Thursday evening: chores and packing for my two day trip.
Thursday 11:30 PM: attempt to sleep, but Peter is uncomfortable and fidgety.
Friday 1:30 AM: I give up on the notion of sleep and resume packing. I move Peter, his bed, ramp, pills, blankets, food to the barn office.
Friday 3 PM: leave the office when I'm sure Peter's pain meds have taken effect.
Friday 4 AM: peeling out of my driveway, one hour late.
Friday 8 AM: Dax, Garrett and I pull into our first scheduled stop on this trip: Tugaloo State Park, in Northern Georgia.
Dax must get his runs in--- or else!!!
Two hours of rambling on the shores of Lake Hartwell.
Camp stove used to make breakfast.
In my haste to pack, I forget to pack enough food for myself. My preprinted packing lists remained in their file folder Thursday night as I thought I could wing it. Later realizing I forgot my coffee press, head lantern, bar of soap and a face cloth. I made do with cowboy coffee (strained grits through teeth), my book light, dish soap and a kitchen rag.
Back on the road! One angel sleeping.
One demon out like a light. Momentarily...
Of my tiny food stash, an apple is plucked out of the cup holder and swept of into the backseat.
If anything, he's entertaining.
The drive up was all on interstates. Between the construction, pouring rain and one terrible accident where a vehicle ended up being tossed over the concrete divider and into opposing traffic, I was relieved to only be an hour late for my meeting with an Ebay seller. Thanks to a vigilant friend who found the listing, I was able to snag vintage windows for my Scotty camper. The rain prevented me from inspecting them. Wrapped up in towels, they were thrown in the handy cargo box.
Hereby known as the Scotty's shopping cart. I foresee many more little outings for vintage part acquisitions.
With that meeting out of the way, the shunpiking began. No more interstate driving for us!
Next stop: Croft State Park outside of Spartanburg, SC.
What a gem! I'd reserved a tentsite as far away from anyone else as possible. I'm told to park at the +30 stall stables and walk in the rest of the way.
The stables' wheelbarrow is temporarily shoplifted to assist me with hauling my gear.
The rain holds off long enough for us to set up camp.
With strong storms predicted, it was hard to pick a spot away from the tallest trees and obvious rainwater channels, yet close enough to smaller ones for my rain tarp to be anchored.
Setting off to explore the miles of trails. Two hours of frustration... Dax was too hyper to do anything other than wrap us up in trees, lunge after squirrels, yank us off our feet when he dug in for turbo takeoffs.
I almost landed in the water when genius launched himself into a rain swollen creek.
Did he learn a lesson?
Doubtfully...
He'd probably be washed out to the Atlantic by now if he hadn't been tethered to me.
Friday 8:30 PM: first rumblings of thunder are heard and the rain intensified.
Snug as bugs in our tent. Garrett was trembling so much at the thunder that our air mattress was feeling like a Shiatsu massage chair.
He's probably wondering why he couldn't be back at the farm along with Peter, getting doted on by Uncle Flynn who stayed on the farm 36 hours straight.
Peter meanwhile was receiving the royal treatment: being carried outside for potty business, water offered to him at his bedside regularly, pain meds every 8 hours.
After Thursday night's 1 hour of sleep, I slept all night Friday without even hearing any of the thunder. Passed out cold, wedged between the best bed bunnies. Dax decided we must break camp at 6:30 AM. Hitting the country roads by 8 AM.
To make my escapism more complete, when I travel, I disconnect from the outside world: absolutely no radio and no news; I checked in with Flynn, otherwise no phone calls; not even allowed to use the navigation app unless I hit a snag. Old school printed driving directions is my preference!
One must get accustomed to driving with reading glasses.
And there's always a schedule to keep.
Military precision when on vacation, welcome to holiday boot camp. For me, when everything is planned, then I can relax to enjoy the sights along the way.
Bradley, SC... a place forgotten in time.
Small towns brimming with beautiful houses.
From Spartanburg to Georgia, the beauty of the rural areas of South Carolina snagged my heart.
Very few unkept homes. Most had chairs on the front porch... not for decoration, they're used!!
Countless grey heads waved to me as I made my way South as slowly as possible.
See the porch dweller? Not wanting to offend or get lassoed into a conversation, I didn't stop in front of any houses to take a picture of this phenomenon called sitting on the front porch.
Even the tiny houses were neat as pins. With an aging population, people migrating to the jobs in the cities, rural real estate values must be low, right?
We toured an open house in Saluda, SC. A well restored Craftman style house for 109k.
Under $60/sq ft. That's ridiculously cheap.
Location, location, location.
Plenty of fixer uppers out there.
To appease the Dax, we make our stop at Baker Creek State Park on the shores of the Strom Thurmond Reservoir.
Forest Service roads smooth enough for our bicycle and Peter's wagon. Yes, we will come back this Fall with the Scotty camper!
Taking a little break in the running to let Garrett pray for aliens to beam him up and save him from all this fun.
In order to let Dax burn off more jet fuel, we hit the water.
Garrett splashes around a bit, preferring to sit in the shallow end, while D.S. (Dax Smith aka Demon Spawn) does his thing.
Figuring Garrett wasn't going anywhere, I joined him.
When in Rome...
30 minutes later, he's finally tuckered out and we can resume travelling. Leaving the park right on time!
Crossing into Georgia, I spied different architecture than that I had admired in South Carolina.
Meanwhile, the crew is passed out.
He looks so harmless when sleeping. There's a 5 year old with muddy paw prints on his T-shirt in Spartanburg who'd disagree. Even when warned, the father let a child walk up to Dax, who was tethered to the car while I was unpacking gear. You know who promptly knocked him to the ground and stole his can of Coke.
Our return home was delayed by heavy rain.
First order of business: bring His Royal Highness home.
Next unpack my treasures.
What a haul for $75, not counting the fuel and camping, of course, but still hundreds of dollars cheaper than having new windows made.
Sure I could have new windows made, but then how much 'vintage' would be left to my camper?
The seller even threw in a spare trapdoor.
Now I have window cranks,screens and the Golden Fleece:
The rear window!!! And more vintage than my own 74 Scotty are these 1969 windows. I'm loving it!!!
South Carolina, we'll be back. With so many great country roads, state parks and historical battlefields to discover, we have a new bucket list for our vacay this year!
