Easin' Along

An active retirement has a lot of moving parts.  We focus on four of them—Faith, Family, Food, and Fun—as the center of Easin’ Along and try to hit on one of them each week. When we have a week to experience all four, we’ve had a great week. Such was the case recently when Helen (adorable wife) and I took Bertha to Middle Tennessee for a few days beside Percy Priest Lake at Nashville Shores Lakeside Resort.

Family

It all started when my sister, LeAnn, and brother-in-law, Marty booked a week at Nashville Shores to spend some time in their new motor home, a 36-foot luxury hotel room on wheels. We thought it would be a great opportunity to enjoy some family time while giving us another opportunity to get Bertha a bit more organized before we take off on another extended road trip. We secured the last space available for the week, but the space we were given backed up to Percy Priest Lake and we had a great view from our patio.

Another reason for LeAnn and Marty to visit Nashville was to help their son, Rob, move into the new home that he and his wife, Melissa, had just purchased. On our first night, we went to the new home where we were joined by Melissa’s Mom and LeAnn’s twin daughters and their husbands for a cook-out. Even though Rob and Melissa had barely moved in, we had a delightful family gathering and a great start to the week.

The next morning began with coffee on the patio area behind Bertha.  Although it would later prove to be a very hot day, the morning was wonderful. We watched a family of Canadian geese swim by and also watched the family next to us pack up their motorhome. The RV had Florida tags and I couldn’t help but ask where they were going next. They explained that their business involved working with polo horses and they spend each winter in Florida and then spend a month driving to Aspen, Colorado for the summer. You meet the most interesting folks in RV parks…   

Soon LeAnn and Marty joined us. I was eager to try out my new camp stove and griddle and needed no prodding to whip up some pancake batter and cook some bacon for breakfast. Everything turned out ok, but more practice is needed with the new stove. LeAnn and Marty were kind enough clean their plates of the overcooked pancakes but left quickly to do some kayaking on the lake when I offered second helpings. My family is a very thoughtful bunch.

The rest of the day was devoted to casual activity. Helen and I walked around the resort for exercise while LeAnn and Marty spent several hours in their kayaks.  The rest of the morning was spent getting Bertha a little more organized. We also replaced the old bedspread and sheets with a new and more colorful selection.

That afternoon the empty spot next to us was filled with a young couple and their two children who arrived from West Tennessee towing a 30-foot Classic Airstream trailer.  Although I love Bertha, this Airstream left me filled with envy. The owner skillfully maneuvered the trailer into the campsite and hooked up the utilities with practiced precision. After the setup was complete, we introduced ourselves and had a very enjoyable conversation.  Throughout the next few days, we had the chance to get to know them and found them to be quite charming.  Their children were well-mannered, energetic, and fun. I have posted a precious picture of their daughter taken by her Mom at the water park.

The couple was gracious enough to give Helen and me a tour of their Airstream. I’ve seen some elegant RV’s lately, including the one owned by Marty and LeAnn and the Airstream ranks right there with all of them. Although it is called a Classic, everything about it is ultra modern including marble countertops, LED lighting, and leather reclining couches. We fell in love with the many large windows that provided an open, airy feel to the interior.  I found a floor plan and posted it below for anyone considering a travel trailer in their future.

Fun

The next day we were treated to the use of LeAnn and Marty’s kayaks for a ride on Percy Priest Lake. These kayaks are propelled by fins on the underside and are driven by pedals similar to a bicycle.  Marty spent some time giving us an orientation then turned us loose.  Helen was somewhat limited by her knee issues, but we had fun nonetheless and it was great being on the water.

That afternoon, we decided to hit the water park and the Lazy River.  Just as we were purchasing tickets (Senior discounts…always ask) four bus loads of school children arrived for an afternoon of fun in the sun.  Nashville Shores Water Park is huge and able to absorb a large crowd with relative ease, but on this day it seemed that the large crowd all wanted to join me on the Lazy River.  I managed to get five trips around the course before I gave up and found a lounge chair for some people watching…almost as much fun as River riding. Next, it was back to Bertha for a nap in the air conditioning.

Food

Readers to Easin’ Along know how much we love good food and Papa Turney’s Barbeque at the Marina filed the bill. We went there to try it out and were not disappointed in the least.  In fact, the barbecue ribs were, and I’m not exaggerating, the best I’ve ever had…ever! They were coated in a scrumptious rub then smoked to fall-off-the-bone condition, and served hot. We ordered them to go and took the meal back to Bertha’s patio to enjoy them next to the water. I savored every bite, but could not eat the entire order.  In fact, I save three ribs to enjoy several days later and they were still as good as fresh.  This little restaurant is one hidden gem.

During our last night, the remnants of a tropical storm moved into the Nashville area which required that we load up and drive back to Knoxville in a heavy rain. I hooked up Bertha and received some very welcome help from the Airstream owner which reduced my time in the rain. I thanked him profusely for the help (and the cookies brought over by their son the night before). We gave LeAnn and Marty a goodbye hug and drove on. Bertha handled the rain and the traffic without difficulty.

Faith

On Sunday we experienced the Faith component of our very pleasurable week by attending church on Sunday then joining the members of our congregation in a farewell picnic for our departing minister. Our minister, one of only three in the 70-year history of our church had accepted the call of a church in his hometown of Charleston, SC and this was his last Sunday with us. We’re going to miss him very much. Eternally energetic and blessed with an engaging smile, Dr. Seigling has served God and our church superbly in the six years he has been with us. Although there was an air of sadness about his leaving, everyone was happy for him that he would be returning to the area that he loves.  There also was some great fun at the picnic when the staff and assistant ministers brought out a new kayak and a life jacket and presented it to the very surprised and very grateful recipient. A good time was had by all.

This event topped off a delightful week for Helen and me. We had shared in the love of family; we enjoyed fantastic food (ribs – not pancakes), had a bunch of fun with Bertha at Nashville Shores, and joined with many fellow church members to send well wishes to someone who had contributed much to our walk of faith. 

Yep…that’s a wonderful week with all the components covered. Retirement is a great gig and it’s a good time to be Easin’ Along.

On the second morning of Bertha’s first camping trip in the Cherokee National Forest, I had to return to Knoxville to attend an engagement I was unable to reschedule. The following is an account of the events of that morning.

The Appalachian Anglers Society had assembled in the McNabb Creek campground for its annual gathering, an event known as Camp II. I had arrived on Wednesday, a bit earlier than most, to secure an optimal camping spot for Bertha and Sophie (truck). In the days leading up to Camp II, weather reporters had been predicting heavy rain and high winds during the time we would be camping. Inclement weather has been a part of Camp II for most of the 39 years I have attended, and no prediction would prevent me or anyone else from attending this year.

The first night of camp was relatively uneventful insofar as the weather was concerned, and the handful of campers enjoyed a casual evening around the campfire. On Thursday morning, the weather reports proved to be accurate. High winds arrived around 6:30 and several tarps collapsed.

McNabb Creek campground sits near the bottom of a bowl-shaped valley that is bisected by the North River. I had just poured my first cup of coffee when I decided to step outside of the trailer for a breath mountain morning air. Once outside, I could see the tops of the huge pine and poplar trees surrounding our campground bending with the quickening winds coming across the upper reaches of the valley. In the distance, I could hear limbs cracking as they surrendered.

I had a few hours until it was time to load a few things into Sophie for the hour and a half trip back to Knoxville but, with rain on the way, I decided to leave earlier than I intended rather than sit around and wait for it to arrive. As much as I hated to leave Bertha behind, I had positioned her well and felt sure that everything would be ok.

8:30 am: I left McNabb Creek. With a little time to spare, I turned left out of the campground amid a few sprinkles and drove a mile or so along North River to check out North River Campground. I wanted to see if it was suitable for a future trip with Bertha and Helen (adorable wife). The campground was empty, but even if it was full, I reasoned that it would be no problem to back Bertha into any of the campsites. Pleased with this discovery, I returned to the road, and within minutes Sophie was engulfed in torrential rainfall.

By the time I reached River Road, the main road back to the town of Tellico Plains, trees everywhere were swaying frantically in the gusting winds.  Leaves and small limbs covered the road. To my left, a large tree had fallen over the Tellico River with the crown of the tree covering the entire left side of the road. As I rounded the next curve, a Forest Ranger was approaching from the opposite direction.  I flashed my lights to warn him of the impending danger.

I drove around several more trees before reaching Bald River Falls.  The rain had subsided somewhat, and I wanted to take a picture of the falls, now gushing from the earlier rainfall.  In hindsight, I could have made better use of my time.

Now, back behind the wheel of Sophie, I crossed the bridge at the falls, which placed the river on my right, and drove for another mile only to find a huge tree blocking the entire road. The root ball, a mass of dirt and twisted roots about as large as Sophie, hung precariously on the side of the mountain some twenty feet above the road. Resigned to the fact that I wasn’t going anywhere soon, I decided to return to McNabb Creek and hope that the Ranger I passed was meeting fellow Rangers, equipped with very sharp chainsaws. Once again, rain was falling in buckets.

Driving back toward camp, I noticed that several more trees had come down since my earlier departure.  Turning left onto North River Road, I ran smack into a roadblock created by an oversized pine tree. I was now blocked in both directions as the wind gusts picked up in frequency and intensity.  My options at this point were to leave Sophie and walk the two miles back to camp in the driving rain and wait it out in Bertha or, turn around once again and drive a short distance down River Road to a small picnic area with the hope that a road clearing crew would come to our rescue. I chose the latter.

Barely a half a mile back down River Road, I witnessed a Birch tree drop from the right side of the road about 200 yards in front of me. I drove up to the trunk. Although the tree wasn’t large, it was too large for Sophie to climb, too large to move by hand, and I had no saw. I was stranded. I turned the key and shut Sophie down. By now the winds were gusting hard and, with each gust, I could hear another tree fall somewhere in the forest.

Just beyond the Birch tree, a crow flew in suddenly and landed on the road.  He was the curious sort and walked to and fro along the tree trunk as if inspecting the damage. Simultaneously with the crow’s arrival, a huge gust of wind shook Sophie and, in the woods above me, I could hear the unmistakable sound of a very sizeable tree hitting the earth with a resounding thud.  I was startled, but the crow only moved enough to look straight at me. Recalling Poe’s epic poem The Raven, I named him “Nevermore.” Another limb hit the road. Nevermore flew to a small tree beside the road and waited there. For what I wondered? Perhaps he was sent to witness my demise. I trained my thoughts elsewhere.

10:00 am: I realized that I had no food, but I wasn’t hungry. I had no water either except for some melting ice still in my cooler. Next to the cooler was a box with five bottles of Perrier, a 750 ml bottle of Scotch, and two bottles of cheap red wine. Casting a quick glance toward the rising river, I had difficulty in deciding which to drink first.  I opted for the Perrier.

10:35 am: The rain had trailed off to a sprinkle, and the wind died completely. I assumed that I was now in the eye of the storm as it was passing over the region.  Soon the winds and rain would begin again.  Taking advantage of the break, I moved Sophie to a new place on the road and out from under a tall pine that had been swaying wildly in the high winds. I don’t know that I was any safer, but somehow, I felt so. Nevermore remained on his perch…

11:00 am: About the time I needed a bathroom break, the rain returned. After ruling out the use of an empty Perrier bottle, I reluctantly decided it was time to get wet. I grabbed my raincoat and stepped outside. On the far side of the river, another tree fell.

11:30 am: No sign of anyone as of yet. I continued to believe that a crew of Rangers would arrive and remove the trees. Surely they were working by now and would reach me eventually. I also felt that some campers might come along soon.  Campers always have chainsaws…all campers except me. It’s been years since I was a serious camper.  I made a note to bring a saw with me when I returned from Knoxville.

11:45 am: I tried the cell phone knowing that it was an exercise in futility.  There are no towers in the National Forest. I tried the CB radio I kept in Sophie, hearing nothing but static. A softly gurgled “croak” from Nevermore was barely audible from the tree above.

11:50 am: I started Sophie and turned on the radio.  I hoped that Garrison Keillor would keep me entertained for a few minutes and then I could find some news somewhere.  I always listen to Writer’s Almanac from NPR. Garrison told the story of Peter Minuet’s arrival in New York in 1625. I was grateful for the distraction because the river had risen a few more inches and no rocks were visible now.

12:00 noon: A radio station in Knoxville came in sufficiently enough to hear the news which was all about the wind gusts expected to reach 80 mph and the downpours that would follow. “Swell,” I thought. I refused to panic and kept the radio on so Rush Limbaugh could ride out the storm with me. Sophie’s gas tank was two-thirds full, and I had probably three gallons in a gasoline container for my generator in the back. I opened another bottle of Perrier.  Thankfully, I was still not hungry.

12:30 pm: Time for another bathroom break.  I left the truck in the driving rain, hopeful that I would hear chainsaws in the distance, but no luck. With the winds gusting as strong as ever, I decided to remain outside thinking I would stand a better chance of avoiding a falling tree than I would by sitting inside Sophie and be waiting to get crushed. Nevermore was hunkered down in the storm but watching my every move. The rain came down so hard I finally had to return into Sophie.

1:00 pm: By now I had been stranded for three hours and, while hopeful that help would arrive soon, I was beginning to resign myself to the fact that I would be spending the night somewhere in the forest.  I worried that Helen would soon be looking for me and I had no way to contact her.  If the rain subsided, I would move Sophie to the side of the road (away from the river) and walk the now two and a half miles back to McNabb Creek where there would be food and a dry bed inside Bertha. Thinking of food, I reached for another bottle of Perrier, opened it and took a drink.  When I put down the bottle, I looked to my left and was staring straight into a pickup truck and the smiling faces of three men there to rescue me. I could have kissed all three.

These men were huge guys who lived on the mountain and had ventured out in the rain and wind knowing there were people like me in need of help. Each had a large chainsaw and cut up the birch tree in less than a minute. I was so gleeful about being rescued that I neglected to take pictures of their work.  The pictures here are obviously not my rescue party, but readers will get the idea. I followed them down the road to the edge of the National Forest.

In the three hours I had been sitting, so many trees had fallen that it took a while to pass through them.  One tree was lodged overhead between two other trees and stretched from one side of the road to the other. It was sitting low enough that there would be no way to get Bertha underneath.  Thankfully, all was clear when I left the area on Sunday.

At the edge of the forest, a line of cars pointed in the opposite direction stretched for almost a mile.  All expressed their gratitude to the timber cutters as they drove around some downed trees onto the freshly cleared roadway. Like me, several offered to pay them for their efforts, but these hearty souls only wanted to help and refused all offers.

Somehow, these men will be rewarded in some way someday, of that I remain convinced. After thanking them once more, I left the area and made my way to Knoxville. I’m forever grateful that there are still good people in this world.

Nevertheless, I’m equally convinced that Nevermore left frustrated. While the Raven watched, my guardian angels arrived, denying him the opportunity to witness a perilous sequence of events. As he gave us a muted “croak,” Nevermore departed for places unknown.

Easin’ Along never felt better.