> <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjweCrQ2sdZkFgIEtOIae4GTsJh0A_Jx34V3gBGdBEEmtoPuDCSw8P-qBkz5BuKK7o_jt0vEXN0TsSIp0ymZxx45h6fktlWyjcD9mRlevza0c2JD-4xyKlS6thvnzHyEFqNC3YosMRhitg/s1600/_DSC8347.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjweCrQ2sdZkFgIEtOIae4GTsJh0A_Jx34V3gBGdBEEmtoPuDCSw8P-qBkz5BuKK7o_jt0vEXN0TsSIp0ymZxx45h6fktlWyjcD9mRlevza0c2JD-4xyKlS6thvnzHyEFqNC3YosMRhitg/s200/_DSC8347.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hat shop, St.Augustine</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj-JkqTQaIwt1SmvwFognBpjVFAjJT3o8CsfPw8Jgbd7Mcyt_Gno1gbqAYFnHpwXcsc9hpjMO-Y-clXfnrJ6ptplMmuJ4o2xBF3EBpvjECYc2QPIGScNrB5urpBMJ38QPbUZjldvrq1Ms/s1600/St+Augustine+39.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj-JkqTQaIwt1SmvwFognBpjVFAjJT3o8CsfPw8Jgbd7Mcyt_Gno1gbqAYFnHpwXcsc9hpjMO-Y-clXfnrJ6ptplMmuJ4o2xBF3EBpvjECYc2QPIGScNrB5urpBMJ38QPbUZjldvrq1Ms/s200/St+Augustine+39.jpg" width="142" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Fort</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Dennis and Carol had to head home today. Carol is an avid gardener, and tonight’s low in their home area of FL is forecast to be 22 degrees, so they need to get home and cover their plants. After they packed up and headed out, we gave the beach a shot, but it was just too cotton-pickin’ cold. So instead we went back into town. Unlike when we were there several days ago, there’s no rain in the forecast, so we’ll be able to take our time and see part of what we missed last time. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">There were several school field trips in process today in town. At one point, we saw a couple of dozen elementary school kids lined up waiting for sugary ice cream cones. They were already squirming, squealing, twirling and hopping while standing there in line, so by the time they get done they’ll be really wired. Remember the comic strip Bloom County? Think Bill the Cat.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">I’ll bet the adult that came up with the ice cream cone idea was <b><i>not</i></b> the bus driver. </span></span></span></div><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"></span></span></div><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">The forecast here for tonight’s low is the upper 20’s. For the next couple of days, the low temperatures forecast for w-a-a-a-y down here in FL differ by those forecast for w-a-a-a-y back up in MI by less than 10 degrees. Tomorrow AM we’re starting back for home, planning to spend tomorrow night at a KOA near Charlotte, NC. Nuts to that. We winterized the water system on the pod this evening. We’ll get by tonight, but for the next two nights on our way home it’s going to be motel rooms. </span></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTnwN9tej9BxlkFDNM9DSuuizZxkFPIfI2MC8ENbzR6vHnZwr21r7gHfQKxwEfBz4682zH482RgyYcetfhw0cDrHQF5MqJXV4TnxEdhonjXqvayu8PGqmiP60ZXmmczmjbPZoDi8fi_dY/s1600/St+Augustine+13_cr.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTnwN9tej9BxlkFDNM9DSuuizZxkFPIfI2MC8ENbzR6vHnZwr21r7gHfQKxwEfBz4682zH482RgyYcetfhw0cDrHQF5MqJXV4TnxEdhonjXqvayu8PGqmiP60ZXmmczmjbPZoDi8fi_dY/s200/St+Augustine+13_cr.jpg" width="133" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me at the fort</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQfU-cnNj_mr23hbgScsKHVZpxTiJ6rfxBJI4qLsbBuVPc-5oHf1e9d-Mi5irblz_4aXdcG2GMw0zcURwa_KG8IY18RgkpIDjoeWl8u6Uk-L3sL3x5BywVrre4btj_xfkQN2MYSbbGfnc/s1600/St+Augustine+42.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="142" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQfU-cnNj_mr23hbgScsKHVZpxTiJ6rfxBJI4qLsbBuVPc-5oHf1e9d-Mi5irblz_4aXdcG2GMw0zcURwa_KG8IY18RgkpIDjoeWl8u6Uk-L3sL3x5BywVrre4btj_xfkQN2MYSbbGfnc/s200/St+Augustine+42.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beth at the fort</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Partway through the afternoon we decided to stop at a coffee/ice cream shop and take a break at one of their nice, sunny outdoor tables. The machine the woman in the shop was using to make the coffee looked like it could be dangerous if operated by an untrained individual. Sort of like a thrashing machine, or maybe a small nuclear reactor. It had chutes and spouts and nozzles and levers sticking out every which way. It was flashing its lights and making all sorts of noises: grinding and hissing and whistling and whirring and beeping. I myself just ordered plain coffees. I know nothing about fancy coffee; in fact, I would have a hard time just pronouncing, let alone consuming, many of the beverages available in there. But other customers in the shop who were more coffee savvy than me had ordered some pretty complicated stuff. No problem, though. With the help of this amazing contraption, this solitary woman was able to brew my coffees on the spot while whipping up a half dozen cups of fairly complex looking beverages for the other customers. At the same time she was making waffle cones with yet another machine, and in her spare time, dancing to the latest song by Lady Gaga. I was mesmerized.</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"> </span></span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"></div>Mark and Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04183988039150610221noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4674351923278917321.post-21446774068085083962010-12-06T14:36:00.001-08:002010-12-19T11:36:25.600-08:00Feb 24, 2010 - Anastasia State Park<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaCRAP1N26LdfJM-os83qx_qpcxFf9AclPZzGjRUY9ZiNYdi4ZSKfpuM0F0FN88P63te5iw4vNXd5xVgBvWfXUcEHcKb08C4LpXugqaH1Q9XyDIgFOOXnsUuq1OjumWYvrldDDlV0-v8M/s1600/Anastasia+SP++26.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaCRAP1N26LdfJM-os83qx_qpcxFf9AclPZzGjRUY9ZiNYdi4ZSKfpuM0F0FN88P63te5iw4vNXd5xVgBvWfXUcEHcKb08C4LpXugqaH1Q9XyDIgFOOXnsUuq1OjumWYvrldDDlV0-v8M/s400/Anastasia+SP++26.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Anastasia State Park Dunes</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">This morning we had to switch campsites, but it didn’t take long. We only had to move down a half dozen sites. We left the rDome attached, sort of rolled it up, and tossed it over the roof of the pod. Everything else that was loose we just set on top of the truck bed and then carefully moved to the new site. We looked like the Beverly Hillbillies. The only thing we were missing was a rocking chair with Granny in it on top of the truck. </span></span></span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"> <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9QhGZ75lyTxRvkkw3RIXKKC_5DAj5PU1QCFMBP9yEWTJXODha1dIjEshOxqHFtBI_HREVwous8gcvsB6qewa3hOKFXfc9Bx_pFj7bkBYY2uimn4smFtyqXWfBUWs2EyTILKkjZfbLzuE/s1600/Anastasia+SP+36.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9QhGZ75lyTxRvkkw3RIXKKC_5DAj5PU1QCFMBP9yEWTJXODha1dIjEshOxqHFtBI_HREVwous8gcvsB6qewa3hOKFXfc9Bx_pFj7bkBYY2uimn4smFtyqXWfBUWs2EyTILKkjZfbLzuE/s200/Anastasia+SP+36.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bad hair day on the beach</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Struck up a conversation with at lady from Canada this morning. We were sharing a picnic table up at Island Joes WiFi hotspot, checking our email. She and her husband are one of the host couples here at the park, staying January through March, and had been doing so for several years now. She gave me the lowdown on how that works. You’re expected to stay between 60 and 120 days, during which you get your site for free. In exchange you work 20 hrs per week helping maintain the park. You could be doing anything: painting, cleaning bathrooms, landscaping, sprucing up vacated campsites before the next visitor checks in, whatever’s needed. She also told us many of the private campgrounds in Florida have host campers as well, and that there’s an online forum and a magazine devoted to folks that do just that sort of thing. The popular parks can be hard to get into, but you just never know. She said a couple checked in while on vacation two years ago, and just for fun filled out an app when they checked in. Before they got to their assigned site, their cell rang and they were hired to stay here at Anastasia. Seems one of their host couples had failed to show up, they were already there and available, so they got the job. She also gave us tips on how to apply and get into the system. We may check that out when we get home. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEickhANNiUlQz5KCZcC5HnNSEc9iC357ErtOKncNLfXlXN6NGKgD02QlvScPUSplsztvA0Qtk9CHta5nTvBp91ft0LPF2jrFUmDfq2KzcRImffN-wneED1pIyM5YYiOvup-nHT0mavAhHQ/s1600/Anastasia+SP+63.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEickhANNiUlQz5KCZcC5HnNSEc9iC357ErtOKncNLfXlXN6NGKgD02QlvScPUSplsztvA0Qtk9CHta5nTvBp91ft0LPF2jrFUmDfq2KzcRImffN-wneED1pIyM5YYiOvup-nHT0mavAhHQ/s200/Anastasia+SP+63.jpg" width="142" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Irish Eyes Were Smilin'</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">We went for a walk on the beach today with Dennis and Carol. It’s supposed to rain this afternoon so we thought we’d try to get this in before the weather turns foul. I think there may have seen 3 or 4 other people along the entire 4 mile stretch. It was pretty chilly with an onshore breeze, making for a cold fog in the air. As we were leaving, we saw a kite boarder headed out toward the beach to take advantage of the breeze. Those guys are nuts anyway. While we were at it we took in the nature trail inside the park. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">By this time it was late afternoon, so we moved the heater out under the tent and spent the afternoon gabbing while it rained. A simple potluck supper of hot dogs on the grill, and then it seemed like it was dark and time to turn in. Finally got to hear Dennis play the fiddle.</span></div></div>Mark and Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04183988039150610221noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4674351923278917321.post-44265145478679815872010-12-06T14:35:00.000-08:002010-12-19T11:39:12.028-08:00Feb 23, 2010 - Anastasia State Park<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_B8Xk0RXsJ50i5vtZMTnjezpkp8pL8Bm5C1oMWc-9t8bzd5s9a_gzZG8iJIoe0SNR8SsgSWqQHhN_v_W-oNWPHWzS7gkAOpJcbua9qMaTmwFnT4NHJ9BZQuRnE26mlxJwLJtobXVxn_s/s1600/Anastasia+SP++14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="142" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_B8Xk0RXsJ50i5vtZMTnjezpkp8pL8Bm5C1oMWc-9t8bzd5s9a_gzZG8iJIoe0SNR8SsgSWqQHhN_v_W-oNWPHWzS7gkAOpJcbua9qMaTmwFnT4NHJ9BZQuRnE26mlxJwLJtobXVxn_s/s200/Anastasia+SP++14.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Anastasia SP Beach</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">When Beth would come down to Florida as a kid, she and her brother would always set the alarm and get up early enough to go watch the sunrise over the ocean. This morning she though she might try that again, but when she got to the beach it was too foggy, plus she was about 20 minutes late. It’s a little tougher to get up early now compared to when she was eight years old.</span></div> <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3myR10v2yoBnPBZoiEC0gPnD45_LCX6kxLffLirzI8UE0iiUKTND4VaXEQyu0m9uY9ZvuAvxVZ3FjdikHXJghs5vGyMjn45iRLTq_LZsIuzjs85BZG8XBqtc0H3fcgydz-yTwV6XjRGo/s1600/Anastasia+SP+39.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3myR10v2yoBnPBZoiEC0gPnD45_LCX6kxLffLirzI8UE0iiUKTND4VaXEQyu0m9uY9ZvuAvxVZ3FjdikHXJghs5vGyMjn45iRLTq_LZsIuzjs85BZG8XBqtc0H3fcgydz-yTwV6XjRGo/s200/Anastasia+SP+39.jpg" width="142" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Anastasia SP Beach</td></tr>
</tbody></table> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">The fog went away pretty quickly though, and it promises to be a sunny day today, so we walked the beach for a while. They rent fat tired bikes at the park for you to ride on the beach, because down closer to the surf the sand is pretty firm. You hardly make a footprint at all. It looked like fun, so we decided we’d give it a try with our own bikes. I managed to get a photo, but it wasn’t easy, let me tell you. I was trying to hold and aim the camera with one hand, and keep the front wheel of the bike headed perfectly straight using the other hand. That’s pushing my athletic abilities to the limit right there, but of course, as soon as I started to take the photo, we hit a softer stretch of sand. So any lapse of concentration that allows the front wheel to turn just the tiniest bit off from dead ahead has exactly the same effect as jamming on the front brakes. And even though the bike comes to an instantaneous stop, since you’ve only got one hand on the handlebars, you yourself keep going and slide right off the saddle. And since there’s barely any clearance between the bike frame and my body when I’m standing flat-footed on the ground, I was sweatin’ it there for a bit.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"></span></div><br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">By the time we got partway down the length of the beach and back on our bikes, we were good and warmed up, so we decided to ride out to the St. Augustine lighthouse while we were at it. Then we rode to the closest store so I could get another memory card for my camera. Then we went back and spent the afternoon walking up and down the beach looking for weird stuff. The beach is actually made up of several smaller islands and sandbars that have joined together over the years, and it’s now called Conch Island. The beach runs about four miles from the pier at one end, to the St. Augustine Inlet on the other. We thought it might be fun to walk the length of it and back. But about halfway down we chickened out and turned around. So back to our chairs for a bit before we headed back to camp. Stress, stress, and more stress.</span></span></span><br />
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</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPp5ul2FPIkKh5w3dC_AG0Egj9eppjHQQ3cF55wcsdkRkIciVH92F4wKocMnK6uBK_DXbvNRK5zP37FpcpgM7gIYt9JhuE_HoNV5RrE6N7eBNcd5boHEqqoaLmHsSE0-HJ7vSbdrGCm18/s1600/Anastasia+SP+52.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="cssfloat: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="283" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPp5ul2FPIkKh5w3dC_AG0Egj9eppjHQQ3cF55wcsdkRkIciVH92F4wKocMnK6uBK_DXbvNRK5zP37FpcpgM7gIYt9JhuE_HoNV5RrE6N7eBNcd5boHEqqoaLmHsSE0-HJ7vSbdrGCm18/s400/Anastasia+SP+52.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"></span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">My buddy Dennis and wife Carol showed up later that afternoon, and after they got camp set up, we had a great evening around the campfire. Dennis builds violins and had brought his newest one to play, but we didn’t stop talking long enough for him to take it out of the case. Tomorrow.</span></div>Mark and Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04183988039150610221noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4674351923278917321.post-46750703321578106482010-12-06T14:34:00.000-08:002010-12-19T11:20:35.745-08:00Feb 22, 2010 - St. Augustine <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMzLX9g9_3_yhVdQE6ktUJNm6XXJ3jdCznT0CHiqqSM1R9rH0l-XnU6I0DQzGqOd_NfXAo6qeJEnTyArj5uQ18E9M79bv3luj4kqbD6CJ4e_NYZUe_IU31IRcwKBcNxS-6M_zAc4SDsCY/s1600/St+Augustine+03.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMzLX9g9_3_yhVdQE6ktUJNm6XXJ3jdCznT0CHiqqSM1R9rH0l-XnU6I0DQzGqOd_NfXAo6qeJEnTyArj5uQ18E9M79bv3luj4kqbD6CJ4e_NYZUe_IU31IRcwKBcNxS-6M_zAc4SDsCY/s200/St+Augustine+03.jpg" width="142" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Pottery Shop</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table> <span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Took off early to see old St. Augustine before the rain moves in this afternoon. When we got to the parking garage, Beth tore the pertinent pages out of our AAA Tourbook so we wouldn’t have to lug the whole thing around, which seemed like a good idea until she realized now she was left with a dozen or so loose pages to carry. It was still early, and not real busy in the garage yet, so the lady attendant didn’t have much to do. As we were getting ready to exit to the street, she called over to us, "Can I help you folks find anything specific?" So we walked over to talk. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">She gave us the basic layout of town, and advised us to go to the visitor’s center and talk to the ladies there at the desk before we set out. We chatted for a bit about the town, then she said, "Is there anything else I can help you folks with?"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">"Yes," Beth said, "do you happen to have a stapler?" Hah, she never saw <b>that</b> one coming! But she fixed us up. As we stepped off the curb and confidently strode off toward the visitor’s center, she stuck her arm out of the booth, pointed the exact opposite direction from the one we were going, and called out, "No, you want to go this way." And to think we used to navigate all over Lake Huron.</span></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUgG2X1l6ZyYBWq2_khEF-ET5SX_1x_mcEINLOM1tmhZFVdPKo6R6OZvAuTf9dVIE0AuxFtjILI7go9gcifTqq1FOm_nx7FsxNp6nmqE3B6bb-CNLJZ2QIQ9gUCNX5jv4cX9bZUG4oZnQ/s1600/St+Augustine+62.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="142" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUgG2X1l6ZyYBWq2_khEF-ET5SX_1x_mcEINLOM1tmhZFVdPKo6R6OZvAuTf9dVIE0AuxFtjILI7go9gcifTqq1FOm_nx7FsxNp6nmqE3B6bb-CNLJZ2QIQ9gUCNX5jv4cX9bZUG4oZnQ/s200/St+Augustine+62.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Spouting Masks</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table> <span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Shortly after we got started, I got a call from my old buddy Dennis. Dennis is now a resident of Beverly Hills, FL, but he and I used to race sailboats on the weekend on Lake Huron back when he was a MI resident. Actually, he was the brains of the outfit. I mostly went along and responded to his tactful commands to "trim a bit" or "ease that sheet, please" or "let’s get set up for the spinnaker set." In the specialized and highly technical language of sailboat racing, he was the "tactician". I was the "deck monkey." We had talked yesterday, and after making sure he wasn’t going to upset any of our carefully thought out plans (bwah ha ha) he wondered if it would be OK if he and wife Carol came to visit. Today he was calling to let me know that he had managed to snag a campsite for two nights here at Anastasia, and would be bringing his popup camper over for Tuesday and Wednesday nights. </span></span></span><br />
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</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Walked the town until about 1:00, then we stopped for lunch at Harry’s Seafood Bar and Grille on the waterfront, with authentic Louisiana style cuisine. When our waitress came back to ask me if my jambalaya and fried green tomatoes was OK, I said, using my best Emeril Legasse voice, "Oh yeah, babe." Poor Beth. Someday she’s going to pull a socket muscle from rolling her eyes so hard.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We managed to get a</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">nother hour or so of walking in before it started to sprinkle. </span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"></div></div> <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCo5p3ekUKWRCcTOECP4oa3cug5zlIulwDJo4vQr70ih4rImPzILkN1IepFDQ-fbBM7Nhnn8EYco_Gfe11aPQ7kE0izXDtRqk-_jb8a1m2xNAvGhsPRFDU09R0W_kUERkonM1uo9OLbks/s1600/St+Augustine+02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCo5p3ekUKWRCcTOECP4oa3cug5zlIulwDJo4vQr70ih4rImPzILkN1IepFDQ-fbBM7Nhnn8EYco_Gfe11aPQ7kE0izXDtRqk-_jb8a1m2xNAvGhsPRFDU09R0W_kUERkonM1uo9OLbks/s200/St+Augustine+02.jpg" width="142" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Street Musician</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzVd5BmMcx5rkv6dZ6tqWnqvwQ_bQyvJUJ3uvUrtPFDs5QifeCt3JFvitv9iTvotJRIA6uwtnexwrqCJfJNp4pKjvuZFtRp2Txp9jOLLKJscoaxlB9UqvHiavObGzIUEpbh_oeRSYd0Ss/s1600/St+Augustine+26.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzVd5BmMcx5rkv6dZ6tqWnqvwQ_bQyvJUJ3uvUrtPFDs5QifeCt3JFvitv9iTvotJRIA6uwtnexwrqCJfJNp4pKjvuZFtRp2Txp9jOLLKJscoaxlB9UqvHiavObGzIUEpbh_oeRSYd0Ss/s200/St+Augustine+26.jpg" width="142" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">Knockin' On Heaven's Door</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6NHDVstZ_BiqfLr27iE0kKckV929no9Zoz9bgG9FUC9a3zVCnfAYXZHBRok-viVMlVskbKya0no4_vS9Y_pyIPUDtOkTaHmpwL8c6R2ilcBzFTZ_ftwJ4sg_Old8znn0Uh0Y_Aril-p0/s1600/St+Augustine+12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><img border="0" height="200" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6NHDVstZ_BiqfLr27iE0kKckV929no9Zoz9bgG9FUC9a3zVCnfAYXZHBRok-viVMlVskbKya0no4_vS9Y_pyIPUDtOkTaHmpwL8c6R2ilcBzFTZ_ftwJ4sg_Old8znn0Uh0Y_Aril-p0/s200/St+Augustine+12.jpg" width="142" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">St. Photios National Greek Shrine</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9LUXVJYhVZE52Ua29ShnazWe1A0h7Wwqbhr3_MRrtUl4G5WwcyJooKCpmTCu03Fns2Z2zU5jL8EUxbYiOtP0XFkh2J1apjCy4g2UgPwLM0DT_0mxIBGRvdD_MmimSOtOPru0ZXhrTCeE/s1600/St+Augustine+20.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9LUXVJYhVZE52Ua29ShnazWe1A0h7Wwqbhr3_MRrtUl4G5WwcyJooKCpmTCu03Fns2Z2zU5jL8EUxbYiOtP0XFkh2J1apjCy4g2UgPwLM0DT_0mxIBGRvdD_MmimSOtOPru0ZXhrTCeE/s400/St+Augustine+20.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">St. Augustine Street</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisXAac_KmFnIaq52W69R3YdvlLggDSVJh09ETQw6W_akyTt3SFozJAeHQGp5oWm9j5PdH1MsZZ4ivqoi8kpZ26KNa1LuqlzIdbaMCvL6zTwjQxYvPeKpSaTkq2x_eZwJ3omolCzhHYUik/s1600/St+Augustine+16.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisXAac_KmFnIaq52W69R3YdvlLggDSVJh09ETQw6W_akyTt3SFozJAeHQGp5oWm9j5PdH1MsZZ4ivqoi8kpZ26KNa1LuqlzIdbaMCvL6zTwjQxYvPeKpSaTkq2x_eZwJ3omolCzhHYUik/s400/St+Augustine+16.jpg" width="285" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">St. Augustine Street</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>Mark and Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04183988039150610221noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4674351923278917321.post-41378394864950667732010-12-06T14:32:00.000-08:002010-12-07T08:56:05.587-08:00Feb 21, 2010 - Anastasia State Park<div><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDUHYd5nShxWuaGsX7KVe1sOlEDs0iajs-j4aODlTrfvVTqHWIxnQXeF3k9kCuUrsvVhlg-jS1utUd75rANi8F7yf6KI8R5DH-gIJASTPmjNKarI7t1aAsJg5h-yz9COhsv68OQR17u7M/s1600/Cane+Field.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="142" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDUHYd5nShxWuaGsX7KVe1sOlEDs0iajs-j4aODlTrfvVTqHWIxnQXeF3k9kCuUrsvVhlg-jS1utUd75rANi8F7yf6KI8R5DH-gIJASTPmjNKarI7t1aAsJg5h-yz9COhsv68OQR17u7M/s200/Cane+Field.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Burning Cane Field</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">The ashes from the cane fields were falling gently this morning all over the campground, like the first snow of the winter. But we have miles to go before we sleep, so after sticking my head out the door for a quick gator check, we unhooked the shore power, detached the water hose, upped stabilizers, latched, locked, and moved ‘em out. Yippee kii yea!</span></div><span style="font-size: small;"></span></div><br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Not too long after hitting the main road, we got a great view of a burning cane field from overhead while traversing a bridge. Unfortunately, by the time I got my window down, and camera aimed, I was just about a half second too slow on the shutter before the trees got in the way. So you get to see half a frame of burning cane field, poorly composed, and a half a frame of blurry branches. The whole shot looks like it was taken as an afterthought from a moving vehicle, which actually it was. Sorry about that. They can’t all be Pulitzer Prize winners.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">We had the address for Anastasia SP plugged into the GPS, and I was really hoping that she would route us through Yeehaw Junction. Yes, that is a real town. I had no reason to go there, don’t even know what’s there; I just wanted to say I’d been there so I could tell some stories that start out "once, when I was in Yeehaw Junction …" Unfortunately, once we got around the east end of the lake, she skewhawed us off on a diagonal toward I-95 before we got that far north. When I say "she" I am talking about our GPS. We have a female nickname for our GPS because it has a female voice. Beth’s friend calls her sultry sounding car GPS "Destiny". That’s nice. However, I can’t repeat our GPS unit’s nickname here because it’s not nice. But she earned it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">On the way up 95 to St. Augustine I saw a billboard for a Stuckey’s, the first one I’ve seen on this trip. Now, the reason this is significant, at least to me, is that when my grandparents first retired decades ago and started traveling back and forth from MI to FL in their motor home, they always stayed overnight at Stuckey’s. My grandpa pronounced it "Stuke-ees", and I don’t really know if this is correct or not. But it doesn’t really matter, because I’ll never pronounce it any other way, anyway. Also, when Beth was a kid, she made the road trip from MI to FL several times, and she remembers the wonderful pecan logs they used to get there. It seemed like they were everywhere up and down the highway when we were kids, parking lot always full of Winnebagos and idling semis (knights of the road, you know, taking a break from helping stranded motorists change flat tires.) So since we needed gas, and we were both ready for some lunch, we pulled into the Stuckey’s Travel Center (Busses Welcome). </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Lo, how the mighty have fallen. It looked just like any other gas station inside, selling sunglasses and sodas and cellophane wrapped slop. But there was one shelf that had a few modest stacks of canned pecan goodies, a shadow of the former Stuckey’s selection, almost apologetic it was so meager. They also had some small pecan logs, so we bought one. Later that evening around the campfire we split it, and while staring at the flames, we silently cherished our memories. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Okay, enough of that. Time marches on. Snap out of it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Earlier that afternoon when we checked in, we asked the poor overworked ranger there to see if we could extend our stay a few days. We know how popular the park is and figured our chances were slim. He gave it the old college try, but between working the computer, answering the phone, assisting his colleagues, and trying to help us, he came up empty handed. No spots. He did suggest we come back in the morning to see if anything had changed. Once we got camp set up, we hopped on our bikes, made a partial tour of the park, and even managed to walk the beach before it got too late. Later that evening we went to Island Joe’s, the camp store with free WiFi, and wonder of wonders, by going online through Reserve America, we were able to find the one remaining vacant RV spot in the park for the days we wanted. So even though we’ll have to move campsites halfway through our stay, we were able to extend it two more days. Yea baby! </span></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy_Qdc_fSelda707fnkqJOftp9VY-MwgbDU8oJDhJqQJtc7ygD3fyrAmdHSpJxa-6gLU5s9cFlvd8J9XwFTvTfbKbqRiHhayxFiir10uTjVS1gZNmBUxaMHv1CDQxBaZm8_Fz_X1YNy1g/s1600/Anastasia+SP++04.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="228" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy_Qdc_fSelda707fnkqJOftp9VY-MwgbDU8oJDhJqQJtc7ygD3fyrAmdHSpJxa-6gLU5s9cFlvd8J9XwFTvTfbKbqRiHhayxFiir10uTjVS1gZNmBUxaMHv1CDQxBaZm8_Fz_X1YNy1g/s320/Anastasia+SP++04.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Anastasia SP Beach, St. Augustine</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Later that night while sitting around the fire, we kept hearing an occasional loud hissing noise. We looked at each other; what the heck was that? Was it some sort of large lizard? An enormous snake, maybe? Well, funny story, actually. It turns out the noise actually comes from the super high-powered hand dryers in the nearby shower building. Must be we’re still spooked from all the alligator warning signs at our last stop.</span></div><br />
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"></div>Mark and Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04183988039150610221noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4674351923278917321.post-58640765439569573042010-12-06T14:30:00.000-08:002010-12-07T08:46:42.546-08:00Feb 20, 2010 - Lake Okeechobee<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Not far to go today, so after a leisurely morning drinking our coffee we took off for Lake Okeechobee. As we followed 80 just south of the Caloosahatchee River, we saw lots of orange groves, but nowhere to pull off for pictures. As we got closer to the lake, though, the orange groves started to disappear. They were replaced with a few cornfields, some strawberry fields, and even a banana field or grove or orchard or whatever. But mostly we saw sugar cane. Here and there you could see black columns of smoke rising up from where a field was being burned off. Apparently this is done after mechanically harvesting the cane to kill off insects in the field and get it ready to be replanted. If the cane is harvested by hand, the field is burned before harvesting to remove the leaves without hurting the cane itself. It also kills off poisonous snakes in the field before the harvesters go in. I don’t know anything about sugar cane farming, but that last part seems like a really good idea to me.<br />
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We passed through Clewiston (America’s Sweetest Town) and location of U.S. Sugar’s corporate HQ. Continuing on around the south end of the lake, we stopped at Lake Okeechobee Outpost in Pahokee. The town of Pahokee itself is in pretty sad shape, frankly. We missed our turn into the campground, and in the process of doubling back, we discovered that some parts of Pahokee are, well, a little scary.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhURFvuPa0bMDDy3RtO9Fw02YlJ7j9l6F6CfPp0aaUby0_i4PwXY8Iu8mzPtibMT6ZcdYKZ_RYm64dQ6f2hSDdI7HVbV-K-mq0EmnMy82qeAgLZ4YyFparL4HuqGjw6Sd6VGmXA65pvEXk/s1600/Lake+Okeechobee++03.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="227" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhURFvuPa0bMDDy3RtO9Fw02YlJ7j9l6F6CfPp0aaUby0_i4PwXY8Iu8mzPtibMT6ZcdYKZ_RYm64dQ6f2hSDdI7HVbV-K-mq0EmnMy82qeAgLZ4YyFparL4HuqGjw6Sd6VGmXA65pvEXk/s320/Lake+Okeechobee++03.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Guess we'll check out the pool ...</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">After the check-in process was completed, they gave us a brochure (oh, by the way, take this) that among other things, warned us that alligators and snakes were both very common in the park. It then went on to say that they were both extremely dangerous. There are also signs everywhere warning campers to <b>Watch For Alligators, </b>and, oh yeah, <b>No Swimming Due To Alligators. </b>We also learned that Lake Okeechobee is only about 9 feet deep on average, and in 2007/8 a record drought caused water levels to drop so severely that much of the lake bottom was exposed. The exposed bottom vegetation that had formerly been nice and fireproof beneath the water then proceeded to dry out and burst into flame. </span></div><br />
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Snakes, alligators, fire. This is one crazy place. </span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWnZMKNeKRAC_SGPoN2L_-s7Ul_0oVKnqXJpX9CXfZecqJDeghkkx5iKjohGsDaUwBLmLDbxxy8Orq49vJsX1fEJn9Lr2LlcTKTBljJUcp8qHr_GQEkXTSp_pc8Je3H3mcMfEpBPI2F0o/s1600/Lake+Okeechobee++08.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWnZMKNeKRAC_SGPoN2L_-s7Ul_0oVKnqXJpX9CXfZecqJDeghkkx5iKjohGsDaUwBLmLDbxxy8Orq49vJsX1fEJn9Lr2LlcTKTBljJUcp8qHr_GQEkXTSp_pc8Je3H3mcMfEpBPI2F0o/s320/Lake+Okeechobee++08.jpg" width="228" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Lake Okeechobee KOA</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The campground facility is nice enough, though. Even though the sites are narrow and there’s precious little shade, they’re all right on the lake. They have several shower/bathroom/laundry buildings, a beautiful common room with big screen TV and WiFi, an outdoor Tiki-style picnic area, and a conference center. Also, they have a really nice alligator-free pool. They also have park models for rent, and many of them have screened porches on the end facing the lake. There are some seasonals who stay here all winter, and lots of fishermen camp here too. I chatted for a bit with a couple who pulled into the site next to us. The guy came here hoping to see some alligators – man, he was just giddy when he saw all those warning signs. </span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There’s a store with the basics, a boat launch, and a seemingly new marina, with several hundred slips. The marina had exactly 5 boats in it. Of those 5 boats, only one had anyone aboard, and it had seen better days. However, the owner was working hard out on the aft deck to put her back into shape. He had already apparently installed a great stereo system, because as he sanded away, some fantastic high volume smoky blues piano was just sort of oozing out into the marina. By the time we finished our tour of the docks, he had switched to jazz. <b><i>Stardust </i></b>played on the clarinet, to be exact.<b><i> </i></b>I walked back that way just before dusk, and he was still hard at work. It must be he was getting tired and needed a little kicker by that time, ‘cause he had switched it to Motown, baby!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It’s a nice clear night tonight, and I was planning to go out and see if I could get some shots of the stars over the lake, but I keep thinking about all those alligator signs out there, so forget it.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8bp71_Ta9Nd-Wb40mRsMNK0bJPt65CqPa65PFYJsZ2dQ6xDEy2WfuFZJYMJZ2KWawp3ol-q0Gal32sX79jSl-sl5qMq0Kbi8AM6s4V6wEWgTUzryy2nhjiDIBzfcX0387dTVxKC6ttew/s1600/Lake+Okeechobee++15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8bp71_Ta9Nd-Wb40mRsMNK0bJPt65CqPa65PFYJsZ2dQ6xDEy2WfuFZJYMJZ2KWawp3ol-q0Gal32sX79jSl-sl5qMq0Kbi8AM6s4V6wEWgTUzryy2nhjiDIBzfcX0387dTVxKC6ttew/s400/Lake+Okeechobee++15.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Took this shot, then ran for cover before the 'gators came out.</span></td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Mark and Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04183988039150610221noreply@blogger.com0