All tagged Travel
One of the side effects of the Covid-19 pandemic is that domestic travel skyrocketed in 2021. After staying home during all of 2020, people wanted to get out. For the most part, international trips were off the table. So finding campsites on Saturday and Sunday was a never-ending chore for us, one that was often unsuccessful.
Any book by John McPhee promises a great read. In Basin and Range, he explores the geology of the basin and range areas of the southeastern United States. It's been a few years since last reading McPhee's book, but as we drove down from the Sacramento Mountains onto the Tularosa Basin, I realized I was experiencing the title of his book in a personal way.
Getting out of Austin was crazy. Morning traffic, a near-wreck (we got a bird flipped our way), a stop at Starbucks, and stop-and-go for most of an hour- the joy of back roads was not with us early on. But we then cleared the Austin city limits, and we started to roll.
We rolled westward along Louisiana Route 82. Low overcast, driven northward by a wind that carried a fresh odor of the Gulf of Mexico, scudded overhead. The fisherman in me was going crazy- I hadn't touched a rod since I packed them into the car before we left Florida, and the miles of salt marsh we passed provided a lifetime of shallow-water fishing opportunities.
The Gulf was on one side, beautiful oak trees and the Waffle houses were on the other side, and the miles passed by most pleasantly. We came to a sign welcoming us to Louisiana, and the vibe changed immediately. Salt marshes extended off to the south. The fisherman in me started drooling, something that wouldn't stop until we left the state.
The westernmost portion of Gulf Islands National Seashore lies in the city limits of Ocean Springs, Mississippi. The National Park Service runs a campground at this location, and Susan and I found ourselves surrounded by RVs after we pulled the Sienna into our site.
When my high school friends and I were high from beer, pot, or both, one of the topics of conversation was, "If you only had a year left to live, what would you do?" When you're 17 or 18, that topic seems very remote. In May 2019 (long past 18 years old) I was diagnosed with an incurable lung disease called pulmonary fibrosis. Didn't like hearing this, but didn't expect to live forever, either. Susan (best friend and spouse) and I bought tickets to fly to Europe. BAM! Pandemic hits! No Europe until who knows when.
The approaching turkey pecked the ground several times and then raised its red head, causing a long, bristle-brush beard to swing like a pendulum. The sun hung on the horizon, and I mentally prayed this bird would continue its course and pass my disguised location.
What? A week’s fishing in Alaska for $1,000? Impossible… but here’s how. When I was a young man I camped with my grandfather for an entire summer in Alaska, and he taught me to be frugal. Often, he would stop along the highway to pick up a blown innertube or a small plank, prompting my question, “What in the world will you do with that?”
When you’re offshore fishing, the horizon seems untouchable, the vast expanse gives an immediate sense of freedom. I didn’t know another place could duplicate that feeling, until seeing the Prairies of South Dakota.
