Another state, another lake:

This one has abundant hiking/mountain biking trails! The campsites are clean and reasonably private, and many look out onto the lake and its many coves. There is a 3-4 mile, mostly flat, trail all around the lake, which we took immediate advantage of.

Scooby’s not one to suffer getting wet gladly, so it was amusing to watch him get positively scampery after being forced to wade a 6” deep stream. Personally, I think he felt refreshed in spite of his indignation.

As before, there are many wildflowers to enjoy:

And the birdwatching continues to be stellar! Seeing a Summer Tanager today was a highlight.

Russ has come and gone, to gain an extra riding day before the rain sets in tonight (Mon) and tomorrow.

I couldn’t go by Paducah and NOT go to The National Quilt Museum!

It did seem ironic, however, to show up purely by chance in the middle of Quilt Week. I’d wanted to go to Paducah Quilt Week, the grandmother of all quilt shows, for decades but never had the time or money. And here I was! Could I see the show? Nope! Thanks to Moe and Scooby, who would have a) died in a hot car or b) torn the entire camper apart if I dared spend an entire day at a a quilt show.

I did tour the museum, which was an amazing visual feast, full of quilts by master artists that I’d only ever seen pictures of. I stayed as long as I could, allowed myself to be content with that, and vowed to return sans animals.

Then it was off across the Ohio River into Illiinois, and Lake Glendale, in the Shawnee National Forest.

The lake was enveloped in fog early this morning, whick gave me a chance to get some beautiful photos as the mist lifted:

I was up early to meet Russ at Abraham Lincoln’s Birthplace. Bit of a disappointment, actually. No trace of his actual first home remains. His family was evicted from this, and their next home, by land ownership disputes, and they moved to Illinois by the time Abe was 7. But for the centennial of his birth, in 1909, a monument was created to honor his birthplace, and inside this classical temple they placed a near-period cabin of the sort that Lincoln’s father MIGHT have built (historical purists be damned!). Inside the temple, the light is so dim that you can’t see the interior of the cabin, which is unfurnished anyway. It’s not his birthplace so much as a holy shrine to the IDEA of his birthplace, which is pretty much the way they did things in 1910.

The best part of the whole place was actually the ”sinking spring” that gave the farm its name. But you will have to see Russ’s blog for a picture of that.

One thing I am learning on the road is to stay open for what each day has to offer. There are no hiking trails in the area around Rough River Lake, which I thought would leave me little to do. In fact, I’ve been so busy watching wildlife (especially birds) since I got here that I haven’t had time to think about hiking. Whether watching the biggest painted turtle I’ve ever seen sunbathe on a log, while several attentive (and much smaller) males jostled for position beside her, or gasping as two rough-winged swallows, tiny talons locked in mortal combat, thrashed about in the water before finally separating and flying off, I’ve been treated to a never-ending Nature series. I only wish I had the means to capture on film the swallows, warblers, woodpeckers, finches, kingbirds, ducks and more that have flitted, flapped, darted and swooped past my lakeside campsite.

What can be captured are the many wildflowers, like this Prairie Trillium:

As I was writing this, I watched a bald eagle land across the cove, then try to eat his fish in peace while a murder of crows did their best to pester the bejeezus out of him.

Like I said, stay open for what each day has to offer!

I FINALLY got a chance to photograph the lovely landscape I’ve been seeing, even though I nearly got smushed by a tractor trailer doing it! I recommend you enlarge the pictures, to get a better sense of how pretty this area is. Out of the Appalachians, the land returned to rolling valley, with extensive cattle farms. I drove through Lancaster and Danville, both picturesque towns (Danville is the site of Centre College). Sorry for the car window in the pictures; sometimes I just can’t stop for a photo.

And then to Axtel Campground, on Rough River Lake, near McDaniels, KY. This is MUCH more to my liking than the Oh! Kentucky RV Park (mind you, Oh! KY is a perfectly nice RV park: I just don’t like RV parks. I don’t understand why anyone would buy a camper just to stay inside and watch TV all day). I arrived just as a light rain was beginning to fall.

Rough River Lake was created in 1961 by damming the Rough River, and the lake and its campgrounds are managed by the Army Corps of Engineers (which means it is 1/2 price under my national parks senior pass, yay!). Since the lake was created for flood control, rather than recreation, the lake level varies quite a lot. Right now, about 30 of the campsites are under water (not mine, thank goodness). I asked the ranger if this was unusual, and he shrugged and told me this was about normal for springtime. Come summer, it would drop back down as they released water downstream.

There are tons of birds here, which is good, since there isn’t much hiking in the area. The campgrounds are plenty extensive enough for a good walkabout with the dogs, though, and the sun is now shining, so that’s what I’ll do.

For anyone who’s interested, here is a little bit about my home for the next six months: a 2018 T@b 320, made by NüCamp. This mid-size T@b (there are smaller and larger versions) is 15’ long and weighs 1,700 lbs dry weight (unloaded, no fluids in the holding tanks). Since my Subaru Outback 4-cylinder has a 3,000 lb towing capacity, this model fits easily within that.

I covered the original upholstery, thinking it would be protected if I ever want to sell (and because, well, me). Inside, there is everything you need: first, ample seating which converts to a single or queen bed.

I knew if I was going to be traveling for any length of time, I would need a bathroom on board, and my T@b, despite its tiny size, has an interior shower and toilet. It also has a kitchen with a sink, two burner range, and refrigerator.

There is plenty of storage for my clothes and necessities, although the Subaru has been largely commandeered by Russ as a rolling bike shop, with all his tools and spare parts, as you can see in the picture above. The T@b even has an air conditioner, though I’m hoping not to have to use that. The TV that came with the camper (I bought it second hand) got removed immediately.

Tows like a dream, and fits easily into even the smallest campsite. even if I do feel like a midget among giants compared to the huge RVs that seem to be the norm most places. It’s a perfectly cozy home for me and my two dogs, with room to spare for when Russ stops by. Right, guys?

The Pinnacles Hiking Trails at the Berea College Forestry Outreach Center came highly recommended, so on this warm Saturday morning we went to check them out. Wildflowers were everywhere: phlox, irises, geraniums, and many more I could not identify.

The trails are moderately easy until you near the pinnacles. We hiked up the main trail to the fork (.5 miles), and chose the .8 mile West Pinnacle trail (mostly because fewer people were headed that way).

Spectacular rock formations are practically run-of-the-mill around here.

I got ambitious (much to Scooby’s dismay) and took the trail from West Pinnacle to Indian Fort overlook, adding another .6 miles before heading back down. That may not sound like much, but I did some serious rock scrambling!

Met a couple from New Hampshire while I was cooling off on a breezy rock overlook, and we swapped travel stories before heading off in different directions. I made it safely back, and the dogs got lots of attention, as usual.

Phew, it’s hot! Time to put up the awning and get into the shade.

I visited the town of Berea, to soak up some arts and crafts. The town and college are very pretty, albeit much smaller than I’d imagined. While exploring different artisan shops, I chanced upon Mary Elizabeth Colmer, aka Bacon_Mom, at Weaver’s Bottom Craft Studio.

She and I had a long and leisurely discussion about life and art and creativity. She told me her life story, from her early hippie days to her arrival in Berea, where she met her husband of 45 years. Before I left, she played for me the tune of the first dance she and he ever danced together. Here it is, played by her on an 1867 hammered dulcimer (turn up your volume):

https://hermiefeyanna.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/04/trim.F85CED25-2AE0-41C1-A4CA-6A7A8180156E.mov

There was something about crossing into Kentucky that felt like a big shift to me—leaving the east coast, with its familiar culture, into new territory. The last time I traveled across the country by car, I was 19. I spent a summer on an archaeological dig at the Salmon River Ruins, in the four corners region of New Mexico. A life altering experience, but I remember little about the trip out, other than that we did it in three days.

I decided to drive the same route that Russ was cycling, so I entered KY on the back roads, through towns named Wolf Pit, Marrowbone, and Greasy Creek. I’ve discovered, in these small towns, that “Baptist” isn’t just one kind of church: in one town, you’ll find Baptist, Old Regular Baptist, Freewill Baptist, and Old Fashion Freewill Baptist just blocks apart, along with a sprinkling of Pentecostal and Methodist churches, not to mention churches who don’t seem to be affiliated with any denomination known to me.

Somewhere west of London the mountains started to break apart, and there was rolling valley land again, instead of just narrow defiles between the peaks. Oddly, that was the moment my cell service disappeared, so I had to abandon the back roads and their uncertainties for I-75 north to Berea. Fortunately, there was a sign for my campground on the highway, and it was easily found. This is an RV park, not the sort of thing I prefer (I didn’t hit the road to be shoehorned in with dozens of 40 foot motorhomes), but there isn’t much camping near Berea, and I really wanted to visit the town and all of its arts and crafts offerings.

Which I plan to do starting tomorrow!

Found this on my car this morning. Then I discovered that my big cooler was missing (the one with a quart of orange juice in it).

Now, this is entirely my fault. There are plenty of bear warnings posted around this campground. I did not think that a bear would have any interest in orange juice, or be able to smell orange juice, in a an unopened plastic container, inside a hard plastic cooler. I did not think that a bear would pull that cooler out from underneath the camper, where I had wedged it. Or do all of that while we slept (Russ woke up, probably as the bear was already leaving. It scarcely registered with me.)

The most important words in the paragraph above are I DID NOT THINK.

I can replace my cooler, and the orange juice inside. That bear may now be in danger of losing his life, because of my ignorance.

Some lessons are harder learned than others.

Yesterday I commiserated with a cashier at the Velocity Market in Elkhorn City, Kentucky about the cold, rainy, miserable day we were having. ”Look on the bright side,” I said. ”At least you don’t have snow, like we still have in Massachusetts.”

7 am, I woke up to this:

Somewhere in Elkhorn City, there is one pissed-off cashier.