Deer Hunting Season in Alabama

 Here we are in Tuskegee National Forest in southeast Alabama. It’s the height of deer hunting season. I wish I didn’t know that.

National Forests, in general, are much less “managed” than state parks. And by “less managed” I mean – no firepits, no picnic tables, no water, and no toilets, not even of the pit variety. As we bounced along the unpaved road toward the ranger station, my anxiety grew; Jeff, on the other hand, was ecstatic. “This is really camping!” he said with enthusiasm.

We were greeted at the ranger station by the ranger to whom I immediately expressed my alarm about guns and the possibility of being mistaken for a deer. He chuckled and tried to allay my doubts, “We’ve never had an incident,” he assured me.

We chatted for a few minutes and I took his business card off the counter – “just in case,” I said. He took the card from my hand and said, “Here, let me give you a better number.” With that he wrote down his personal number. Though he lives thirty minutes away in Montgomery, he told us, he can contact the ranger who lives right nearby if there’s a problem. I felt so much better. You should have seen the look I gave him before I followed Jeff out of the office. Thank you, Darrius.

Let me tell you about 5-a-7. In Quebec, 5-a-7 (cinq-a-sept) is “happy hour.” Bars advertise 5-a-7 and friends gather for 5-a-7 to enjoy a glass of wine or a beer, etc. Of course, “cinq” might be 4 o’clock and “sept” often goes on into the night. It’s just an expression. In our case, we are operating on three time zones right now. The clock in the van remains at eastern daylight time, since Jeff never bothered to reset it in November. Jeff’s watch remains at eastern time, so he can judge when to feed Teddy and Lady. My Iphone, of course, is accurate to the second. Right now, it’s announcing Central Time. The great thing is – we don’t really care what time it is. We eat when we are hungry, sleep when we’re tired, and wake up in the morning. And, the best part – it’s always 5-a-7 somewhere.

Oh, by the way, Teddy and Lady are having a great time. They wish you were here.

Cheers!

 

 

Hi Y'all

Hi  Y’all

Funny how fly for a few hours in your own country, disembark, and are plunged into a different culture – different expressions, different food preferences, not to mention different manners –the south leans toward polite.

On the flight from Philadelphia to Knoxville (nox’vul) I asked my seatmate, a lifelong resident, if she knew of a place to get dinner on Christmas. She assured me “There’s always someplace to get good food in the south – good and fried.”

However, dinner was our first challenge. We chose a Waffle House in Maryville (mara’vul) – it was our only choice as it turned out.  We sat at the counter since the place was bustling and watched with amazement at the ballet composed of ten seasoned servers juggling plates of waffles, eggs, patty melts and potatoes and all with hearty good cheer and holiday greetings. One of us – not the American – watched the drama unfold, “I’m flabbergasted!” he said.

Our first campsite was the Quality Inn with free breakfast and heat. Teddy and Lady roughed it in the van alone. They were comfy, though.

And that brings me back to the snow bird issue. I spent a lot of time thinking about this as I winged across the country from 70-degree, sunny San Diego. I came up with a fitting name for someone crazy enough to leave perfect weather to camp in the cold in a van without heat –a temperate turkey!

Filled up the van today for $1.96 per gallon. It cost less to fill up the van than it does to fill my Fiat.

On our way to Desoto State Park in Alabama! Y’all have a fine day!

t&j

One Snowbird, One Sunny Southern Californian, and Two Dogs

Saturday, December 23

The trip is underway - partially. Teddy and Lady and their driver are on the road in the van, heading south. I fly out of sunny Southern California on Monday and – if all goes according to plan – we rendezvous at the McGhee Tyson airport in Knoxville Tennessee on Monday evening, which also happens to be Christmas.

I know what a snowbird is – someone who leaves his or her home to escape the cold winter. But what do you call someone who leaves a place renowned for perfect climate to travel to another place renowned for less-than-perfect climate? Don't answer that! When John Steinbeck wrote Travels with Charley (also a dog, by the way), he left his warm California home in the Central Valley for three months to drive around chilly New England: “I’ve lived in good climate and it bores the hell out of me,” he said. “What good is warmth without cold to give it sweetness?” Like Steinbeck, “I like weather rather than climate.” We’ll see how long that holds up – in a van with two dogs.

So, we figure this trip has five possible outcomes: 1) We set up camp in one beautiful spot after another, spend leisurely days canoeing, walking the dogs, sitting on warm beaches along the Gulf coast, eating oysters, drinking wine, and seeing the sights across the southern United States – open-ended – just going with the flow until we decide we’re done or 2) We camp for a while – then decide that we were overly ambitious - camping in a van with two dogs is just too cramped and smelly – and head back to Canada. Space trumps snow (bad word, I know) or 3) I (the American) politely request that he (the Canadian) deposit me at the nearest airport, acknowledging that camping in a van with two dogs sounded fun but in reality…airports are everywhere and my sanity is at risk or 4) He tires of making coffee every morning before walking the dogs and offers to split the cost of my last-minute airline ticket back to California, leaving him in peace with the van and the dogs or 5) He just wants out, in which case I take him to the nearest airport and continue solo with the van and the dogs back to California. We haven’t quite worked out the logistics of option five.

Meanwhile, I’m packing. Clothes and shoes for camping, canoeing, hiking, walking in the warm, cold, rain and snow. I’ve got my camera, binoculars, headphones, computer, phone, ipad.

I just checked the weather forecast for Monday: San Diego - 65; Knoxville - 38. Oy. I hope those dogs generate some heat.