Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving

I've been staying at a campground at a lake on the Georgia-South Carolina border for several days. Georgia has been in a drought since July so the lake was very low. Naturally, that meant it rained while I was there. On the other hand, while it rained I used my very quirky internet connection.  After shear persistence and dumb luck I scored my current camping spot.

Friends, I am spending the next few days on the coast of South Carolina about an hour east of Charleston. Not actually the open sea coast, rather then inter-coastal waterway. The tide rises and falls, birds bob around and very large cruisers or sailboats glide past within touching distance.

While I was driving here, I found a good public radio station issuing from someplace in the state. Buried in the chatter was some Thanksgiving food talk. Seems like sea food would have been a much more suitable Thanksgiving food than turkey. Good old Ben Franklin started pushing turkey eating while he lobbied for it as our national bird.

I did drive by a couple of roadside sellers of crab and shrimp however I chose to stick with turkey and so purchased a frozen breast. There was no cranberry in the store I shopped, instead I found mountains of fresh green beans or gallon cans of them next to quart containers of french fried onions. Sweet potatoes and collards disappeared as fast as they were refilled. Snatches of conversation circled around the meat displays; most were discussions over ham, turkey or chicken and how many they could feed with their holiday budget.

One of my grandmas could make a pot roast that tasted like it was oven baked so I thought I'd give it a try with my turkey part. It thawed nicely, nearly unfrozen and still cold enough to be safe. I dug out the cast iron fry pan and found a bit of aluminum foil for a lid. Soon sizzling sounds came from the pan as the bird began to brown. I had just settled myself outside to read while it cooked when a 'neighbor' came over.

Seems like an extended group of family and friends, about 20, gather yearly at the park to celebrate Thanksgiving. I was invited to join the group, the campground hosts who were unknown to the family were also there so I too must join them; I did.

There was several turkeys, deep fried, baked and grilled, a beef roast, stew, collards, green bean casserole, two or three different types of dressing, biscuits, a couple different gravies, sweet potatoes, white potatoes, spoon bread, unknown casseroles and another table loaded with dessert. There was no cranberry anyplace nor were there any jello salads, for a stray second I missed Minnesota.

After everyone was done eating and seconds and take-home plates offered several times, some of the older guys dug out their guitars and a family sing-along started. I heard that two of the older guys used to be in bands and that the one younger guy currently plays in one. There were the usual Jesus songs and another bunch right out of the 60s. One of the guys sang “House of the Rising Sun”, a song my kids' father used to sing. Even after all these years I could hear him singing and he did it better than what I heard today.

Now the sun is turning everything to bronze, the no-see-ums have returned for supper and the party broke up as some folks left for family obligations. My turkey is cooking since I can better keep it cooked than raw.

Its been a good day – I hope you too had a good one.

South Carolina

I've continued to follow the Mississippi south, on the Missouri side, as far as St. Louis. Mostly the roads are away from the river. Where it runs close by, there are huge ugly plants surrounding small hamlet-like towns. Those towns seem even older than the river towns I've met further north. In general they are quite similar. The highway, running on higher ground, twists through town toward the river on what appears to be the 'best' road in town. Semis use it too so corners turn into a dance of who goes first. The big trucks seem to have it figured out, us strangers are notable for our caution and the young natives simply blast through intersections..

The ugly plants have enormous piles of coal or sand piled around them, usually on the up hill side with big tunnels of metal stretched over the road and ending in tubes hanging over the river. The riverbank is fortified with edging that looks bigger than railroad ties and sometimes a barge is tied under a tube.

So picture one of these towns. There is a railroad track nearby that is heavily used – train rumbling & whistles. There is a main road snaking through your streets – constant engine growling and the sound of air brakes. Some kind of plant nearly spills into your streets – gears grinding and sometimes squealing along with dust I could taste. Tugboats and barges pass on the river close enough to talk with the crew – chugging, lots of chugging along with slapping water if the wind is right. ALL the people I saw in this one town were acting like it was normal. I know, for them it is but I keep thinking about the assault on their senses and wonder if they are uncomfortable someplace quiet.

Around St. Louis the roads became a little confusing so I turned on my GPS, still a new toy, and asked it to send me to a park in Illinois. If roads came together at a diagonal, it would send me down a side street to cut off a block or two, and then if I wanted to take a lesser road, it would keep trying to divert me back to a major one. I'm guessing most of the problems I had are user errors. And it couldn't know the ferry it told me to take was closed for the season. What I really want is google maps in a hand-held with GPS connect. Eventually it did a very good job of routing me to where I wanted to go and keeping me out of St. Louis traffic.

Once in Illinois, I had the pleasure of driving on one of the prettiest and nicest roads I've found. The stretch I was on runs along the Mississippi from Alton to Grafton and then turns north to follow the Illinois River. Its four lanes wide with the Mississippi flanking one side and the white cliffs of Illinois flanking the other. It was late afternoon on a sunny, 72 degree day. The lower cliff-side was covered with brilliant reds and browns. Not only were the trees brilliant, the steep embankment under them was blanketed with the same sizzling colors. Sunlight sparkled on the river littering it with diamond points of light and overhead the sky had that intense blue some afternoons wear.

A few miles north of Grafton I found the state park I was seeking. The guy in charge is friendly, the sites are fairly level and the showers have really hot water.

There is a bunch of great sounding stuff to do in St. Louis and I thought I might stay a few days and visit some of them. First though, I wanted to drive south to Cahokia (Caw-hoe'-key-aaa), the remains of a city of Mississippian Mound Builders. Around 1100AD, when their city was at its peak, it had a larger population than London and was about the same size as Paris. 25,000 is a lot of people living in wooden huts and building huge mounds out of dirt. Their largest mound has a more volume than the Great Pyramid and was it constructed over a period of 300 years. Basket by basket people carried dirt to build that and many other mounds; I wanted to see for myself.

Armed with directions from the guy-in-charge, I headed back toward Alton and missed my turn. The road I was on also headed south and the greater St. Louis map I have showed the road I was on would take me where I wanted to go. So I continued and found a Lewis and Clark Historic Site instead. Well, I've been enamored with their Expedition for years so I stopped. Two hours later - - -. Lewis and Clark spent the winter of 1803-1804 in the area. Since the Louisiana Purchase had not been finalized when they arrived at St. Louis, the Spanish governor would not allow them access to the Missouri River forcing them to winter and wait. Clark, a former military man, whipped the expedition men into a team and Lewis, the naturalist, spent his time gathering more information and buying supplies. They took a keel-boat and couple of tree-hollowed canoes to transport tons of goods. (And the only extra they had was some dried ink.) They “proceeded on under a jentle brease up the Missourie.” in May, 1804.

Keel-boats have always fascinated me and the reproduced one, made from following Lewis' sketchy plans, was of particular interest. Even seeing it I found it hard to visualize 20 men sleeping on board, actually on top of all those supplies. Staff is mostly volunteers who must spend their evenings browsing copies of Lewis' 13 journals. They are extremely well informed and wiling to share their knowledge with anyone. The info-guy there send me on my way with an annotated copy of the journal and new instructions for reaching Cahokia.

Fifteen minutes later I gazed at the Grand Plaza before parking at the Visitor Center. Granted I was still tired from the first stop, however I was disappointed with the informational video I saw regardless of the awards it won. The narrative is what bothered me. I think there are way too many “may have been used for” comments. Once again I spent hours in a museum this time looking for information to back up the video. I found very little that supported their assumptions.

Before leaving Minneapolis I read a book that questioned many assumptions made about other historic sites. Perhaps that book, added to my own skeptical nature, influenced my view. For one thing, they kept referring to de Soto exploring the area – as a free man he was hundreds of miles to the SW in Arkansas, and when he was here he was an Indian’s slave working as a trader and this site no longer existed. I wanted more than a throw-away comment about this site being in direct line with the earthworks outside Mexico City. I wanted more information about climatic conditions at the time this site was abandoned. And I wanted my old foot back so I could visit the wooden poled equinox calender. After another 2-3 hours looking at a very interesting museum, I was unable to do any outside walking.

When I return to check out St. Louis, Cahokia will come first.

Itchy Feet

October is half over and I have just now returned to wandering. Maybe there's a wandering gene since being condemned to wander for forty years doesn't sound bad to me. I do wander more in one day than a nomadic tribe would travel however not far by current standards.

The Corp of Engineers have many campgrounds across the country. Since they are federal, my old-person pass lets me stay for half-price. And since the Mississippi is very managed, the Corp has several camping sites along it. My first stop was at one called Blackhawk Camp in Wisconsin. Its right on the Mississippi River and is nearly deserted; both are appealing.
The park is north of Prairie du Chien and south of La Crosse. This part of the Mississippi is like the area around Red Wing, MN with lots of sloughs, meandering channels and backwaters. I can see where the water has dropped in the last month or so and grasses have started growing at the edges of the islands. Knowing how geese chow down on grasses inside Minneapolis, I see this grass and think prime feeding grounds for migrating birds. In fact, this area is a wildlife refuge. Thousands of acres that are pretty useless for much else are protected.

Even without the signs I can see hunting and fishing are prime recreation. Every 5 miles or so there is a boat launch site; each I've seen had several vehicles in it and the road traffic seems to be either semis or truck and boat. Not all the boats are for fishing, some are decorated for hunting and even plain boats are used for it. The pair of duck hunters who enthusiastically showed me their haul used a normal looking boat. I must have made the correct sounds because I left with a couple of teal for supper. They are very small birds once they are dressed out (it was harder to see just how small while they were feathered) and the hunter told me true, they are very tasty.

Now I've wandered a bit further south to the end of Iowa. I've often traveled through the state however I've rarely taken the time to explore it. Parts along the Mississippi are quite pretty and I really like the bluff area. There is a section of NE Iowa, western Wisconsin, northeast Illinois and Minnesota's bluff area that were untouched by glaciers. No glaciers but heavy glacial run-off left the area fairly rugged and quite hilly, resembling the lower western hill areas leading away from the Appalachians.

River towns are similar to each other no matter where I've seen them. Each has some really old buildings, they are generally two or three streets deep, and they can stretch for miles. The Mississippi has railroad tracks running on either side of it using the same space as the towns. One little Iowa town has tracks running down the center of Main St. Every other intersection is shut off but there are still lots of unguarded crossings. Naturally the trains blow their whistles when approaching though the trains are hard to ignore since the buildings and street vibrate when they pass through.

The towns I've been through seem poorer than those in Minnesota or Wisconsin. However they all are trying to reinvent themselves and some seem to be succeeding. In an effort to keep people handy, lots of towns and counties have campgrounds that are consistently cheaper than Iowa state parks which are several dollars cheaper than Minnesota, Wisconsin, Illinois or Missouri's state parks.  Reasonable camping fees and pretty scenery will get be back to visit!


Currently I am in a 'historic county' in southern Iowa. I guess that means its old. While old buildings and houses don't particularly interest me, one blurb says it's house was part of the underground railroad. Now I'm going to have to look at Iowa history since I thought this was a free area even when it was a territory. I may even decide to visit that old house.