As I was driving Russ to the start of the Katy Trail yesterday, we passed through one of those small Missouri towns with a peculiar name. (There actually is a town in Missouri named Peculiar, but that’s another story.)

And there it was:

Yes, that was the name of the town. You can’t make this stuff up, folks!

(The bank was clearly defunct. I wonder why?)

We both desperately needed showers. Dogs are not allowed in the showers. We closed the camper windows (so Moe couldn’t jump out), we locked the door (just in case). Off we went to shower.

We didn’t raise the screens.

Camper screen before Moe:

Camper screen after Moe (and some mommy sweary bits):

We have screens that are held together with tape, thread, and clothespins (to keep the screen and the frame in contact), all thanks to Moe. We no longer have a screen door, because Moe (who weighs 14 pounds) actually broke through so hard he bent the frame. For a while, we tried one of those magnetic-closure screen doors (he tore that, too).

As Russ likes to say, “You picked him.”

Yes, I was in a pretty campsite overlooking a lake. Yes, the park was in the town of Marshall (I get a kick out of that, OK?), IL.

But I was miserable. Hot, sweaty, bug-bit, just f**king miserable. The AC turned up full wasn’t even cutting the heat, and it had dripped, soaking my sheet and one of my couch cushions. That’s how I went to sleep last night. I was ready to throw in the towel.

Oddly, I woke pretty early—6:30-ish—so I thought “What the hell, I’ll go out in the kayak.” Fed Moe, grabbed some o.j. and a handful of trail mix, and headed to the boat launch.

On the lake, there was a nice breeze, and the sun was still low enough that I could stay in the shade by hugging the shore. I fell into my usual rhythm of paddling smoothly along, then gliding silently into the many little coves and inlets. That’s where you see all the good stuff, like this deer:

The first deer I saw stared at me in surprise as I rounded a corner, but bolted off before I could get a picture. The second was busy foraging and didn’t notice me at first. When it finally did, it startled up the hill, coughing its hoarse alarm cry.

Passed a dad and his kids fishing off a dock. Kids always get a kick out of Moe lounging on the bow of the boat. I dipped into another byway, and ran across something I hadn’t expected—a swan!

There were dog roses, Indian paint brushes, and black-eyed Susans blooming along the water’s edge, and something that looked like a “hop tree.” Also a shrub with white “puffball” flowers (bees like them). A great blue heron let me get really close before it took off with a prehistoric “kronk.” And a lone Canada goose watched me suspiciously, but didn’t fly off, as I glided dangerously close to some floating duck weed to get a better look.

What I didn’t get pictures of: a baby raccoon tiptoeing along the water’s edge, looking for yummies. He fled into the vegetation before I could raise my phone. And a young muskrat gliding along in the shallows, who quickly about-faced and disappeared into his mudbank burrow.

Sigh. I love kayaking.

Endless, oppressive heat, with no end in sight. I don’t know how Russ pushed through to do 94 miles to get here one day early. Went kayaking; that was nice, but hot. Even sitting still in the shade is hot, and everything I wear is instantly damp.

One thing was worth getting hot and sweaty for: Cataract Falls on the Mill Creek that feeds the lake we’re on.

The Upper Falls was especially impressive. We explored the historic covered bridge above the falls (Indiana is very big on its covered bridges, of which they had hundreds in the 1800s).

We walked the woodland trail along the river between the Upper and Lower Falls, and enjoyed the views along the way. I found a shaded rock and dangled my feet in the river to cool down a bit. I encouraged Moe to take a dip, but he was being his anti-water Chihuahua self. Too bad, because on the way back, he was really dragging; Russ carried him halfway back to the parking lot.

On the drive back, we spotted a sign for an icecream shop in an old one-room schoolhouse. We pulled up, but to our great disappointment, the door had a closed sign. However, Russ hailed a man who came from the back of the building, and he offered to go get his wife, who ran the shop. She graciously agreed to open for us, we got cups of ice cream (Moe too) and cans of root beer, and I had the best root beer float of my entire life!

We are off to Illinois and Lincoln Trail State Park tomorrow. I only need to drive a little over an hour: Russ hopes to get to his next overnight before the expected thunderstorms hit.

A severe storm came through Mounds State Park on my last night, with tornado warnings. A bunch of campers left, and the rangers came around to offer us alternate sites that weren’t under trees. I and several others stayed: I was adjacent to restrooms should the worst happen. I was napping when the storm hit; the thunder woke me and almost immediately after, I heard a crack and a large limb broke off the walnut tree over my car. I was lucky: it missed my car by about a foot.

Moe was terrified, and showed it by shedding hair all over my camper. But the park staff was quick to clear the debris, and by the next morning Moe was back to his happy, goofy self.

Now we are in Lieber State Recreational Area, on a large man-made lake. I’m eager to go kayaking,but first I HAD to do laundry. Days of rain and high humidity have rendered all my clothes and bedding damp and smelly.

At the moment, I have the only occupied site in this little cul-de-sac and, while it looks completely isolated, the showers are right behind me, down a short path. The weekend is coming, so we’ll see how long this privacy lasts!

As an anthropology student in the early ‘70s I learned about the moundbuilding native Americans of the southern and central U.S. So I was eager to have the chance to see some of the best examples of these massive constructions by the Adena and, later, Hopewell cultures. The mounds here date from about 160 B.C.E., and were, we think, used for ceremonies, celebrations, and observances of the solar and celestial year.

Consider that, before they could even begin building, they had to clear the entire area of trees and brush, and that they dug four- or six-foot deep ditches with digging sticks, loaded all the dirt into baskets and piled it onto encircling mounds, you get a real sense of the impressiveness of these constructions. Some of the large ones are hundreds of yards across. Unfortunately, while they are indeed impressive, time has softened the outlines of these earthwork circles, making them hard to photograph.

A portion of the Circle Mound. Most, like this one, consisted of a central flat area, surrounded by a ditch and outer raised walls.

Easier to envision in illustrations, like this of the Great Mound and adjacent structures:

The park also has several miles of well-marked hiking trails, some of which run along the White River (which is brown):

Moe and I enjoyed the trails yesterday, as the skies were cloudy and the weather a bit cooler. As in Ohio, there were plenty of fungi to be found:

It rained overnight and this morning, which led to some post-breakfast napping, but the sun (and the heat and humidity) was out by noon, so we took a short hike before returning for lunch.

Meanwhile, Russ texted me from Lewisburg, OH, where he was resting under a covered bridge because his “neck hurt so bad I can’t hold my head up” and he was dizzy and short of breath. I suggested he get medical help, which led him to downplay his symptoms, which led me to yell at him in text….

He promises to call me back soon to let me know how he’s doing.

[Update: apparently, he did see reason and called EMS. What did they say?, I asked. “For some reason, my heart rate is elevated,” he says. He refused to go to a hospital because he would have had to leave his bicycle and all his possessions. 🤦‍♂️ He doesn’t think he can make the nearest motel, which is 12 miles away, so he’s going to call someone in the town offices or police to see if he could stay in the park he’s currently in. I promised I would stay by my phone.]

This blog would be woefully incomplete if I did not acknowledge the contributions of my traveling buddy and master escape artist, Moe. He lives to hike, kayak, and just generally be with me in all I do. His passion for sharing my adventures is matched only by his passion to NOT MISS any of my adventures (or, for that matter, trips to the bathroom, pizza pickups, shopping, etc.)

During our cross-country trip in 2022 he single-handedly destroyed both side window screens in the camper, and finally managed to eliminate the screen door entirely by bending the frame in his enthusiasm to be with me. Mind you, he weighs about 14 pounds soaking wet.

We’ve returned from getting dinner to find him running up the road toward us. I’ve headed to the camp bathhouse, only to find him trotting beside me even before I get there.

Sunday was his best ever. I stopped at a Kroger’s Supermarket on my way to the new campground and, to keep him comfortable (and prying busybodies away), I left the car running and the AC on. I locked the car and headed into the store, and was nearly done with my shopping when I heard the loudspeaker: “Would the owner of a dog named Moe please come to the Customer Service counter.” I thought “What the heck?!? He’s fine!” and grumbled my way to the counter, ready to chew out some over-eager do-gooder, when I come around the corner to see Moe in the arms of a store employee.

Apparently, I didn’t lock the windows. He opened one, leapt out of the car, ran across the entire parking lot, entered the automatic doors all on his own, and was searching for me INSIDE THE STORE when he was apprehended. I apologized to the store employee, who was looking down at her shirt, for all the white hairs he’d left, but it turned out he’d excitement-peed on her!

As I did the walk of shame back to the car, I heard shouts of “Yay Moe!” behind me. I returned Moe to the car, debated whether those groceries were worth it, decided they were (sigh), locked the doors AND windows, and headed back to get them. Moe was excited to see me when I got back.

I tried for two days with no luck to download my pics of Dillon State Park. Today, they went without a hitch, so now I can update you on the remainder of my stay at Dillon State Park, my rescue of Russ in Zanesville, and now Buck Creek State Park.

What I really wanted to show was “The Portal” that I discovered while kayaking.

Totally into another dimension! For one thing, there were Great Blue Herons everywhere:

Then, drifting in a side cove, I suddenly saw a deer, then a second, a third, and a fourth, trot silently down a hill, stop for a sip, and just as silently move off, their coats shining cinnamon-brown in the sun.

One of my favorite things about kayaking is the ability to do silly things like paddle under trees:

Does this life vest make my butt look fat?

Back to reality (fortunately this magic portal stays in place) and camp, and just in time, because I got a frantic text from Russ saying that he’d nearly passed out in the 95 degree heat and was waiting to be rescued at a cemetery in Zanesville. Off I went, picked him up, and promptly got some cold sodas into him. He was feeling punky all the next day: he’d probably come close to heat stroke.

Then it was time to head to my next campsite at Buck Creek State Park. I dropped Russ off at the Panhandle Trail for his next leg, and arrived at camp just in time to set up before the rain, which brought some blessed cooling.

The next morning (today, Sat. June 14), I took Moe for his morning constitutional, and we followed the Lakeside Trail for a while under overcast skies. I noticed a movement to my right, and we watched a raccoon walk headfirst down a tree and squeeze itself into a nest cavity. I waited a bit and was rewarded with the sight of its masked face peeking back at us from the safety of its home. (Not the actual raccoon, because of course I didn’t have my camera.)

After some torrential rain yesterday, today dawned sunny and breezy—a perfect day to explore some of the many hiking/horseback riding/mountain biking trails in the park. Moe and I set out after a leisurely breakfast.

You can tell this area has hefty deer populations: there is very little undergrowth, except on extremely steep hillsides:

With all the recent rain, I wasn’t surprised to see several varieties of fungi:

These gelatinous little darlings are Exidia alba, the White Jelly Fungus. Pretty easy to spot on decaying logs, where they can form large, bright white clusters.

And here we have a type of Coral Mushroom (my best guess is Tremella reticulata, the White Coral Jelly Fungus).

Last but not least, these tiny, delicate parasols, only 1/2” across:

We returned in time for a little afternoon nap.

actually started in April, with a trip to Pennsylvania and Assateague Island while Russ and his sister Debby were bicycle touring on the GAP and C&O Canal trails from Pittsburgh to D.C.

Cell service isn’t very strong here (I’ll tell you where in a minute) so you will have to wait for more pictures of Longwood Gardens

and of the ponies of Assateague. That trip was lovely, although it was sad to be exploring without Scooby, who we lost earlier in April. He had lived a life full of adventures, but at 17, old age had taken its toll. He went peacefully, cradled in my arms.

IN MEMORY OF SCOOBY, THE HAPPIEST DOG EVER

It was after that trip that the trouble started. My Dodge Durango, a notorious money pit, needed new tires and new rear brakes. ($$$) Then an electrical problem popped up again. I caused a ruckus at the Dodge dealership; they promised to fix it, and offered to do the work for “just” the cost of the wiring ($1,200). Three weeks and $1,200 later, and not only was my original problem not fixed, but they told me I had another problem that would cost an additional $1,100. And I had a red rejection sticker that was a month old.

That was the last straw. Off I went and, wonder of wonders, someone was willing to give me money for that Durango in trade for a nice V6 Kia Sorento, equipped with a tow hitch! So far, it has been great—tows a fully loaded camper and all of Russ’s gear, plus my kayak, without even breaking a sweat. Rides nice, too! I would be remiss if I did not mention how awesome everyone at Hyundai of Keene was. They were the best—even upgraded the electrical connector to my camper for free!

All that mucking about delayed the start of our trip by a good three weeks: I think Russ had just about given up hope, and I’d rescheduled some campsites two or three times before we finally headed out on June 5th for a stopover with my brother and sister at Mount Gretna, PA before our first campsite at Raccoon Creek State Park, just outside of Pittsburgh. Russ was to have started riding the next day (Sunday), but true to the way this trip started, it rained all day, so I finally sent him on his way today. He should meet up with me in a couple of days.

Which brings me (finally, but when have you ever known me to tell a straightforward story?) to Dillon State Park, just west of Zanesville, Ohio. Nice campgrounds, if a bit noisy with all the families just released from school. I arrived just in time to get set up before one of the worst deluges I’ve ever seen hit. It rained so hard, there was water dripping from the roof vent, even though it was closed and locked!

Which brings me up to date. I’ll post more pics as soon as I have the bars to do so. Hopefully, kayaking with Moe tomorrow!