justbecause
perpetually lost
I hope you keep updating this thread when you post on the drive. I had subscribed to the drive to follow your story, but they bombarded my inbox and I saw no option to choose only your updates.
The Bowman Odyssey Rig
- Thread starter LeftofLucky
- Start date
K.Ray
Adventurer
For more regular updates:
https://www.facebook.com/bowmanodyssey/
https://www.instagram.com/bowmanodyssey/
LeftofLucky
Observer
The Sorting
Hey look. Another Drive piece:
http://www.thedrive.com/article/2407/on-the-road-at-last
We've been at dad's all week, slowly getting used to how things work in the camper and checking off a few items on the truck's to-do list. Sorting a place for the kiddo to sleep took some doing. At first, we'd planned to use some sort of curtain to keep her in the lower bunk. I installed two D-rings in the aluminum band that runs around the top of the camper's lower section, then used cinch carabiners to pull a draw string tight. The string was stitched into a canvas curtain. We're fortunate enough to have a good friend in Maine who's a seamstress, and she whipped the thing up PDQ. It was long enough to tuck under the bunk's cushions to keep the kiddo from falling out, and had industrial velcro down both sides. Once velcroed to the wall, it looked good and sturdy, and we felt pretty confident that she'd be safe in there.
We ran into a few problems almost immediately. First off, the lower bunk is not a twin, as we thought it was, but a camper twin. None of the sheets we bought worked. Awesome. Second, there was enough slack in the curtain that she could get between it and the cushions and just sort of hang there in a canvas hammock. Kind of funny at first. Less so when you realize she could suffocate down there.
So, we got rid of that set up. My wife had ordered a PeaPod Infant Travel Bed:
http://www.amazon.com/KidCo-Peapod-Plus-Infant-Travel/dp/B00BWIPC6G
Threw that sucker up on the lower bunk and she was happy as can be. I think having a smaller space is more comforting than being able to just bounce around the whole empty bunk.
We had one good storm whip through Tuesday night. Crazy wind and rain. The camper swayed a bit, but otherwise took it just fine. It was just a little unnerving hearing the wind pound down the valley and tear through the trees. You know how they say a tornado sounds just like freight train? Yeah. Heard plenty of locomotives that night, real or imagined. The wind brought cold weather, and by Wednesday night, it was 25 degrees outside. The camper has no problem contending with that kind of drop. Set the thermostat at 70 and burn the propane. The problem is that the air doesn't circulate all that well, so the extremities at either end get chilly. Not a problem if you're a sentient human being who knows to pull a blanket up over your shoulders. If you're a one-year-old? Not so much. We wound up having the daughter sleep with us that night.
Meanwhile, I took advantage of dad's tools and space to square some things on the truck. I started on the A/C compressor, got the old one out and the new one in, then asked dad to start the truck. Except I hadn't seated the belt. Snapped that sucker like it was nothing. Normally, that wouldn't be a problem, but we couldn't get a replacement that day. At least the snow caught us.
I was hoping to get out of VA before the weather got here, but the belt took care of that. Classic Virginia weather. Three inches of thick, wet snow on the ground in the morning, and all of it was gone by the afternoon. Got the AC buttoned up quickly enough and had some time to secure our axe and shovel. They'd ridden up from Tennessee over the rear tire easily enough, but they weren't really cinched down. The solution came from a firefighter buddy of mine. He pointed me to Blue Ridge Rescue Supply, and the guys there put me on to Quick Fists. Really simple, really cheap, and really secure. Perfect.
So, yeah. We're headed towards the coast tomorrow, and hopefully warmer weather.
Hey look. Another Drive piece:
http://www.thedrive.com/article/2407/on-the-road-at-last
We've been at dad's all week, slowly getting used to how things work in the camper and checking off a few items on the truck's to-do list. Sorting a place for the kiddo to sleep took some doing. At first, we'd planned to use some sort of curtain to keep her in the lower bunk. I installed two D-rings in the aluminum band that runs around the top of the camper's lower section, then used cinch carabiners to pull a draw string tight. The string was stitched into a canvas curtain. We're fortunate enough to have a good friend in Maine who's a seamstress, and she whipped the thing up PDQ. It was long enough to tuck under the bunk's cushions to keep the kiddo from falling out, and had industrial velcro down both sides. Once velcroed to the wall, it looked good and sturdy, and we felt pretty confident that she'd be safe in there.
We ran into a few problems almost immediately. First off, the lower bunk is not a twin, as we thought it was, but a camper twin. None of the sheets we bought worked. Awesome. Second, there was enough slack in the curtain that she could get between it and the cushions and just sort of hang there in a canvas hammock. Kind of funny at first. Less so when you realize she could suffocate down there.
So, we got rid of that set up. My wife had ordered a PeaPod Infant Travel Bed:
http://www.amazon.com/KidCo-Peapod-Plus-Infant-Travel/dp/B00BWIPC6G
Threw that sucker up on the lower bunk and she was happy as can be. I think having a smaller space is more comforting than being able to just bounce around the whole empty bunk.
We had one good storm whip through Tuesday night. Crazy wind and rain. The camper swayed a bit, but otherwise took it just fine. It was just a little unnerving hearing the wind pound down the valley and tear through the trees. You know how they say a tornado sounds just like freight train? Yeah. Heard plenty of locomotives that night, real or imagined. The wind brought cold weather, and by Wednesday night, it was 25 degrees outside. The camper has no problem contending with that kind of drop. Set the thermostat at 70 and burn the propane. The problem is that the air doesn't circulate all that well, so the extremities at either end get chilly. Not a problem if you're a sentient human being who knows to pull a blanket up over your shoulders. If you're a one-year-old? Not so much. We wound up having the daughter sleep with us that night.
Meanwhile, I took advantage of dad's tools and space to square some things on the truck. I started on the A/C compressor, got the old one out and the new one in, then asked dad to start the truck. Except I hadn't seated the belt. Snapped that sucker like it was nothing. Normally, that wouldn't be a problem, but we couldn't get a replacement that day. At least the snow caught us.
I was hoping to get out of VA before the weather got here, but the belt took care of that. Classic Virginia weather. Three inches of thick, wet snow on the ground in the morning, and all of it was gone by the afternoon. Got the AC buttoned up quickly enough and had some time to secure our axe and shovel. They'd ridden up from Tennessee over the rear tire easily enough, but they weren't really cinched down. The solution came from a firefighter buddy of mine. He pointed me to Blue Ridge Rescue Supply, and the guys there put me on to Quick Fists. Really simple, really cheap, and really secure. Perfect.
So, yeah. We're headed towards the coast tomorrow, and hopefully warmer weather.
justbecause
perpetually lost
oh man, I can nerd out about an axe... especially one with a stamped makers mark.
LeftofLucky
Observer
Sure, sure. I went back and forth about how best to lock them down, but came to the conclusion that anybody who's serious enough to walk off with them is serious enough to get through any of my prevention measures. At the end of the day, it's an axe and a shovel, not the crown jewels. As my grandfather once said, if somebody needs it bad enough to steal it in broad daylight, they probably need it more than I do.
LeftofLucky
Observer
Thanks, man. And thanks for reading. Seriously, none of this would be possible if it didn't have an audience. All I can say is, if you like it, and know other people who might, spread it around. The more people who see it the better.
ExplorerTom
Explorer
Regarding the poor circulation of heat: would a small fan be beneficial? Could also work well when it's hot.
pappawheely
Autonomous4X4
What they do with it after they take it is what bothers me. I had some road rager get out and approach my vehicle years ago. I was in an open jeep cj7. He was standing at the rear leaning over the tailgate where I had a prybar and shovel just sitting there. One move towards either of those weapons would have changed the course of his life and mine for the worse. In case you're wondering, he threw a lit cigarette at me when I passed him. Don't know why, but he did? "A pessimist is an optimist with experience."
justbecause
perpetually lost
eepwall:
escadventure
Adventurer
Sub'd ! Great start to a great adventure.
Good to see another nice flatbed camper truck.
Good to see another nice flatbed camper truck.
LeftofLucky
Observer
Well, we've been on the road for a spell, and reliable internet has been difficult to come by. What I have found, I've wound up using to keep the bosses fed. We've had a few more updates.
http://www.thedrive.com/article/2476/inevitable-virginia
http://www.thedrive.com/article/2543/run-to-the-atlantic
http://www.thedrive.com/article/2569/florida-of-all-places-and-of-all-florida-the-keys
http://www.thedrive.com/article/2622/running-toward-the-fears-of-fatherhood
We made for the coast, running through Richmond and spending our first real night at First Landing State Park. It's a place I used to hit every summer in college. We'd pile up a car with as many paying bodies as we could find, then haul to the bay. It was always quieter there than down in Virginia Beach, and we liked that. Cheaper, too. Winter still had ahold of Virginia, and it was chilly on the beach. Still, it's hard to bet a state park that gives you a relatively secluded spot that backs up to the dunes.
Like I say in the piece, I wanted to start at the ocean. I don't know why. Maybe it was because it had been so long since I saw the water. Or maybe it was an apology to my wife for making her live in a landlocked state for the past 8 years. And then for asking her to sell everything and move into a tiny tin can on the back of a truck. Either way, we made for spots neither of us had been to since before we were married.
Once we'd hit Virginia Beach, we could have just as easily wandered south down the inland route. It's quicker, by far. But we had no place to be, and this was a rare chance to run down the Outer Banks in the off season. This, of course, meant a stop at the holiest of sites: Digger Dungeon.
I remember that thing being bigger, though the last time I came through that way I was in a two-wheel drive Nissan Hardbody. Times change, I guess. At least I feel slightly better about my idiot tire choice.
We stopped for lunch at the Black Pelican in Kitty Hawk. It's been a family favorite for as long as I can remember, as much for the atmosphere as anything else. It's the old Life Saving Station #6, where the Wright Brothers came for weather reports when they were down here trying to strap themselves to a spruce and canvas kite. Sitting there, watching the water bash itself against the shore. It finally felt good to be doing what we're doing.
I know that sounds insane, but it's true. The first three weeks of this thing, it felt like I'd made a huge mistake. The three of us were as stressed as we'd ever been as a family, trying to work out where to stay, how long to drive, how long it would take us to get there, what to cook, when to eat, how to put the girl to bed without having to sleep ourselves. All I could think of was the comfortable nest I'd built, then abandoned. I missed being able to just put our daughter down and let her wander the house her great grandfather built.
The scenery helped. I've always loved the Outer Banks, and seeing them largely abandoned was a treat. The rash of development and cheesy beach stores is still there, but at least the traffic is thin. It gets better the further south you go, and by the time you hit the Hatteras National Seashore, the place looks largely as it has for the past few eons. The road gets straight, the dunes threaten to take over the two lane, and the marsh fights to drown anything manmade. More than anything, the park makes you realize just how badly we've ruined an otherwise gorgeous place. We'd made one sizable mistake: most of the national parks wouldn't be open until April, which meant all of the good camping on the banks as well as the vast majority of the OHV trails, were closed.
We caught the afternoon ferry to Ocracoke and ran out that island, too. The only place to stay was Teeters Campground, a private RV park.
Ugh. Few things wear on me as hard as a "campground" with a higher population density than my old neighborhood. Still, Ocracoke seemed like a neat little town, and with no ferry south until the next day, we were stuck. Teeters was nice and quiet, though, so there's that.
It's a two-hour ferry ride to Cedar Island, so we spent a good chunk of the day watching the sound slide by from the cab of the truck. They let you get out and wander around, but both girls were napping, and I needed the time to write, so it worked out.
That left little time to find a spot, get set up, and make dinner before dark. We've been hounding both Hipcamp and Freecampsites, and for once, the latter turned up a good spot.
Oyster Point is a primitive campground. $8 to the Iron Ranger an the place is yours for the night. All but about two other spots were open when we were there, and the place was quiet as the grave. It's just a flat spot of land up against the Newport River, but it's awfully pretty. For those interested:
Lat: 34.767563
Lon: -76.763277
We were on a pretty solid press south. We had some friends who'd offered to share their campsite with us in the Keys, which meant we had to get there in time to meet them. So, we didn't spend any more than one night at a time in any one place. It's a rough way to start this sort of thing. Drive, make camp, sleep, break camp, drive, etc.
We had time to stop at Holden Beach. It's a little strip of sand outside of Shallotte, NC. My extended family has been going there for years, and were kind enough to take me along as a kid. In some ways, it was more of a stable home than where I spent the rest of my time. It's a place I love, and I talked Beth into taking our Honeymoon there when we got hitched. There's exactly nothing to do. Just eat, drink, read, etc. It's kind of perfect. We were so close, I couldn't resist swinging in for a picnic lunch on the beach. We busted out the kite, let our daughter try a few steps on the soft sand, and had PB&Js. Nothing big, but the most perfect few hours. It was a good reminder that yes, we'd done the right thing, even if it didn't always feel that way. If you're ever down there, swing by Cappuccino by the Sea and tell Nancy we say hi.
As good as Holden was, we had to push through Myrtle Beach to get to our next stop. Spring Break season had caught us, and traffic was predictably horrible. Stop and go is one thing in a family sedan. It's something else in an 11,000-lb, four-wheel drive house.
I managed to keep from punting anyone into next week, and we made it to Huntington Beach. It's a really pretty spot sullied by a really packed campground. Again, if there's more street traffic than my old road, I'm not sure you can call yourself a "campground." Still, it was mostly full of retirees who wanted to pinch the kiddo's cheeks and hear about what we were up to. It's hard for me to stomach the crowd, or being able to look into a 50' RV with massive flatscreen, but I have to keep in mind that the East Coast won't last forever.
It's funny how much state parks can vary. From the overly civilized Huntington to the more perfect Edisto Island. We were there for opening day, and managed to snag a perfect site, right up against the dunes. Nothing like falling asleep to the sound of the surf. The town's tiny, and a long drive from the main inland roads. There are live oaks everywhere, all covered in Spanish moss. It's as old south as you can possibly get. Then, you round a corner and find yourself right on the beach. I really, really wanted to spend more time there, but the park only had the site open for one night.
The view's not bad, either.
We pushed straight through Georgia with the intention of boondocking on the beach at Fernandina Beach, but Amelia Island was in full swing. As a result, the place was an absolute madhouse. Each park we stopped gave us the same "No Room At The Inn" line. That is, until we found Huguenot State Park. It was a little pricey, but largely vacant. Most of the sites were right on the sound. We got in, set up camp, and watched a few freighters sail through on their way to Jacksonville. All pretty neat stuff. There's a naval station across the way, and at first, it was cool to see the ships docked. Then the helicopters started up. Touch and goes form 5 in the afternoon until 9 at night. Four hours of getting buzzed by Blackhawks. Fortunately, it didn't really bother the kid, but it about drove me insane, especially given that we paid $15 for a site with no water or electricity. When dawn rolled around, we knew it. The station got started with a few foghorn blasts and the national anthem. Never again.
So far, we'd been lucky enough to be able to secure a campsite for at least one night a day in advance, but the further south we went, the harder that got. It turns out, Floridians have gotten wise to the snowbird crowd. As soon as the parks open up reservations for the next year, locals go in and reserve blocks in each park. They'll share them with friends, etc, and if no one wants them, they'll cancel at the last minute. Most parks keep 10 percent of their sites open for drive up campers, but they won't tell you whether or not those sites are taken over the phone. That is, you have to drive up to know whether or not anything's available. As you can imagine, that makes planning a route nearly impossible.
Throw in the 75th anniversary of Daytona Bike Week, and things were getting stressful. I really, really didn't want to have to do the parking lot thing with the wife and kid. We decided to take a flier and move away from the coast, inland. We wound up at St John's River, a wildlife management area with a rustic campground. We had the place to ourselves for $8. Sold.
We listened to owls in the live oaks and watched the thin sliver of the moon rise through the palmettos. The bugs were a nightmare, especially the deer ticks, but otherwise, it was a fantastic spot.
From St John's, we had a decision. Push all the way to the Keys in one shot or stop somewhere in between. With the kiddo, we opted for the latter, and wound up at Long Pine Key in the Everglades. Nothing to write home about, really, though the place does have the advantage of being a first come, first serve spot, which means it can't be reserved out. Good to know. The next day we jousted south again, fighting all the other idiots running for the Keys.
That water, man. It's no trick of the lens. It really is that color. So shallow you can wade nearly half a mile out and be no deeper than your chest at high tide. Unreal.
By the time we made it to Long Key, I was convinced there wasn't anything on this Earth that could be worth dealing with three days of Florida traffic, heat, and mosquito bites. Then we pulled up to our campsite.
They have everyone packed in, but you're sleeping about 20 feet from the water, and there's plenty of foliage between each site. The no see ums are hell, and it was unseasonably hot (highs in the upper 80s), but it's hard to argue with a view like that. The down side is, the Keys are popular, and at no point are you more than a mile from the main highway. Our campsite was within eyeshot of Florida 1. The Harleys ride though with their open pipes and blaring stereos during the day, and the semis roll through at night. Not exactly relaxing.
We hung out in the Keys for five days. Arrived on my 31st birthday. Celebrated with a lobster reuben and enough hefeweizen to drown a gull. It was good to see some familiar faces, have an extra set of hands to throw the kiddo to for a second. It was, in general, good.
I was happy to leave the Keys, but sad to leave our people. The place is worth visiting once, but it's not really my speed. Too many retirees from too many states up north. Too few locals. Hard to get a feel for what the place is really like. It's too much like some real estate developer's idea of Florida than the actual state. I just want the place to stop trying to convince me it's paradise.
When we left, we went north again. Stopped at Myakka State Forest. Another primitive site in the middle of a saw palm forest. Another perfectly quiet night. As far as I'm concerned, you can keep the Keys.
We left early. The time may have changed, but the kiddo hasn't. She's usually up about an hour before dawn, which means we are too. Still, it's nice to get on the road early. We can get a good four hours of travel out of the kiddo before she's absolutely done, which is fine by me. It gives us all some time to rest and take in where we are.
We made Manatee Springs State Park the next night. It's a busy place, full of kids and families, but the spot's absolutely gorgeous. I'd never seen the freshwater springs before. The water's astoundingly clear, and divers explore the sinks all over the property. Again, it's one of those places I'd love to spend more time. Also, it has me thinking about how to strap a kayak to the back of the rig...
That pretty much brings us up to date. Sorry for the crappy photos. I'm running out of data as it is, even using the crap shots from the S6. I'll try and up the plan shortly.
http://www.thedrive.com/article/2476/inevitable-virginia
http://www.thedrive.com/article/2543/run-to-the-atlantic
http://www.thedrive.com/article/2569/florida-of-all-places-and-of-all-florida-the-keys
http://www.thedrive.com/article/2622/running-toward-the-fears-of-fatherhood
We made for the coast, running through Richmond and spending our first real night at First Landing State Park. It's a place I used to hit every summer in college. We'd pile up a car with as many paying bodies as we could find, then haul to the bay. It was always quieter there than down in Virginia Beach, and we liked that. Cheaper, too. Winter still had ahold of Virginia, and it was chilly on the beach. Still, it's hard to bet a state park that gives you a relatively secluded spot that backs up to the dunes.
Like I say in the piece, I wanted to start at the ocean. I don't know why. Maybe it was because it had been so long since I saw the water. Or maybe it was an apology to my wife for making her live in a landlocked state for the past 8 years. And then for asking her to sell everything and move into a tiny tin can on the back of a truck. Either way, we made for spots neither of us had been to since before we were married.
Once we'd hit Virginia Beach, we could have just as easily wandered south down the inland route. It's quicker, by far. But we had no place to be, and this was a rare chance to run down the Outer Banks in the off season. This, of course, meant a stop at the holiest of sites: Digger Dungeon.
I remember that thing being bigger, though the last time I came through that way I was in a two-wheel drive Nissan Hardbody. Times change, I guess. At least I feel slightly better about my idiot tire choice.
We stopped for lunch at the Black Pelican in Kitty Hawk. It's been a family favorite for as long as I can remember, as much for the atmosphere as anything else. It's the old Life Saving Station #6, where the Wright Brothers came for weather reports when they were down here trying to strap themselves to a spruce and canvas kite. Sitting there, watching the water bash itself against the shore. It finally felt good to be doing what we're doing.
I know that sounds insane, but it's true. The first three weeks of this thing, it felt like I'd made a huge mistake. The three of us were as stressed as we'd ever been as a family, trying to work out where to stay, how long to drive, how long it would take us to get there, what to cook, when to eat, how to put the girl to bed without having to sleep ourselves. All I could think of was the comfortable nest I'd built, then abandoned. I missed being able to just put our daughter down and let her wander the house her great grandfather built.
The scenery helped. I've always loved the Outer Banks, and seeing them largely abandoned was a treat. The rash of development and cheesy beach stores is still there, but at least the traffic is thin. It gets better the further south you go, and by the time you hit the Hatteras National Seashore, the place looks largely as it has for the past few eons. The road gets straight, the dunes threaten to take over the two lane, and the marsh fights to drown anything manmade. More than anything, the park makes you realize just how badly we've ruined an otherwise gorgeous place. We'd made one sizable mistake: most of the national parks wouldn't be open until April, which meant all of the good camping on the banks as well as the vast majority of the OHV trails, were closed.
We caught the afternoon ferry to Ocracoke and ran out that island, too. The only place to stay was Teeters Campground, a private RV park.
Ugh. Few things wear on me as hard as a "campground" with a higher population density than my old neighborhood. Still, Ocracoke seemed like a neat little town, and with no ferry south until the next day, we were stuck. Teeters was nice and quiet, though, so there's that.
It's a two-hour ferry ride to Cedar Island, so we spent a good chunk of the day watching the sound slide by from the cab of the truck. They let you get out and wander around, but both girls were napping, and I needed the time to write, so it worked out.
That left little time to find a spot, get set up, and make dinner before dark. We've been hounding both Hipcamp and Freecampsites, and for once, the latter turned up a good spot.
Oyster Point is a primitive campground. $8 to the Iron Ranger an the place is yours for the night. All but about two other spots were open when we were there, and the place was quiet as the grave. It's just a flat spot of land up against the Newport River, but it's awfully pretty. For those interested:
Lat: 34.767563
Lon: -76.763277
We were on a pretty solid press south. We had some friends who'd offered to share their campsite with us in the Keys, which meant we had to get there in time to meet them. So, we didn't spend any more than one night at a time in any one place. It's a rough way to start this sort of thing. Drive, make camp, sleep, break camp, drive, etc.
We had time to stop at Holden Beach. It's a little strip of sand outside of Shallotte, NC. My extended family has been going there for years, and were kind enough to take me along as a kid. In some ways, it was more of a stable home than where I spent the rest of my time. It's a place I love, and I talked Beth into taking our Honeymoon there when we got hitched. There's exactly nothing to do. Just eat, drink, read, etc. It's kind of perfect. We were so close, I couldn't resist swinging in for a picnic lunch on the beach. We busted out the kite, let our daughter try a few steps on the soft sand, and had PB&Js. Nothing big, but the most perfect few hours. It was a good reminder that yes, we'd done the right thing, even if it didn't always feel that way. If you're ever down there, swing by Cappuccino by the Sea and tell Nancy we say hi.
As good as Holden was, we had to push through Myrtle Beach to get to our next stop. Spring Break season had caught us, and traffic was predictably horrible. Stop and go is one thing in a family sedan. It's something else in an 11,000-lb, four-wheel drive house.
I managed to keep from punting anyone into next week, and we made it to Huntington Beach. It's a really pretty spot sullied by a really packed campground. Again, if there's more street traffic than my old road, I'm not sure you can call yourself a "campground." Still, it was mostly full of retirees who wanted to pinch the kiddo's cheeks and hear about what we were up to. It's hard for me to stomach the crowd, or being able to look into a 50' RV with massive flatscreen, but I have to keep in mind that the East Coast won't last forever.
It's funny how much state parks can vary. From the overly civilized Huntington to the more perfect Edisto Island. We were there for opening day, and managed to snag a perfect site, right up against the dunes. Nothing like falling asleep to the sound of the surf. The town's tiny, and a long drive from the main inland roads. There are live oaks everywhere, all covered in Spanish moss. It's as old south as you can possibly get. Then, you round a corner and find yourself right on the beach. I really, really wanted to spend more time there, but the park only had the site open for one night.
The view's not bad, either.
We pushed straight through Georgia with the intention of boondocking on the beach at Fernandina Beach, but Amelia Island was in full swing. As a result, the place was an absolute madhouse. Each park we stopped gave us the same "No Room At The Inn" line. That is, until we found Huguenot State Park. It was a little pricey, but largely vacant. Most of the sites were right on the sound. We got in, set up camp, and watched a few freighters sail through on their way to Jacksonville. All pretty neat stuff. There's a naval station across the way, and at first, it was cool to see the ships docked. Then the helicopters started up. Touch and goes form 5 in the afternoon until 9 at night. Four hours of getting buzzed by Blackhawks. Fortunately, it didn't really bother the kid, but it about drove me insane, especially given that we paid $15 for a site with no water or electricity. When dawn rolled around, we knew it. The station got started with a few foghorn blasts and the national anthem. Never again.
So far, we'd been lucky enough to be able to secure a campsite for at least one night a day in advance, but the further south we went, the harder that got. It turns out, Floridians have gotten wise to the snowbird crowd. As soon as the parks open up reservations for the next year, locals go in and reserve blocks in each park. They'll share them with friends, etc, and if no one wants them, they'll cancel at the last minute. Most parks keep 10 percent of their sites open for drive up campers, but they won't tell you whether or not those sites are taken over the phone. That is, you have to drive up to know whether or not anything's available. As you can imagine, that makes planning a route nearly impossible.
Throw in the 75th anniversary of Daytona Bike Week, and things were getting stressful. I really, really didn't want to have to do the parking lot thing with the wife and kid. We decided to take a flier and move away from the coast, inland. We wound up at St John's River, a wildlife management area with a rustic campground. We had the place to ourselves for $8. Sold.
We listened to owls in the live oaks and watched the thin sliver of the moon rise through the palmettos. The bugs were a nightmare, especially the deer ticks, but otherwise, it was a fantastic spot.
From St John's, we had a decision. Push all the way to the Keys in one shot or stop somewhere in between. With the kiddo, we opted for the latter, and wound up at Long Pine Key in the Everglades. Nothing to write home about, really, though the place does have the advantage of being a first come, first serve spot, which means it can't be reserved out. Good to know. The next day we jousted south again, fighting all the other idiots running for the Keys.
That water, man. It's no trick of the lens. It really is that color. So shallow you can wade nearly half a mile out and be no deeper than your chest at high tide. Unreal.
By the time we made it to Long Key, I was convinced there wasn't anything on this Earth that could be worth dealing with three days of Florida traffic, heat, and mosquito bites. Then we pulled up to our campsite.
They have everyone packed in, but you're sleeping about 20 feet from the water, and there's plenty of foliage between each site. The no see ums are hell, and it was unseasonably hot (highs in the upper 80s), but it's hard to argue with a view like that. The down side is, the Keys are popular, and at no point are you more than a mile from the main highway. Our campsite was within eyeshot of Florida 1. The Harleys ride though with their open pipes and blaring stereos during the day, and the semis roll through at night. Not exactly relaxing.
We hung out in the Keys for five days. Arrived on my 31st birthday. Celebrated with a lobster reuben and enough hefeweizen to drown a gull. It was good to see some familiar faces, have an extra set of hands to throw the kiddo to for a second. It was, in general, good.
I was happy to leave the Keys, but sad to leave our people. The place is worth visiting once, but it's not really my speed. Too many retirees from too many states up north. Too few locals. Hard to get a feel for what the place is really like. It's too much like some real estate developer's idea of Florida than the actual state. I just want the place to stop trying to convince me it's paradise.
When we left, we went north again. Stopped at Myakka State Forest. Another primitive site in the middle of a saw palm forest. Another perfectly quiet night. As far as I'm concerned, you can keep the Keys.
We left early. The time may have changed, but the kiddo hasn't. She's usually up about an hour before dawn, which means we are too. Still, it's nice to get on the road early. We can get a good four hours of travel out of the kiddo before she's absolutely done, which is fine by me. It gives us all some time to rest and take in where we are.
We made Manatee Springs State Park the next night. It's a busy place, full of kids and families, but the spot's absolutely gorgeous. I'd never seen the freshwater springs before. The water's astoundingly clear, and divers explore the sinks all over the property. Again, it's one of those places I'd love to spend more time. Also, it has me thinking about how to strap a kayak to the back of the rig...
That pretty much brings us up to date. Sorry for the crappy photos. I'm running out of data as it is, even using the crap shots from the S6. I'll try and up the plan shortly.
ExplorerTom
Explorer
Love seeing this thread bumped with LeftofLucky's name as the last poster.