Relocate! Relocate!

Allayne came out of the office to pet sweet Dawny who, once I had opened the door, was doing her best to barge headlong into the place.  We had arrived at this small campground in eastern Louisiana (Lake Bruin State Park) earlier in the day and came by the office after settling into our campsite to tell Allayne, who had checked us in, what a pretty park it was.

“Yes, most of the people who work here have been around at least ten years. It’s such a beautiful place.”  The peaceful look on Allayne’s face told all there was to tell.

Dawny found her beautiful place by Allayne’s knee so she could scratch behind her ears while we chatted.

Whenever we walk by any building:  shed, restroom, office, cabin, outhouse… it doesn’t matter… if it has a door, Dawny wants to go inside.  If I give her enough leash, she approaches the door, sniffs, and waits, anticipation tugging each wag of her tail.  Dawny can’t read, so all she knows is that, if it has a door, there might be someone inside who will give her love and/or cookies. Preferably both.  This day she lucked out with the lovin’.

How nice a life my girl has had that closed doors hold such sweet promise.

I asked Allayne about the local wildlife, especially the creepy-crawly kind, which I am increasingly beware of the further south we travel.

“Oh, yes, we get some action here.  We had an alligator get into the swimming area–”

“There’s a swim beach here… with alligators in the lake?” I asked, my wide eyes betraying any semblance of the cool, seasoned, old-lady traveler that I may have constructed up to that point.

“Sure.  And snakes.  I was out here on my cell phone one day and right over there,” Allayne pointed to a small gully that ran under the sidewalk leading to the campground office, “I saw something slither out.  It was slithering and squirming… totally creepy.  It must have just shed its skin and stuff was stuck to it all over.  It looked awful!  I quickly called the ranger:  ‘Relocate! Relocate!'”

My politically incorrect and fearful mind silently screamed:  Oh my God!  Relocate?  What if it came back??  Did they relocate it far enough away???  Kill it!  Just kill it!!  At least blindfold it, pick it up by the tail, spin it around until it’s good and dizzy, then toss it somewhere over there by Arizona!!!

“Relocate!  Relocate!” Allayne interrupted my neurotic thoughts, recalling her call for help.  I recognized a kindred spirit looking out from her wide eyes as she continued the story.  Help arrived.  It was a water moccasin.  They relocated it.  All was well with the world and this was once again a peaceful place.

Leaving Allayne to get back to her job, Dawny and I continued our walk around the campground, including wooden docks and platforms that stretched from safe, solid ground through the dark, moss-draped shoreline into the blue of the lake.  Absolutely beautiful.  Albeit not free of alligators, snakes, or bears…  A fellow camper reminded me that the namesake of the lake was, indeed, “Bruin” for a reason.  Bears used to be quite plentiful in the area.  Sheesh, I thought I had at least left the threat of bears behind me in the Appalachians.  Apparently not.

Unlike my dear traveling companion, closed doors signify something very different to me.  They make me nervous, hiding the unknown.  Turns out it’s mostly just local life living out its local life.  The nice part is that the more familiar it becomes–by staying a while, taking time to chat, or through repeat visits–the less scary it becomes.

So, Dawny and I pick up our tails and continue with our own version of ‘Relocate,’ in this case joining the snowbird ranks migrating south for the winter.  Our current journey will cover about 2,000 miles from northern Virginia to east Texas, with a stop to visit friends near Dallas.  By the time we reach Dallas, we will have visited nine campgrounds, all of them new to us.  Our route is a new one, too.  I am proud to say that we survived the tangle that is Atlanta for the first time.

It is a good life.  Each door opens to another beautiful place, filled with lovely views, friendly faces, and kindred hearts.  We need only to open our own hearts, to recognize and relax, to give and receive.  Dawny, for all of her simple brilliance, has that part down pat.

* * * * * *

Short review of Lake Bruin State Park’s campground:  Five out of five stars.  Please keep in mind that this is from the perspective of someone traveling in a 25 foot motor home with no tow vehicle and who does not need sewer hookups.  Although not very convenient to I-20 (the park is over 35 miles south of exit 171), it was well worth the trip.

Lake Bruin is an oxbow lake formed from an old loop of the Mississippi River that was cut off from the main river channel ages ago.  It used to be a fishery and was donated to the state park system in 1958.  Fish, turtles, and alligators were raised in basins that now cradle the park grounds and some of the camp sites.

The campground road and the sites are paved.  Most are pretty level and fairly spacious.  Each has 30-amp and water hookups and there is a decent dump station available.  There is a nice mix of sun and shade.  It is a good idea to scope out the sites before picking the one that best fits your needs.  I was able to get a good Verizon signal and several over-the-air TV stations.  The restrooms are modern and immaculate, and there is a laundry room on site.

Park staff is incredibly friendly and helpful, matching the charm of their surroundings with the best of southern hospitality.

Hungry Mother

“I don’t really get along with kids,” I told the sweet young staff member who was trying to find someone to fill in for her on Campfire-and-Marshmallows night.  “I mean, I do have one of my own, and I love him a lot–heck, I would let him have the last piece of pizza–but most others really get on my nerves.”

“That’s OK,” she replied without batting an eyelash at my curmudgeonly confession.  “Most of the campers who show up are adults.”

It turned out she was heading to Florida to help with Hurricane Irma clean-up efforts.  It is one thing to be a bit of a grouch.  It is quite another to be selfish in the face of selflessness and not do your part in providing assistance on the home front.  So, I accepted the task.

Besides, the evening would have one slice of saving grace:  part of my job would be to talk about the Legend of Hungry Mother, the legend that gave this fine state park in southwest Virginia its name.  And I do love history.  And stories.  And the challenge of unraveling a strand or two of truth from the tapestry of an engaging tale.

The event turned out just fine.  Several couples came with their children.  We enjoyed s’mores over a roaring fire and had a nice informal session where I talked a little about the park and its namesake legend.

Thanks to an idea that came from Miss Joyce, campground boss-lady extraordinaire who runs the office with the efficiency of a school teacher tempered by the grace and hospitality of a true southern lady, we started the evening with a perfect ice-breaker of a game.  That afternoon, Joyce and I had been discussing variations on the legend that gave Hungry Mother State Park its name and she reminded me of the childhood game where you whisper something into one person’s ear, they pass it along to the next person, and so on and so on, until the last person announces what they heard.  It is inevitably quite different from the original.

So, that evening around the campfire, I began our chain-whisper-legend with the first listener, whispering into her ear:  “There’s a 10-point stag up on Molly’s Knob waiting for a flat-footed bear to bring him a cheese and pepperoni sandwich.”

After completing the circle of whisperers, it had morphed into:  “A four foot man is bringing us a cheese and pepperoni sandwich.”  I was surprised we didn’t get a pizza by the end.  Perhaps if the chain had been longer and the participants hungrier, we would have.

For those of you who were not around the campfire that evening, here is the park’s version of the Legend of Hungry Mother, rooted in early American folklore:

Native Americans destroyed a settlement in a valley south of where the park currently is located.  Among the survivors taken to the raiders’ base camp to the north was a woman named Molly and her small child.  Molly and her child escaped and wandered through the wilderness eating berries to survive.  Molly finally collapsed and her child wandered down the creek until he/she found other settlers.  The only words the child could utter were “hungry mother.”  When searchers reached the foot of the mountain where Molly had collapsed, they found her, dead.  The mountain became known as Molly’s Knob, and the stream, Hungry Mother Creek.

A less exciting version (Indian raiders being totally absent) has a woman and her child living alone in a cabin on one of the mountain knobs in the area.  She apparently suffered some very hard times and starved to death.  When fellow settlers discovered her body, they found her child had survived because of the food the mother had left behind.

When the state park was developed in the early-to-mid 1930s, the creek was dammed to form Hungry Mother Lake and much of the surrounding area became park land.  As completion neared, there was great controversy over what to name the park.  Several options included:  Forest Lake State Park, Walker State Park, and Southwest Virginia State Park.  Thank goodness more imaginative heads prevailed.  A local newspaper referred to it as “Hungry Mother Park,” after the creek and the old legend, and the name stuck.

Complaints poured in over the name.  Many thought it terribly ugly.  One local news editor/historian lamented the choice, saying they might as well call it “Starvation Park.”  It was built and dedicated during the height of the Great Depression, so I can see how that might be a sensitive point.

Mack Sturgill, in his 1986 book, Hungry Mother:  History and Legends, concludes that key developers and promoters of the park gave it the name and promoted the accompanying legend as an advertising ploy.  Sturgill likens the stunt to “putting an old tale in a new bottle with a provocative label.”  He points out that the legend was not even widely known locally until after the park claimed it and that there are serious doubts about the content of the tale.

Whether you want to criticize or praise the park’s name, let alone delve into history to challenge the legend itself, you have to admit that the name, Hungry Mother, is catchy.  Consuming.

The tale also goes to show one feature of historical “fact” that has not changed over the course of time…

 

. . . Capture the imagination, you create memory . . .  Craft it through repetition, you manufacture truth.     CE-9/20/17

 

 

Sources:

Virginia State Parks website, link:  www.dcr.virginia.gov/state-parks/hungry-mother;

Sturgill, Mack H., Hungry Mother:  History and Legends, 2nd Ed. June 2001 (reissued by Friends of Hungry Mother State Park and sold at the park gift shop);

Linford, Margaret, genealogist and columnist for swva today, April 14, 2014 article, “String of Pearls:  Mystery and Controversy of Hungry Mother State Park’s Name.”  I can’t get the link to work but you can easily find it by googling key words.

Oh-Hi-Oh

Dawny (she says hello!) and I are on vacation.  We are taking the month of August off from our workamping duties to roll around the middle parts of our beautiful country.

We have greatly enjoyed our recent travels through Ohio, and this post is offered to give a short review of three Ohio state parks.  Everyone’s camping/RV park preferences vary widely.  Dawny and I love state parks the best.  There is usually plenty of space to take long walks.  Often lakes and/or rivers are involved, which enhances the beauty and the “my-oh-my!” factor by several satisfied sighs or so.

Many state parks, including the three discussed in this post, do not offer much beyond electric hookup, but that is fine by us.  We operate off of our tanks and fill up and dump when we arrive/leave.  The parks listed here range from $26 to $28 per night.  While that is on the high side for me, it is still better than parks in Pennsylvania and Virginia which are well into the $30’s for simple electric hookup.

Beyond the price, Dawny and I place great value on the beauty of our surroundings as we take our many walks (bingo Ohio!) and the overall upkeep and cleanliness of the premises (kudos to Ohio state park maintenance teams).  Oh, and I do require a good Verizon connection for my internet and at least a couple of TV channels to keep from going totally bonkers inside of the silence in my head (Dawny couldn’t care less).  All three parks met these basic requirements.

Here are the three Ohio State Parks that rate high on our list from this trip, starting with our favorite:

Harrison Lake State Park, Fayette, Ohio (link:  parks.ohiodnr.gov/harrisonlake):  I love it when the campground is on or within easy walking distance of the loveliness that gives a park its name.  The campground at Lake Harrison is perched uphill from the lake and, while most of the camping sites don’t enjoy a lake view, it is a comfortable stroll away.  For campers with children, playground equipment is scattered throughout the park and camping loops.  There is a swimming  beach, although one day I noted the “white” water from children’s splashing was tinted bright green/blue due to lake algae–swimmers beware!  They even have a dog beach (non-fenced), which Dawny enjoyed surveying from a respectful distance.  Poor dear hates water.  Perhaps wise, given the algae situation.

The campground was kept immaculately clean and the entire park was beautifully tended.  Considering my recent Lyme Disease struggle, I truly appreciate all those conscientious lawn-mowing souls.  It seemed that as soon as a camper vacated their site, staff/workampers were on the spot cleaning up.

On the most mundane yet critical of notes, whereas the two other parks in this post have vault toilets to supplement their single bath house/flush toilets, Harrison Lake’s North Campground has flush toilets located in the camping loops.  (Note:  This is not the case in the smaller South Campground, which still has vault toilets.)  I have to admit that long ago I left the rough camping years of my youth way far in the distant, barely remembered hinterlands eons and miles, ages and galaxies behind me.  I now prefer certain creature comforts.  A flush-toilet and a warm shower with lots of good water pressure so that I don’t have to worry about conserving the water from my on-board water tank are high on that list.  Thank you, Harrison Lake!

Mosquito Lake State Park, Cortland, Ohio (link:  parks.ohiodnr.gov/mosquitolake):  The feature that impressed me the most about this park was the dog park/beach.  And I don’t even have a dog that likes water or can enter a dog park if another dog is in it (she would try to eat him/her).  It was very refreshing after being in Pennsylvania, which tended to have entire areas totally off-limits to dogs, to be in a park that granted a big chunk of valuable lake-side real estate to it’s canine visitors, fenced it in, and then plotted out a bit of beach area (buoys and all) for those intrepid four-legged guests who enjoy a good splash.

The fine-print caveat to this apparent pet-friendliness is that Ohio state parks have a two-pet limit.  I have a good friend who travels with two dogs and two cats.  If you ask me, cats shouldn’t count against that limit as long as they are not outside being walked with their doggies in a fur-coated gaggle-gang.  Really now, how often is that going to happen?  Never!  Can you imagine the twisted leashes and bruised/scratched egos and legs and other body parts?  I asked at the office about that policy, and they said that if you call ahead and describe the members of your menagerie, an exception can be made.  (P.S.  I met a camp host at the park who had three cats.  Three.  Wicked.  Cats.  Just sayin’…  God, I love my dog.)

As for the two-legged guests, this is a really beautiful park.  Mature, tall trees provide shade to most of the camping sites.  Compared to the other two parks in this post, the sites were spacious and the roads very accomodating to bigger RV rigs.  The only downside would be that there is only one shower house/flush toilet location for over 230 sites.  Otherwise, people need to rely on their own household plumbing (take care of those tanks upon entering/exiting!) or the vault toilets located in the campground loops.

Findley State Park, Wellington, Ohio (link:  parks.ohiodnr.gov/findley):  Smack in the middle of north-central Ohio, Findley State Park is a very convenient stop-over on your trek from wherever to wheresoever, should it happen to be on your path.  Like many other Ohio state parks, there is only one shower house/flush toilet location, in this case serving over 250 camping sites.  A few vault toilets are located elsewhere in the camping loops.  Big rigs, beware.  Many of the sites are fairly short and some are quite sloped.  For my shorter rig (25 feet with no toad) it worked out fine and was a welcome stop between eastern and western Ohio.

That’s it for Ohio this trip.  Afterwards, Dawny and I visited Elkhart, Indiana and got our annual honey-do list done.  Thank you, Phoenix USA (link:  www.phoenixusarv.com) and Doug for putting up with all of our questions and for keeping our little house-on-wheels rolling smoothly along.

We are now meandering towards Missouri to join two dear friends for a camping get-together that serendipitously coincides with the upcoming full solar eclipse.  We will be somewhere around the 98th percentile-coverage point.  Cool, eh!?!?  I just think it’s cool Dawny and I will be basking in it together with these particular friends.  They are two of our favorite people.  And, while they like me plenty, they adore Dawny.  Which is as it should be.