It’s been a very long time since I added any articles to this blog but I’ve decided to start writing again. Rather than the random philosophical rants I’ve posted in the past, I’ve decided to write about travelling full-time in an RV with my two cats.
This week I started my third annual pilgrimage south. Yes, I’ve become a snowbird. I’ve never quite understood that term, snowbird, as applied to folks who spend their winters somewhere warmer than their usual home base. Wouldn’t it make more sense to call us sun birds or sun seekers? I guess it’s like a nor’ easterly wind. It isn’t blowing towards the northeast, it’s blowing southwest. Guess it could also be called a snowbird wind.
|Skidaway Island State Park, Savannah GA|
I’ve arrived in Savannah, GA. I’m staying for the second time at the most beautiful state park I’ve ever camped in – Skidaway Island State Park. I was lucky to find available one of the best sites in the park. It’s a huge pull-through site, easily a quarter acre, surrounded by palmettos and live oaks bearing Spanish moss. Very private. The cats love it.
It wasn’t so great for the cats the first time we were here. In those days, I had taught Osito to walk on a leash and I was attempting to teach Brindie the same. Brindie, you will recall if you’re an avid reader of this blog (which you aren’t because I don’t have any avid readers) is the stray cat I rescued several years ago at The Woods campground in the Poconos. You’ll find the rescue story here.
I had put a harness and leash on Brindie and thought that we would have a nice little training session outside. Instead, she panicked, flailed around, did back flips and in the chaos I dropped the leash. She took off into the woods still wearing the harness with the leash dragging behind her.
|Brindie and Osito|
She eventually came back around 11:30 that night sans leash and sans harness. The next morning I went around and told the neighbors who had all been on alert and anxious to help. The full account of that mishap is here. Since that time I have become comfortable with letting both cats out on their own if the situation seems safe. The biggest concern is traffic, and not annoying other campers, especially the type that might be inclined to inform the park ranger!
So that was two years ago. Now the cats are fine, it’s me that’s a mess. Monday I felt great. We were on the first day of the journey staying at Kiktopeke State Park at the southern tip of the Delmarva peninsula. I took a short stroll along one of the nature trails that afternoon and returned to the coach to enjoy dinner, some TV and an early night.
The next morning when I stood up, a pain shot through my left leg. It was so intense that I screamed. I was barely able to walk. Somehow I got everything stowed, broke camp and drove to my next destination – the famous tourist trap known as South of the Border. The campground is fine for an overnight stop and it’s not expensive. I pushed on the following day towards my first multi-day destination, Savannah. Fortunately the leg didn’t hurt too much while sitting in the driver’s seat and wasn’t needed for driving.
I finally got to a medical facility yesterday. The doctor said it was my back, not the leg which was causing the pain. He gave me a couple of shots and called in four(!) prescriptions at a nearby Kroger. Still limping and wincing I headed for the supermarket.
I parked as close as possible to the door but resisted the urge to pull into a handicapped space even though I certainly qualified. It would have been just my luck to get a ticket or towed. As luck would have it, someone had left a motorized shopping cart in the space next to me. I thought, what the hell? The next minute I was whizzing down the aisles, terrorizing the able-bodied. Since I had to wait 15 minutes, I went on a joy ride. What a sight I must have been. Unshaven, wearing paint stained shorts and flip flops, and looking like death warmed over. So what better place for a cranky, old cripple to cruise around in? The wine racks, of course!
It’s now Thursday. I feel much better. I can walk a good fifty feet without having to sit down. Still, I had to reluctantly cancel my tour of the Mercer-Williams house, the one made famous in John Berendt’s book Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil. I’m hoping to be enough improved to try tomorrow.