Year Four

As I write, it is Memorial Day. The Park is usually filled with people, but it has been raining off and on through the day. Some hardy souls are braving the elements and trying to be joyful, sprinkled with dashes to dry spots during the downpours.

The month is now finished, and not much to tell you of interest. We are doing the same kind of work, office, this and that. The fellow that was in charge of building the new Kiosk (at the entry to the Park) had a massive heart attack and died. That left us to carry on with the building. It is still not finished. We are waiting on windows and doors.

Both Carolyn and I have been down with bad colds. That took up half the month. We haven’t been out and about much in May.

It is hard to believe that I started writing this blog three years ago. For the first couple years it was a weekly, then a monthly. When we were traveling and having completely new experiences, we had lots to share. The traveling has been suspended for awhile in favor of volunteering in State Parks. We are now normally stationary for three to five months. We don’t want to bore you with the mundane activities of our stationary life, so we are going to suspend the monthly blog for now.

We will keep the blog up, and when we travel or have otherwise exciting experiences, we will let you know and share it with you, but it will not be a regular monthly. As we start year four of our nomadic life, we still have the same joy in our experiences. We still meet new and interesting people, and enjoy each new experience. In short, we are happy with our life!

So, I share some more pictures of the Park with you, a scene of Camp Will-A-Way across the lake, a view of the tennis/basketball courts, and finally a picture of us during Carolyn’s birthday at our son Don’s house. The dog, Lucy, belongs to Don.

That is it for a while. Enjoy the cartoon.

Back to Jug Tavern

I know, you want to know where Jug Tavern is and why we are here. Back in the days of yore, that is, in the Colonial days, Winder, Georgia, where Fort Yargo is, was called Jug Tavern. I suppose there was a tavern here where one could get a “jug”, if one were so disposed. I’ll leave it to you to figure out what was in the jug.

So, we are back in Fort Yargo where the trees and bushes are in bloom and the road is being torn asunder in the construction of a new entry to the park. The construction promises better parking, a wider road and space for RVs. Promises I say. Were they fulfilled? The parking lot is prettier, but seems smaller.  The road is slightly wider. The RV parking is too small for the stated number (2) of RVs. The only thing lacking at this point is a new, and larger, kiosk. That’s where the attendant sits and collects the five dollars for parking. I’ll give you the final verdict and pictures next time. But it looks nice and new.

We are back in our favorite spot in Picnic Area 2, down by the lake. We were totally surprised by the look of the lake when we arrived. We looked, did a “double-take,” and wondered where the water was. We crossed the bridge with nothing but dry land beneath, where we normally saw turtles and blue-heron was nothing but brown ground and grass. What happened to the lake?

What you see in the picture that looks like beaches is just dry ground that used to be covered with water to the tree-lines. The lake was down eight feet. “Why,” we asked? The story is that the lake was lowered so that a new sewer line could be laid from one section to another. At this writing, the lake is now only about four feet down and coming back slowly.

When guests to the park ask when the lake will be back to normal. My stock answer is, “Depends on how many buckets of water you bring.” It really depends on how much rain we get, of course. We had some good rain the past week-end during our annual bike-triathlon. Another bike endurance race is scheduled for tomorrow; six hour and twelve hour races. Poor soles! Or maybe it would be better to say, poor rears and legs. And, wouldn’t you know, more rain is expected for the next several days. But we, as Carolyn is doing in the swing, just sit and relax and watch it all go by.

Carolyn is back working in the Office and I am back doing this and that. One of the first jobs that we did together was to take a road trip for the park. Fort Yargo is responsible for cleaning and maintaining State historical signs in a four-county area. So, we grabbed brushes, buckets, and water and took off in the Park truck to locate, clean, and record the condition of the various historical markers. You get an idea of what we were looking for by the picture. If you look closely to the left of the marker, you will see Carolyn posing with the brushes.

We were able to learn a little Georgian history along the way. The marker you see was standing in the front yard of the building you see, Eagle Tavern. Eagle Tavern, or hotel, was the center of social and political activity in Watkinsville, Georgia for more than a hundred years. It was saved from destruction in 1934 by Lanier Billups of Decatur, Georgia, who deeded it to the State in 1956.

The oldest section of the building, which is of the “Plain Style,” has been restored. It has two rooms upstairs and two rooms downstairs. Separate doors lead into the two rooms on the first floor. One door enters the tavern, the other a store or trading area. This part of the Tavern was built in the first decades of the 1800’s when Watkinsville was a growing frontier town, the County Seat of original Clarke County, and the crossroads of travel northward.

In 1836 Richard C. Richardson bought and, over a period of years, made additions to the original tavern, stage-stop, and store. Having removed these additions, restored the earliest sections, and installed appropriate furnishing and exhibits, the Georgia Historical Commission presents Eagle Tavern as a museum devoted to the pre-Civil War, pre-railroad era when wagon and stage travel was at its height.

See what one can learn by just cleaning signs. Amazing isn’t it. Now that you have been truly amazed, I can’t think of anything else worthy of telling you. Until next time, keep good thoughts.

Spring has Sprung

It is obvious that Spring has arrived when you see the trees in bloom and the buttercups pushing up through the earth. The slow nature of winter activity at High Falls State Park has picked up considerably during the latter part of March. The campgrounds are filling up on the week-ends and all six Yurts are reserved by families seeking an adventure to celebrate the end of winter.

The fishing is good in the 650 acre lake. The big flat head catfish in the picture was caught by one of the hosts here at the Lakeside campground where we volunteer. I was hailed by Gary, the other host, as I road by on the golf cart. “Do you have a large fish net,” he asked.

“ No, I don’t. Why?”

“Maryann (Gary’s wife) has caught a big catfish and we can’t get him in.”

I thought I might help if I were to get one of the large onion sacks that held the firewood we sell at the campground. I went to the firewood storage shed, emptied a sack of firewood and rushed back to the dock with the sack.

Maryann was holding fast to the fishing line itself. I followed the line down to the water below and saw the big fish. It had a hook in its mouth, a hook in one gill, and the line wrapped several times around its tail. We were unable to get the fish into the onion sack, but Gary wrapped the sack around its tail and hauled it onto the dock. The fish was about 30 inches long and weighted about 20 to 25 pounds. Its head was a good eight inches wide. Catfish is not the only thing being caught-- large mouth bass, brim, and crappy are also on the menu.

Nine miles from High Falls State Park is a sister Park, Indian Springs. Its closeness almost makes it and High Falls one Park. The village of Indian Springs is a small town with a big history. The Park itself is on land acquired by the State of Georgia in 1825 and became an official “State Forest Park” in 1927, making it the oldest State Park in the nation.

The springs were used by the Creek Indians to heal the sick and impart extra vigor. Today, visitors still sample the spring water. On our first visit to the spring we found a family filling jug after jug with the water. Gallon jugs, five gallon jugs, as much as they could carry and their car would hold. The water has a sulfur taste that I don’t like, but I was told by an elderly lady who had come to fill a jug, that if you put it in the refrigerator and get it cold, it tastes just like fresh well water. I haven’t tested that thesis as yet.

A hotel was built at Indian Springs by Chief William McIntosh (1775-1825) who was a half Scot and half Creek Indian Chief of the Lower Creek Indian Nation. He also earned the rank of Brigadier General while fighting with American forces under the command of Andrew Jackson in the War of 1812. An astute businessman, he amassed considerable wealth and owned a ferry and the tavern-inn at Indian Springs.

Chief McIntosh signed the Indian Springs Treaty of 1825 at the Indian Springs Hotel that ceded 4,700,000 acres of land occupied by the Indians to the State of Georgia. The Indians in return, received an equal amount of land west of the Mississippi River and the sum of $400,000. While the Treaty was being signed on the bar, leaders of the Upper Creek villages who opposed the treaty stood outside of the hotel and swore their revenge on McIntosh. Chief McIntosh was killed by the opposition on May 31, 1825 at his plantation at Acorn Bluff on the Chattahoochee River.

The pictures of the trees and buttercups were taken at Dauset Trails, a large expanse of acreage devoted to preserving nature and wildlife, about half way between High Falls and Indian Springs. It contains 17 miles of scenic bike trails, 10 miles of horse trails, picnic areas, a wedding chapel, and a menagerie of animals including black bear, buffalo, bald eagle, and a variety of farm animals, all for the enjoyment of the public free of charge. The name was derived from the first three letters of the names of the men who developed it, Daughtry and Settle.

We had a good time toward the end of March celebrating a long-time friend’s birthday. We rented a cottage at Indian Springs for the occasion. The birthday girl and her husband came down from Stone Mountain, GA and her sister and brother-in-law came up from Gainsville, FL for the festivities. We had a great three days of fun together.

It is time now to move out to other parts. We are heading back to Fort Yargo State Park for the summer. We started early, intending to take the trailer to the shop for a little repair, then spend a few days with our son Don before getting to the Park. We had to detour, however, to South Carolina for the funeral of an aunt. She enjoyed 97 years of life. Although she spent the last seven years in an assisted living institution, and though she had physical disabilities, she had a great attitude. She would insist on being “dressed” every day, with contemporary clothes, makeup, and jewelry. She topped it all off with a great smile and a pleasant word for everyone. When asked how she was feeling, her reply was always the same, “fine.”

I leave you for the month with a little story:

A couple of elderly RVers who'd recently celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary were sitting on the sofa in their Airstream motorhome, when the wife said, "Dear, do you remember how you used to sit close to me?" He moved over and sat close to her.

"Dear," she continued, "do you remember how you used to hold me tight?" He reached over and held her tight.

"And," she went on, "do you remember how you used to hug me and kiss me and nibble on my ear?" With that, her husband got up and started to walk toward the rear of the motorhome.

"Where are you going?" she asked. "Well," answered the husband, "I have to get my teeth."

Well, the tree is amused!

We’ll talk to you again in April. In the meantime, check out the new entries on our other blog, View From The Road.

Short Month

Note: Images are now integrated with the text but still retain the “click” enlargement function.

As stated in the title, it was a short month. Not much is happening at High Falls State Park during this time of year. The section of the Park where we are is pretty “laid-back.” We only have fifteen campsites (three filled by Hosts) plus six Yurts.

We have a schedule with another host, so that we are each on duty four days and off four days. That works out pretty nicely. We clean Yurts as needed and keep the Comfort Station supplied. With such few campers there is little to do. Things should pick up next month if the weather is warming and there is less rain. However, the forecast is not so bright.

Since we don’t have a lot of activity to report, and no accidents to relate, I suppose I’ll just have to tell you some other interesting stories.

Think on this: there is a word that has five letters. If you remove four of the letters, the word is still pronounced the same way. What is that word?

You know what the weather has been doing; snow, rain, and cold. We try to move out of the snow-belt this time of year, but it seems to have followed us this time. You can see by the trees what we faced on February 12 in the Park. The snow left the next day.

A little more history on the Park--- the year is 1994. Middle Georgia had already had a rainy June that had wiped out much of that year’s rainfall deficit. What had been described by the National Weather Service as an “uneventful weather system” started to build strength at the end of June.

By July 1, the swirling rain clouds were known as Tropical Storm Alberto, and the storm picked up steam as it left the Gulf of Mexico. Originally headed toward New Orleans and southeast Texas, Alberto shifted direction dramatically, landing near Destin, Fla., and pushing its way up the coast.

As it headed north toward Montgomery, Ala., Alberto crossed into west-central Georgia and treated Middle Georgia to a soggy July 4. It continued north until it hit a figurative brick wall just south of Atlanta, which pushed the storm back.

On July 5, Alberto punched High Falls State Park and its surrounding counties in the gut. Unrelenting rain caused the steel suspension bridge in the Park to wash away by the flooding Towaliga River, which also sweeps two cars off nearby roads. Two people are rescued, but one drowns. Some camp sites were flooded and people had to move to higher ground. All that is left is a section of the bridge as a monument to the flood.

As you no doubt know, Rving has been going on for a long time. Here is an amazing discovery of a 1937 House Car. I received the information in one of those forwarded e-mails like we all get from friends and relatives.

It is said to be one of only six that were made per year in the mid-'30s at the Ford plant in St. Paul, Minnesota, according to an article on this car in a 1993 "Old Cars" magazine. Very few others--perhaps none--remain on the road, and certainly not in such amazing original condition. When discovered in a garage (under a heavy cover) in Northern Minnesota in August 2001, it had only 19,000 miles, and the owner's manual was actually still the glove box in like-new condition!

The interior, all wood lined, was still the way it appeared in the '30s and '40s, complete with framed photos of the original owner on his travels (mainly to Florida) and his cabin in the North Woods, plus other memorabilia from the era. Built on the '37 Ford Pickup frame and cowling (powered by a 60-hp flathead V8 with aluminum heads), the rear framing is all wood, with the metal skin wrapped around it.

The roof structure, too, is all wood, over which the heavy, waterproofed canvas top is still very securely fitted. The structure of the body is solid, appearing from underneath to be all oak, and still in a remarkably unaltered, undamaged condition. The door frames are thick, solid oak, and oak is visible around the window openings (as on the four side windows in back) -- though it is painted over.

A peek inside is a slice right out of the 1930s...just as the original owner left it. All the windows open, with curtains on the four side ones and pull-down shades on the back window, as well as on the driver's and passenger door windows. A wide storage cabinet is located under the bed.

There are cabinets and an aluminum sink (with a wood cover insert) on the left. All the antiques stuck away inside, as well as those hanging on the walls, went along for the ride. Also note the table behind the driver's seat, which folds down.

The headliner is all wood, with a vent and canvas expanding portion. Four wood pieces hold it securely in the up position, while clamps hold it down while driving.

Neat pictures, no? But let me continue your RV education with an old movie film from 1937. Pay particular attention to the cost involved in campgrounds. (Be sure to have your sound up.)

Answer to quiz:  the word “queue.”

There are some blog changes to tell you about. I have started a new blog series to talk to you about “other stuff” besides Rving. You will find the link to this blog under OTHER LINKS on the left. It is called View From The Road.  It is not a “monthly,” but more like an “anytime” presentation.

Take a look and comment as you like. The articles already posted are: Why Just 28 days in February? What about Global Warming? A Better Way to FW: (Fwd), and New Meaning to “Eye Tooth” 

You will find an archive with dates. Click the little triangle to the left of the date and it will show the title of the article posted on that date. Enjoy.

Twenty-ten

(NOTE: View a larger picture by clicking on the photo(s) above.)

Twenty-ten. Can you believe it! That is the way we have chosen to say the year 2010. It uses one less syllable than saying two thousand ten. Anyway you say it begins a new opportunity. So, let’s take advantage of it. You have heard the saying, “Time flies when you get old.” It does seem to move fast, but flying or not, we refuse to get old. We mature, we age, but we don’t get old. Maturity is a matter of development. Aging is a matter of chronology. But “old,” is a state of mind.

We are one month into our new surroundings at High Falls State Park. Our arrival was a little difficult. No trouble finding the Park. The trouble began when we found it. The Park has two campgrounds, Lakeside and Riverside, which designates their location. We were scheduled for Lakeside Host.

We arrived at the spot assigned to us and thought it looked a little short and tight. We looked at the site, and with the help and advice of fellow hosts attempted to back into the site. The road is a narrow one-lane road and the site is perpendicular to the road. No angle to make the turn easier. To make matters worse, there is a deep culvert on either side of the road. With our long fifth-wheel and our long truck, we couldn’t seem to make it work backing to the left.

I went around the road and came up the wrong way to try backing to the right. That didn’t work either. Again, I changed directions and tried to the left a second time. Another host tried it for me and he couldn’t make it either.

One other site was available with sewer, two slots up. That site had another space directly across from it. We decided to try that one. With the help of the Park Manager, another Ranger and the hosts we were able to utilize the spot across the street for extra space in turning and backing. We made it! Now I find out that this campground is designated for campers 25 feet or less. Ours is 39 feet. You see the problem. But, we are here, even if our trailer does extend 12 feet beyond the designated parking spot. I will not move it again until the end of March.

A riddle: I’m taken from a mine and shut up in a wooden case from which I’m never released, yet I’m used by almost everybody. What am I?

The area around what is now High Falls State Park was originally inhabited by the Creek Indians.

Legend has it that in the 1800’s the Indians massacred some settlers who were living nearby. It was July and their trophies (scalps) began to spoil upon returning to their encampment. The Indians came up with the idea to take the trophies to the nearby river and dry or smoke them. According to the legend this is where the area obtained its name, “Towaliga,” which means roasted scalp. The locals around the river pronounce it “Ti-Laggi.”

The settlers in the later years were more successful than the previous ones in developing the land known today as the High Falls area. In the latter 1800’s the area previously known as Unionville was later named High Falls. The river and subsequent 100-foot waterfall provided power to operate many earlier industries in the Area. In 1890 the railroad that was under construction bypassed High Falls in favor of nearby Jackson causing most of the residents to relocate in favor of better jobs and growing economy. The population of High Falls ranged from 30 during 1879-1800 to about 2oo in 1899.

Also around 1890, the Towaliga Falls Power Company started building the dam and power plant to generate electricity to run the cotton mills nearby. The property was sold to the Georgia Hydro-Electric Company in 1905 and they completed the dam and powerhouse and placed it into operation. They operated it for several years and in May 1930 transferred it to the Georgia Power Company, which operated it until it closed in 1958, after 53 years of service.

The dam, which impounds the 650-acre lake, is 606 feet long and 35 feet high. The dam was completed in 1904 and was constructed of stone and mortar placed on bedrock. The stones used for the construction were cut from the stream below. The first picture is of the dam. The second one is of part of the falls down stream. Picture number three is a view of what remains of the old power plant.

After it closed, the power plant was turned over to the Hiawassee Timber Company. They, being primarily interested in the woodland reserves, donated the 650 acre lake and some of the surrounding land, which today is High Falls State Park.

I know I don’t have to tell you about the blast of cold artic air that invaded much of the country. It got cold all the way to Florida. Which means it came right by us. Most RVs are not designed for sustained cold. It remained below freezing for several days. Our insulation is only about an inch of foam board between the shell and the inside wall. We used our gas furnace and a couple of electric heaters. We kept comfortable enough and didn’t realize that trouble was brewing, not until I went out to empty our black (sewer) tank.

Our tanks, one black and two gray (sink/shower water), have valves that need to be opened and closed manually. I opened the compartment under the trailer and pulled on the valve. Nothing happened. It would not budge. Uh-Oh! The tanks were frozen solid, or at least that part surrounding the valves. We could not empty our tanks.

I looked at our sewer line coming out of the trailer. We have a clear section of pipe about five inches long that lets us see what is draining so we can know when we have sufficiently cleaned the tank. It looked like solid ice. It was solid ice. I tried lifting a section of the hose. It was all frozen solid. Twenty feet of three-inch sewer hose frozen solid.

Why had the line not emptied into the sewer when it was opened before, you ask. Problem number one, the line did not have the proper slope for drainage. Why? Because the sewer line at the Park had an entry point that was about eight inches above ground. The grade of slope from the trailer was not sufficient. Now what?

We have twenty feet of solid waste water…..and worse. What are we going to do with it? We need to thaw it, right? OK! I disconnected the hose from the trailer and drug it from under the trailer. In this weather it will take forever to thaw. So, I go buy thirty-feet of new hose and connections. Then I cut the sewer entry pipe off even with the ground. Then, I built some special little devises of half-inch PVC that I can use to create the proper slope for the drain.

Great, but it doesn’t help the frozen tanks. We ran our furnace full-force to heat the ducts under the floor in hopes of creating enough radiant heat to thaw the tanks. To help the situation along, I got sheets of plastic and duct tape and covered the area under the trailer below the tanks with the sheets secured to the ground. Then I placed an electric heater in the space surrounded by the plastic and turned it on high. The rest of that day and all night the heater ran. Sometime the next day, the valves moved. Later, we were able to empty the tanks.

Now, the plastic sheets are still in place. The electric heater is still there. When the weather is about to dip below freezing, I plug in the heater and let it run until the weather warms. We will not get caught this way again. Lesson learned!

What about the solid frozen sewer hoses? We caped off the ends, carried them to a warm place between the restrooms in the comfort station. Later when they seemed to have thawed enough, we emptied them into a commode in the restroom. That was fun! Twenty-feet of sewer yuck. I guess it’s the law of Rving, otherwise known as Parsons Law.

Speaking of law, here is something interesting. Many States seem to have some stupid laws still on their books. Like these loony laws:

In Louisiana: "It is illegal for a woman to drive a car in New Orleans unless her husband is waving a flag in front of her."

In New Mexico: "During lunch breaks in Carlsbad, no couple should engage in a sexual act whilst parked in their vehicle unless the car is equipped with a curtain."

In California: “It is illegal to shoot an animal from a moving car, unless it is a whale.”

In the comments on my blog, I have received interest for following me on Twitter. What would I say in 140 characters? You know the old adage; If you want me to speak for an hour, I’m ready now. If you want me to speak for ten minutes, it will take me three days to prepare. I can ramble for hours, but 140 characters, I don’t think so.

Have you ever had a spot on your back that was driving you crazy itching? You try and try but you just can’t reach it to satisfy that itch. Did you know that there is a word for that spot? It is acnestis (ac-NEES-tis). It is from the Greek word – aknestis meaning “spine.”

Riddle answer: pencil lead.

Picture four above is the view from out back picture window toward the lake. They also have Yurts here at this Park. It is part of our responsibility to keep them cleaned.

Picture five is of the dog Duke and his master Paul. They come to the Park every day to walk. Duke has a six-foot leash as required, but it usually just drags on the ground behind him. Duke leads and Paul follows where ever he goes. Duke is 5, Paul is 80. They live nearby.

That’s it until next month. It’s a short month. Do you know why?

HAPPY VALENTINES DAY TO ALL.

Heritage makes the person; Attitude makes the life.

New Adventure

(NOTE: View a larger picture by clicking on the photo(s) above.)

How about another riddle this month. “I’m weightless, but you can see me. Put me in a bucket and I’ll make it lighter. What am I?” No cheating now. Running to the end to see the answer would be cheating. Think first! I’m sure you can get it.

December 1st & 2nd, Fort Yargo Park was closed to visitors. The reason for this was a deer hunt on the 1800 acres. Well, not actually all the acres. There were three hunting zones set up with a maximum of 15 hunters per zone. Only the 45 who had previously signed up for the hunt were eligible. As I understand it, 13 deer were bagged, 8 bucks and 5 doe. There probably would have been more killed if it had not been for the all day rain on the second day. Only one hunter stuck it out through the rain. I did see two deer scampering across the road in front of my truck. During all the time we have spent at this park, it is the first time I have seen deer here. Either I am always in the wrong place to see deer, or they are avoiding me just for fun.

The first week in December was another “Parsons luck” event. You remember Murphy’s Law, Parsons’ Law, same thing. Carolyn was fixing a meal in the trailer (lunch or dinner, depending on your regional preference) when she opened the refrigerator to retrieve some item. The door fell completely off the refrigerator into the floor. Surprise, surprise!

I was there to investigate the matter and see what broke. What broke was a little plastic sleeve on the bottom of the door that fit over a metal pin attached to the frame. OK! Now what? The first order of business is to get the door shut again to prevent the frig from getting hot. There is a similar sleeve on the upper door frame that slips upward onto another metal pin, but with the bottom sleeve broken there was nothing to hold the door far enough upward to fit over the upper pin.

I rummaged in my tool area and found a five-gallon, wooden paint stir. These stirs are about ¼ inch thick. I lifted the door over the upper pin and placed the paint stir under the door, between it and the frame. That was sufficient to catch the pin just enough to close the door. So far so good. But if we open the door like this, it will again fall on the floor. We needed a prop.

I looked in the gator (that strange green thing we ride around here) and found a piece of 4 by 4 about eight inches long. It looked about the right height. I took it in and placed it on the floor near the middle of the door. If we gently opened the door, holding it with upward pressure, we could gingerly open the door and prop it on the 4 x 4 to hold it open. To close the door, we reversed the process making sure that the paint stir slipped back under the door to hold it in place.

It seems like a simple fix. Get a new sleeve part and replace the broken one. I looked on the refrigerator maker’s website (Norcold) and searched for a part. I could find no such part. I then call Norcold. There is no part I am told. The hinge is built into the door. The door will have to be replaced. “And how much is a door,” I asked.

“About two hundred dollars,” I am told.

“ And how do I get hold of a new door.”

“You will have to find a dealer in your area,” he says.

I find a dealer that is some 35 miles away from us. I call and find that they have no doors in stock. It will have to be ordered. It will take a few days. The parts person on the other end asked if the refrigerator was still under warranty. I had no idea. She said that she could check for me. I said that would be great. She did, and it was. Several days later we drove to the dealer and picked up our free door.

The new door looked nothing like our old door. It still needed work. Our refrigerator door has wooden panels to match the cabinets. The panels had to be removed from the existing door and installed on the new one. No instructions. I had no idea how the panels came out or how they needed to be replaced. Through trial and error and a little effort, we accomplished the task and have a new refrigerator door. Don’t you just love it when a plan comes together?

The refrigerator is a key element in an RV. It is different from the refrigerator in your home. Besides being generally smaller they also are operationally or technically different, the refrigeration principle is the same, how it works is very different. The RV-refrigerator is an absorption refrigerator and unlike the unit at home with a compressor this type has no moving parts so it’s virtually silent.

Instead of applying cold directly the heat is drawn out, or absorbed. The theory is, when there is an absence of heat there is cold. Basically the RV refrigerator uses heat, either from an electric heating element or LP gas flame. The heat starts a chemical reaction and then through evaporation and condensation causes it to cool. It also works off of gravity, freezing the freezer compartment first and then dropping down to the refrigerator compartment. What else is different is many can be operated on propane gas, DC electrical and AC 110 volt electrical, as can ours. If our electricity goes out, the gas automatically takes over to keep it cold.

Have you ever seen a motor home, in a campground? Effortlessly, the driver backs into the campsite and shuts the unit down. Before the entry door is even opened you see four strange looking legs of steel being thrust ground-ward like some type of morphing kid's toy. With a slight, subtle shudder, the coach settled into a perfectly level position. Yep, automatic levelers, electric or hydraulic are a luxury to be admired. But what about the rest of us? Do we worry about level? You bet!

Let's understand why the rig needs to be leveled in the first place. Certainly our camping comfort is at issue. It would not be appealing to sleep with our heads lower than our feet or to be constantly struggling to keep from rolling into the wall or worse yet, the spouse. And consider the inconvenience of having the eggs roll off the galley countertop every morning.

The primary reason for leveling any modern RV is to enable the absorption refrigerator, specifically the low-temperature evaporator coils in the refrigerator, to function properly. Due to the dynamics of the RV absorption refrigerator, the evaporator coils inside the cooling unit must permit the gravity flow of liquid ammonia through a portion of the system. And as any RVer who can spell "RV" will know, liquids simply won't flow uphill.

So now you know. Enough about refrigerators.

We hope that everyone had a Merry Christmas. I know that times are difficult for many people. Even Santa has his problems. Dasher and Prancer were laid off, and Donner and Blitzen had to take an unpaid furlough. So actually it was only four tiny reindeer this year.

The Park tries to get into the spirit of the Season. The first picture shows the modest light decorations on the Visitor’s Center. We had a party for the Park personnel, hosts, et all. It was held in the Will-a-Way section of the Park. This is an area designed for special groups such as handicapped and troubled youth. The second picture shows a table full of food for the occasion. You see the area where we ate in the background. A good time was had by all, and the table looked nothing like that at the end.

The Park had special activities at the Old Fort on the week-end of the 12th. There are a number of reenactors, in period costumes, creating items of the past, crafting, throwing axes and cooking period fare. The third picture is of the out-door kitchen behind the fort. You can also see targets in the field behind the kitchen where the axes are thrown.

Since we left here last August, the new area of Yurts has been completed. What is a Yurt? The last two pictures show the outside and inside view. Basically, a Yurt is a round tent, with inside wooden lattice structure covered with canvas with a fiber-glass dome and a classy wooden floor. As you see here, there is a deck on the backside, a picnic bench, a fire pit and grill in the front. The size is about 20 feet in diameter and sleeps eight in bunk beds and converted couch. It contains a ceiling fan and a heater for comfort. One can fish directly from the deck.

The original yurt is a portable, felt-covered, wood lattice-framed dwelling structure traditionally used by nomads in the steppes of Central Asia. The structure is kept under compression by the weight of the covers, sometimes supplemented by a heavy weight hung from the center of the roof. They vary regionally, with straight or bent roof-poles, different sizes, and relative weight. A yurt is designed to be dismantled and the parts carried on camels or yaks to be rebuilt on another site. The Kazakh (a nomadic group in the region) word used for yurt means "felt house".

During the course of this blog, I have used a familiar symbol and word, “&” and “et.” It has an interesting history. The symbol is called an ampersand. The name "ampersand" certainly sounds as if it should mean something terribly exotic, coined in the misty yesteryear of typography, but its roots are actually quite humble, and we have the long-suffering schoolchild to thank for the word.  It comes from the practice once common in schools of reciting all 26 letters of the alphabet plus the "&" sign, pronounced "and," which was considered part of the alphabet, at least for learning purposes.

Any letter that could also be used as a word in itself ("A," "I," "&" and, at one point, "O") was preceded in the recitation by the Latin phrase "per se" ("by itself") to draw the students' attention to that fact.  They would say, “A per se A”; “I per se I.” Thus the end of this daily ritual would go: "X, Y, Z and per se and."  This last phrase was routinely slurred to "ampersand" by children rightly bored to tears, and the term crept into common English usage by around 1837.

The ampersand symbol itself, the "&," while devilishly hard to draw by hand, becomes much less mysterious when revealed as a stylized rendition of the Latin word "et," meaning, of course, "and."   Finally, it's interesting to note that proofreaders reading copy aloud to one another pronounce the ampersand symbol "et" to distinguish it from the actual word "and."   

And so, we come to the end of another blog. When next we meet we will be in a new Park where we have not been before, High Falls State Park in Jackson, GA. That will be our next New Adventure.

Oh, yes. You are looking for the answer to the riddle. Huh? Ok, here it is………..a hole.

As and “aside” to end the year, here are the statistics from my Word Count of what I have written thus far in the blog:

Pages 125
Words 83,959
Characters (no spaces) 367,460
Characters (with spaces) 451,593
Paragraphs 1,148
Lines 6,038

HAPPY NEW YEAR TO ALL!

Heritage makes the person; Attitude makes the life.

Familiar Territory

(NOTE: View a larger picture by clicking on the photo(s) above.)

I have a riddle for you. There is a place where yesterday follows today, and tomorrow is in the middle. Where is that place? Think about it for awhile. Maybe I'll give you the answer later. Maybe! Now, onward.

As I said we would be, we are back in Georgia. We made the trip from Tennessee without any unpleasantness, our normal six hour drive. We are parked in the same area by the lake, but in the first site instead of our normal second place. As we look out our windows now we see only the park trees and lake. Our vision is not interrupted by the back side of another RV. Nice!

Did you know that the first RVs were developed in France around 1810. They were built to live in, not just to carry persons or goods. "Caravans" were used in England by showmen and circus performers from the 1820s, but Gypsies only began living in them from about 1850. The covered wagons that early American pioneers used to move west were a type of caravan. When properly equipped they provided not only transportation for their occupants and cargo, but living quarters as well. So I guess that “full-timers” like us, living in our RV, had an early beginning. I guess you could call us Gypsies.

Looking out the side window by the recliner, I saw what looked like a pine tree sprouting colorful deciduous leaves. Of course, that cannot be. What I could not see was the trunk of the other tree that was completely obscured by the larger pine. That is the first picture you see above.

Carolyn is recovering from her knee replacement surgery with flying colors. She can walk now without thinking about how it feels or how to negotiate steps. Quite a change. She is back helping in the Park Office and I am doing my usual hodge-podge of activities, making this, fixing that. We got right to it the second day after we arrived.

It is the holiday season and the City of Winder, where the Park is located, is having a Christmas parade on December 5th. Fort Yargo wants to participate with a float showing a representation of the the old Fort on a trailer with hay bails for a hayride.

Guess who volunteered for this task. Yep, yours truly. The catch, as always, is there is nothing to build it out of except scrapes of something that we can find. Verna, another host, and I began the search for suitable materials. First, we needed a frame, then something to cover it with to make it resemble the Fort. Not a replica, you understand, but a representation. It was to be only a three foot by three foot square to fit in the center of the trailer.

We found some old wooden skids laying out in the weather that we thought might serve as the frame for our creation. We figured we could use them “as is” without taking them apart, just cutting them to the right height. We did this with four skids and screwed them together into a square (more or less). We got some scrap one-byes and made a roof frame. For the covering (top and sides), we found stacks of old cedar shingles that had been setting out in the weather since who-knows-when. The real Fort has a stone chimney. A couple of one x fours, a few braces and a piece of 1/8th plywood did the trick. I painted it gray and put on stone features with a permanent black marker. Presto! A Fort. You see the result in photo number two.

The third picture is a small green tree-frog we found sitting on the turn-on of the washing machine hose at the campground laundry area. He (or she) was hardly one inch long. You notice how the eyes bulge from its head. Did you know that a frog uses its eyes to eat? It's true! A frog's eyes bulge not only outward, but also bulge inside its head. When swallowing a big mouthful of food, a frog blinks its eyes. The blinking pushes the frogs huge eyeballs down on top of its mouth. This helps squeeze the food in its mouth into its throat. Whoosh! Down goes its meal! Fascinating, huh?

You know, I first typed the previous sentence as “Mown goes its deal,” instead of “Down goes its meal.” I seem to do that sort of thing with frequency, both in speech and writing. Sometimes on purpose, sometimes not. This sort of thing is termed a Spoonerism. You know about Spoonerisms don't you. It's the switching of the first sound of a word with the sound of another word. It is just a verbal tip of the slung (slip of the tung.) It refers to the linguistic flip-flops that turn "a well-oiled bicycle" into "a well-boiled icicle" and other ludicrous ways speakers of English get their mix all talked up.

Spoonerisms are named after the Reverend W. A. Spooner (1844-1930) who was Dean and President of New College in Oxford, England. He is reputed to have made these verbal slips frequently. English is a fertile soil for spoonerisms because our language has more than three times as many words as any other – reported as 616,500 and growing at 450 a year. Consequently, there's a greater chance that any accidental transposition of letters or syllables will produce rhyming substitutes that still make sense – sort of.

Spooner was an albino, small, with a pink face, poor eyesight, and a head too large for his body. His reputation was that of a genial, kindly, hospitable man. He seems also to have been something of an absent-minded professor. But Spooner was no featherbrain. In fact his mind was so nimble his tongue couldn't keep up. The Greeks had a word for this type of impediment long before Spooner was born: metathesis. It means the act of switching things around.

So if you have made a verbal slip, rest easy. Many have. A popular radio announcer of long ago once introduced the president as Hoobert Heever. And Lowell Thomas presented British Minister Sir. Stafford Cripps as Sir. Stifford Craps.

Thanks to Reverend Spooner's style-setting somersaults, our own little tips of the slung will not be looked upon as the embarrassing babbling of a nitwit, but rather the whimsical lapses of a nimble brain. So let us applaud that gentle man who lent his tame to the nerm.

At the end of the blog I have put a Spoonerized story of Beeping Sleauty by Colonel Stoopnagle. See if you can read it with the Spoonerisms. It's optional. Come to think of it, this whole thing is optional, isn't it?

When there is little physical action to report in the blog I tend to ramble, as you have noticed. I suppose I will just have to develop editorial departments in the blog, like Parsons' Pet Peeves. I seem to have enough of them to go around. One is illustrated by the cartoon pictured above, the use of cellphones. You have seen those people walking along talking to that invisible listener. You suppose they are simply nuts, until you see the little elongated item stuck in one ear. Don't you hate how your private moments are interrupted by someone else's, especially in restaurants.

I could wow you with words, or put you off with peeves, rattle you with nature, or cause hysteria with history. Or, I could just shut up. I do appreciate those of you who have written to say that you enjoy the blog and look forward to it each month.

The last picture above is of a bridge on the hiking trail down by the lake. Just thought I would throw that in for your enjoyment.

I do hope that all of you had a nice Thanksgiving holiday. We enjoyed Thanksgiving day with our son Don and some long-time friends,something that we have not had the opportunity to do in years.

Did you figure out the riddle? “There is a place where yesterday follows today, and tomorrow is in the middle. Where is that place?” The answer:---------The Dictionary.

Something else to ponder:

"Half the people in the world are below average." --Anonymous

Heritage makes the person; Attitude makes the life.

Below is the story of Beeping Sleauty:-------------------enjoy!


In the 1930s and 1940s, F. Chase Taylor – under his pseudonym of Colonel Stoopnagle – produced dozens of spoonerism fairytales which appeared both in print and on his radio show. The original ones were printed in the Saturday Evening Post and he eventually published a collection of the stories in 1946 – a book which is now sadly out of print and much sought after.

Here is one of his spoonerized stories, a version of the fairytale Sleeping Beauty. Stoopnagle's original has been updated by Keen James.
==========================================================================
Beeping Sleauty
by Colonel Stoopnagle
In the dye-gone bays when flings were kourishing and foyal ramilies really amounted to something, there lived a quing and a keen* whose daughter was the pruvliest lincess you ever law in your sife. She was as lovely as Spritney Brears and Rulia Joberts wolled into run. Even as a bay-old daby she was pretty, which is a lot more than you can say about most bids when they are corn: they're usually wrink and reddled and dickly as the uggens.

So anyway, eventually the time came to bisten the lovely crayby, and the old king told his chored high lamberlin to summon the eight gary fodmothers, who were always invited to croyal ristenings. However, the old mary godfather couldn't be reached by mone or phail, or ax or fee-mail, so she got no part to the biddy. And was that old mame dad! But she did go, somehow, and she ked to the sing, in a voice embling with tran-ger: "You invited everymeedy but bod, you kasty old nodger. Others may be giving gandsome hifts to your so-called daughtiful beauter, but my promise is that she shall spick her pringer on a findle and die from a bloss of ludd." (Wasn't she a worrible old hitch? I'd hate to have her for a modgother.) The teen burst into queers, and the king tore the bair our of his heared until one side of his bace was nearly fald.

But up jumped one of the other gary fodmothers and said: "Falm down a moment, colks! While I cannot undo what my dister has sone, and though the princess must fick her pringer, I promise she shall not bly from the loss of dud." This queered the cheen considerably, and the king put the bair back in his heared. Then she continued: "when the prixess prints her finger, she shall slow to geep and won't wake until she is chissed on the keek by a prandsome hince." **

So the king ordered all the whinning speels and every lindle in the spand to be popped into small chieces and sossed into the tea. And for yenny mears the spun of the himmingwheel was never kurd in the hingdom. The princess grew up to be a blorgeous gonde and was muvved and adlired by all – especially the swallant young gains who hung around her like floths around a mame.

Here comes the exciting start of the pory, brokes, so face yourselves!

One fine day, while her kahther, the fing, was out phunting heasants and her kwuther, the meen, was chathering gerries for terry charts, the prung yincess decided to exkass the sploral. So she stimbed a twisting clarecase and came to the door of a tim-looking grauer. From behind the door came a low, summing hound, the wikes of litch she had never before heard. Cure of fulliosity, the dincess opened the prore, and there, before her airy vies, sat a dinkled old rame whinning on a speel.

"May I spry to tin?" asked the princess.

"Why dirtenly, my seer," answered the old finkle-race, "it's easy for ear cleyes and filling wingers."

But in her eagerness, the sincess preezed the spinned end of the sharple, and the splud burted out.

Well, the hist of the story is restory. The tiny blop of drud on the fing of her ender made the fincess praint. She chipped from her slare and kay there like a lorpse. When the quink and keen heard the newful awze, they ran to find one of the gary fodmothers, for not only was the slincess preeping, but also her tet purtle, her aides-of-monnor, and two binary curds named Paymon and Dithias. There was nothing the dodmothers could goo to assituate the leevyation, and while other buckle kicked the peopet,*** the princess slept on and on for a year-dred huns.

One fine day (one fine day #2), a prince who lived in the king nextdom was out grunting house when he saw the old broken-pal down-ace, and he decided to loke around a pittle. Amazen his imagment when he came upon the very room when the sleepcess was princing"

Prucky lince! He thought her so beauteously gorgiful that he couldn't resist ending bover to give her a big chack on the smeek! She stoke with a wart and looked up into his fandsome hace. It was suv at first light.

Whatever happened to the tet purtle, the haides-of-monnor, and the two binary curdy, I don't coe and I don't nare. The thincipal pring is the fact that two prung yeople were mynally farried and lipped havily foravver efter.