Life on the Road to Paradise

Life on the Road to Paradise

As I write this post to Road Hog Blog I am in Buffalo, Wyoming.  Getting here has been a wonderful trip that I'll attempt to do justice in writing and in pics.  Bear with me because I'm having to remember the last week and as I get older I have trouble remembering what I had for breakfast, much less the roads I've traveled.

The pic I wanted and couldn't get was of two bucks mock fighting.
I say "mock" because the rut isn't until mid-November.

Driving across the vast rolling prairies of South Dakota and Wyoming is but a prelude to the sheer majesty of what is to follow; the mountains.  I used to work in the Rockies above Denver and so I'm no stranger to mountain majesty.  That said, let me just say for the record that the Big Horn mountains of Wyoming are every bit, if not more appealing than the Rockies.  This part of Wyoming is all about a transitional zone for wildlife.  In just a half hour drive on I-90 today I saw what could have been 1,000 Pronghorn Antelope and more than several mule deer, one of which could have been the twin of the one I took near Moorcroft, WY back in the late 1970's.  Yesterday I was coming back from running errands in Sheridan and upon entering the Buffalo city limits I spotted four mule deer in front of a church a few blocks from my RV park, Indian RV Camping.  The biggest of the two bucks sported a perfectly symmetrical 10 point rack.  I tried with all my might to get a good pic of him, but none of the four pics I took came out at all well.  I'm getting more and more serious about chronicling my travels as my travels get more and more interesting.  Stay tuned because this blog is about to get a lot better.

There is a haze that is laying over the front range of the
Big Horn Mountains.  It's smoke from the fires you can see here.

I must have seen a few thousand antelope in the one
side trip to the Sheridan Walmart.  Antelope won't jump a fence,
so a  sheep fence will keep them off the highways.

Small mule deer, but with a perfect 10 pt rack. 

Rolling prairie is fast becoming one of my most favorite places.
It's just a really serene place with loads of wildlife and great views.

Yesterday I left the motor home without my camera.  On a lark I took off into the Big Horn mountains just to see what I could see.  I was barely gone 20 minutes when I took a left turn to what was promised to be a recreational area and lake.  The dirt road was rough, rough enough that I wish I had left the kayak at home.  It wasn't happy on the roof as I drove down the washboard lane flanked by pine forest.  I had slowed considerably and as I rounded a corner a young elk (sex unknown) showed me his white rump as he slipped into the tree line.  He didn't seem in any particular hurry moving like an animal with the confidence knowing he wasn't fair game in these woods.  I was hoping to see his papa, but alas.  After 15 minutes of dodging ruts in the road I arrived at a sure-nuff recreation area and almost like a cul-de-sac at the end of a street an almost circular lake lay in front of me.  It was a really beautiful sight/site.  I parked on the boat ramp, which was sorely inadequate given the low water level I saw.  The bottom I was able to see through the clear water looked to be smooth medium sized boulders.  I raised my voice a little to ask a fisherman 50 yards away how they were biting and he said, "I've got two".  Given the 7,000 foot elevation I assume he was talking trout.  I might have to get a 10 day fishing license tomorrow and get out a fly rod from the basement.  I've got a 3wt and a 4wt that would be perfect for the occasion.  It's time to dig out my vest and other gear.  I'll start with some dry flies and see what happens.  I saw some trout rising along the shoreline, so we'll see what we'll see.  I keep telling myself that I'm pressed for time to get to Yellowstone before the first snows, but I just can't pass up an opportunity like this.

The road to Buffalo has been interesting.

I had entertained the idea of doing some pheasant hunting in South Dakota, but balked when I saw the prices they charge for guided hunts.  A friend who hunts SD pheasant simply walks onto BLM land and starts kicking bushes.  His wife helps in the hunt, but she doesn't shoot and simply walks along for the fun of it helping flush birds.  Turns out the eastern 2/3rds of the state is good pheasant habitat.  When I realized I was too far west and past the prime pheasant territory I just gave up on the idea and kept going.  I was content not to kill any birds.  Hell, I've gotten to the point where I don't like to kill anything, even fish, and even have pangs of conscience when I hit butterflies on the road.  I remember coming north across western Iowa and I could plainly see a large hairy caterpillar on the Interstate that I squished.  I was a little saddened that there would be one less butterfly in the world.  Butterflies are one thing I don't think you can have too many of in this life, right?  Who would argue that, eh?  I had considered stopping over at Wind Cave National Park, but it was too out of the way and I opted to see Devil's Tower, instead. 

Making the turn north to Devil's Tower made me an official member of the "Close Encounters of the Third Kind" nerd club.  There was another draw for me to see the Tower.  I had hunted here back in the late '70s and I remembered lots of deer, antelope and elk along the roadway.  This time I saw turkeys and a few deer.  The population center for the area is Moorcroft, SD about 30 miles away from the tower.  The closer I got, though, the louder the tones became, "da-dee-da-do-dum".  I did love that movie.

I was traveling west on I-90 and about 35 miles from Rapid City, South Dakota when an ear piercing alarm sounded and an idiot light came on in the middle of my dash.  It was a temperature warning and when I glanced at the water temperature it was about 225 degrees.  Being the rookie I am with diesels a pang of doubt entered my mind about the health of my pusher engine.  I slowed the temp came down, but it kept bouncing back up when a grade had to be climbed, even at 45-50 mph.  I called brother Dee who has forgotten more about driving diesels than I'll likely ever know.  He and his Jamaican buddies arrived at a joint consensus that my radiator wasn't doing its job properly.  Given the lack of previous owner maintenance I've discovered I had doubts that the radiator had ever been flushed.  Ten years is a long time in radiator years for a rig that had mostly sat idle its whole life.  Dee put me on conference call with a Rapid City, SD Freightliner Dealer called Eddie's and I arranged to spend the night in their dealer lot on "standby" in their next morning's schedule.  So, I had the radiator flushed with Cummin's flush, which I'm now told does little or nothing.  I'm told the best flush is a 45 oz box of Cascade dishwasher granules and water run at high idle.  I'll do that next if I ever overheat again.  And as a precaution against the calendar I also had them replace my thermostat.  It was late afternoon the same day when I pulled out with my Pathfinder in tow.  Figuring to put the radiator to the test I headed up into the Black Hills towards Mt. Rushmore.  It was a real test according to the service manager at Freightliner and it passed. 

Mt. Rushmore was spectacular in a patriotic way.  The statues were the same as they were when I last saw them in 1958.  It's the supporting facility built up around them that has changed.  Financed by private money a 3 million dollar complex has been built to service the millions of visitors that come each year.  And at night they put on a video show in an amphitheater that holds 3,000 visitors.  At the end of the history lesson they light up the statues and lower the Park flag with the help of veterans viewing the show.  We all sang our anthem and America the Beautiful and got misty eyed.  Who of us does not well up when the national anthem is played?  And who knew the real words to America the Beautiful were, "...purple mountain majesties..." instead of "purple mountains majesty"?  Color me wrong for the last 50 years.

Right before sundown I drove to Crazy Horse, which is the largest statue in the world, albeit the most incomplete as well.  I've got some pics of it to post as well, but those in the know say it won't be completed in our lifetime.  The face looks like Crazy Horse, though, and that's cool.  My vote would be to turn it over to the federal government and get the thing done, already.

Taken at a pull-over on I-90.  Those are the Big Horn Mountains
at sunset.  This is likely the best picture I've ever taken in my life.  It's all
about the available light and the exposure setting and, of course a heavy
DOSE of LUCK!!

Daylight is burning as they say and I'm off into the Big Horn Mountains again, only this time to take pics.  Stay tuned...  :)

"Houston, we've got a problem..."

Cruising across the vast prairie of South Dakota is an awe inspiring scene.  I stopped at one scenic overlook and it didn't take much imagination to see millions of buffalo stretching to the horizon and Sioux and Crow Indians stalking them from safe hides behind hills.  What laid before me was exactly what we all saw in the movie, "Dancing with Wolves".  It was incredible!  A persistent wind blows across this land pretty much 24/7 and while it is all quite breath taking it's also easy to see that life here in the 1800's would have been challenging.  Still, life here, at least human life, is sparse and only the occasional farm house can be seen along the Interstate.

One thing about the SD prairie is that the wind is always blowing.

The first signs I saw for Wall Drug were in Iowa coming up I-29 from St. Louis.

I had hoped to see pheasant in the cut down corn fields or maybe along the edges of the sunflower fields that were so much of a surprise.  I guess sunflower seeds we buy at the grocery have to come from someplace.  Now we know.  The flowers had already run their course, so there wasn't much color to see, but you could tell the seeds were maturing by the black centers of the flowers.  The only pheasant I've seen to this point have been dead on the side of the road and not all that many of them, either.  I was told that eastern SD is considered Meca to pheasant hunters, but that big rains at exactly the wrong time flooded out the eggs and the sitting birds.  I'm planning on a pheasant hunt in western SD.

About 30 miles from Rapid City I was cruising up and down the rolling hills when an idiot light and an audible alarm startled me from my highway trance.  I didn't recognize the icon on the dash, but soon realized from the temp gauge that my cooling water was overheated.  This was a first for me and I must confess to being somewhat concerned.  I slowed down to 45-50 mph and the temperature started back down.  I called my brother, Walter, and asked him what he thought.  He seemed to think it was a simple matter and that a flush/clean with dishwasher detergent (Cascade) would solve the problem or that maybe a thermostat might have gone bad.  The engine is, after all, 10 years old now and there are life limited accessories that will need to be occasionally replaced, right?  Alternators don't last forever and neither do thermostats and radiators.  I limped into Rapid City and found a Freightliner service center that also does motor home maintenance.  I'm there now having parked overnight in their lot.  I'm hoping they will get to me soon, but it's already almost 11 AM.  Let's keep our fingers crossed that the problem is something simple and CHEAP.  :)  I must say, though, if something like this had to happen it couldn't have happened at a more convenient place or time.  Just west of Rapid City, SD are significant hills that would have been a problem with the engine overheating and, of course, I'm eventually going up and into the norther Rockies in western Wyoming at Jackson.  I'm told those mountain passes are a challenge even for healthy cooling systems, so I would have ended up on the side of the road calling for Good Sam Roadside Assistance, again.  The shop rate here at Freightliner is $130/hr, but at this point I'm assuming they are worth it and that their expert will diagnose and solve my problem quickly.  We'll see.

Mt. Rushmore is only 30 miles away and once the motor home is fixed I'll be heading off in that direction.  It should be interesting.  The Crazy Horse monument is a little further down the road and I'll likely go and check it out, too.

The man whose dream is manifested here.

Washington, Jefferson, Teddy and Abe

Crazy Horse is the largest statue in the world, even in its incomplete state.
Notice the horse head painted on the granite.

This lady park ranger delivered a patriotic speech and we then
watched a Discovery Channel video about the four Presidents.

Six vets took part in the lowering of the flag ceremony.

These are the veterans who answered the call to the stage.  

Current events are just another reflection of the Universe taking care of me.  These events could have been much, much worse, but at this time I see only that I am being given an opportunity to take care of some necessary maintenance that probably should have been looked after years ago by the previous owner.  Let this be a lesson, though.  Generally speaking owners do not take sufficient care of their motor homes not out of neglect, but out of ignorance.  These motor homes are very complex pieces of machinery that require a certain amount of attention if you expect them to perform correctly all the time.  I expect there will always be another issue on the horizon, but hopefully through proper maintenance I'll be able to stay just ahead of it.

It should be my turn soon to pull into the diesel service garage here at Freightliner.  JD

On the road West - FINALLY!!

I was beginning to wonder if I was ever going to leave Florida, but here I am getting ready for bed at an I-90 rest area in South Dakota.  I spent my first night just 20 miles from Hobe Sound just happy to be out of Floridays RV Park.  I wasn't sure I was going to be able to leave on Friday, September 14th.  After spending all day organizing and getting "road ready" the motor home had a mechanical malfunction with a jack that wouldn't retract all the way.  And when I started up and tried to pull out of my space the dual tires in the rear sank into the soft surface.  I was stuck, good and proper.  Boy, was I glad to be a member of GoodSam roadside assistance!  I called and they sent out what they called a "mini-crane", which is basically a really big tow truck with a winch.  They strapped onto the chassis and in less time than it takes to type this paragraph they had me pulled out.  Darkness was setting in by that time when I finally pulled out onto A1A.  Less than 20 miles away I pulled into an I-95 rest area and spent the night. 

This brings me to my first of two screwups of the next 24 hours.

The next morning while getting ready to pull out from the rest area I pressed the bedroom slideout button to pull it in.  I first checked for obstructions and when the slide was just about all the way in I heard a crunching sound that did not sound good.  Sure enough, I had left my laptop case with the laptop inside at the foot of the bed where it was overlooked.  The slide was now jammed.  I pressed the button again to reverse the motor and nothing happened.  My heart sank.  I went outside to inspect the slide and saw it was tight against the coach at the top, but there was a gap at the bottom of about 2-3 inches.  My first call was to Newmar in Indiana.  They offered their ideas and I then called the Newmar dealer I used for my deer damage repair to see about getting into their shop.  I talked to Tom Ansley the manager of the body shop and he said he'd get someone from the mechanical shop to help once I got there.  That was Thursday.  I arrived too late to go to the shop and made arrangements for the following morning.  That night would be spent in the same space at Flamingo Lake in Jax.  The interesting thing is that when I was setting up for the night I hit the button just to confirm the problem still existed.  The sound of the electric motor hummed the instant I pressed the button and the slide went out normally.  The Universe was, indeed, smiling.  I tested the slide a few times and was satisfied that it was fully functional.  With nothing left to worry over I had the evening to enjoy.  I was hot for blue crabs, so I went to the live crab shop and bought half a dozen of the heaviest crabs I've had in a long time.  The blue crabs that come out of the St. John's river have a sweet flavor and are heavier than their salt water brethren because they don't have to hibernate living in the food rich and warmer brackish water in the winter time.  I boiled them 10 minutes and chilled them under tap water to prevent over cooking.  Being on a diet meant no melted butter, but who needs butter when they've got Cajun seasoning mixed in with apple vinegar.  I called Tom the next morning and he wished me luck on my trip.  The second of my screwups was while leaving Flamingo Lake RV Park.  I had every tucked away and the Pathfinder was hitched to the tow bar.  All was good to that point.  But, while beginning my pullout towards the gate a park employee ran up to my side window and motioned for me to stop.  I asked what the problem was and he told me there was a shrieking noise coming from the Nissan.  All I could think was, "Lord, why me"?  I got out to inspect the toad (vehicle towed) and, sure 'nuff, I had left the parking brake on.  I must have been born under a favorable star because I was must a minute away from pulling out onto I-295.  Can you imagine the plume of  smoke that would have trailed from under the Nissan had I not been stopped from leaving? 

I spent the next night just south of Macon Georgia sandwiched between big rig trucks at a truck stop.  Nothing to report of note.  I must say, though, it was nice to wake up that morning "on the road" and still find I was home.  At some time over the last 8 months I had made a transition in my thinking.  The Dutch Star was now more than a mere vehicle.  It had become a most comfortable home.  Just imagine installing wheels under your house or apartment and waking up to a different scene every morning.  It's a really cool feeling and it wasn't difficult to imagine the potential that lay before me.  I was truly on my way now, Yellowstone or bust! 

The next day was spent keeping it between the lines and the scenery just got better and better.  I was in the Smoky Mountains of Tennessee and watching jaw dropping vistas drifting past my windshield.  I had long since decided that being on permanent vacation had to mean a leisurely pace.  I try to never exceed 60 mph, which I believe provides close to optimal fuel mileage.  Going slower than all the other traffic also has another benefit.  By letting everyone pass me there is a naturally occurring significant gap created between the motor home and the traffic in front of me.  Out of necessity I've had to become very safety conscious and I figured the traffic gap is exactly what I needed.  The Dutch Star weighs in at 32,000 pounds and stopping isn't its long suit.  I've seen an RV graveyard in Missouri and it doesn't take a lot of imagination to figure out how those crashed and burned out hulks found their way to becoming salvage.  It would kill the motor home manufacturing industry, but I'd favor states requiring a special license before allowing people like me behind the wheel.  I'm feeling pretty comfortable driving on the Interstates, but it's still a handful and not a vehicle to drive while distracted. 

The next days drive would be a combination of country and city driving.  Approaching St. Louis was interesting because I passed an exit on I-64 that read, "Lebanon/Moscuta/Scott AFB".  We had been stationed at Scott from 1958-1962 and we had lived in Lebanon nearly the whole time.  I was tempted to pull off and go and see the 'ole homestead, but I resisted.  Been there, done that.  Instead, I drove headlong into the maze that is the St. Louis highway system.  I wanted to take a picture of the arch, but it went by too fast.  I was shocked at what I saw of east St. Louis on the west side of the river.  It looked like what I imagined parts of London or Liverpool looked like after the Nazi V-2 bombings.  Block after block of red brick commercial buildings stood vacant and in a sad state of dilapidation.  This was old, original St. Louis close to the river where so much commercial boat or barge traffic took place.  It doesn't take all that much imagination to envision how it used to be back in the day.  Turn of the century St. Louis must have been quite a thriving place, but the next century wasn't being so kind.  I've never seen a section of town more in need of being torn down.  You have to see west St. Louis to see progress and affluence.  I can't remember what the city is famous for, except Budweiser and Cardinal baseball.  I do remember attending the circus as a child.  I wonder if the circus still comes to town?  Driving north out of the city with its horrible, cracked pavement highways I finally broke free north of town.  I don't normally take note of airports I drive by, but the big airport there has runways that are built in rolling hills.  I've landed light airplanes on hilly runways before and it's actually quite fun in a challenging kind of way.  The important thing is to fly the airplane parallel to the contours before setting her down.  I could just imagine how it must be to land an airliner there and I smiled.  I  was smiling a lot of late.

I would make it to southwestern Iowa the next evening.  The scenery had changed pretty dramatically.  I was now in corn country, but disappointed at the view.  It's one thing to hear news reports about a drought and quite another to see it first hand.  Mid September is corn harvest time across the mid-west and the corn should have been 7 feet tall.  What was passing before me looked to be about belt high.  I don't know if the crops were a total loss, but the combines were out cutting it all down in giant swaths of perfectly even rows.  There is a kind of beauty and symmetry inherent in the process that you just don't see anywhere else.  I suppose cutting a lush lawn that had grown too high would be somewhat similar.  The cool thing about corn harvest time is they run the combines 24/7.  Passing in the night I could see islands of very bright light out in the middle of the fields shrouded in dust kicked up by the machinery.  It was eerily beautiful and a most unusual sight for these city eyes used to street lamps and higher density population centers.  The next morning I spent enjoying a movie along with my morning cup of coffee.  I would get a late start because I recorded the movie, Beaches.  If you've not cried at the movies in a while then you've not watched Beaches lately.  I'm always amazed at the crap that comes out of movie studios, but Beaches is certainly the exception.  My brother the professional writer tells me that tear jerker movies are basically formulaic and not all that difficult to write.  Be it as it may, I'm still a sucker for a good tear jerker plot. 

Tonight I'm in a rest stop just outside of Lyle, South Dakota.  My slides are out and I'm watching "The Rainmaker" on Dish.  Tomorrow I expect to be taking pictures of Mt. Rushmore and driving through some beautiful countryside to get there.  From there I'll get back on I-90 and drive to Wind Cave National Park and stay the night.  I don't know what to expect there.  This will be the first National Park for me on this trip and I'm a little excited.  I bought an annual pass that is supposed to gain me entrance into all the nation's National Parks.  This area of South Dakota is known for its Indian tribes; Crow and Sioux headquarters are here.  Driving over the rolling hills I can just imagine millions of buffalo stretching to the horizon and Indians hunting from the high ground following the giant herds across the prairie.  It must have been an awe inspiring sight.  It's no wonder that the Indians are so resentful.  They lived for literally thousands of years in harmony with the land and in less than 50 years in the 19th century everything they valued was stripped away from them.  I'm going to be visiting Custer's last stand in Montana and even before I get there I feel a great empathy for the Indians who were so wronged by our US government.  It took massive rationalizations for White America to stand mute while the indigenous peoples were systematically slaughtered.  But, that's an old story and I won't belabor any points that could be rightfully made on behalf of the Indians.  It's just a shame that a once proud people have been reduced to being on governmental welfare for the last 150 years.  Most injustice in this world is beyond the control of mere individuals.  I guess all we can really do is recognize when wrongs have been done and accept responsibility as should be dictated by our social conscience.  Some complain that the Indians are not entitled.  I say they deserve everything they've gotten and more.  We've not only displaced whole civilizations, but we've turned them into tribes of drunks predisposed to alcoholism.

I've been looking at 10 day weather reports for Grand Tetons National Park and Yellowstone and it looks to be a sunny week coming up with highs in the 60's and lows in the 20's.  I guess that's the kind of temperature range you see in the mountains.  I'm just hoping against hope that it doesn't snow early in the northern Rockies.  I'd hate to get caught ill prepared for snow.  I considered going a more southern route on I-80, but then I wouldn't get to experience the vista of the approaching upheaval of the Grand Tetons.  I'm told this section of the northern Rockies does not have any foothills.  Down south out of Denver you have to pass over the foothills before you get to the big mountain peaks.  Up in Jackson the big peaks just erupt out of the prairie.  It's something to look forward to, for sure. 

Let's talk about how the "other half" lives...

Dear Friends,

I'm still in Hobe Sound enjoying what SE Florida has to offer.  For the foreseeable future this travelogue won't be about travel as much as life in Hobe Sound.  I've discovered one of Martin County's secrets.  Today, I was told that the helicopter that over-flies my motor home every other day is ferrying Tiger Woods to and from his property on Jupiter Island and the private country club across the highway from where I buy fresh seafood.  It's just silly local scuttlebutt, but I thought it was pretty cool.  I love it when Tiger is introduced on the first tee of any tournament, "and from Hobe Sound, Florida, Tiger Woods".  The country club sits behind very tall hedges and trees, so driving by on Hwy 1 you can't really see anything much at all.  The club was originally designed and built by Greg Norman, but has changed hands in more recent times.  Anyway, that's where Tiger does his fitness training on cool early mornings.

Living around billionaires has its benefits even though there is no direct contact with the species.  They live somewhat cloistered lives behind their fences and hedges.  You won't see Bill Gates doing the grocery shopping at the Hobe Sound Publix because their house keepers do that chore.  What we get to see are their toys, but only those toys too big to be hidden from view.  In the protected inlets of Jupiter and St. Lucie and all along the Intercoastal Waterway there are, indeed, mega toys to be seen.  Now and again you even have to stop at a draw bridge so really large sail or power boats can continue on their journey's way.  When out on the water going to lunch in Manatee Pocket in St. Lucie or over at Jupiter Inlet you can't help but see how the other half plays.  (I've not been to Palm Beach Inlet, yet, but I'm told the further south one goes the bigger the boats get.)  Seems that everywhere you look in this area of Florida you see a baker's dozen of sport fishing yachts lined up in a row in the various marinas.  I'd guess the majority of them to be in the 65-90 foot range.  They stand like maritime soldiers guarding Florida's coastal inlets with their tuna towers stretching for the sky.  During the day the only life you'll see aboard those vessels are the day crews keeping up with the bright work and continuously washing down with fresh water.  They are made to wear their boat's colors while on duty, so they can be identified even when not aboard their owner's boats.  We're talking about fishing boats and not live-aboard yachts.  Made to take the heaviest storm seas they might encounter on their fishing trips they are a sight to behold.  And they all share some common characteristics; long windowless fore decks stretched out front of their salons and tuna towers.  I assume they are built to take the brunt of the biggest Atlantic swells coming and going from the Bahamas.  Boats that I lust after and wonder if I can afford bear little physical resemblance to the mega fishing machines and Bahama runners seen in all the backyards along the Intracoastal.  It's amazing and I can't help but wonder what those people do for a living.  I'm sure they are a mix of stock and commodities trading professionals, entrepreneurs and inherited money along with all the other kinds of big businesses we see and don't think about everyday.  I go to Home Depot when I need lightbulbs, but I never think about who started Home Depot.  Now I know where they live, at least during the winter season.  I saw a house last month that belongs to Mr. and Mrs. Walgreen.  Hard to call it a house, though.  It was more like a Mediterranean brick and tile roof styled compound or resort.  Hard to believe just one family lives there.  Their boat was equally impressive if you're into boats.  I can't help but wonder what kind of airplane they've surely got at the Stuart Airport.  Life is wonderful, but it seems just a little more wonderful for those who live life to the hilt.  The lifestyle standard to which we all aspire is different for each of us.  That's a good  thing, too.  After all, quality of life isn't really about toys or houses.  It's about our individual happiness and peace of mind, right?  I admire, but don't envy.

We mere mortals do get to enjoy the ancillary benefits of living in the proximity of billionaires, though.  It takes the hyper rich people of Jupiter Island to attract certain kinds of businesses that this otherwise mostly lower/middle class community could never support.  I've never lived anywhere like this before.  It is unique.

There is much to do here on a daily basis.  And it's always fun learning about a place and getting to feel like a local.  I discovered a Chinese restaurant today that serves very authentic dishes fresh from the wok versus the all you can eat Chinese buffets one normally sees today.  The Moo Shu Pork I took home was spectacular and there was enough food to feed at least two to three people.  It was $8.42.  So, to this point I've got never frozen seafood, BBQ ribs/brisket and now Chinese covered.  Their were 12 inch flames shooting out from under the chef's wok tonight and being fresh off the boat from Taiwan their English was broken at best.  I love places where they cook in front of the customers, don't you?  It beats the crap out of having food shoved into my car at a drive up window and this food is a bargain by comparison, besides.

A good friend over in Tarpon Springs told me once, "the best things in life are really best when shared".  This might not be the first time I've quoted 'ole Fitz, but I have taken his sentiment to heart.  In fact, this is the primary reason I've elected to delay my departure from Florida this summer.  I've been doing some dating of late meeting ladies off a few dating sites and trying to find that special one.  So far I've struck out, but I'm only looking for one or at least that's what I tell myself.  I don't see myself as a player, but some of the women might, all things considered.  I'm not certain I agree with the whole online dating process, though.  There is just something a little demeaning when shopping for human beings like so much window dressing at the mall.  My new neighbors in this RV park are telling me I should just go to Montana and let the chips fall where they may.  It's probably good advice, but what the hell.  I'm single again and I want to enjoy life.  In other words, I'm not quite ready to give up on the game just yet.  Do they still call it the battle of the sexes?

I don't want to make anything out of it, but I got word last week that my ex-wife, Beverly, has just gotten remarried on July 4th.  It was great news that she's found happiness again and really doubly so since she's married my best friend and fishing buddy from Arkansas, Mike.  So, it is now Mike and Beverly and I couldn't be happier for them.  Now to figure out what to send them as a wedding gift, hmm.  Someone here suggested a mafia gesture which is to send a dead fish, but that's not how I'm feeling about their marriage.  I'm actually happy for them both and wish for them nothing but the best life has to offer.

Best, John

Night Skies in Paradise

When ever I'm tempted to "wax poetic" I try to resist the impulse because nobody really wants to read second rate prose.  There is poetry in my heart, but I'm no poet.  That said, I've had a few experiences of late that have increased the fullness and positivity in my life.  

About a week ago I climbed down the steps of my motor home to walk Romeo before going to bed.  It was probably a little after 2:00 AM.  The east wind off the Atlantic was brisk and cool against my face and bare legs.  The ghostly silhouettes of palm fronds guarding the driveway were clearly visible in contrast to the night sky.  What struck me next was that the moon had not yet risen and that this late night was still so uncommonly bright.  It was a special moment and I quickly became transfixed by the source of the light, the glorious view above.  The Milky Way hung overhead as a soft glow emerging reluctantly from the light pollution of the southern horizon like a thin cloud of smoke escaping a smoldering fire.  The glow on the southern horizon that is the megalopolis of SE Florida and Miami is inescapable.  There is no comparison between Martin County and those high rise, over populated counties to the south.  The orange glow stands like a warning to those who might be tempted to enter.  Like too many lab rats in a small cage the over population of SE Florida creates a truly unwholesome environment where stress and hostility rein over calm, civility and our best nature.  It's a kind of American cultural cliche'.  The light pollution on the southern horizon reminded me of when I lived in my own cage that was Houston (22 years) and how glad I was to escape a decade ago.  To the north is the fainter glow of Port Salerno, St. Lucie and Stuart.  Looking east out over the ocean I see only the blackness of infinity illuminated by those stars bright enough to be visible to the horizon.  Peering through the many more miles of atmosphere the stars lowest on the horizon are always fainter.  The constellations of stars overhead are the brightest in the sky.  I wish I had a star map to reference, but I could still clearly differentiate the planets from the stars.  They are different colors and luminosity.  I was happy to recognize a few star alignments learned from childhood when my brother had a telescope.  Almost as a habit whenever I gaze at a night sky my eyes are automatically drawn to Orion's Belt, first.  There isn't another group of three stars that come close to having the same proximity and brightness.  The Big Dipper is also easy to find with it's ladle hanging so low.  The Little Dipper is, I suspect, not visible from this latitude, but I know I've seen it before somewhere.  I am quite limited in my astronomical knowledge.  I will say, though, that I find the subject more interesting today than ever before.  It could be fun to learn a little more about astronomy.  One essential ingredient I'll need to include for my next viewing is bug spray.  SE Florida mosquitoes can be intense.  Craning my neck to look straight up I found the position more comfortable than expected and arching my back expanded my view even more.  My posture would have looked most curious had someone spotted me; arched back, my belly stretched like a six month pregnancy and a neck craned way beyond normal limits.  I now see a reclining lawn chair in my future.  When I first arrived in Hobe Sound there was an unusual confluence of mars and venus and their orbits were, for a time, in a synchronicity seen only every hundred years or so.  Like twins they marched across the April sky in unison soon to be parted for another century.  On this night they were separated, but still marching lockstep within my visual range.  One red and the other yellow they are easily distinguished from the stars the nearest of which is a mere 20 million light years from my motor home.  The magnificence of a clear night sky can be humbling in the same way that standing next to a giant Sequoia is humbling.  Mostly, the view filled me with a blissful happiness and gratitude for what my life has become.  I can't wait to see the stars over the northern Rockies.

Truth is I've never attached much significance to the stars.  I know others do and I suspect I probably should, but to me western astrology is more akin to fortune cookie predictions than anything really meaningful.  But, what do I know?  Maybe there is more to the stars than meets the logical Western eye.  Maybe the ancient (eastern) Indian astrological tradition of Jotish is more valid.  Just a few years ago I asked a Jotishi (a person who creates and interprets Jotish astrology) to do my astrological chart and I was willing to pay the $150 asked.  I gave him the pertinent details of where I was born along with the date and time of day.  I was hopeful for something significant to my life, but expected less.  I'd never find out, though, because according to my Jotishi a chart isn't possible for me.  I have seven planets all in the same house and without contrasting positions no reading would be possible.  This is, apparently, a rare occurrence, but one without special significance.  Maybe my Western cynicism of things mystical weighs heavily in my consciousness for a reason.  I don't know.  What I do know is I'm not proud of my knee jerk reactions to mysticism, but then I've seen behind the curtain and as it turns out I am the Great and Mighty Oz, Coo-Coo-Ca-Choo.  That I was willing to pay for a chart took me to my limit, but to have a Jotishi turn down my money came as the biggest surprise.  A carnival soothsayer would have taken the $150 without hesitation.  Maybe there is some integrity left in this world, after all.  Today, interaction between Mind and the Universe is a subject most dear to me.  I now feel my life being played out in harmony with the Universe.  There are even times when my individual Self gives way to selflessness and I feel one with everything.  The night sky can be a special experience, indeed.

The longer I stay in Hobe Sound the more fortunate and happy I feel.  So, why am I offering these insights?  I figure knowing me better might help you justify reading more blog posts and for me to write what is to follow.


mb/jd

I'm in Hobe Sound, FL

Hi Guys,

Still making adjustments to full-time motor home living.  There are issues being in such a small space, but it's now becoming second nature and I must say pretty enjoyable.  I no longer see the size of my confines as a negative and I'm now just grateful to have such a high quality motor home to live in.  Lord, I can't complain about anything given all the great options I've had installed.  I lack for very little in terms of conveniences and certainly nothing anyone would consider a necessity.  One of the residents here at Floridays RV Park asked for work and offered to hand wash and wax the coach for $150.  I couldn't pass up such an incredible bargain.  I had him apply Liquid Glass and I couldn't be happier.  He then did the same for my Pathfinder for $45.  Again, too much of a bargain to pass up.  The only thing left on my list is getting the washer fixed, but I expect that's going to require taking it in to a Newmar service center.  Did have one other issue recently, though.  I noticed that the water refilling the toilet had turned a bright green.  Turns out algae grows in the inlet water hose when temps get higher and the hose is exposed to a lot of sun light.  The cur was simply to install a filter and shield the hose from sun light with foam pipe insulation.  The water was black for a few flushes, but it's ok now with the new charcoal filter at the faucet.  And the world keeps on spinning.

I discovered the little town of Hobe Sound while playing around with Google Earth.  Hobe Sound is halfway between Stuart/St. Lucie to the north and Jupiter to the south.  The RV park I've settled into has a low year round space rental rate of only $550 a month.  There aren't any amenities to maintain and the savings to the owner has been passed through to the residents.  Nobody complains, especially when we're all aware of the $1,400 to $2,800 a month rates found just to the south.  The biggest amenity in Martin County is the beach and so most everyone has a great tan if they live around here.  And it seems that just about every yard has a boat in it.

The fishing in this area is famous for being great inshore and offshore.  Cinco de Mayo (May 5th) brought with it the King Mackeral migration and a lot of fish in the freezer, but I'm getting ahead of myself.  Along the east coast of Florida lies the Intracoastal Waterway.  The barrier island is called Jupiter Island and it turns out to be the second wealthiest community in the entire USA or so I've been told.  Bill Gates, Tiger Woods, Celine Dion and many other of our nation's wealthiest people live on Jupiter Island.  You simply can not imagine the magnitude of the wealth on display here.  After a little research into Jupiter Island real estate values I'd say the average water front home runs about 8 million $$.  Interior island homes average about 2-3 million.  Tiger's estate is supposed to be about 54 million.  What is interesting about Jupiter Island is that it's not gated.  Anyone can drive in and around the estates and ogle.  Anyway, it's interesting to see how the "other half" lives.  Hobe Sound is located in Martin County.  Martin is known for one important building ordinance.  No structures can be built over 50 tall or 5 stories.  Creating that ordinance was simply catering to the mega rich who have settled here.  And they pay a lot of property taxes for the privilege.  So, all the water front properties are built out with single family homes and you just do not see the condos or heavy population centers that are ever present to both the north and the south.  The population in Martin County is small and there aren't even enough people here to support a Walmart.  It's a really nice change to not see the typical commercial areas of higher density areas of SE Florida.  Hobe Sound is an understated lifestyle if you live off island.  So, it's here that you find the most natural settings and pristine beaches.  It's here that leatherback, loggerhead and other turtles come to lay their eggs in the spring without being disturbed by heavy tourism.  I've driven north and south and the congested areas like Palm Beach and Ft. Lauderdale are really a lot more stressful with all the associated crime and hassles of big city living.  For me being here is all about socializing and enjoying the water and the local food.  

One of the great finds here in Hobe Sound is a little roadside market 1/2 mile to the north on Hwy 1.  It's there I'm able to buy NEVER FROZEN seafood.  I never realized before now just how much shrimp, fish, stone crab claws, lobster tails and deep sea scallops suffer from freezing.  I'm in heaven or at least seafood heaven.  So, at least once or twice a week I buy scallops, 16 count headless shrimp and stone crab claws and revel in this local bounty.  I say local, but that's not completely accurate.  Much of what they sell comes from the New England area of the country and is flown here fresh on ice.  Again, if the rich people weren't here I'd likely not be enjoying such culinary luxuries.  I am grateful, to be sure.

It was pompano season when I arrived here in late March and I gave it my best effort, but alas.  Thing is I know what I was doing wrong and I still couldn't catch the fish like the commercial fisherman could.  The ONLY difference is I can't cast as far.  I'm coming up about 50 feet short of where I need to cast my sand fleas.  That's what pompano eat, sand fleas.  They are actually little crabs and not actual fleas.  They can be found along the surf line on the beach.  When the waves wash out from the beach the little crabs can be seen burying themselves in the sand.  Those too slow to bury in the sand are eaten by pompano cruising on the tide.  To catch sand fleas you have to use a sand flea rake and I've got one of them in my beach cart arsenal.  I've never really been much of a beach person, but I now find it relaxing fun to sit out and enjoy the ocean air and sun.  I should buy stock in sun screen for all I use.  Back to Cinco de Mayo.  A fellow Chofu Viking, Ray Bank, has known about this area for a very long time since he and his fishing buddies from the Orlando area have been coming down here for many years to fish the Kingfish migration.  I was invited this year and I'm happy to report we caught the shit out of those Kingfish.  We're talking about a unique experience for me given that Kings average about 25-30 lbs.  They put up one hell of a fight, too.  When the boys went back home they took over 200 lbs of Kingfish fillets on ice.  I kept 25 lbs for myself and gave most of it away to my new fishing buddy and RV park manager George Vrolof.  I don't eat nearly as much fish as I do other seafood and don't particularly enjoy fishy fish, if you know what I mean?  People claim Kings are a bit oily, but it seemed pretty mild to me.  I did, however, take one 5 lb package to my local BBQ house and had it smoked over hickory wood.  The fish was transformed into something reminiscent of my younger years living in the panhandle.  It was there that I acquired a taste for smoked mullet.    Turns out smoked Kingfish is even better and a lot milder even with the Cajun spices used for seasoning.  Smoked Kingfish will keep for about a month without freezing.  I'll vacuum bag and freeze the left overs if there are any.  It was suggested that I use up the smoked meat as a substitute for canned tuna fish for sandwiches.  Dolphin or Mahi-Mahi as some prefer to call it is a relatively short season at the end of May and the first weeks of June.  After that it's mostly billfish; sailfish, marlin and bottom fishing if you can find the wrecks.  The other day while partying at a local sandbar with new friends the guy with the boat beached behind us hooked and jumped a tarpon.  It appeared to be about 30 lbs and it threw the hook on the first jump.  Most people don't know how to set the hook on a tarpon and do not put enough brute force into it.  Tarpon have very bony mouths and it's hard to get a good hook set if you don't give it your all.  Like the guide once told me, "John, you need to hit the tarpon as hard as you can and remember, nobody ever jerked the lips out of a tarpon".  We may go out in the morning looking for tarpon on the incoming tide when water clarity is highest.  George has several boats to choose from and all I do is put gas into them.  Hey, it's a lot cheaper than owning a boat, eh?  June is the height of tarpon season down here and so I expect we'll eventually get onto them.  There is also a big population of snook here in the Intracoastal Waterway.  The vast majority of Jupiter Island land is still bordered with mangroves and that's perfect habitat for snook.  It's from those tangled mangrove roots that snook can ambush their baitfish prey.  Also saw a manatee the other day.  It appeared to be a cow and her calf.  Suffice it to say there is an abundance of wildlife in this area.  Some of it is not indigenous to the area and is a result of people letting their exotic pets loose.

My original plan was to leave here in the 3rd week of June and head out west to the northern Rockies.  I'm not certain I'll be leaving then, though.  I'm really enjoying Hobe Sound and I'd really like to get into some snorkling and scuba diving.  I've had to order a new battery for my SeaDoo seascooter as I didn't heed the warning label on the original battery that it needs to be charged on a regular basis when not in use.  Out of sight, out of mind, I guess.  There is a new model out now that uses a lithium ion battery and charging that model isn't nearly as critical.  Tomorrow I'm heading down to a snorkling park at Jupiter Inlet.  They've built an artificial reef there and it is supposed to be full of exotic tropical fish species.  I'll update after my little outing and let you all know what I saw.  I do have an underwater housing for my new 12 megapixel Canon pocket camera and will be giving it a try soon.  I should be able to post picture attachments to these posts, which will be very cool.  The new camera will also shoot HD quality video, so hopefully I'll be able to edit and upload those as well.  I might have to do it through Youtube.  We'll see.

Went out on an actual date May 24th.  It was my first date since the divorce.  I took it slow and it was a good experience.  Florence is her name and I found her on an Internet dating service, POF.com.  Flo is a professional musician and plays keyboard and sings for her daily bread.  I won't be seeing her again given just how geographically undesirable she is living so far south, but it was really nice walking down the boardwalk at Pompano Beach holding hands.  It's been a very long time since I've gotten a kiss good night and it was then that I realized just how much I miss women.  This brings up the subject of finding a traveling companion.  I'm a little confused at the moment about whether or not I really want a traveling companion.  Right now I'm leaning towards, "not", but never say never, eh?  It would be fun to have someone to share it all with, but maybe it would be better to find new friends where ever I travel.  I seem to have a nack for it.  Not to mention, new friends are just a key stroke away on the Internet, not to mention I've got great Chofu Viking friends all over the country who would welcome me in their homes.  That's not the same thing, though.  I do hunger for female companionship and so I'm just now starting to re-invent myself as a single man.  I don't feel any urgency, though, and I'm taking my time.  Really, I've got other priorities on my mind like fishing and swimming my way back into shape.  Girls can wait for a little while longer.  In the meantime, I'll just remain open to all the possibilities of life and simply enjoy living.

I'm very happy with my choices so far and life is finally, once again, an adventure.  I still watch a lot of satellite TV and I'm still laughing out loud at 2 1/2 men while laying on the couch.  And I'm really looking forward to Charlie Sheen's new series called Anger Management.  I guess some things never change even when my house has wheels under it.  Again, I'm suffering for nothing.  

Sorry it's been so long since my last post.  I'll try to do better now that my laptop has mysteriously fixed itself and I once again have access to roadhogblog.

mb/jd

Here come the ducks...

One thing about being camped here at Flamingo Lake in Jax is the large spring fed pond and the ducks it attracts.  This might not mean much to any of you, but observing wild duck behavior on this little lake has been fascinating and a real treat for this ex-duck hunter.  Back in the day I was a decent shotgunner and I always bagged my fair share of game be it ducks, doves or quail.  I still enjoy the occasional trip to the sporting clays range to pretend hunt.  I can still swing a shotgun ok.  Sorry.  The point of the story isn't my prowess with a shotgun, but rather how exciting it is to watch ducks come and go from a lake.  There isn't anything comparable to being on a lake and watching the massive rafts of ducks get off the water just after sunrise.  In some areas of the country those flocks can black out the morning sky as if to delay sunrise.  There are few kinds of hunting that have the adrenelin thrill of ducks diving from high altitude down into your decoys.  This late afternoon I sat up front in the driver's seat of my motor home and watched large flocks of bluebills dive into our pond to roost for the night.  It's a real sight to see a whole flock make one unanimous move to set their wings and lose altitude at an alarming rate.  The wings set rigid in scemitar shapes ending in sharp pointed wing tips bent in arcs like sections of an umbrella.  When they get below the tree tops they level out and start veering this way and that looking for the perfect place to set down on the water.  I watched wishing they'd come closer to me to within shotgun range.  It was just an instinctive thought on my part.  I don't shoot ducks any more, but I still have an excited reaction to this kind of organized chaos with ducks diving this way and that.  Some of the ducks swam up close to the motor home and I was able to watch them at 20 feet.  Using my 8x binoculars I was able to view the tiniest details of their little bodies.  With bluebills and most other species the drakes get all the bright feathering.  With bluebills the contrast is mostly in black and white.  Drake bluebills also have bright golden eyes, blue hued bills and a distinctive bright white ring around the bill about 1/3 the way back.  From a long distance you can recognize bluebills by the drake's stark white belly.  There is no mistaking the drake.  The hen, on the other hand is much more subtle in her earth tones.  I would assume they are her camouflage for nesting on shorelines in northern Canada.  There was one hen that came within 20 feet of where I was sitting.  She'd dive in one quick motion and disappear for up to about 20 seconds all the while leaving a bubble trail up on the surface.  I never thought about it before, but it makes sense that a duck that naturally floats might need some help sinking and exhaling would be the solution.  Anyway, it was by watching the bubbles that I could keep track of a particular individual duck.  The markings on the hens are similar to blue wing teal and at one point I thought I might have a few teal mixed in with my bluebills.  I hope to see other species on the lake as the season progresses. 

 

On the same subject of ducks I did see something the other day I'd never seen before.  I saw a bald eagle trying to catch ducks that were sitting on the water.  The scene was reminiscent of dolphins attacking a pod of baitfish.  Every time the eagle swooped low the ducks would disperse in all directions flying or diving.  I suspect this game has a low rate of success for the eagles as the ducks seemed very adept at getting away.  I guess that's why duck populations are so strong today.  It was still a pretty dramatic scene, though, and with every dive the eagle made I didn't really know who to cheer on.  Initially, I found myself siding with the smaller, seeming underdog ducks.  But, as much as I love watching ducks I enjoy watching eagles and ospreys even more.  Both raptors have made a very strong come back in Florida.  Last winter it seemed that most everywhere I turned I was seeing both birds in significant numbers.  The most shocking eagle sighting was in Leesburg, Florida on a high traffic week day near downtown.  There is an eagle nesting on top of a light pole over the sidewalk on Hwy 441 and it seems oblivious to the people, trucks and cars.  Talk about adaptive.  While visiting a good friend in Tarpon Springs I walked Romeo one morning only to look up and see a bald eagle sitting on top of the house eye'ing my little 4 lb. maltese.  I wouldn't be surprised to learn of neighbors losing pets to that big fella.  If you've never been up close to a mature bald eagle they are magnificently large creatures with large talons and beaks to match their appetites.  When I mentioned eagles to a friend recently on the phone he told me of an eagle sighted eating a dead skunk on the side of the road.  While I've never seen anything like that I don't doubt his word.  I didn't really know if they scavenged, but now I do.

 

Changing the subject completely it's time to get estimates to fix the deer damage to the motor home.  I think I'll start the search for a suitable repair facility in Orlando and span out from there.  I've got an offer to stay with a fellow Viking, Ray B., in Orlando.  I've mentioned his name before as I stayed with good 'ole Ray last winter for several weeks.  We used a row boat and went out and caught lots of bass in the lake near his house.  Ray is a true fishing authority and I really enjoy fishing with him.  He's like having a free guide and I must say I'm always learning something from Ray.  I hope to get him out surf fishing at Canaveral towards the end of February.  It's past time to hit the rack, so I'll sign off now.

 

mb/jd