Hell Is Not Kentucky

The rest area in Ohio somewhere near a place called Lima (pronunciation unknown) marked the start fo the return journey, under gray threatening clouds which were a gift from the Gods. We needed reminding  the weather we had had was perfect and could not be expected all the time at these latitudes.

And yet standing there on the edge of the rest area we could look across the fields at the typical mid western scene of barns and crops and silos and so forth.  I know the flatlands are supposed to be boring but I find they have their own beauty and raise their own questions about farming and living so far from the world with which I am most familiar.

I found when I was out sailing on an apparently featureless flat body of water I could spend hours sitting on the edge of the cockpit watching the water flow by in some form of meditation that left me wondering where the day had gone. In driving the van on cruise control in the slow lane I get the same feeling of a meditative unraveling as the machine drives itself and frees me to think of everything and nothing.

I saw the billboard below preceded by one that asked if I were to die now would I go to heaven or hell for eternity, which question seems rather absurd to me as no one alive knows the answer. If hell were real there would be no need to make the statement by the side of the road. I saw no signs advising me rain is real or hangovers are real or pain is real.  We know and accept them all without question. I have no time for threats or bullying or implications that the maker of all this abundance is a being filled with thoughts of revenge for our minor human failings. If I am overly confident on this subject the authors of the billboards will get their opportunity to rejoice at my pig headed misfortune. But for now we drive.

The road ahead, I-75 promising an arrival in Tampa in 1100 miles looked rather threatening but I was in my box on four wheels with climate control and windshield wipers. 

The good thing about riding I-71 into Kentucky's "unbridled spirit" was that pretty soon we would be off on the back roads.

It was a winding narrow berm of a road with sharp drop offs on either side and it wound up and over and around like a double jointed snake. I kept pulling over to let the fearless locals by and, I swear this is true, they kept stopping to ask f I was okay. White knuckled yes, but okay? Sort of. We drove through small villages with lots of churches and dead cars but not many tow trucks. I wondered how long it would take to pull the Golden Van out of the very deep very sheer ditches close on either side of the narrow ribbon of asphalt we were following.

When we arrived at the farm imagine my astonishment at seeing two other recreational vehicles both towing cars and Botha great deal larger than Gannet 2. They must have nerves of steel we whispered lest we draw attention to our modest presence in the field. We did manage to find a small mud hole and it took. moment to drive out of that with minimal wheel spin and soon the owner in an all terrain vehicle came alongside and told us where to park as we were not the sharpest knives in the RV.

It was it's own world, Steepleview Farm, suspended between a green and abundant heaven below and paradoxically a gray and thunderous hell above. The afternoon was a mixture of sun and rain, huddling inside and quick walks outside with an umbrella and keen dog. Rusty was heedless when it came to getting wet and he ran through the grass as though born to such activity, which in a sense he was. I followed holding an absurdly bright umbrella picking my way through rain squalls.

Apparently stuff grows in the soil around there as each plot of vegetables was surrounded by a great deal of finely mowed grass.

Water melons, raspberries, peppers, onions and even sunflowers all grew in endless plots. We sent the night for free and bought twenty bucks worth of vegetables in the morning. Harvest Host at work again.

It has always seemed slightly unlikely to me that anything I put in the ground might grow up to be big and real and multicolored as others manage to accomplish. Yet given minimal encouragement  it seems we all have the drive within us to sprout.  I had no idea where to point my lens as everything was pushing up into the light.

We walked across the field and found the path to a promising sign that read "Produce" which was where we planned to stop in the morning on our way out. Rusty went back to being a proper civilized house pet as we approached the farmhouse and he is luckily very easy about playing the role of canis familiaris as needed. When not needed he does the Carolina Pariah Dog of the wild very well too.

Extraordinary places.

We got back to the house on wheels as the rain started back down. Rusty got on the bed and looked at the raindrops sliding down the back windows.

The view out the side window wasn't terribly encouraging but we were warm inside the van and oddly enough have needed no more than light blanket to sleep even on the coldest of nights on the road, in the low 50s.

After the rain slowed down a bit I got the incandescent umbrella out and took it and Rusty for one last stroll in these open fields.

It really is a bright umbrella.

We ate mushroom and beef filled tortellini which we bought in Columbus earlier in the day at the North Market and there happened to be a bottle or red lurking somewhere deep in the stores so the rain was free to do its worst outside, which it did, a long night of drizzle and downpours.

I still don't know how those very nice charming people got their large RVs and their towed cars down those backroads. I was extra grateful for a mere 21 foot van that night.

Columbus, Ohio

Almost exactly two years and two weeks ago we were on a road trip which aimed to get us around West Virginia's mountains and hollows. As it happens Google Maps drove us through quite a lot of Ohio and we ended up in Columbus buying interesting food. It turns out the drive from Michigan to Therese's place in Pensacola can take an ardent van driver through Columbus and that is reason enough to make anther stop at the North Market.

Before we can undertake an expedition there is one job that has to be done first and Rusty was quite up to the task of being walked.

The Greek Orthodox Church took up a fair bit of his attention with its extensive hedgerows filling in for battlements around the church.

It was a gray blusterous day with rain squalls sweeping through though it wasn't so cold I wanted long pants.

I felt like there was so much to see in the downtown, so many quirky little details and I had time to see none of them.

Then with Rusty snug in the van with the roof fan on high and him sleeping in his bed we got down to business. 

Masks required and most people were very aware of distance and limited customers one each space so the shopping was relatively easy in these difficult times.

The market was as fun as we remembered it with a wild variety of foods. With the van parked outside we had a small fridge and a small freezer at our disposal plus the means to cook almost anything which make it possible to set aside some mushroom ravioli for dinner and save some more flavors for the freezer for later.

It was oo bad we had stocked up, or overstocked on cheese in Ann Arbor.

The outside world and its problems penetrated ours for a brief while.

Beauty in meat.

Love is the cure...

As usual the van fits in a. car space. Columbus charges a whole dollar per hour for metered parking as opposed to Key West's four dollars an hour.

Nepali pork dumplings for lunch tasted pretty Chinese on the whole, the sort you can buy anywhere but the sauce was exceptional, peppery and citrusy all at once. Lots of them for two of us for nine bucks. 

Rusty aspirated his treats and took a nap  right there on the sidewalk. A nice midwestern lady  knocked peremptorily on my window as I ate my lunch at my desk and asked in the manner of a drill sergeant if "that dog" was mine. I gawped at her with a dumpling half way to my mouth, while my wife quicker witted than I assured her that Rusty was alive and lived with us.  Layne thought she was being nice while I thought she was being a bit odd. He likes napping outdoors, what's wrong with that? I like my nonconformist dog.

Michigan Woods

I wasn't sure how to focus this essay but in the end  I decided I just want to show a few pretty pictures of a place we spent five days wandering around: a sort of rectangular circle approximately an hour from Traverse City. A lunch stop:

We were a hundred yards from the main road down what they label as an "unmaintained seasonal road."

It dead ended into a National park Service Gate so we turned in the circle in front of the gate, threw-pen the doors and took up our chores...Layne made lunch and I walked the hound with my camera.

I have made an effort to show the interior of the van as it is, our crumpled bed, a king sized sheet on the bottom tucked in all round and another sheet on top designed to catch dog hairs and dust.  Rusty will only stretch out here when we aren't driving. Consequently he is ending each day in a coma of exhaustion. 

Lunch at our front seats spun round to face backwards with our tables deployed. I have a small desk that folds out behind the driver's seat while the passenger seat swivels so Layne can use the kitchen extension leaf that folds up. Under her feet she has a custom made footstool that slides how so her feet don't dangle. Custom Coach loves paying attention to the details.

Photography can be a giant pain in the ass frankly. I have heard it said and I have found it to be true that traveling and taking pictures is a mass of conflicts. There are so many demands on your time and attention that it takes dedication to find time to be alone with the camera. At home Rusty knows his own trails but here he is tugging hither and yon chasing new scents. And I have no time to compose my own pictures and there is so much to look at and think about and enjoy.

We tested ourselves and our furniture driving dirt roads. we did get slightly stuck once, spinning our road tires in an accidental mud hole. I took my foot off the accelerator and let the Promaster walk us out of the mud. Four wheel drive will not be needed. I carry a tire inflator in case we need to deflate the tires temporarily to get across soft ground, though we found none of that on this trip.

It was great to see new light, new scenes and even new trees.

Rusty got better the farther we went, enjoying the stops but much more ready to come back to the new space we called home.

Dew was also an enjoyable thing to see each morning even if it soaked my sneakers. 

The flexibility of the road with your own home is always a revelation. Here we pulled over and did some clean up and maintenance. We vacuumed, dusted and polished and then I checked tire pressure,  which turned out not to be necessary. Then my wife organized her timer and we did some discreet roadside exercises.

A woodpecker not cooperating with the rising sun:

A sunflower or something like that:

Silver birch (I think):

Cattails, that you don't see in the Keys:

Michigan's pure blue skies not mucked up by clouds and things:

Home is where you park it, even for a short while:

We put the carpet we bought in market in Istanbul out to air. We got the runner shape deliberately for our planned van purchase at some point in the future.  That was in summer 2017 and here it is, in use as envisioned:

Rusty relaxed after his walk while we worked. As we exercised a few cars went by and a couple of bicycles until a power walking white man about our age with a gray flat top and piercing blue eyes stared at us as he strode past and his look was so disapproving and his face was creased in such a scowl we talked it over, admitted we both got a strong negative vibe and decided to get going right away.

I am very sensitive to the idea of not screwing things up for others who might come after us, so beyond leaving no trace I also want to leave no pissed off residents in our wake. I see it all the time at work in Key West where people who live in houses are always on the look out for nomads wrecking their zen. I didn't much want the Gauleiter of Glen Arbor bringing code compliance crashing down with a No Parking sign on this inoffensive little pull out. We scooted with our tails between our legs sitting on our towels to absorb the seat from our tabada.  

It was a lovely cool sunny morning which made the indoor outdoor living easy. Its true though that van living is very weather dependent. Later we found ourselves parked and listening to rain pouring down. It was snug all right but not conducive o the indoor/outdoor living you see here. I walked Rusty between downpours and we retreated to the tiny cabin as the rain returned.

Our routines are forming and we have to remember to filter water from the tank for our drinking bottles stored in the fridge.  Our trash can is tiny and needs frequent emptying. And that involves at the can recycling separation pulling the few cans and few recyclables from the small container. Oh, and then the porta-potty needs its own emptying routines. 

But then you get a front row fridge when local supplies are for salmon the honor system. Traverse City is the capital of cherry production I believe. If not, it should be as they are delicious.

How much time could I spend with a camera gawping at the scenery in these northern fields and towns and woods?

Long straight roads undulating across all this greenery:

My sailor buddy Webb likes life on the ocean, the open spaces of salt water but for a mere van driver like me the colors of the Great Lakes and the wooded shorelines and indentations make for great views. 

And if you're in a. van they sometimes even welcome you. How about that?