Okeechobee, Day 2

I found that this is such a pleasant little town of about 5,000 people that I decided to spend an extra day getting caught up on laundry, some business, and just kick back. That plus the dire warnings about torrential rains, strong winds and massive flooding. Apparently those are local weather events, one town might get walloped and the next one five miles away get nothing. Right now the storms are localized, high energy events (not yet tornadoes I hope). I have been dithering with my decision about whether or not to go down the keys. Weather reports of the area make me a bit nervous. I am putting off that decision until such time as I actually have to make it.

Yesterday I decided to see if I could actually find Lake Okeechobee. My GPS says that I am perhaps a quarter of a mile away, but seems to be very difficult to access because of the giant 130 mile long levee around it. There are a few wide sections of the levee where you can drive high enough to see the lake and launch boats. However, in most cases even that doesn’t allow observations of the lake because is almost isn’t a “lake,” it is more like an enclosed swamp. The name Okeechobee means “big water” – which is true, but not a lake like Lake Tahoe for example. The lake is 10 feet or less in depth, often much less. From what I was able to see, it is more like watery paths through trees and brush with very little open water.

I drove about 40 miles along the shoreline finding three boat launching facilities. The giant circular levee has what appears to be a large moat along the outside edge of the levee. This “moat” appears to be the primary source of boating and fishing activity since it is easily accessible almost its entire length. There are very large groups of single wide trailers and small houses almost the moat, giving many water front access with small private docks. There must be several thousand people living in these “adult” communities on the outskirts of Okeechobee – probably accounting for much of the vigor of the community – there is likely lots of retirement money to buy things without flooding the job market.

I stopped at Adams Angler’s Reef bar and grill for lunch. The place was rather incriminating because it had no windows or obvious entrance. The door in the photo isn’t it.

I tried to imagine what it must be like inside, and almost scared myself out of going in. But in the mood for an adventure, I found the door and just walked on it – wondering what to expect. It turned out to be almost deserted, a couple having a beer and eating corn dogs and the waitress. I ordered a beer and a cheeseburger – which was good, but so sloppy that it was almost impossible to eat. Frog legs were on the menu, perhaps they would have been easier to eat.

I noticed a lot of garbage cans and big pots sitting on the floor in front of the bandstand. When I asked the waitress about them, she replied that “they had a bit of a leak during the storm two days ago.” Then she acknowledged that it was actually more like a waterfall. The pots and garbage cans were more or less permanent features that get moved aside when it isn’t raining and people want to dance. She indicated that the locals know when to come and when to not bother.

I when to an interesting restaurant that evening. It was obviously a well liked local establishment serving a wide variety of meals, mostly centered around fish in one form or another. I had excellent shrimp fettuccine with a side of a wedge of lettuce. The “wedge” of lettuce was an entire head of lettuce sliced in half, then smothered in excellent blue cheese dressing. As usual, I sat at the bar to eat and got into nice conversations with the folks on both sides of me. It was a pleasant and tasty evening.

The only other issue today is that I am finding my legs are starting to object to too much sitting in one position and not enough exercise. I started an exercise routine this morning. I hate to “exercise” but find that I have to do something or it will undoubtedly get worse. Most of the hotels that I stay at have little rooms with few exercise machines. I need to start using them. But first I have to get some “gym clothes” (mainly tee shirts). I’ll get some this morning since there are two big shopping centers almost next door to my hotel. Other than that, things are going along just fine. Long days of driving sometimes, but interesting things now and then. I am off to Kendall this afternoon. It is just a few miles south of Miami, perhaps it will be a fun place to visit. After that it will either be south down the keys, or north up the Atlantic coast. I won’t know which it is until tomorrow morning.

Lake Okeechobee,Florida 6/3/23

The drive east from Punta Gorda to Lake Okeechobee was a refreshing change from driving through dense jungle to much more open farm land with cows, sheep and various crops including citrus trees and sod farms. I could finally see the homes and farms, and see a bit of the landscape. I only drove about 100 miles yesterday, so not only was it pleasant from the point of view of the scenery, but because it wasn’t just a hard drive to get to the next hotel room.

The town of Okeechobee was an even better refreshing change – it is actually a “town” in the old time town sort of way. The area feels very rural, but the town has a lot to offer – there must be a much larger population than it feels like. I wonder how this place managed to maintain its feeling of community while so many others have not. I think it might have to do with a few subtle, but important, design features. Apparently someone thought it all out, or maybe it was just an accidental sort of thing – but it appears to work.

The first thing that is apparent when entering town is that it is chopped into four quadrants by intersecting four lane highways. It is chopped into big pieces, but not bypassed. The speed limit on these highways is reduced to 30 mph through town with several sets of stops lights, so they can be crossed easily with vehicles or on foot. The main east-west road parallels the “town” main street, perhaps 200 feet to the north. The main street still functions as a main street, but has easy access to the highway. There are two large shopping centers less than a 1/2 mile to the south of town on the N-S highway. Main street has many shops that are too small, or too different, to have competition from the shopping centers. There are perhaps ten little eateries of various types. There is an old-time style cafe, an organic restaurant, a Mexican place, a sweets place with candy and coffee, a coffee shop, and others. There are three pawn shops, and a second-hand store next to “Hippy Haze” which is a consignment place with beads, crystals, tie-dyed things, bells, incense and that sort of thing. There are two dress shops and a western wear store. I am sure I am missing several other offerings, all of which appear to be thriving.

The center strip between the highway and main street was a long, green park containing an interesting art display featuring full sized bronze statues of a couple of working cowboys, a cow dog and a bunch of cattle being driven though the park. The sculptures were created by a guy named J. Michael Wilson from Lehi, Utah and cast in Alpine Utah. Obviously these are important art works for the community, they must have cost a lot. The town must be pretty “sensitive” and appreciative of much more than seems typical in their part of the world.

The other side of the highway is more “industrial” in nature, including city hall, the sheriff department, some granaries, the schools and a few larger restaurants of the “bar and grill” nature. All of these are part of “the town” just not on main street. Everywhere I went people were relaxed, friendly and inviting. I felt none of the tension that I have been experiencing for the past few weeks, it just felt comfortable. The bar and grill that I went to for dinner last night appears to be a “gay bar” given the clientele and the signage on the walls. Even that is accepted in this little town.

I had a pleasant meal watching them enjoying themselves playing pool, or just sitting around chatting with each other. Once again, it was just comfortable and inviting. I also stopped in at a more rowdy appearing bar and grill, just to get a feeling for the “macho” side of things. Once again, although it had all of the appearance of being a “western style” rough and tumble place, it was very pleasant and friendly. I enjoyed my visits with the locals, just talking about “things” in general.

During the afternoon I went to the lake to see what I could see. The lake is not very accessible because it is contained by a 15 or 20 foot levee all the way around. There is a road surrounding the lake, built at the bottom of the levee so you can’t see the lake except at the few locations that are built up as parks with lake access. I found one of these and just settled down to watch it for an hour of so.

I took the opportunity to practice sketching. I find landscapes to be quite challenging because there are no “lines”, it is all just shading and texture. Here is the result of my effort.

I watched a couple of turtles swimming in the lake, an alligator swimming submerged except for its eyes, a very large snake swim across the little bay, and many birds. At one point I was wondering if I was actually watching an alligator or perhaps just a stick floating in the water. About that time it reared up out of the water, lunging almost straight up until just the tail remained in the water. Yep, that is an alligator!!

A couple of 30 sometime guys and a young boy drove up, wanting to know if they could share the fishing spot. Of course that was fine with me. They had a couple of rods and reels, but weren’t haven’t much luck with that. Finally one of the guys brought out a throw net, the kind you see used in Hawaii. That worked much better. He had three nice fish in short order. While he was fishing a large “stork” style bird sat on top of a post watching him catching the fish. When the fisherman turned to throw the net again, the bird swooped in and helped itself to one of the fish. I guess that was much easier than catching its own.

I am going to spend another day here, seeing what other interesting things I might find. It feels good here.

Port Charlotte, Florida 6/2/23

Yesterday’s trip was supposed to be a short hop around the city of Tampa, landing me in a community with a bay, beaches, boats and interesting things.  It was true, it was a short drive of about 140 miles, but it was not a short time.  I took a loop around Tampa in hopes of taking the faster route by avoiding the traffic of the city.  My GPS agreed with me that the loop was the fastest.  However, I missed the fact that while this route is a large four to six lane highway, it is liberally sprinkled with slow acting stop lights.  That made for a slow drive, averaging around 20 mph.  Once again, my short day expanded to several hours more than anticipated.

When I finally arrived in the Port Charlotte I found a place that is still pretty battered up from the last hurricanes.  Blue plastic roofs are common, as well as wide spread damage to various structures.  Many, perhaps most, street signs are missing so it is difficult to know what street you are on, and therefore difficult to navigate.  Luckily my GPS knows most of the street names. Otherwise I would be lost.  My GPS took me to the wrong town, sort of.  The hotel web site gave the address as being in Port Charlotte.  When I got there I was in front of an empty lot.  I drove to a similar address in Punta Gorda – that got me to an ACE hardware store about six miles away.  It turned out that the hotel was sort of behind the ACE store.  It is a normal, ho hum sort of hotel – but quite a bit more expensive than what I had been choosing.  The advertisements appeared to show a lounge and dining area.  I hoped for a little relaxation and food in the hotel.  That wasn’t to be – I had to seek out entertainment and food someplace other than in the neighborhood of the hotel. 

My thought was that since I am very near the gulf and a large bay it should be easy to find a “marina” sort of place with boats, docks, a view and hopefully an interesting place to eat.  I drove for an hour or so looking for such a place. According to my GPS I was getting very close to the water at times.  I couldn’t find a view of the water; much less find any place to enjoy it.  I did find a lot of gated communities built on the water front.  I found groups of huge five story condos – I suppose housing all those old folks from up north that we hear about. I found many lower middle class style subdivisions. There must be water near by because I saw a lot of huge, very expensive boats sitting around. I couldn’t find anything that looked like a town or community.  Once again all I could find were large shopping centers with huge parking lots.  I finally settled on an Applebees that I spotted in one of the shopping centers.  Luckily I had a GPS, otherwise I don’t know how I would have found my way back to the hotel.

While driving around looking at the shopping centers, stopped at the many stop lights, I got to thinking about how the shopping areas have changed over the years.  The first challenges to “down town America” were the small strip malls with parking more or less in front of each store front.  These strip malls were usually one continuous building with store fronts facing outward, accessible from the parking lot.  A street would often have several of these little malls. You moved your car from store to store.  Then there was a flurry of enclosed malls – like The Great Mall of America.  These had huge parking lots, but no stores directly accessible from the outside. Access was from the inside where the stores fronted a large open pedestrian space.  These were interesting in that they got a lot of people in close contact with each other as they milled about going from store to store.  While they were in the vicinity of others, nobody actually talked or socialized with anyone other than those in their immediate shopping group or the store clerks.  Now the malls have changed again, they are big parking lots opening onto many very large individual almost “stand alone” stores. The stores are often large department stores such as Target, or large specialty stores for classes of merchandise such as hunting, athletic equipment or perhaps shoes.

While the layout has changed, as has the size of each store, the one common element is a total lack of community.  Nobody talks to each other, nobody exchanges pleasantries – nothing.  The big enclosed malls at least offered an good bit of “people watching,” but the new style managed to eliminate that activity because there is no “milling around” and no place to sit and watch the flow of people.  It is all very business-like, but not human-like.

At one of the many stop light breaks I happened to be stopped next to an interesting pickup.  The first thing that caught my attention was the giant American flag sticking up from the bed of the pickup – waving proudly as he drove down the street.  It is surprising that it survives being hauled around like that.  Then I got to see the many signs plastered on all sides of the truck.  There were lots of signs cheering Trump, and signs with nasty Democrat bashing.  Most of them were extremely aggressive, what I considered to be verbal bullying. This was a person that apparently feels it not only necessary to indiscriminately insult people, but felt comfortable and entitled in doing so.  What became obvious to me was that the far right group relish pushing people around, they like the feeling of being threatening and bullying, they like the feeling of power.  You would never see a display like that from the “left” – they are far too polite for that, they don’t see it necessary to aggressively push their views onto others.  They have an entirely different way to go through the world.  My guess is that a lot of the folks that flaunt their power and imagined anger are also members of groups such as the KKK.  

I don’t think these people are actually angry, and I doubt that they actually have any special grievances.  I think that they are just bullies, and the politics of today allow them to express that freely in public and anywhere they see fit.  I am not sure what creates bullies, there were several in my high school. I am sure they exist in high schools today.  I used to think they eventually grew out of it, but perhaps I was wrong – maybe they just learn to hide it because of all the trouble it gets them into (or because they are in prison).  Now days perhaps the cloak has been pulled back off, now they can proudly proclaim their personal power.  Their aggression is an odd thing, and frankly scary as hell because it is so irrational.  There is no “reason” behind what they do, there is just power.  You can run into it at any time and there is no way of rationally reducing the threat, they don’t want to reduce it and they don’t want to think about anything.  They want to push people around, they seem to want to destroy America, and don’t really care at all what comes out of that – they don’t want to fix things; they just want to crush them.   

I am finding a lot of fear here, almost certainly because there is a lot of unchecked aggression.  Aggressive people have taken control.  It is a constant experience in the south, you can’t get away from it. As I think back on the posts that I have made on this trip a couple of things stand out.  One is the lack of “community” created by the design of the highways and stores, and the other is the amount of open aggression all around me.  I wonder how interconnected these might be.  Are we creating an aggressive population by the way we design shopping centers and highways?  If so, what is going to be the legacy of online shopping where even the tiny hint of community vanishes?  Should we perhaps be recognizing the danger and start spending more time on designing community-building infrastructure rather than wealth-accumulating infrastructure? I mention the wealth aspect because all of the decisions about the design of the infrastructure are based upon reducing price and increasing profits.  Since there are almost no more “mom and pop” businesses, all of the profits go to the large corporations and a few of their shareholders.

Clearwater, Florida 5/31/23

The road from Steinhatchee was long and boring. So far the roads I have encountered in Florida are very different from what I am used to in California. They come in three varieties (1) Major four-lane freeways cut though dense jungle with no view of anything, (2) small paved roads servicing the towns, (3) dirt roads. The road system is functional, but quite limited. The dirt roads are usually just cuts through the overgrowth, revealing white “dirt” (I suppose it is limestone). The “freeways” are interesting in that they aren’t freeways like in California – rather they are two-lane divided roads usually with a 55 MPH speed limit, with side roads entering directly onto the highway, I have yet to see an on-ramp or overpass. They often go past the little towns, but the speed limit slows to 30 MPH in the “business” districts. When entering an area with increased population density stop lights are common – they just stop all four lanes of traffic for the cross traffic. It is quite “primitive” in comparison to California or Arizona norms, but I suppose it is functional and inexpensive.

After driving between two walls of trees for a couple of hours I got bored and decided to turn off on one of the white, dirt side roads. My GPS was indicating a grid of roads just beyond the main highway, so thinking that perhaps the community was “hiding” behind the trees I went to see what I might see. It was a main road for the local community, but barely wide enough for cars to pass. It went straight into the jungle. At first I assumed that I was in an uninhabited area, probably mainly used by sportsmen or loggers. However, it turned out to have a lot of houses, perhaps on five to ten acre plots. Most of the houses were hard to spot because they were nestled back in the trees and had been pretty much overgrown by the jungle. Old, single-wide trailers were the norm, along with old cars, new cars and piles of stuff. It felt very much like what is depicted on television programs such as the “Swamp People.” I managed to get out of there unscathed, which felt like success!

After surviving my excursion into the Florida jungles, I then stopped in at a roadside diner for lunch. The most noticeable customers were the now common group of men in bright orange shirts, part of the utility crews that seem to be swarming the southern half of the USA. The walls were decorated with several very large mounted fish, wall plaques with funny sayings, and photographs of the proprietor’s children and grandchildren. I ordered a Rubin sandwich that turned out to be quite good, along with a bowl of inedible potato salad. Everyone was friendly and cheery.

The next stop along the route was a State Park Nature Preserve that promised manatees. That seemed like an easy way to spot one of those critters, so I pulled in. It turns out that the place was set up to care for injured animals, all of which had something happen that prevented the being returned to the wild. The park was accessible by a nice, 15 minute boat trip through the jungle where we viewed an alligator, a turtle and a “snake bird” (Anhinga) sunning itself on an old snag. I saw two manatees, one was cruising the little lake having lunch, the other was in the “hospital” recovering from a nasty encounter with a propeller.

This all put in into the Tampa area during the “rush” hour, waiting at the many stop lights spaced about a 1/4 mile apart. On top of that, it started to rain pretty heavily. I finally finished my planned three hour trip after about eight hours of travel. The motel operator indicated that I might like to try the restaurant located almost directly across the street. He said it was a rather “high end” place with high prices, but none of his customers ever complained. So that was my choice.

When I got there I was surprised that there were no cars in the parking lot, and even more surprised when I ended and found that there were no customers. None. It was a big restaurant with several large rooms full of tables, a nice big bar area, and all of the decor I expect in a nice restaurant. Everything but customers. I asked the receptionist if it was open and was assured that it was.

As usual, I sat at the bar for dinner. I looked over the menu, which had a wide variety of delicious sounding items as high, but not unaffordable, prices. I noticed several items that were described as Croatian specialties, so instead of just ordering what sounded good I asked the bartender/owner if he was from Croatia. He was. Feeling in a of an adventuresome mood, I asked his advice for a selection that I would be sorry if I hadn’t ordered it. He immediately said pork or lamb chops. These were $50 each, more than I really wanted to pay. I looked again and found pork and lamb shanks for only $30. I asked about them, and he really lit up! He said it was his favorite piece of meet and his wife (the cook) did a wonderful job of cooking it – slow roasting it for five hours with all the right seasonings. I couldn’t resist, so ordered it along with my normal glass of chardonnay. Soon a giant chunk of pork shank was served alongside a huge serving of seasoned rice and marvelous fresh homemade rolls. I was in hog heaven!

While I waited for the food to be prepared, he stayed at the bar and we talked. He told me that he left Croatia immediately after the war with Russia was finished, having been given the choice of going to Germany or the USA. He choose Germany, thinking it was closer to home and perhaps he could return to his home one day. He told me of many family and friends who died during the war, told me about how hard it was to fight and try to survive. He pointed to the places were he had bullet holes, and the scare on his neck when someone tried to kill him with a knife. He was very sad when talking about those things.

I asked him why it was worth all of that just to avoid living under Russian rule. Afterall, the Russians won and that was the outcome – what was the point? He said it was very simple, Freedom. Freedom from living under a despot in a dictatorship that prevented personal or political freedom. He was sorry they lost, but hopeful that somehow, some way, some day it would change again.

When if got to Germany he found that they totally control refugees. His only job opportunity, the only job he was allowed to have, was cleaning. On top of that, he was prevented from having an income that would give him any sort of acceptable living. So he left, and ended up in Clearwater Florida in 1998, with a wife, two children and $600 in his pocket. Whatever organization helped moved him to Florida helped him find an apartment and got him a job driving a forklift. The apartment cost $1400 a month, the job paid $175 a week. He instantly recognized that wasn’t going to work, so after two weeks he quite and started a side business fixing big rig trucks. (I didn’t dig deeper into what sort of background allowed him to make that switch.) His truck repair business was a success, he hired 6 mechanics and did well until one day he happened upon an old out of business restaurant for sale, cheap. His wife was excited about doing that, so he switched his attention to fixing up the restaurant and all that. I was in that restaurant. He said it is normally very busy, usually packed with waiting lines. He didn’t know what happened on that day, but being empty just didn’t happen.

About this time the conversation turned to the food and menus, he pointed out that almost everyone ordered the inexpensive house variety of wine. At that point I recognized my error in ordering, and apologized for not asking his advice along with his advice for the meal. He chuckled and said he had a lot of other “house” wines that they could have ordered.

About this time the conversation turned to the food and menus, he pointed out that almost everyone ordered the inexpensive house variety of wine.

At that point I recognized my error in ordering, and apologized for not asking his advice along with his advice for the meal. He chuckled and said he had a lot of other “house” wines that they could have ordered. He then did an interesting thing, he brought out an unlabeled bottle of wine, set up two glasses and we each had a glass – mine was complementary. He then leaned back against the back bar and we started to talk, just a friends! We had moved past the customer/bartender situation and moved onto real topics.

He asked me about my trip. I told him that it has been a sad thing to see all of the almost ghost towns, sad to see how gutted the freeways and strip malls had left the communities, and how dangerous it felt in Arkansas and Alabama.

He was interested in all these topics, and agreed with my assessment – including Florida into that category of dangerous places. He asked if I preferred Trump of de Santis. I expressed horror with either choice, and then we were off to the races! He knew we could talk, talk about the dangers of what is happening in America right now. He agreed with my assessment of the danger that the rebels present (I can’t think of another name for them right now since the main point of their anger is a desire to crash the entire political system.)

He finished up the evening with the story of the beginning of the war in Croatia. He said it had changed so that it felt exactly like it now feels in America with the “moderate” Democrats and Republicans trying to find a way to operate in the midst of a vocal group of people attempting to set it on fire and burn it to the ground. He said one day it just started, it started small with some little riots and demonstrations but that by the second day all of the store windows had been broken out and the merchandise stolen. At the same time the guns came out from hiding, and there were dead people in the streets and Russia invading by day three. It was all out war from then on. It only took a day to turn, and he is scared. He said it looks exactly the same to him here as it did there then. His fear isn’t that as shift in political control is coming, his fear is that civil war is at our doorsteps. He saw it before so knows how quickly and easily it can change.

Wow!!! No wonder everyone is so afraid to talk to me, why the whisper that they are on my side but can’t talk about it, no wonder they shy away from any discussions that might be overheard. It took this guy over an hour in an empty restaurant before he felt comfortable enough to talk. I pointed that out to him, and he said he had to do that because he needed customers and he would be boycotted or worse if he said what he thinks.

Steinhatchee, FL 5/31/2023

Yesterday’s drive was exhausting, I planned on driving about 160 miles, but ended up closer to 250 miles. That perhaps doesn’t seem like all that much, but it was on winding, 35 MPH roads most of the way. The extra miles were due to my mistake. I planned out a stopping place for the night that was going to be quick and easy. I reserved a room in Steinhatchee based upon those plans. However, once I started on the road I realized that my route was on a main interstate down the middle of the state where there were no towns, nothing to look at, and just blasting along with dense forests of both sides of the road. That is definitely not my approach for this trip.

I rerouted going directly south to the gulf instead of east. I got to the coast at Port Saint Joe and then took hwy 98 along the beach toward the east. This was a very pretty drive. It is known as Florida’s “lost coast” because the main highway bypassed it with the freeway that I had originally planned. It was pretty, but a lot longer and a lot slower – hence it is one of those routes less taken. The little towns reminded me a lot of California’s little beach front communities such as Mendocino, Bodega Bay and others. They had a lot of little, boutique stores bustling with tourists and vacationers. Lots of restaurants and things of interest. I didn’t stop to partake of these because I knew that I had made the mistake with my hotel reservations by then, I messed up my planning.

My route took me along the beach, then looped inland to avoid a road-less section, finally returning to the coast at Steinhatchee.

My room was in one of the little cabins facing the highway. It was very small, but kind of cute and a nice change from the cookie cutter rooms I have been in lately. The biggest problem was that there was no breakfast, or restaurants open for breakfast in the town. Steinhatchee is a vacation town with lots of marinas, vacation rentals, bait shops and restaurants. However, almost all of the restaurants are closed on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday. The only open on the weekend days, and not at all for breakfast. Not only are there lots of marinas, there are lots of commercial and sport fishermen. It is the first time I have seen a place that caters to fishermen, but doesn’t have wonderful little cafes to serve them breakfast. Oh well, luckily the grocery store was open so I could get an apple, yogurt and fruit drink for breakfast. It worked, but I had fantasized about sitting in a little dock-side cafe, watching the boats while having a nice breakfast and hot cup of coffee. So much for fantasies.

Last night I stopped in at a little bar and grill (without the grill part because it was Tuesday night). They were testing a new idea of having taco Tuesday, so I could have gotten a taco – they only offered oyster tacos which didn’t sound all that interesting to me. I got to talking to a couple of recently retired people. A couple of years ago they moved from the big city to this tiny town. Their report is that it is wonderful, they really enjoy it and claim to have made more good friends in the first year than they made in their entire life in the city. Their appearance fit the location, slightly rough, longish hair, beard, weathered complexion. Most of the locals that I have seen look a bit like that. I don’t know how to judge their politics based upon dress, in California they would be the “old hippy” crowd, or the motorcycle folks. I didn’t get a chance to figure that out, but everyone I have run into is friendly, open to talking, and comfortable feeling. That is certainly a welcome change!

There would be a lot to do here if you wanted to rent a boat, or charter a fishing trip. It looks like you can also rent scuba gear and swim with the manatees. I am going to press on.

Marianna, Florida 5/30/2023

Yesterday’s trip through south-eastern Alabama was the first time that I have felt uneasy, and perhaps not as safe as I normally do. My “danger” receptors were activated by several situations. The first is that the area that I traveled through is clearly in economic distress. That was evident from all of the closed stores, poorly maintained houses, older cars and just the sort of run-down nature of things. While this made me a little more cautious than normal, it wasn’t all that new to this trip. Beyond that, there is clearly a general disregard for highway safety evidenced by a LOT of speeding well in excess of 30 mph over the posted speed limit, as well as an almost purposeful disregard for the no-passing lanes created by blind corners and hills. It felt more like an intentional “I dare you to make me follow the law” approach because instead of passing on long straight sections with good visibility, they wait until the double yellow lines to make their move. I found it rather scary, and wonder how much the intentional flaunting of laws extends into the rest of their behavior. To top it off, on the few occasions where I encountered people out of my car I always felt, and saw, their dislike for my being “in their territory.” Those times were definitely uncomfortable. I was relieved when I finally crossed the border into Florida, although I am not so sure that I may have jump from the pan into the fire.

I decided to spend the night in a Microtel in Marianna, Florida. It is apply named, the Microtel has micro-rooms. They work, but certainly don’t give a feeling of spaciousness. This is in the panhandle of Florida, quite close to the Florida Caves. Perhaps I will check them out today, although I am a little anxious to get back on the road heading south toward the keys.

Last night I had a hard time finding a place to eat. There are many fast food places, and closed restaurants, in Marianna. I finally found a steak house very close to my hotel and settled for that. It was nothing special, apparently a rather “low end” place, but they had a small bar – just what I was looking for. There were three “good old boys” sitting together at one end of the bar, and a lady bartender. I sat a few seats away from them in the empty section of the bar. They eyed me suspiciously, but since I only felt slightly threatened I decided to stay and see what the evening might bring. I ordered a glass of wine and dinner. The wine came in a small wine glass, carefully filled to the half-way make – it was small but I have come to expect that.

The three guys were talking loud enough that I could easily overhear them talking about fishing, the weather, their jobs, just the normal chit-chat of friends enjoying each other’s company. I got a little bold and injected a comment or two when it seemed safe to do so. They accepted my comments, and pretty soon I was sort of drawn into the conversation. At this point the bartender offered me another glass wine, but it came about 3/4 full – I guessed that was some sort of indication that I was not being rejected. The conversation soon turned to them asking about where I am from, and then because a little political. I tried my best to tread carefully with that topic, but without backing away from pointed questions.

Somehow or another things changed at that point in time. The group of three changed as a couple left, being replaced by others. Soon I was sitting in the middle of the group, engaged in pretty fun conversations. The bartender lady brought me yet another glass of wine – this time filled right to the brim! I knew I was “in” at that point. (That also put me precariously close to my wine limit.) At about the time that my wine glass was filled, one of the old boys leaned over and whispered to me that he agrees with all that I am saying, but he can’t speak up like that because he has to live with the other guys.

One of new guys joining the conversation works for the nuclear power industry. That got us into talking about nuclear power, how safe the new systems are, and all that. Of course I could just let that be without expressing my opinions – we had a very enjoyable dialogue. The conversation finally turned to energy in general, then into economics, the prices of houses, gasoline and a little (very little) politics. I don’t know if I changed any minds, but I got a lot of thoughtful replies and considerations from the entire group. A lot of “hum… I never thought of it like that, maybe there are different ways to do things” responses.

It turned out to be a fun evening, talking to people with very different backgrounds and points of view, but certainly open to my other ideas and opinions. I kind of wonder if they all wanted to whisper the same thing to me, that they agree with my points of view but can’t express them because they have to live with the others.

This was the kind of evening I had hoped for when I started my trip. Something similar has happened four or five times over the last month. Perhaps that is much more than I should have hoped for, having a real conversation once a week isn’t all bad.

Mississippi – 5/28/23

After leaving Jackson on Friday the 26th things got a little busy and I didn’t manage to add another page to my blog. I went from Jackson to Hatiesburg, traveling most of the way on a “normal” highway cutting a lot of time out of my usual approach of wandering around on whatever small roads looked promising. Before arriving at Hatiesburg my friend Lee told me that there was likely to be “a little” discussion about baseball in town. Hatiesburg is the home of University of Southern Mississippi and everyone I talked to had something to say about the baseball games going on at that time. I haven’t kept up with college baseball, but obviously this is an exciting year for those living near “Southern Miss.” My hotel was almost surrounded by the campus, so there was no missing the excitement. The little bar and grill that I stopped in before dinner had 40 televisions that I could see from my seat, there were undoubtedly more – all tuned to the same game!

The main thing that I noticed about the difference between Mississippi and the other states I had been traveling through is that it feels a lot more prosperous. The small towns are still vibrant, the houses in the country are more likely to be modern homes rather than small older homes or single-wide trailers. It just had a feel of “prosperous” instead of impending ghost-town.

The following morning I had some “homework” to take care of, leaving my room right at check-out time. I got to the home of my friend Lee and his wife Shirley’s by mid-morning. The trip was quite pretty, traveling the freeway down through lush forests, but with very few signs of civilization. Just forest, the people must have been all hidden by the forest. The Lees live about 30 miles north of Pascagoula on their 45 acre piece of the forest. They carved out an amazing place, beautiful in every sense of the word. Their house faces a five acre pond, which is surrounded by acres of well kept lawn. The bought the property about 25 years ago and slowly cleared the land and finally built a really nice home by the pond.

In the evening we went to a really neat old-timey seafood restaurant on the gulf called Bozo’s. Lee gave me a copy of a print by Dena KcKee showing the place about twenty years ago. It has expanded since that time, but looks pretty similar even today – but with a much larger restaurant located to the right of the building, behind the Christmas trees.

My travels through Mississippi was memorable for the large number of “Blacks” everywhere. As a Californian I am of course familiar with many races of people, or whatever the politically correct term is these days, but seldom find myself in places where I seldom see other white folks. At first it felt odd, but quickly it just became comfortable – and fun because they seem to like to be more creative and flamboyant with their attire. The only times that I felt uncomfortable were when aggressive white guys were there – not physically but standing in “fight” posture, glaring at me and others. They felt like the radical right folks in California, just angry and appearing ready to pick a fight. I found them to be quite scary, I can’t image having to live amongst them on a regular basis. I was told that that the theater in that part of town used to have two drinking fountains, and three bathrooms. One for white men, one for white women and everyone else could share.

One of the fun things about Lee’s place is that he has a lot of little “get-ways” scattered here and there. There is his shop where he tinkers on fixing up old John Deere tractors, sharing space with an outdoor kitchen set up to entertain his large numbers of family and friends. Upstairs is his official office space, I am envious about the size and beauty of it done up in natural wood for paneling and decorated with may interesting trinkets and momentos. There are a few other outbuildings housing more tractors, wood storage, blacksmith tools and more. On the far side of the pond he has an elevated structure that make perfect viewing of whatever wildlife might be enjoying the pond. Overall, it is a really neat place. I consider is an amazing work of art.

As might be expected, Lee and I talked about many things – but perhaps mostly about our shared profession of System Safety Engineering. I don’t think we solved anything, but we commiserated on the problems.

Lee and Charlie at the Summertime Pond

My friend Lee and myself in front of his house near Summertime Pond. I didn’t realize we are so different in size – Lee must be standing behind me and the camera did odd things.

Jackson, MS 5/25/23

The drive from Lake Village, AR to Jackson, MS was uneventful. Instead of taking the direct route I turned north as soon as I crossed the Mississippi River, going north along the river road (Hwy 1) for a few miles just to see what I could see. What I saw was a flat, very productive agricultural area. I assume this whole area is filled with silt from thousands of years of periodic flooding. There are lots of big fields, a few scattered homes, and once in awhile a small community. To me it looked like many of the small town areas in the Sacramento Valley. They look sleepy and slow, without much going on – but that is just the way it is in those kinds of little towns. At least they didn’t seem to be 75% on the way to being ghost towns, they are just small and slow.

I had hoped to turn around and go south on hwy 61 through old rural towns, but somehow missed most of that and ended up in Yazoo City, and then on a big interstate highway to Jackson. I gave up and decided to take the “normal” route. It was pretty, very green and lush with wide mowed strips of green “lawn” along the highway and dense forests beyond that.

After a hour or so of needing to take a “bio break” I finally come upon a rest stop, located in the center divide. It was a combination rest stop archeological l museum located at an ancient mound site. Apparently between about 1000 AD and 1300 AD the local inhabitants took up the process of building very large mounds, similar to those that I visited in Arkansas. They decided that this particular mound had a flat platform on top where a ceremonial building was located. A few people used that building (the priests?), while the community lived in the surrounding clearing. I suppose I should have been excited about the site, but it really just looked like a pile of dirt to me. According to the signs, there were many more mounds in this area until they were leveled during highway construction. They saved a couple of them by going around them with both directions of the freeway.

The best part of the site for me was a nice concrete footpath that went to the mounds, but then continued for a half mile or so into the wooded area beyond. Even though highway traffic was on both sides it was a nice stroll into a wooded area, a nice break from hours of sitting in the car.

My route took me right through the middle of the big city of Jackson. From my vantage point in the driver’s seat of my car, Jackson appears to be a vibrant, busy city. I went by the university, a very large hospital that was probably a teaching hospital associated with the university. My hotel room was located in a nearby town of Flowood. The only way I knew I was in a different town was the sign next to the road. Apparently the hotel is located near the airport since their promotional material promised that I would be able to hear the airport, but I didn’t.

Dinner was at a restaurant called The Iron Horse Grill, located on the far side of Jackson from my hotel. That gave me a chance to see a bit more of town and go through some very well-to-do looking parts of the city, with what I would call large mansions set well back from the street with broad lawns and fountains out front. The IHG is a restored Armour meat packing plant from the early 1900’s. From the many signs around it this is an apparently attempt to revitalize the old-town of Jackson, the part of Jackson that was instrumental in the creation of Jazz music. It was a fun venue, kind of funky old building. When I arrived their very large parking lot was packed and I feared that it would be difficult to find a seat for dinner, but the opposite was the case. The building is cut up into many smaller areas, some in separate rooms, some in balconies and a few on outside areas. All of the areas were being used, but none were crowded. Each had a very different “feel” about it because of the building and the decor.

As usual, I sat at the bar for dinner. A guy was playing a guitar and singing, but I got busy talking to the person sitting next to me and didn’t pay the musician much attention. My neighbor was a young man from India taking tech classes at the university. When I asked him how he liked it there, he said he was getting homesick, the city is fun and friendly – but WAY too hot and humid. We had a nice talk, just friendly chatting.

The humidity is starting to get to me. All of the things made of paper have become limp. My cloths never quite dry out. In the morning it is cool, so the humidity is barely noticeable but by mid-afternoon I find I feel drained. It is rather oppressive feeling, I am happy to get inside where there is air-conditioning. I am wondering what it will be like when I get further south, and the summer heat finally arrives. So far it has been mild spring weather and that is getting to me. It will undoubtedly become a challenge in a week or two (if not sooner).

I haven’t plotted my next path yet. My approach has settled down to measuring off about 150 miles on the map in the general direction of what I am headed. I am now headed for the gulf coast of Mississippi. Then I look around to see if anything looks appealing for that night’s stay. Once I get that settled in my mind, and perhaps make a reservation at a hotel I try to find the most interesting path, meaning the one that avoids big city’s when practical. It is daily process because I never know when I might deviate wildly from my intended path. Planning ahead just ends up with reservations that I can’t cancel and therefore pay for even though I don’t use the room. That is not an economical approach. I’ll stay someplace between here and the gulf tonight, and then go see my friend Lee on Saturday.

Lake Chicot, 5/24/2023

I am still near the town of Lake Village, Arkansas.  I took an eight mile trip out to see the nearby state park that is located on the banks of Lake Chicot.  It is a very pretty little park, with perhaps 60 camp sites, most of which are set up for RV’s with water, power and sewer hookups – and free showers in the bath houses scattered around the camp site.  It is so attractive that I decided to stay for a couple of days, living outside instead of in those cramped, isolated cells they call hotel rooms.  The hotel rooms are convenient, but it sure feels better being outside with the trees, grass, lake, birds and raccoons.  The weather is near perfect except for the feeling that it might rain.  I decided to give it a try.

This was my first experiment with my new “bed invention” for the back of my Subaru Forester.  I prepared for this possibility by making a wooden bed frame that folds up flat(ish) when traveling so that the seats are in their normal configuration.  When the back seats of the back seats are folded down my bed unfolds to create a flat sleeping surface extending from the cargo hatch to the back of the front seat. The head end has no support from the car, so it is cantilevered about 18 inches. This creates a 24 inch wide, 79 inch long bed. Since I am only 77 inches long, I fit!  I purchased a self-inflating mattress that just fits this platform.  Perfect.  Getting in and out of bed in the tight space was a bit of a worry, but it turns out to be easy.  The cargo hatch operates from the key fob, so once inside I can push a button to close it, and another to open it in the morning.  In the morning it feels a bit like being in a space ship or something, with the motor whirring as the hatch slowly opens the “air lock” to the outside. I can open the moon roof to get a nice view of the sky while lying on my back in bed.  Nice.  

In addition to trying out the bed, this was the first trial of my new Biolitetm stove that uses a handful of twigs as fuel.  The heat unit is vertical cylinder about 10 inches high five inches in diameter.  It is a crazily high tech device considering it just burns sticks to boil water or cook a meal. It has a lithium battery that runs a fan for the fire and can be used to charge a cell phone.  I charged my cell phone on it this morning.  You fill the burner compartment with small pencil sized sticks, light a fire in the burn basket and turn on the fan.  The fan has multiple settings so you can adjust the burning rate of the fire.  A pot sits on top, or a large grate can be used as a grill.  There is a thermocouple in the burn pot that creates electricity to charge the battery, run the fan, and change a cell phone or other device.  It comes with a light that plugs into the battery, providing lighting if desired. The battery runs the light, the fire doesn’t have to be burning.  It works, and is kind of fun to play with.  The only down side so far is that it takes more than one load of sticks to boil a pot of water, meaning I have to add sticks from time to time.  This is not a problem when just heating the pot because I can just lift the pot off of the stove, but I think it might be very difficult when using the grill attachment. 

I made a bit of a mistake on my second night. I thought I put all the food out of reach of critters, but about an hour after turning in I heard noises in camp. Peering out of my car with my flashlight there were lots of glowing eyes! Four raccoons were exploring the things I left out on the table, checking them out and then throwing them off onto the ground. In the morning I discovered that I hadn’t been so careful, they found my box of crackers. My dumb fault, of course something would come by to get them. I was lucky it was just a band of inquisitive raccoons.

Having driven across about 2/3 of the USA and finding many towns in economic collapse, I am really wondering what is going on.  A persistent question is; “Why are these towns no longer needed?” It appears that perhaps fifty years ago they were vibrant, thriving communities.  That would have been around the time of the Viet Nam war, the time when my generation thinks about when we consider “how things were.”  Yesterday I was talking to an old friend, even older than me, who was telling me about a trip that he took into America when he was a young sprout of 21 or so.  He talked about all of the fun towns, the fun bars filled with music, the wonderful restaurants with amazing local dishes, and the pretty girls.  He expressed surprise that I wasn’t reporting on those things.  Instead, I am describing towns that were like that when he took his trip, but now are derelict buildings with the roofs caved in and the walls falling down.  It was, but it no longer is.

The cause of the decline seems pretty clear in the town of Lake Village.  Lake Village is in the middle of a huge agricultural area created by silt deposited by periodic flooding of the Mississippi river. A hundred and fifty years ago the land was worked by slaves.  That changed after the Civil War, but the labor needs didn’t.  Share cropping became the new form of cheap labor because while the share croppers received part of the profits, they did so with little or no outlay of money for the landowners.  It was all income and very little outgo, perhaps less expensive than slaves in many ways. 

This form of labor-intensive farming, coupled with limited transportation, resulted in the need for small local communities.  As mechanization took hold in the fields, the need for a large labor force went away, with the concurrent abandonment of the towns. That might account for much of the decrease. However, it clearly is much more than merely the decreased need for agricultural labor – there was a decreased need for all types of local labor as the economy shifted to “off shoring” jobs by moving production of all types of goods to less expensive countries.  We became a service economy. Things that were made here were first moved to Japan, then to China and many other low income countries.  As an example, when I was in Viet Nam in 2006 I visited some garment factories making many of the name brand clothes sold throughout America.  They were being made by hand because labor was so inexpensive; a high-paid garment worker received $1 a day for 16 hour days, many of them standing at their looms the entire time.  They worked seven days a week, for $365 a year!  I won’t mention the brands that were being made, but they were all well-known brands what you wouldn’t think to associate with what I considered labor exploitation.  There was no possibility for workers in the USA to compete with these wages, therefore they get nothing instead of almost nothing.

The vast tree plantations tell a similar story of reduced need for labor.  It the old dayss, trees were cut, brushed and bucked by lumberjacks. Now the trees are all the same size and are harvested with huge machines that grab onto a tree, clip it off at the base, slide a delimber up the tree, buck it into lengths and load it all on a log truck. There is almost no labor involved.  A few specialized machines and trained operators can log these vast man-made forests – very little labor is required.

In addition to noticing what is not here, I have been noticing two interesting situations.  One is the ubiquitous Dollar General stores.  They seem to be everywhere.  If a town has any kind of store, at least one of them will be a Dollar General located in a parking lot near the cluster of hotels, but not in a mall – they are almost all identical looking stand-alone stores.  I see very few of those high priced, fancy stores such as Walmart, but I do see a lot of Dollar General stores. I am only seeing what is on my thin path across the nation, but if what I see is any indication I would have to say that America is on a race to the bottom.

The other thing that is interesting is huge number of utility trucks and workers every place I go.  They fill the hotels and there trucks are just about everywhere there is a “where.”  I have spoken to a few of them and the story is always the same, they are “stringing wires.”  It looks like perhaps America is in the process of being rewired. Our electrical and telecommunications networks are being changed in big ways.  I don’t know what this means, or what the consequences might be for the future, but it is clear that something BIG is up.

I am curious what I find as I work my way further south-east and then up the eastern seaboard, or whatever path I end up taking. Wherever it leads, it is time to do the laundry again. 

My couple of days in the park have been quite nice.  Just a peaceful time to read a little, write a little, watch the birds and take short hikes.  I chat with other campers now and then, but most of the time I am just being by myself.   I hope to get out my sketch book this afternoon to practice sketching.  There are not many interesting buildings here. Therefore I am going to have to move from mostly rectangular shapes to more natural, rounded ones.  I am a bit nervous about that.  However, I can always throw my failed sketched away – nobody needs to know.

Jim, I drew this one with a carpenter’s pencil.

Lake Village, Arkansas 5/22/23

The states are getting smaller out here, I drove all the way across Arkansas to a little town of Lake Village in about five hours. It has happened once again, the “business district” consisting of the usual hotels and service stations cluster around the off-ramp to the interstate highway. The historical town of Lake Village is located on the banks of Lake Chicot, a 22 miles (35 km) oxbow lake that was formerly the main channel of the Mississippi River.

Lake Chicot is a very beautiful lake with many opportunities for boating, fishing and just enjoying the great outdoors – except that it is almost completely cut-off from the public by hundreds of high-end houses facing, each having their own private dock and beach. There are no fences out here, but it is very clear that the actual beach frontage is private property. There is a small fishing spot immediately next to town, but the next biblically accessible beach is in the State Park located about ten miles north of town.

The town of Lake Village appears to have been almost entirely abandoned fifty or more years ago. The stores are crumbling, with roofs fallen in and walls collapsing. A few businesses remain open. I open ones included the telephone company, a medical appliance store, a fancy dress store, and a bait shop. The best kept up building in town is a large catholic church. There is no place to eat, no grocery store, no pharmacy, no service station – basically no town. By this time I was getting hungry, and having been told by the hotel that the restaurant next door was acceptable I went there looking for dinner. Unfortunately, it was closed as were all of the other eating opportunities except for a McDonalds. I went to the grocery store across the street and got a couple of things from their deli. Not good, but at least I got something to eat.

It is interesting to see how many towns seem to have been wiped out of existence by the introduction of high speed highways. The towns lose their economic value and just dry up and blow away – along with the community that they supported. I find them to be very sad, but wonder if my sadness is misplaced – if they are no longer economically and socially necessary perhaps it is just time for them to revert to nature. Whatever services they provide much be available elsewhere at a better price, and that is just the way it goes. Perhaps my sadness is just some sort of misplaced nostalgia for a time that never was. For example, the Wikipedia description of Lake Chicot says that it used to be highly polluted with mud from the runoff from the agricultural fields around the lake. That has been fixed and now the lake is better, but the towns are gone. Maybe the issue is that the slaves are no longer in the fields because of modern machinery and there just isn’t a need for a town.

I am finally getting really tired of living in motel rooms. I feel like a rat that is placed back in my cage at the of the day. The rooms are all nearly identical, all of them smelling like cleaning products, all with lovely views of parking lots and garbage cans. My plan this morning is to go to the State Park and see if I can get a camp site for a couple of nights. That means I will need to test out my new in-car bed and perhaps my little wood burning stove that makes electricity to charge my phone. It will undoubtedly be an adventure. It also means that it will be a couple of days before I can get back to writing these little stories. I will be forced to use a pencil and paper for a bit.