O Walker, Where Art Thou?

"You folks goin' through Tishamingo?"  ~ Tommy Johnson

With Hank pulling Glory down Route 43 towards Muscle Shoals, Kristy and I enjoyed our morning coffee as we watched the rolling landscape pass by.  As we neared the town of Florence (AL), we passed a "Road Work Ahead” sign—one of hundreds that we’ve seen on our Odyssey.  Further ahead sat a mobile message board…the kind everyone easily discounts and drives by without giving a second thought to the message.  Lucky for me, my Limbic System—ramped-up on caffeine and sugar—comprehended the bulleted text that was alternating every 5-seconds.

***LOW CLEARANCE AHEAD*** 

***NO VEHICLES OVER 11’ 5”***

I traveled about 100-yards before that info went from my optical nerves to my Thalmus.  The Thalmus was quite busy on this particular morning, as the info coming into the occipital cortex had to deal with a backlog of Steely Day lyrics clogging the parental cortex.  Once the info got past this bottleneck, the frontal lobe and temporal cortex held a quick committee meeting.  The Hippocampus was brought in to remember 1) the height displayed on the sign; and 2) the RV height measurement that was taken in Durham, Connecticut in September 2014.  Once these measurements were verified, the Parietal Lobe did some quick calculations and determined that a continued trajectory on this vector would result in a violent decrease in the existing 12’4” RV height; further resulting in a violent decrease in existing monetary coffers.

Like a well-oiled machine, alerts were sounded; chemicals were dumped into the bloodstream raising blood-pressure, heart rate, and respirations; and all those Steely Dan pontifications scurried around in apocalyptic mass hysteria.  I brought the caravan to a screeching halt on the side of the road; evoking the all-to-familiar “what in the world are you doing?” look from my lovely livelong navigator.  After poorly explaining the circumstances, Kristy quickly rerouted us across a narrow dam and rough backroads—which ended up cutting about 20-minutes off our original route—just north of Tishamingo, Mississippi.

Mississippi Shoe Tree; "Ripe" for the Pickin'

Laces & Limbs

"…But first, first you must travel a long and difficult road – a road fraught with peril, uh-huh, and pregnant with adventure. You shall see things wonderful to tell. You shall see a cow on the roof of a cottonhouse, uh-huh, and oh, so many startlements…I cannot say how long this road shall be. But fear not the obstacles in your path, for Fate has vouchsafed your reward. And though the road may wind, and yea, your hearts grow weary, still shall ye foller the way, even unto your salvation."  ~ Blind Seer

Back on the road—with Kristy enjoying the passing landscape and Steely Dan lyrics echoing inside my brain-bucket—we passed an unusual sight.  So unusual that I was immediately overcome with the necessity to perform a U-turn in front of an oncoming 18-wheeler to go back and get another look.  We didn’t see a cow on the roof of a cotton house (although we have seen cotton mills in Pendleton and Rock Island); but we did see a tree bearing soleful fruit..or maybe it was a make-shift sandalwood.  My optimistic side looks at this as what a collective group of people can accomplish if they all share a common vision.  The pessimistic side of me sees this as how foolish any movement can be if the individuals fail to think about the overall purpose of their actions and simply go along with the group.  What’s most impressive is that someone managed to get a pair of cowboy boots (which are born without laces) dangling in the branches.  Still, I have no accounting for this type of collective work, so I’ll just have to take comfort in knowing; “It’s a fool that looks for logic in the chambers of the human heart.”  (~ Ulysses Everett McGill)

Panorama of South Abutment Recreation Area, with a very low lake and lengthy dam in the distance

"That’s not the issue Delmar.  Even if that did put you square with the Lord, the State of Mississippi’s a little more hard-nosed."  ~ Ulysses Everett McGill

As the sun finished up it’s daily work, we arrived at the the South Abutment Recreation Area and Campground on the shores of Arkabutla Lake, Mississippi.  With not a sole in sight upon check-in, we drove to our reserved space and set chocks.  We took The Boys for a long shoreline walk the following day, and did not see a single person—only the half dozen trailers scattered amongst the 81 pads—some of which seemed to be “long-term residents.”  Quiet solitude had found us again, and we—nor The Boys (who were snoozing-up an appetite for dinner)—were objecting to the tranquil surroundings.  Then a ranger showed up.  He asked us if we needed to “catch-up” on our rent, to which we relied that we already paid on-line for the brief duration of our stay.  He then looked confused—and maybe embarrassed—and said, “You gotta keep your dogs on leash.”  Then he drove away.  We never did put The Boys on leash in the vacant park, and we never saw the ranger (or anyone else for that matter) again.

"Say, any of you boys smithies? Or, if not smithies per se, were you otherwise trained in the metallurgic arts before straitened circumstances forced you into a life of aimless wanderin’?"  ~ Ulysses Everett McGill

During our newly-found life of aimless wanderin', we find that on occasion things break…and on most occasions I’m the cause of the breakage.  Prior to beginning our trip, we purchased a folding aluminum step to assist our hounds in entering and egressing the high-profile of Hank.  This lightweight platform was easy to stow away, and perfectly suited to handle weights up to 350 pounds.  Although I’m confident that it could surpass this advertised weight limit, it quickly collapsed under Hanks 7,000 pounds as I drove over it—before we even left Virginia.  The replacement step was as solid as the first, and served us well…until we left Joe Wheeler State Park.  Again, I failed to notice the platform in it’s “grounded” position, and only became aware of my error upon hearing Hank completely flatten another quality product.  Fortunately for us, Harbor Freight has stores all across the country…and they keep this particular item well stocked for error-prone individuals such as myself.  I’ve never had one of these last for more than 2-months, but I'm hopeful this one will last until Spring.

"I detect, like me, you're endowed with the gift of gab."  ~ Ulysses Everett McGill

As mentioned in earlier posts, we try to engage with the locals in an attempt to understand the cultural foci better.  On occasion some phrases (i.e. “graveyard dead”) are invoked that give pause.  While completing a purchase at a local auto parts store, I asked the older man behind the counter if he took American Express.  He looked me (graveyard) dead in the eye and said, "I’m like a graveyard…I’ll take anything you lay one me.”

I informed him that he had just made the blog.

"Thank you for that fricassee.  I'm a man of large appetites.  Even with lunch under my belt, I was a mite peckish." ~ Big Dan Teague

Sampling the various cuisines across the country is one of the big perks to this trip.  Although most of our meals originate from within Glory, we try to partake of at least one local (non-chain) gastronomic venue at each of our stops.  On the southern end of Arkabutla Lake lies the small town of Sanatoria, Mississippi.  There was not much open at the late hour that I went hunting for vittles, but an illuminated barbecue sign gave me great hope.  I pulled into Coleman’s Bar B Q and gazed at the large menu behind the counter.  They had BBQ plates, sandwiches, po-boys, and a long list of various ways to cure acute borborygmus.  The one thing that was noticeably missing was what type of ungulate was staring in this production.  I asked the waitress what type of BBQ they sold there.  She answered (graveyard) dead serious, “We serve both kinds; pulled and sliced.”  Not exactly what I was looking for, but the “pulled” gave a clue that they were talking about pork BBQ.  I ordered a couple of pulled-pork po-boys and waited for my order at a nearby booth.

Sanatoria is less than an hour from Memphis, Tennessee.  Memphis was the site of one of the worst disease outbreaks in the history of the United States—the 1878 Yellow Fever epidemic.  The disease rampaged the city, causing tens of thousands to flee.  In fear of the disease spreading, railroads and boats suspended travel to Memphis, leaving the remaining population to fend for themselves.  Over 17,000 cases presented, with over 5,000 deaths resulting.  The surge of Yellow Fever left a lasting reputation on the city for decades to come.  Imagine my surprise when I glance over at the napkin holder of this BBQ joint and see that these folks not only serve the food I love…but also dig the same epidemiological history that I am passionate about.  It wasn’t “mamma slappin’ que,” but I earned 3 CEU’s and enjoyed some mighty fine swine.

Daily Special: 1-entree, 2-sides, and 3 CEUs

"I work for no man.”  ~ Blind Seer

wWw, Retired