I'm finally in Florida...
The days were getting colder and colder in Arkansas as December rolled in and the holidays approached. It wasn't anything unusual for this time of the year, except that I was already supposed to be long gone and living the dream in the warmth of lower latitudes. My first estimated departure date of July 1st was long behind me and the thought of predicting when I'd finally be road ready had become something of a self deprecating joke to me and my friends. Turns out it is a lot easier planning on leaving one's life behind than to actually do it. There is great comfort in falling asleep in a familiar bed and knowing where everything is in your own kitchen. Even the view out the back of the house was compelling me to stay ever longer. The bald eagles had already arrived from their Canadian summer nesting grounds and they could be seen fishing below the house on Table Rock Lake. Even the squirrels were fattened from the recent acorn crop and were already in their thick winter coats. They were ready for the harsh winter to come. December is a time of transition for the animals of NW Arkansas and it was time for me to make my own transition, south.
The days leading up to my departure were not without their own drama. I managed to back the Dutch Star into a 3 foot deep ditch in front of the house, but managed to emerge without a scratch. The incident required calling the emergency road service I had signed up for last April and it more than paid for itself with just this one incident. All I can say is thank goodness for my Good Sam membership. I won't bore you with the details, except to say that I am now a better judge of the coach's 250 inch wheel base. The ditch incident did confirm the good decision to buy a Newmar Dutch Star as its heavy duty chassis and coach frame were now paying dividends. One of the worst things you can subject a motor home to is a twisting motion. I'm told they can't ever be straightened and they are never the same again. There was no twisting in evidence during and after the episode. I might have avoided some of my travails had I found a mentor early on, but that wasn't the case. To this point I've made some mistakes some of which could have had much worse than they turned out. I've been lucky. These are very complex machines and there is no question that I was ill prepared for full-time motor homing, but the lure of the open road and starting a new life was just too much to resist. I had the motor home and the retirement income to support the full-timer lifestyle, so I had run out of excuses for not getting on the road. It was simply time.
The day I left NW Arkansas was clear and cold, but with the promise of a snow and ice on the northern horizon. The front was sweeping across the mid-west as fronts always did that time of the year. This was the weather I wanted to avoid and the few flurries of the previous weeks were mild compared to what was promised for Christmas day. I left by crossing over into Missouri and cutting west over to I-540 S. It would have been a shorter routing to head due south down Hwy 65 through the heart of the Ozark Mountains, but being relatively inexperienced driving my over 17 ton behemoth I figured the fewer "steep and twisting" roads the better. The interstate would afford me faster average cruising speeds, which would hopefully make up for the 100 mile longer route. My first planned stop was supposed to be an Indian casino in Lula, MS and then on to my first cousin's place in the Delta of Mississippi, a town called Rosedale. I didn't make it, but rather stopped at a rest stop on I-40 100 miles west of Little Rock and spent the night. So, my first leg was shortened by half and I slept to the droning of tractor trailer diesels filling the air. It wasn't all that bad and after deploying my satellite dish and watching a few episodes of Two and a Half Men on my DVR I could have slept through a tornado.
Day two on the road consisted of driving straight through to cousin Vivia's house to deliver some of my mother's water color paintings. Vivia is all about family and she and the males of my family are the end of the line for mother's, Lorance, side of the family. It's interesting to me that a family name can come to such an abrupt end, but it has. None of the four of us has had children, so that is that. In retrospect I now wish I had accepted her invitation to stay and celebrate Christmas, but I didn't. Instead, I took off south in pursuit of keeping a reservation date at an RV park in Jacksonville, Florida. I was tired, but wanted to put some more miles behind me before stopping. I had a standing invitation to stay with a friend in Ocean Springs, but I wouldn't make it that far. I should have exercised more good sense and caution. The first bad thing that happened was when my new GPS diverted onto a two lane back country highway with narrower than usual lanes and no painted lines marking the edge of the asphalt. It was raining a bit when I dropped my front-right wheel off the hard surface and in a split second the mud was dragging me further into the roadside ditch. I knew if my right rear wheels left the pavement my trip would be over. Even with the obscured vision of rain on that moonless night I could see that the ditch was a very bad option. I turned the wheel sharply to the left and when the right steer tire once again grabbed the asphalt it caused the motor home to dart into the oncoming lane. With one giant sway and a slight fish tail I got the beast back under control. I'm not normally one to dwell on the obvious, but in this instance I couldn't shake the feeling that had someone been coming from the other direction there would have been a head-on collision. I doubt there are many accidents with small cars where the motor home is the biggest loser, so I'm just grateful the road was empty that night and that no one got hurt or killed. The entire incident took no more than five seconds, but in those five seconds I developed a new respect for my motor home's destructive potential. This is no gentle giant, but rather an accident looking for a place to happen should I drop my guard. I'm reminded of a visit I made to Carthage, MO where I visited a motor home salvage yard. I didn't think much of it at the time, but today I can't help but wonder just how many good people got hurt in those crushed and burned out hulks. It was the motor home equivalent of an African elephant graveyard. I have since vowed to take every reasonable precaution short of hiring a professional driver. I drive 5-10 mph slower than the speed limit no matter the traffic and I don't hesitate to sound my dual air horns when someone isn't paying attention while merging into my lane. I've surprised several drivers on their cell phones already and I guarantee they will pay closer attention in the future.
The trip had smoothed out considerably after getting on the divided four lane US 98 south of Jackson, MS. I've always enjoyed driving at night and while others had warned me about night driving I didn't really see any particularly wrong this time. The traffic was very light mostly with commercial trucks heading home, I expect. There was a misting drizzle in the air and my wipers were set to a slow intermittent speed. At almost precisely 2:30 AM I saw the flash of a deer a split second before it impacted my front left quarter. All I saw was a head, an outstretched neck and "her" front quarters. The sound was very loud and a violent shudder could be felt through my seat. I was only going 50 mph at the time, so slowing was easy and without incident. The most interesting part of the experience was that I felt extreme calm in the aftermath. I knew I had hit a deer, but I just instinctively knew everything was going to be OK. I hadn't felt the deer go under the motor home and I could clearly see the Nissan had escaped unscathed in my rear view camera. So, I didn't stop. I felt sorry for the deer, but was glad to know she had not felt any pain. One second she was alive and the next she was gone. We should all be so lucky when it's our turn. I kept going slowly feeling for anything in the steering wheel that was the least bit unusual. It was only a few more miles before I limped into a truck stop and parked. The damage to the front left of the motor home was moderate. The doe took out the lights on that side and crushed quite a bit of fiberglass. Had the deer traveled another two feet she would have taken out my generator and if she had fallen under the chassis she would have taken out my towed Nissan Pathfinder attached to the tow bar. Yep, it could have been "2-fers" for the deer, so as unlucky as it was to hit the deer I was extremely lucky to have suffered only moderate coach damage. I would still be able to keep my date in Jacksonville, albeit driving the next day with only one light. I would be able to wait for repairs. I was on a fishing mission and the fish weren't going to delay their southern migration for my motor home repairs. As a practical matter the damage is nothing but an insurance claim and a $500 deductible. It might be fixable without replacing the whole end cap, but I doubt it. A good friend and fellow Viking down in Orlando is willing to put me up in his spare bedroom while the repairs are being done sometime in February. He loves fishing as much as I do, so we'll be good roomies.
I arrived at Flamingo Lake RV Resort late in the evening of December 26th. I had kept my appointment and was happy to be here. When I arrived they escorted me to my reserved spot in the back of the park. I spent one night there and then asked to be upgraded to lake front where I am now. My windshield now faces the fountain in the middle of what appears to be about a 10 acre lake. I've not yet fished the lake, but I've seen large mouth bass in the five pound range. The lake is spring fed and the water is gin clear, so the fish are easily spooked. I'm going to wait for a perfect day and do some trolling behind my kayak. The RV park surrounds the lake and it has a feel of community with about 80% of the residents being long timers. I'll be here a month.
I've driven the 35 minutes to Amelia Island three times to reconnoiter fishing spots. The water temps are falling with each cold night, so the bait fish are becoming more and more scarce. The shrimp have ceased to run and are now hibernating in the mud along with the blue crabs. At least that's what I "think" the shrimp do, but they may just head off shore to deeper, warmer water. I'm not sure. What I do know is that fishing is a totally different activity from catching. I've been fishing once so far and got skunked. There is a cafe across the lake and it has nightly entertainment from karaoke to Bingo. I walked in on Bingo night and the smoke was so thick I couldn't stay. I'm always amazed that older adults still smoke cigarettes, but they choked me out that night. The cafe' makes a mean burger and fries and they have free delivery. I tip well, so they like delivering to space E-62. I met one of the cooks after hours sitting around a neighbor's camp fire. Thomas is an affable 22 year old whose father is a good fisherman. He's agreed to show me where his father fishes for reds and trout. We just need a good day for the outing. We're talking about prized family glory holes that are normally secretly guarded and not shared with other locals much less out of state tourists passing through the area. We'll see how it pans out, but Thomas did give me a hint of the best location, "Hexter" road. Tonight we've got a cold front moving through from the north and when it is once again warmish I'll go find Hexter Rd.
I bought a rubberized wire crab trap the other day at an Amelia Island Walmart, but I think crab season might already be over this far north. I baited it the other day with chicken necks and put it on the bottom by a roadside spillway where I was trout fishing. I was told that location was thick with blue crabs, but after 3 hours I hadn't caught a single one. I'll try again in another location and if I don't catch anything I'll put it up until March when the water gets warmer and the crabs emerge from their cubby holes in the mud. I have found several other promising fishing locations at opposite ends of Amelia Island. Both are within the confines of Florida state parks. I'll report on my results at another posting.
Sorry I've neglected updating the Road Hog Blog to this point, but there wasn't really much to report prior to leaving Arkansas. I'll do better from now on and I'll even start posting some videos and pics, bandwidth permitting. The WiFi connection here in the park is intermittent at best and not reliable enough for long uploads. I'll try.
Happy New Year,
John
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