We delayed as much as possible. It was easy to do. We were comfortable, had zippy wheels, full use of the kitchen, got to know some great neighbors, had an en-suite room, and then some. With tears and heavy hearts, we set off. It was painful, and we almost changed our minds.
All that would have accomplished would be to prolong the inevitable departure. It was time. Carlos is having difficulty knowing when he’s gotta poop. It sneaks up on him, catches him by surprise, and he doesn’t know which way to turn. Poor old fellow. It’ll be tricky staying at AirBnb with this problem. It’s tricky to stay anywhere with this problem. At least camping will offer a lot of outdoor time – a pretty good alternative.
So, we’re off.
October is such a nice time to camp. At the moment, I’m writing from Kickapoo State Park, in the southeastern part of Illinois. We’re near a small river-looking lake, Long Lake; crickets are singing, trying to drown out the highway traffic noise. There are a handful of campers, and we see geese flying west. With my new, 15 pound supply of mostly burned candles, the campfire starts with one match.
We head further south and land at Cave in Rock. Not, as in caved in, but a cave, in a rock.There’s only one such cave along the Ohio river and it has a rich history from a refuge for Native Americans to a hideout for the rough and tumble outlaws, Samuel Mason and Jesse James.
There are even fewer campers here, and we have the cave to our self. Having spent a lot of time in Hollister’s Pinnacles, it’s easy for me to imagine being a kid again and playing pretend in this big awesome cave.
Next stop was Land between the Lakes, or The Trace. It’s a recreation parkway between Kentucky and Tennessee. Wildlife abounds this stretch of land and we saw creatures great & small.
Our campsite was on the lake, and I woke up to a pink morning sunrise.
What a nice way to start the day. Continuing south, we stumbled on Natchez Trace parkway, and discovered the final resting spot of Meriwether Lewis. Interesting to reconnect with the headmaster of the Corps of Discovery, here in Tennessee. Maybe it was because the Corps’ history is deep rooted in our Pacific Northwest story, that it was pouring rain, and we would meet a fellow Oregonian here. He just happens to live in Northeast near Kennedy school. Such a small world, the way we go.