Wednesday, October 30, 2013

Critters, Hitchhikers and a Stowaway

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Log or alligator?

Yepper!  That's a B-I-G alligator.

A drive by shooting...

We were warned of bears in the area, but never expected to see any.
Never say never...

Besides hitchhikers, this froggy fool hid in the motorhome for days, being relocated to another campground.
We politely put him out with a stern warning not to come back.
Now we know what the mysterious *twack twack twack* was in the middle of the night. Our stowaway was probably snooping around for food and water.

In September 2012, I had a different hitchhiking froggy.

An Unidentified One-Eared Wild Animal.
This hitchhiker has been riding around with me for over 3 years.
Always begging for a ride.
I don't have the heart to say no. 
If you missed part one of Critters and Hitchhikers, it's here:

Also see:
The Scrawny Hitchhiker

Monday, October 28, 2013

Critters and Hitchhikers

Critters and Hitchhikers

I've been wandering around parts of North and South Carolina the past month or so. Here are pics of some of the critters I encountered. A few even caught a ride along the way. My camera is acting erratically so the quality varies widely but I thought I would share them anyhow. Some were taken at a distance and cropped, so they are grainy.

You can click to enlarge the photos.

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Bobcat relaxing.

No idea but answers to Harley or Monkey.
He's been catching rides with me for over 3 years. 

Some kind of needle nose fish me thinks. 

A little fox studies his manicure.

The dragonfly on my windshield wiper.
I was driving when I took this.
He hung on catching a ride all the way to the next campground.

This little adult hitchhiker and his tiny (teacup?) dog.
They rode with us awhile.
Didn't take up much room.

We didn't give this fellow a ride, but I snapped his pic cause he was cute.

Sunday, October 27, 2013

Cold Balls In The Surf

Harley dog is smitten. He thinks the beach is a new store to shop for dog toys.

He hates getting wet, doesn't like to swim unless it's 100F degrees, both water and air.

Yesterday we woke up to 40F degree weather. Harley wore a sweater and a vest while I about froze in 2 shirts, a jacket and only one pair of long pants. Yep it was c-c-c-cold.

We headed for the beach during our morning walk in search of sunshine but it was cloudy. The tide was rolling in, we were walking on a narrow strip of sand. Harley was shaking and shivering, my teeth were chattering. The lack of sun wasn't warming us up. I was going to turn around to go home for more clothes. (Home is where we park it! It being the little old motorhome.)

But floating in the surf of the great expanse of the Atlantic Ocean was a tennis ball. Despite the near frigid temperatures Harley bounced on his flexi-leash into the ocean to rescue the toy.


I had to walk home carrying Harley, soaking wet, both of us shaking and shivering, my teeth chattering, while Harley had his tiny mouth proudly stuffed with one rescued tennis ball. What a sight we must have made.

Yepper, we provide entertainment for the campground.

So today, it was 45F degrees in the morning when I donned 2 pair of pants, a shirt and a huge sweatshirt that hangs down to my thighs. It's so big and warm, I could stuff several shirts under it if need be. I found it off season for $3 in a Big Lots store. I can even pull the sleeves down over my hands. The tight collar rides up to my chin. The oversized shirt is screaming red. At a distance with the huge billowy sweatshirt and tight leggings, I look like a giant red lollipop.

Harley had on a clean dry sweater with a vest over it. This time we walked to the beach where the brilliant sunshine made me feel so foolish for wearing so much. Harley finally stopped shaking when the sun hit him.

We walked down the beach with Harley darting back and forth on his long flexi-leash, thrilled to be dancing in the sand. Suddenly he plops a different ball at my feet.

Ball number two!  Apparently it was in the sand. I looked around to see a man setting up beach chairs. I asked him if this was his ball, he laughed at Harley's tiny mouth holding this huge ball then said "No. Not my ball. Looks like the doggy has claimed it now!"

This one is the size of a tennis ball but soft like a hacky sack.

Harley began tossing the ball around, then chasing it. His flexi-leash let him go about 16 feet in any direction, so he was pretty thrilled at his new game.

When he grew tired of playing by himself, he plopped the soft ball back at my feet. I began kicking it as far as I could but not far enough he couldn't race after it on his flexi-leash. In this manner we played a soccer game while traversing the beach.

Laughter!  It's great medicine.

One tired doggy trying to stay warm. 

Saturday, October 26, 2013

Auto Correct

Interesting tidbits about my whacked out friend...

He has nothing to do with computers and vows not to touch one until technology figures out how he can download a bottle of Rum. On the other hand he heard that you can be whoever you want to be while on the internet, so why do so many people choose to be stupid?

His neighbor is having a Halloween party and he was invited. When I asked what he was wearing, he said he is going to dress up as a drunk neighbor.

He said he couldn't wait for Thanksgiving with his boring relatives. At least he could get drunk and pass out, but everyone would think the turkey did it.

He is not much on housekeeping since his girlfriend vanished. Matter of fact, he said there was no need to decorate his house for Halloween. He already has real cobwebs all over it.

Recently he stayed in a fancy hotel for the week. He's a tad paranoid about maids rustling through his stuff. With a big black marker in his hand, he altered the "Do Not Disturb" hang tag for the door to "Already Disturbed". Then he attached a post-it note to the bottom of that and scribbled "Proceed With Caution".

So far no one's made the bed and he finds fresh towels stacked outside his door.

I asked him whatever happened to his girlfriend. He said well, first he came home and found a strange note on the fridge. It said "This is not working. I've moved to my mom's house."

He opened the refrigerator, the light came on and the beer was icy cold. He called his girlfriend to tell her it was working fine now. Meanwhile he can hear her mother screeching in the background "He's crazy!  He's crazy!"

So he told his girlfriend "See what I mean? People like her are the reason people like me need medicating!"

Friday, October 25, 2013

Jet Powered Bike

At low tide I tried for the first time ever to ride my bicycle on the beach. I am slow, but I had fun zipping over the hard wet sand with Harley riding in the basket up front. Several times I had to stop and rest, then get going again.

I am pushing myself day after day, trying to prove all the doctors wrong, wrong, wrong.

Eventually I got to going so fast that Harley's dog ears both stood up to attention with the aid of the wind.  It was funny because Harley is famous for his one ear up, one ear down goofy look. I was in high gear thinking this was the greatest adventure on earth.

At the far end of the beach, the man I passed sitting in a beach chair said "There goes that jet powered bike!"

I thought he was poking fun at my slowness or my age but I didn't care. I was having fun. This is something I have never done before and it felt quite thrilling in a childlike way. I felt like a big kid too, riding my shiny red bike with my puppy in a basket, my long hair blowing itself into knots. Could life get any better at all?

Later I turned around, riding past the same man again. I tried to put on some speed so I wouldn't attract anymore strange comments. As I huffed and puffed my way past him, I could hear him though.

He said "There goes that rocket powered bicycle!"  I just laughed and kept riding even faster, but then I suddenly had to stop not far down the beach. I was having problems. I had gone too far too fast and I was suddenly extremely weak. So weak, I needed to stop and rest before I fainted.


I stood there motionless, intensely meditating for more energy while Harley looked at me from his handlebar basket quite quizzically. Eventually I decided to put him on his leash so he could feel the sand in his toes. Now I could park the bike and just stand there looking foolish until the fainting sensation passed.

When I felt better, I decided to walk Harley dog. I was grateful to be alive, to be on my bike, to be with a silly dog, to be spared one more time. Life is good. I may not own a car, but I have a bicycle thanks to angels.  I keep trying to improve my stamina with the bike. Not sure I am succeeding, but I keep trying. If anything, I apparently provide comical entertainment for bystanders.

I took this picture of the bicycle parked on the beach because I wanted to remember this fabulous day forever.

After I took a few snaps with my camera, I walked Harley around. Meanwhile the man had folded up his chair and was walking down the beach towards us. He passed by and said "Oh my gosh. I thought you had some sort of special bike that was powered with jet fuel or something."

I thought to myself, what is this guy talking about?

And what is this dude smoking?

Must be good chit!  His imagination is wilder than mine.

He laughed and pointed to the rear of my bicycle. "That's not a jet powered bike!"

Um... ya think not?

But I kept my mouth shut. I just grinned like the fool I am while I tried to figure out what was going on in his funny mind.

It wasn't jet fuel, or a special rocket bike at all. It was my water bottle and a can of mosquito spray attached to the rear cargo carrier with a small bungee cord.

But to one beach goer, he saw a fanciful jet powered bicycle fly by his view.

Imagine that. 

Wednesday, October 23, 2013

Seasick in Frogmore

Early this morning we had to get my traveling sailing wandering buddy to the airport.  No car, just my wheel estate, so off the house goes with the doggy in tow. My campground is paid up for 10 more nights, so we didn't have to pack up everything to go, because I was coming back later.

Campgrounds seem to be notoriously lacking in crime. Besides my outdoor chairs are old and faded, the patio mat is wore out flaky, the innocent coffee can sitting outside doesn't hold coffee, it has doggy poo we steal tucked in little baggies stashed inside.

But just in case, we locked my Santa Claus red bicycle to the 6 foot 6 ton picnic table, then hid it under a ripped table cloth, so if the winds piped up the bike wouldn't blow away.

Best we could figure the airport was about 1.5 to 2.5 hours away by motorhome, plus 2 hours for airport insecurity, plus 1 hour for getting lost, detours, wrong turns, thick traffic and another hour for walking the humans and dog, feeding same, plus a bathroom break for all and well, we figured if we left at 0'dark thirty, we might just make it there in the nick of time for the 12:30pm flight.

It was decided my friend should drive the motorhome to the airport, giving me a break, so I would have the energy to do the trip home alone in reverse. So far on our trip I've been doing about 90% of the driving, while my friend has been doing about 90% of the labor stuff, so it's been fun for both of us, but I do tucker out easily these days.

As the sun came up, I sat smugly in the passenger seat, cradling my puppy until the seasickness struck.


This isn't a boat, I haven't been seasick since I sailed from Venezuela to Florida in nineteen eighty something, so why today of all days was I seasick in a motorhome, my motorhome, the same one I've been driving for over 3 years?

Just a few weeks ago, we took the wheel estate out to sea. Yessiree, the highlight of my trip was 3 glorious hours being back on the ocean with my motorhome, dog and buddy along for the ride. Wasn't seasick then. Wasn't seasick on the thirty or forty thousand miles I sailed at sea on sailboats afloat after that fateful trip from Venezuela.

Life is goof.

So, where are the pictures?  All the wonderful ones I wanted to snap while I was the passenger instead of the driver while rolling down the Sea Island Parkway. I wanted to snap the drawbridges, the incredible marshes at low tide, the majestic sunrise on the east coast, the fighter planes parked at the intersection to turn towards Parris Island, the funny street signs on Frogmore like Coffin Point (is that where smoking sailors go?) and Polowana Road plus Two Rut Road. Then there was the red piano and all manner of things I wanted to capture on my cheap little camera. (The good one inexplicably died a few months back so that is why my pics are not so sharp anymore.)

My phone is so ancient, it doesn't take pictures at all. Matter of fact, it can be downright cantankerous at times, just making calls.

Then I remembered. An angel had given me a nifty little soft sided camera case that had a velcro strap on it to presumably to attach it to one's belt. I had stuck it on my bicycle handlebars so I could carry my camera or cell phone or both in it. When Harley rides in the basket up front on the bicycle, there is no room left for anything but dog.

The camera is for snapping up beauty, the cell phone in case we have an emergency or a wreck. Which we did have an accident the other day on the bicycle with the camera still in its case but without the cell phone. We weren't seriously hurt, and it's a good thing too, since we had no phone to call for help. Not that Harley dog can call out anyhow, his paws too big, the phone too small. But I did ruin my pants and Harley was scared but hey we survived and that counts for something.

So no pictures today because goofy *ahem* that would be me, left the camera in the case, attached to the bicycle handlebars, under the ripped table cloth, locked to the picnic table back at the semi-abandoned campsite.

Well that just dills my pickle.

24 Hours of Heaven

It started with fresh shrimp off the boat.
An hour later, the wheel estate was parked at the beach, the shrimp was steamed and I was staring at the beauty of the Atlantic Ocean in sheer awe while munching on the bounty from the sea.
For 24 hours, this was the view from our picnic table behind the RV. The little dune protection fence is about a foot from high tide. At low tide there is this great expanse of tawny colored sand that Harley Dog just loves to run and play on.
This picture was taken midway between high and low tide. I would stay here forever if I could. 

Monday, October 21, 2013

Snapping Time

The Edisto River in South Carolina.

Repairs to this old motorhome.

It's a bird... it's a plane... it's a UFO... it's a secret...

This old house. I love photographing old buildings. Sometime a ghost shows up. Look to the left of the front door. Something is hovering there and also in the 2nd window from the left.

Trees planted by the Civilian Conservation Corps tower above my camping lot.
Read more about the Civilian Conservation Corps here. 

Saturday, October 19, 2013

Keep On Laughing

Things keep going wrong on this trip, but it sure adds to the adventure. No telling what will happen next!  The anticipation keeps me excited.

We just had to move again to a new camping spot in the same campground. The one we were in had really bad power. It's 9pm at night, but the ranger and the workamper had already worked on the electric box earlier in the day, but something else went wrong.  We've now stayed in 3 different spots in this campground.

Today I was just plum wore out. I ended up taking about 5 naps. I couldn't seem to garner enough energy to stay awake after all the running around and repairing and driving and so on.

We've careened around with no reservations yet we keep landing in wonderful spots to camp, meeting nice people, fun doggies and communing with nature.

Two trips for repairs to the RV so far. We detoured to be near one of my favorite repair people. Now the residential vehicle is happy again but still no tires. This old motorhome reminds me of my old sailboat. I would come home to my sailboat at anchor from working weeks or months at sea on large charter yachts. I was seriously ready for some relaxation after working 7 days a week, end to end, 16 hours a day with a smile plastered on my face. When working term charter yachts, you always act happy, smile continuously and never ever show them you're tired. However upon finally coming home, my lovely little sailboat would see my newly fattened wallet, then proceed to empty it out.

Those were some wonderful days for sure. But running amok in this wheel estate is great fun too. I hope I don't stop until they throw dirt on my face.

So caution to the wind plus all of my credit card, the tire stash, and a loan and we're almost good as new again.

They wouldn't take the dog as a down payment, but I tried.

My rig is celebrating her 20th birthday. Does that make her nearly vintage?

I've been trying to buy tires for ages it seems. Every time I get my tire money organized  *POOF* the RV demands other repairs. I guess she wants other things besides tires. So on a wing and a prayer, I shall plow forward on the current tires but everything else is working fine again.  Once I get to Florida, I will be parked for a few months of cold winter, then hopefully on the road again. But the best of plans can go awry as this trip has proved time and time again as we take a new tack.

I have a new heat pump now, so I can cool or heat the motorhome on electric.  My old roof type air conditioner finally went through her final death throws. I was going to get an AC unit with an electric heat strip but the repairman thought since I live in mine fulltime, I would be better off with a heat pump that heats and cools. I read up on all the pros and cons and decided to go with his recommendation since I like this guy, he has done work for me before.

He is a mobile mechanic, but I travel out to his house in the countryside where he also has a shop. This at least saves me the extra mobile fees.

Both my batteries died. One is a heavy duty the starter, the other is the house battery that runs the water pump, lights, fans and stuff like that. I had noticed they were both giving me fits. Adding distilled water to them as needed kept them happy more or less, but they were getting old and just decided to both die at once. Actually one killed the other one through a bad wire. I guess you could say it was a suicide-homicide.

I also did the usual maintenance on changing oil in the generator and the engine. On top of that were a bunch of minor repairs that my friend and I did without professional help. Nothing earth shattering, but when you take your home rattling down the highways and byways, things fall apart, much like a sailboat pounding in heavy seas.

Last night though, the hook that holds the bunk ladder to the guest loft decided to break off. *SIGH*. My friend and I being two sailors from far flung ports cobbled together an S hook and 6 plastic wire ties to form a temporary but sturdy repair. It looked awful, but was quite functional. Today I showed it to the repairman, to ask him if there was a way he could improve upon our temporary repair. He was amused at our antics. But hey, it sure beats breaking a leg or hip from a faulty ladder.

For you non-Rv-ers, the ladder to the guest loft is kept stowed away in a special spot on top of the overhead cabinets near the bunk.  When it's time to climb into the bed, the ladder is removed from storage. It has two hooks at the top of the ladder that attach to two sockets on the frame of the bed which is located over the cab area. Then one can climb up and down the firmly attached ladder to get in or out of the bed. Without the ladder, it's a five foot drop, so the ladder is necessary unless your legs are ten feet long.

Much that has gone wrong has been really comical at times. I had a minor seizure, no big deal, but my friend didn't realize what had happened, so he was laughing and asking "How did you DO that?"

I had set our lunch out on the table. He sat down. I sat down and suddenly, in the blink of an eye while he was looking the other way, my food was on the seat cushion beside me, my Corelle plate clanged loudly on the floor and my fork had sailed over behind me, landing in the hallway. I was sitting at the table, pretty as you please when my lunch seemingly vanished while he was looking the other way.

He bent down to pick up plate, but it was empty! He set it on the table in front of me and asked "What happened to your food? It's not on the floor." I told him I Hoover-hounded my food down, which caused us both to get the contagious giggles.

Eventually between snickers and laughter I located my lunch sitting on the dinette booth's cushion next to me. It was a Houdini trick that I hope not to repeat, but it was hilarious at the time.

Well, time to go, I am doing midnight laundry and it needs hanging up to dry.

Friday, October 18, 2013

Hop Along

Every day I try to find a thing of beauty and snap a photo to remind myself that no matter what pain or illness is torturing me, every day is a great day to be alive.

I read other blogs of other travelers and all the wonderful touristy places they get to visit, places that cost entrance fees. My efficient budget has no wiggle room for such grand frivolity. But I don't mind a bit. Nature is free.

Some travelers arrive at the campground, set up, then hop in their car to go sightseeing all day, returning only at night to sleep. I do my sightseeing en-route.  When I arrive at the campground, I am there to continue sightseeing on foot and bicycle.  Many times I am the only one in a campground by day. This makes for a quiet life.

You can travel in an RV on a grand budget or you can tour on a minuscule one. It's all about attitude and trade-offs. I don't believe that money equates success in life but just the same, if you grew up in America, you might scream and shout at me how dead wrong I am. (Someone recently freaked out at me over this issue...)

But it's just my belief that personal success is not measured in money, it's measured in life, liberty and happiness. Can instant success be bought?  I have no idea, but I am pretty darn happy and I live with less and do more. Angels keep sparing my life day after day. I am eternally grateful for this incredible miracle.

There is just oh so much beauty in this wide wonderful world. It's great to be alive. I feel oh so lucky. Life is good.

All of these pictures below will click to enlarge.

A whimsical boardwalk to the beach cuts through the maritime forest at Huntington Beach State Park in South Carolina. 

Harley dog was quite chilly so he donned his blue sweater while hanging out the window to pick out a campsite in the park. He looks for places that have fabulous puppy play room on the lot. 

If this tree could only talk and tell us about his varied life over the past century. It looks like 3 different trees. Amazing what can be found in nature.

Purple is my favorite color, well next to red. Hard to say which I like more. My good camera died, I am using a super cheap one that just doesn't quite capture the exquisite beauty I see. 

This little froggy was sitting on my laptop computer outside when I came back with a fresh cup of coffee. I snapped his picture.  Notice I said he was outside. Well, somehow, he decided to move indoors. My traveling friend chased him around the motorhome but couldn't catch him before he vanished. A few days later, I was washing windows. Oh what fun. In the kitchen I had to remove the spices from the rack my friend built in front of the kitchen window on the back of the counter top. Guess who I found! This time we were faster than he was. We finally captured our little green hitchhiker, relocating him back outdoors. 

Canoe Imbue

I guess I have a bridge fetish. My photo album is full of photos of bridges from about 14 states. One of these days I will organize them all into a pictorial. This concrete bridge caught my eye because I liked the way the arches were mimicked in the waters of the Edisto River in South Carolina.

The Edisto River is the longest free flowing blackwater river in North America, flowing over 250 meandering miles from its sources in Saluda and Edgefield counties, to its Atlantic Ocean mouth at Edisto Beach, South Carolina.

For a unique experience on the Edisto River, you can rent a treehouse to vacation in. The catch?  It's on an island in the river, you can only reach by canoe. The tree houses are off the grid with Tiki torches, oil lamps, rocking chairs with a treehouse view of the river with soft futons to sleep on in the treehouse loft. Talk about stepping back in time and thoroughly communing with nature. It sounds ideal.

Aaahhh... Take me away... to another time.

But back to reality...

The last time I went canoeing was with a one-legged man who lived on a canal. I kid you not. He had tragically lost his leg as a very young child in a really bad car accident. At this point, I can't remember how or why we flipped the canoe, but we did. It will come back to me, I have it all written down somewhere, just can't think of it now. My one legged friend wore a prosthetic leg which slipped off when we tumbled out of the canoe.

He had on long bluejeans, I had on a real cute bluejean dress. Both were severely weighted down by the cold waters as we struggled to grab the canoe and dog paddle.

We swam ashore to a private dock attached to a residence while towing the inverted canoe. The homeowners came out to see two soaking wet people climb up their ladder, but my friend hopped up on his one good leg in his long wet bluejeans and said "Oh my leg! I have to go dive for my leg!"

The man turned pale, the woman gasped in horror. They thought we were delirious or that we had been attacked by an alligator. A few minutes later my friend was swimming back to the dock, carrying his leg.  He plopped down on the edge of the dock to strap it back on.

The couple just stood there in shock.

We asked them if we could leave the canoe there temporarily because in all the confusion of flipping over, losing the leg, swimming ashore (before the alligators could find us) we had lost not one but both the paddles.

The shocked homeowners had to unlock their side gate so we could traverse through their yard, split splat soaking wet.

We walked all the way back to his house a few miles away where our fateful trip had started.

That was the last time I recall paddling about in a canoe. Years later, I would paddle a row boat to and from my sailboat anchored offshore. I actually got really good at rowing.

That was then. This is now.

Today I am parked at an RV repair shop. Yep.  It seems to be this old motorhome has started acting her age. I'm dead in the water.

Well, 3-4 years ago when I bought a 15 year old camper to call my home, I knew repairs, maintenance and upgrades would possibly be in my future.

Hmm...  ya think?

I figure I better write this before I see the repair bill and faint dead away. Maybe I should just be lying down when they hand me the invoice. I think I will go lay down right now.

Can't fall far that way.

Wednesday, October 16, 2013

Village Wide

Hostile Fire

Harley barked at the squirrels on our camping spot. They retaliated by climbing the trees then pelting our motorhome roof with nuts.


Rear Ended

On Ocracoke Island in North Carolina, we rented a golf cart for a day to explore the island because the Federal government had blocked access to the seashore. My friend was riding, I was driving, Harley dog was sitting on the seat between us. The governor on the golf cart wouldn't let us exceed the town limit of 20 miles per hour.

The nice young lady with the great big dog that rented the cart to us, said the golf carts were street legal, the car owners knew about the posted speed limits and that we should not be intimidated by them into breaking the speed limit laws.

A mega SUV on steroids came up behind me quite impatient at our insistence of keeping the village's posted speed limit, so he drove with his bumper just inches from our necks.  I could feel the heat from his radiator. There was no where to pull over as we happened to be on a narrow street that was lined with trees and underbrush. Harley became a tad scared, so he climbed into my friend's lap. My friend propped his leg up on the very low dash of the golf cart, so Harley could flop out in his lap, the way he likes to.

What neither of us realized was that my friend accidentally nudged the key which was located on the low dash.  The silent battery powered golf cart simply stopped moving, coming to a complete halt in the road. I thought for sure I was going to have tire tread marks up my back and down my front again, but the SUV screeched to a stop behind us while blaring his horn which covered up his obscenities directed at me.

I threw my hands up, because I had no idea why the golf cart had stopped. The rental lady said we wouldn't need to recharge it and did not outfit us with a battery charger.

While the SUV was backing up with screeching tires, to go around us, I noticed the key in the off position.


While he drove away shaking his finger at us, we roared with laughter at our new found goof.

I was just glad to get the heat off my neck.

Keep Moving Along

At Little Pee Dee State Park in South Carolina we carefully read the instructions posted at the closed ranger's office. I made notes of the available camp sites. Back inside the RV, my friend read off the numbers while we drove around to hem and haw at each available site, debating which was better or worse than the last one.

Finally we settled on a site. While we were setting up camp, the volunteer host came along, telling us that site was rented, then pointed out a site nearby as being just as nice.

We packed up camp, relocated, then began setting up again. It was a beautiful day, we wanted to set up outside for a late lunch al fresco.

The ranger drove by, stopping long enough to tell us that site was rented and pointing to another site in the woods.  We broke camp, relocated for the third time, then set up camp again.

We're getting good at this!

When the ranger drove by later, we flagged him down to take more money for more nights. We needed extra rest from all that shuffling around.

Our final resting spot at Little Pee Dee State Park.

Searching for Mermaids at Grand Strand Land

mermaid found
Beauty is where you find it when you least expect it.

mermaid found
The dunes are so tall that it's easy to lose track of the hidden path back through them.
I am still looking and looking and looking...

Between Myrtle Beach and Surfside beach, the state park claims a mile of beach and rugged beauty. 

This sunny picture was taken on arrival... then the rains began.
My RV was camped in the woods about a half mile or so from the Atlantic Ocean.

The rains brought cold weather for this one-eyed puppy.

Mother natures serves up beautiful artwork every day.

A boardwalk helps protect the precious dunes.

Another picture of the dunes.
Yep, I'm still looking for that elusive path back to the campsite.
The clouds had chased away the crowds but silly me was still out there looking for the path as the sun began to set. 

mermaid the body found
A paved path suitable for wheel chairs at Myrtle Beach State Park in South Carolina

Harley loves the beach and happily played for hours.
He was so salty and sandy from head to tail that he had to take a sudsy fresh water bath before he was admitted back inside the wheel estate.

Life is goof.

Monday, October 14, 2013


The map seemed obscure, she was unsure, but the allure of the detour seemed like the cure du jour.

(Dear Miss Mermaid drove off the map but hopefully will return here soon.)

Tuesday, October 08, 2013

924 Miles of Beauty

Click Picture to enlarge.
Alternatively I have split it in half below:

It's been a fun exhausting trip. I would have never made it this far in my condition had it not been for my friend hopping aboard for part of the trip. We are in a holding pattern until I get better but someone has rented our spot tomorrow, so we have to shuffle onwards.

Even though we ended up at the beach, it's been cold and pouring down rain. However, the first afternoon we arrived, we were able to get out on the beach and let Harley dog play chase and fetch with his rubber ball. Several times the surf tried to swallow it whole, but he waited for the waters to recede then snatched it back again. 

Many large pink jellyfish were beached as the tide ran out. Harley was so filthy when we got back to camp, we bathed him outdoors. Our Canadian neighbors found this rather entertaining as our fluffy puppy turned into a skinny squirrel sized dog. Amazingly, the bath water was super dirty when we were done as if he hadn't bathed all year. 

Our route was planned around all the parks where one or both of us get a disabled or senior discount plus my friend wanted to see the Outer Banks of North Carolina. This explains our odd route. We've only stayed in two privately owned campgrounds. We had planned to stay in Federal campgrounds on the Outer Banks but those fools in Washington shut down the campgrounds so we had to choose much higher priced private RV parks. Both were lovely, so no regrets.

Ironically, both of us have sailed the intracoastal waterway past the Outer Banks, but neither of us had traveled on land in that area until now. It is awesomely beautiful and well worth the trip.