Midwest Gypsy

September 4, 2019

I actually wrote the majority of this piece three days ago (Sunday), but between being exhausted from the Labor Day onslaught of campers and making the 100-mile round-trip to Hopkinsville on both of our days off (Monday and Tuesday), I been unable to post. Suffice it to say that Labor Day weekend has come and gone, and everyone who works here is grateful it’s over. By Saturday, the second day of the holiday weekend, Hillman Ferry Campground was a zoo.

All 374 campsites were occupied with at least two campers and usually more That’s a lot of people. A good many of them invited friends to come up and visit, and many of those friends brought brought trailers full of toys of some sort: a boat, jet ski, or golf cart, not to mention another person or more. Accented by children on bikes and skateboards and campers headed to the dump station on their golf carts, hauling their Blue Boys (container used to transport and dump black water), the campground was a constant sea of activity.

In addition to the campers here in the campground are the ones camping in the backcountry of LBL; Demumbers and Nickell Branch are the two nearest to Hillman Ferry. In the time I’ve worked here, I’ve become acquainted with a few of the people who live there year-round; they come to H-F to take showers or buy ice. It was an eye-opener for me to meet people who, by either circumstance or choice, are living primitively (no utilities.) In the Land Between the Lakes, an annual backcountry camping pass is only $30.

While some backcountry campers isolate, some live in tiny clusters where everyone knows everyone, and some of them have regular jobs. There is safety in numbers. They’re living off the grid and on the edge, and yet the Federal law enforcement officials, who make regular rounds throughout LBL, know most every one by name through regular daily rounds of each camping area.

Laura is a sweet woman who camps in the backcountry and she’s recently retired. When I first net her in April, she was recovering from the shock of her trailer being stolen—with her dog, Sadie, inside—one day while she was at work. Miraculously, Sadie was recovered a few days later at the animal shelter in Paducah, but her trailer was never found. I haven’t had the nerve to ask her what she’s living in now, though it could be the minivan she drives.

Given her demeanor, you’d never know that Laura lived in the woods or even that she had any bad luck at all because she is always smiling. Whenever she’d stop at the gatehouse to pay for her shower, we’d talk a little, and over the past few months we’ve become friends.

So, this past Sunday morning when she and Sadie came in to take a shower, instead of paying for it with two dollar bills like she usually did, she showed me a card that said it was valid for 25 showers. Every time it was used, it had to be dated and initialed by someone at the gatehouse.

“So, did you save anything by paying for 25 showers upfront?” I asked her.

“No,” Laura answered.

“And you’re not really saving time since you have to stop here at the gatehouse anyway and get the card signed every time,” I added, trying to think of a reason for having it.

“Yeah…” Laura agreed..and smiled mischievously as she went on, “but it saves me from having to use my pole-dancing money.”

She said it so matter-of-factly that for a split second I seriously wondered if she had taken on a little part-time job and I looked up from signing the shower pass, only to realize she was joking!! Laura’s got a great sense of humor.

We both had a good laugh, and then she and Sadie drove off to take a shower. Afterwards, I couldn’t help but marvel at Laura’s spirit. Here she is, living in the woods in her car with her dog and not much else, but HAPPY on this Sunday morning!

I marveled at Laura’s upbeat attitude in spite of her circumstances. Her spirit lifted mine, which was really dragging by that point. I’m grateful for the blessing she gives me every time I see her, especially given some of the people that filter through here. Especially on a holiday weekend!

We have 54 days left before we leave Kentucky, and during that time we have to not only get Felix ready to travel, but our house ready to sell. Our daughter bought a home of her own, so we finally have to get rid of everything we conveniently left behind two years ago when we became full-time RVers again. A huge tag sale is scheduled for the last of this month, so our work is cut out for us.

I could write a book on the difference between how Dave and I go about “cleaning out.” I’m not looking forward to the next few weeks of purging, but it’s got to be done, and it will get done. I’m sure there’ll be stories to tell, because after all, this is just another chapter of my crazy life and the people in it.

Until then💞

Maria☺️

July 30, 2019

When I last wrote , I said that I’d gotten to the “it-doesn’t-phase-me-anymore stage with critters like chiggers, ticks, ants, and mice. I have finally gotten used to living in the woods.”

Disregard.

This morning around 5 a.m. I walked down our hill to the road leading to the dock where I usually catch sunrise. Even though the chances were slim that there’d even be one today, I wanted to get close to the water. The lake is so still and peaceful in the morning.

It’s still dark at that time of the day and even more so when it’s cloudy, so rather than continue to walk down to the dock, I decided to sit at the picnic table at B67, which was unoccupied and just enjoy the solitude.

I set my coffee cup down and closed my eyes. Early morning sounds, even before the birds start singing, are repetitive and hypnotic. It was easy to meditate a while.

I opened my eyes just in time to see a STRIPED SKUNK amble past me, less than six feet away. Immediately my heart began to race! My just-opened eyes widened and followed it intently, though my head remained fixed. It was hard not to make a sound. I think I may have been paralyzed for a second. 😏

When it left my periphery, I slowly turned my head and watched it walk across the road and disappear into the darkness. I couldn’t believe my reaction. It was a total 180-degrees from only six days ago when I discovered a mouse in the RV at 4 a.m.

It might have been each animal’s rate of movement that was the factor. The mouse—totally surprised by my blood-curdling screams, as was Dave, who tumbled out of bed at the sound—raced under the fridge, into the bathroom, then back out and under the couch. While Dave remained calm and stoic (probably because he’d been rousted out of a deep sleep), I was having a panic attack on the bed, watching the critter race back and forth across the floor. Dave didn’t even flinch when it scampered across his foot, while I nearly passed out at the sight.

At that point, I was morphing into a basket case and I knew I had to get out of the RV. I leashed the pups—who didn’t know what to make of the tiny grey fireball who was running for its life—and left.

While I was gone, Dave had caught the mouse and tossed the little trouble-maker outside after cornering it with a fly swatter and grabbing it with a paper towel. All’s well that ends well, especially after ten minutes of frenzied hysteria.

We’ve caught a few mice inside the RV, which isn’t unusual, all things considered. But Dave’s been away on family matters for a couple of days, and I’ve had to tend to the mousetraps. I find that rubber gloves makes the task doable, though still disgusting.

So I was just kidding myself when I said I had gotten used to living in the woods. Let’s just say I’m getting used to it. There’s never a dull moment.

June 24, 2019

Of all the weekends to have our 10-year-old granddaughter and her two dogs stay with us, it was when three wicked storms barreled through Hillman Ferry with pouring rain and scary high winds. ‘Scary’ because we are surrounded by a lot of very tall trees. Being in a motor home in a storm definitely jacks up my anxiety level.

Rain had threatened almost every day last week, so Friday’s forecast of possible heavy showers wasn’t about to stop campers, many of whom were already jockeying for their 4th of July sites. By mid-afternoon, the only camp sites left were those for tents.

It was early Friday evening when the first round of storms hit and before it was over, all of the power in the campground was out. Trees all over the campground were down. One took out the awning of an RV and trashed a vehicle, but there weren’t any injuries, thank God. By Saturday morning, the staff was told the campground also didn’t have water or sewer.

A nearly full campground with 374 sites and no utilities is not a pretty sight. Bathrooms and showers were locked. The outpost was only open to customers—one at a time—who had exact cash…and even so, the purchased items had to be retrieved by one employee while another stood at the door, not allowing anyone in.

In every sense, it was an emergency situation. No water, no electricity. Hundreds of people. Most were dealing with it as best they could, but there were a few who came close to verbally abusing us who worked at the gatehouse, the only entrance to and exit from the campground.

We didn’t have the answer to their most pressing questions: “When’s the power coming back on?” And “can I get a refund?” In fact, we didn’t have answers to many other questions either, which made working Saturday very frustrating.

More than one person vented their anger by insinuating that we (meaning the forestry service, I guess) should be able to manage a situation as dire as this. I even walked away from one camper who just wouldn’t let it go, and I don’t ordinarily do something like that. I was grateful there wasn’t a bubble above my head filled with what I was thinking and wished I could say.

I love my job, but I couldn’t wait to go home Saturday! All the plans I had with our granddaughter were shelved because all of LBL was shut down. In fact, much of the area surrounding LBL had been affected, some places much worse. We couldn’t even go hiking. So what did we do? We played cards!

I taught her how play solitaire, a game she’d played before on the phone app, but didn’t really understand because the moves are virtually done automatically.

It was pure joy to see her “get it,” to not only see the pattern of red/black/red/black, but to realize when plays could be made. Losing didn’t deter her in the least; she played over and over, the hang of it getting easier and easier.

Sometimes the monotony would be broken with a few rounds of blackjack, which she loved! (Maybe too much?😄) And I also taught her to play 2-player solitaire. Her card shuffling gained finesse, and her basic knowledge of cards expanded. I thought of how my mom—her great-grandmother—was probably smiling down on her from heaven. She was quite a card shark and would’ve gotten a kick out of Maeby.

I was raised playing card games of one kind or another, and I think it’s a life skill everyone can benefit from. Aside from passing the time, with a deck of cards, one can entertain oneself, as well as others. Some people even earn their livelihoods with playing cards, though I’ll not tell my granddaughter about that just yet.

The rain may have ruined other people’s plans, but Maeby and I had a great weekend. I think it’ll be one she’ll remember for a long time. Especially when she sees these:😃

June 14, 2019

A skunk milling around at the base of our hill took me by surprise this morning on my way to the dock to catch sunrise. Ever since I almost stepped on one laying in the grass a couple of weeks ago, I’ve been on the lookout for snakes, and my eyes were focused just a foot or two ahead, not 30. It was only by chance that I happened to look up in time to see something black and white, and I stopped dead in my tracks.

The skunk didn’t, though. It continued coming straight up the hill—and me! I didn’t have to think twice about what to do: It wouldn’t bother me one bit to backtrack and go to the dock another way.

Just as I was about to, I saw that Pepé la P’eew had changed her direction, and that it was safe to continue my original path. At one point I was close enough to snap a photo or two of her, but I thought it better to err on the side of caution and just keep going.

Just the day before, one of the other workampers told me that a camper had reported a family of skunks nesting in between sites 58 and 59, just down the hill from us. All week, I’d seen a dad and his two young daughters tent-camping there in site 59 and, in fact, it was dad who reported the skunks.

I’d seen this family all week, and admired the dad from a distance. What an ambitious endeavor he’d taken on, taking these little kids camping by himself! A couple of times we heard the baby wailing, obviously upset about something, but he’d pick her up and all would be well in no time. From a distance, the older girl looked to be about 6.

Early one unusually cool morning earlier this week I was sitting next to the campfire when I saw them emerge from their tent, dad carrying the little one, and then all pile into his truck and head for the bathroom and shower house Later, I watched him cook meals on the grill while the girls played close by. On a couple of occasions I saw them all headed for the beach to go swimming.

When reporting the skunk sighting, he mentioned that every night he and his daughters watched the skunk family, and that the older girl especially got a kick out of it. I thought to myself that these girls are going to one day have some great memories of camping with their dad, and what a special gift that is.

June 17, 2019

It’s Monday, and we’re off work. My passion for catching sunrise has become an obsession, and I am down by the water every morning now unless it’s raining.

I’d finished all the preliminaries—taking the pups out and feeding them, making coffee, a few of my morning readings—by 5 a.m., so I headed out the door. Sunrise was slated to happen at 5:31. It was still dark.

I was focused on watching where I was walking when my attention turned to something moving about 10 feet away. It was the skunk!!

Fear suddenly overwhelmed me, and again, my first thought was to turn and run, but I was afraid that she’d get frightened and spray me. So I braced myself as best I could, hoped for the best, and kept walking ahead, trying my best to appear unassuming and harmless.

My heart raced and pounded as I passed her by, watching her as much as possible from the corner of my eye. I prayed she wouldn’t get frightened and spray me! When I had a sense that there was a safe distance between us, I was so relieved and felt like I’d really accomplished something.

I’m grateful I don’t have many fearful moments like that very often. It’s scary!But I’m grateful for the things I learned when I did go though times like that.

When I believe something is possible, I find that I can do more than I think I can. It’s refreshing when I meet others who believe this way, too. Just yesterday, I met such a person.

She and her husband had been camping here for a few days and were due to leave. She had come up to the gatehouse to say goodbye with gifts— a box of handcrafted paper corsages that were absolutely beautiful. She wanted those of us working to take one.

Their campsite was next to Tama’s, the workamper I was working with at the time, and the two of them had become fast friends. She was in her 60’s at least, and had been married for only the last four. She had been single and adventurous for most of her life.

Sunday mornings are slow, so the three of us yakked a while, first about where all of us had been—Kalispell and White Fish, Montana—and then about where they were headed next—Natchez Trace and then head west to Yosemite.

It was only when she turned away to leave that I saw that she was missing her right arm. How she pieced together the handmade corsages defied my understanding. Tama saw my surprise and said, “She’s lost her arm when she was 24. Car accident. She said her dad told her then that she could choose to let it kill her or she could choose to live.” Having just talked to her, I knew what her answer had been!

I think fear stops a lot of dreams from becoming reality, and whether you think you can or whether you can’t, you’re right. This makes me recall something I heard something recently that resonated:

If something turns out the way I wanted it to, I learned something. And if it doesn’t turn out the way I wanted it to, I learned something.

I’m grateful for all the opportunities to learn, just from living in the woods. It’s wild!