Notes from the Road – Saturday, August 7th - Tuesday, August 10th

Thursday -

I didn’t sleep as well last night as I’d have liked.  That usually happens the first night away from Judy sleeping alone again.  I have dishes to do and some other cleaning / maintenance to attend to, but I can’t seem to muster the energy.  So, by 11 a.m. I give up and get on the road.  Tonight I’m “barnstorming” at a campground in southern Virginia a couple of hours away.

It’s an easy drive, Interstates all the way.  Near Roanoke I see a sign for BBQ and give into temptation.  It’s not very convenient, in a strip center with a grocery store, etc., but it turns out well worth it.  3 Pigs Barbeque is the name and they make all their own sauces, ketchup, etc.  It has a music theme and it appears they have live music on the weekends.  It’s a small place, probably seats no more than 50 people and I don’t know where they’d set up the musicians, but given the quality of the food, service, etc. I’m sure they’ve got it worked out.

Parking the camper in this kind of a place is tricky.  The SUV with the 24’ trailer, plus a hitch carrier on the back of that is a good bit longer than two parking spaces end to end.  So, I found a curb spot on the drive that led behind the building.  When I’d finished my BBQ I discovered that the drive behind the building did not come out the other side.  Fortunately I’m pretty good at backing and it was a simple matter to roll back far enough to make the turn and get on my way, though I noticed folks with cars around me looked plenty nervous.

With the lunch stop I was still at the new campground before 2 pm.  It’s a spare looking little place, but it looks quite full.  I get checked in and settle into the spot they’d reserved for me down on the pond near the pavilion where I’ll be playing tonight.  It is a long, perfectly level site so I don’t even have to unhook – perfect.  Plug in the power, connect the water hose and I’m all set.

I noticed coming in that there was a whole passel of those little teardrop shaped mini-campers in the park and out of curiosity I wander up (with some flyers for the show tonight in my pocket, of course) to see what’s going on.  It turns out that it’s a rally for teardrop camper owners – a group calling themselves the “Tear Jerkers” – cute.  If you’re not familiar with teardrop campers, google them to see what I mean.  Many of these little units are homemade / custom made and I’m not talking about rough, slipshod work either.  Some are made from sailboat quality teak with fine varnished finishes.  The ingenuity applied to accessorize these little units is incredible.  Storage compartments, pop out cooking areas, dressing booths, canopies and awnings, etc. were quite amazing.  I was surprised to learn that these campers began being manufactured back just after WWII.  In fact there was one metal unit with wide white sidewall tires and matching spare that was made in 1947.  There were about 50 of these gathered for the rally and they were having a supper just before my show – excellent!

After a little rest I go ahead and do laundry (I’m past due on this) and clean the camper up a bit.  Then I go ahead and set up for the show before the Tear Jerkers get started on their supper so I can be ready to go as soon as their function ends to keep as many of them as possible to hear the music.  My Fishman SoloAmp is so easy to set up it only takes me about 15 minutes.  Then I clear out to rest up a bit, take a shower and get my mind on the set list.

I’m lucky and a good portion of the Tear Jerkers stay behind for the show.  It’s a good friendly crowd and I give ‘em an hour and a half of my Florida folk and songs about other parts of the country as well.  Again, CDs depart with new owners and the gas hog tour gets funded for a few more miles.  Has I known about the Tear Jerkers I would have tried to come up with a novelty song about them – that would have KILLED!  But, we all had a good time.

Just as I was finishing up with Steam Train a new member joined the audience.  He looked familiar, but I couldn’t place him.  When I was done he called out to me – it was Bill Clayton, folk singer from Sanford, FL!  The world just keeps getting smaller.  He was on his way with his wife up to see her family in Ohio and just happened to stop in at this campground for the night.  He was quite surprised to see the posters advertising my show.  We chatted and caught up a bit as I started to pack my gear.  But, as we both had early starts in mind we kept it short and soon I’m settled back in the camper for the evening.  Ahhhhhh . . .

Sunday –

The fact that I have no hooking up to do to leave makes me quite lazy this morning.  I think about doing a little fishing, but its pretty hot out so I just lounge in the AC, write a little, watch a movie, etc.  Well, Sundays are supposed to be a day of rest anyway, right?

I’ve got a short run up to my next campground show near Appomatox, Va. where Lee surrendered to Grant.  I get started by late morning and take it slow and easy enjoying the scenery and stopping to take in some historical sights along the way.  Again, I’m at the campground by 2 p.m.  This is a nice family campground of fair size.  In addition to the standard pool there’s a lake with a swimming area, diving platforms, slide, etc.  Posters promoting my performance are prominently displayed throughout the grounds and the young lady at the desk is all set to direct me to my site.  This site is a little too far from the pavilion where I’ll be playing tonight to haul the gear over on foot, so I go ahead and unhook so I can use the truck.

After a nap and some other loafing, I go on over and set up my gear.  They have a raised stage at one end of the pavilion with an open concrete floor in front and picnic tables around the perimeter, pretty nice.  As before it doesn’t take me long to get everything ready to go, including my CD table, etc.  All I have to do at show time is step up, plug in and play.

One drawback to this campground is that there’s no internet access and no cell phone reception.  I need to make a couple of calls, one to Judy since I haven’t checked in on her today, so I head out in the truck in search of a cell phone signal.  Heading back west towards Lynchburg I’ve soon got three bars and make my calls.  The I head back to rest a little and take a shower before 7:30 pm.

At 7:30 I step up and begin adjusting sound.  A few folks have gathered and as the guitar rings through the SoloAmp more emerge from their cars and campers and filter over.  I quickly conclude that I’ve made one miscalculation.  The sun is quickly setting behind me to the left, but for the moment it is shining right into the open concrete area in front of the stage.  As a result, everyone sits on the benches around the perimeter or in chairs on the grass and many drive up in golf carts and remain seated in them.  This means that I’m a good 30 feet from the closest audience members and as much as 45 from the folks straight in front of me.  That’s too far for the intimate type show that I like to do – can’t see their eyes.  However, it would take too long to move down on the floor closer to them so I carry on as is.  Again everyone enjoys the show and exhibit their appreciation with generous contributions to the gas hog tour fund and take home some CDs.  Back on the “it’s a small world” theme, one couple is from Gainesville up visiting their daughter in Lynchburg.  They particularly enjoy the stories and songs of Florida.

Tomorrow I turn south towards North Carolina.  I’ve got a couple of days before my next show at the restaurant at the Mount Mitchell Golf Course where’re I’ll be spending a couple of nights with old friends.  I have some computer work to do so I’ll bite off about half of the drive tomorrow and the rest on Tuesday.  So, tonight I think I’ll ice down some amber whiskey and stroll the campground a bit before turning in.

Monday –

I thought this was going to be a two day posting originally, but internet and cell reception in southern Va. and North Carolina are a rare and finicky thing.  So, I’ve added Monday here and hope I get to post it Tuesday.  I’m in no hurry today as I have no show tonight or tomorrow.  And, since I’ve got no internet connection I can’t do the usual site maintenance and booking work I’d otherwise be doing.  I think I’ll go fishing.

My first cup of coffee in hand I stroll down to the fishing lake here at the campground at about 6:30 a.m.  There’s an older couple down on the dock fishing already and, unfortunately, they’ve got a yappy little dog with them.  He doesn’t like that I’m using the lake too even though I’m a hundred yards away.  Fortunately, the man doesn’t care for his yappiness any more than I do and is effective at shutting him up – they’ve apparently had this discussion before and the dog does not care to debate it again.  Not much in the way of fish, but it sure is pretty and peaceful.  The sun hasn’t broken yet and there’s a fine layer of fog just off the surface of the water.  In just a couple of hours it will be the country version of Wet N’ Wild here as the kids swarm in to swim and play.  Summer’s almost over.

Back at the camper I do write a little, work on a couple of song ideas, design some promo pieces – that kind of thing.  I should get going, but the road isn’t appealing just yet.  More coffee.

Finally about noon I head out.  I have no particular destination in mind, I just want to get down into NC and within striking distance of Burnsville.  That’s where I’ll be staying Tuesday and Wednesday nights, playing at the Mount Mitchell Golf Club Wednesday night.  I’d like to find a nice State Park as they are always quiet, peaceful, pretty and cheaper than private campgrounds.  After stopping for a little late lunch at a McDonalds where I can use their WiFi I settle on Stone Mountain State Park north and west of Winston-Salem and set the Navigatrix accordingly.

Now, I wasn’t in any particular rush, but I was thinking I’d get to the campground by early to mid-afternoon and enjoy the day.  I also thought (don’t know why) that I’d have cell reception high in the NC mountains somewhat near larger towns.  I was wrong on both counts.  I finally rolled into the park (the long way around, through the unpaved rear entrance – thanks Navigatrix) at just after 4 pm., barely in time to check in before the office closed.  And I found, of course, that there was no cell reception to be had.  This was an issue since I needed to contact my friends in Burnsville about arrangements for Tuesday and Wednesday.  So, after getting set up on my site (surprisingly warm for high in the Blue Ridge Mountains) and cooling my feet in the mountain stream running beside it (nice!) I headed back out in search of cell reception.  I finally found it about 20 miles down the mountain and made my calls (to answering machines of course, meaning I’ll have to do this again to get the responses).

By the time I got gas, got back to the campsite, changed clothes, got a fire started, etc. it was 7:30 pm.  However, a campfire and an amber liquid are magical in their ability to bring on quick bliss.  I soon had a chicken breast broiling over the wood fire and some yellow rice and collard greens warming on the stove.  Very domestic dontcha think?  As the daylight fades the cicadas begin their chorus in the trees and bats begin their aerobatic maneuvers devouring mosquitoes.  Life is good.  After supper I have a little more of the amber and work on some guitar techniques I’ve been toying with.  Song ideas flow and the fire crackles.  However, before I know it it’s after 10 pm and the mosquitoes are starting to get quite bold in their attacks.  I either need to get out the bug juice or retreat.  Given the hour I elect retreat and settle into the camper for the night surrounded by the sounds of the mountain stream, cicadas and a gentle breeze rustling the leaves.  Not bad, not bad at all.

Tuesday –

Well, still no consistent cell or internet reception so I guess this is a four day journal.  From Stone Mountain I’m headed to the home of my friends Dick and Joyce Adams who have a house on the Golf Course at Mount Mitchell.  Dick has arranged a show for me down at the golf course restaurant Wednesday night and I’m going to spend a couple of nights with them.  I know from past experience that the Navigatrix tends to take me to their house by a tortuous mountain road with sharp switchbacks and steep grades so I’m trying to avoid that.  However, I’m at a disadvantage since I can’t recall which road it is that is so bad.  To out fox the Navigatrix I set her to take me to a town that I think will dissuade her from the mischief of selecting the usual road.  But, she’s smarter than me.  Soon I find myself on Highway 80 approaching Mt. Mitchell from the south, just as always.  The car groans and the trailer shrieks with each hairpin turn and evil grade – truly hell on wheels.  I make it however, tough some worse for the wear.  Sure am glad I’m not playing tonight!

Dick and Joyce’s house is up the mountain from the golf course which sits right on Highway 80.  So, I turn in to make the last hard climb.  There is an abandoned roadway just past the turn down to their house and we plan to park the camper there.  This is not the kind of place that gets much idle traffic or crime (other than a little moonshining and perhaps a bit of poaching) so the trailer will be nice and safe.  One last little tough steep stretch of blacktop and I’m able to pop it in reverse and swing the trailer right into its graveled space on the abandoned road.  Apparently I startled a skunk in the brush with the trailer because the fragrance is strong and unmistakable when I get out to unhitch.  The old Ford is well relieved to be shed of its 6,000 lb. burden and rolls exhausted back down the hill to the house.  Personally, I’m ready for a drink.

And, my host delivers.  Dick is off running an errand, but Joyce is at the ready with a cool glass of nerve tonic – just what the doctor ordered.  Golfers parade past on the 14th fairway, bisected by a nice rocky river, and the 14th green which the house overlooks.  Quite a view from the front porch where Joyce and I sit with our drinks near the hummingbird feeders and her freshly weeded flower garden.  I doesn’t take long before the trauma of Highway 80 inflicted upon me by the mischievous Navigatrix is far in the past.  Dick returns and we sit catching up on all the news, old friends and general BS until its time to consider supper.

The restaurant at the Golf Course, Teo’s, is having a “low country boil” tonight, which means shrimp, crab, sausage, corn, potatoes, etc., all you can eat.  Our appetites sufficiently whetted by our early libations we descend to the restaurant and wait for the starting bell of the feed.  I’ve printed up postcards for the show tomorrow and Joyce goes to work on the crowd making sure they know that they should return to hear me the next night.  We’ve also given a passel of them to the golf course to put on each cart that goes out tomorrow.  We’re working hard because Wednesday is usually a slow night and we want to see if we can’t create a draw.

Soon the food is ready and the crowd flows into the dining room to sit at long tables covered in newspaper a heavily supplied with napkins.  Peeling shrimp and cracking crabs is messy work.  The food comes in waves and we fall on it like ferrets – I’m surprised no one lost a finger!  It’s REALLY good and there is much discussion about the show tomorrow.  We eat ‘til we are near bursting and then repair to the bar for more lies and whiskey.  On the whiskey end I freely acknowledge that I have been over served.  By the time we head back up the mountain I am completely inebriated and quite ready for some horizontal examination of the insides of my eyelids.  And so I say a grateful but abrupt G’nite.  Stay tuned.