Travels with Sasha Day 12

January 31  

Saturday finds me at McDonald’s by 8:30 a.m. This is not the most comfortable place to work, but I have a seat right near the cashier (or whatever you call them) and she allows me to pass my cord over the low wall and she plugs it in to an outlet at the register so I don’t have to work off the battery. I’m not a McD’s fan, but figure I need to order something. Two hash browns and a medium orange juice will hold me for awhile. Later a coffee is ordered; people have said the coffee is good here and they are right. 

It’s good to have internet access again and I check email and Facebook messages before buckling down to work on the newspaper. The editing comes first and sometimes a writer needs to be contacted for clarification or I message Annette with questions. The day goes on. The To Edit folder empties and the calendar is done. There isn’t anything to add to the docket. My Bradford Neighbor column is last for the day. I order chicken nuggets and fries to again “pay” for allowing me to sit here all day. 

The place is distracting, though. I can’t believe the number of people who come to McDonald’s during the day. Is it just this place or are most McD’s this busy? Sometimes I look out to see if there is a bus as the steady stream enters the door. How horrible to eat this food all the time! I guess McDonald’s never has to worry about going out of business. (A wave of sorrow passes over me as I think about all the mom and pop-local people businesses that cannot get enough customers to make it and yet these huge chains suck all the business out of the areas.)

The work is finished at 4:30 and I head back to Andrea’s. She is out on the back patio with Carol and Rich. I join their lively conversations. What great people! Later, Lance fires up the grill and cooks up chicken while Andrea makes cole slaw and beans. Another good meal with good friends! It doesn’t get any better than this.

 

I am so thankful for this time. Normally, I would be sitting home all alone (well, me ‘n Pele).

 

 

 

 

 

Travels with Sasha Day 11

January 30 

Andrea and Lance take me to Homosassa Springs Wild Life State Park. It’s a nice ride out past Crystal Springs and it feels good to not be doing the driving. We first explore an old sugar mill ruins. I do love gears and wheels.  

We drive over to the park to wander the boardwalks. The birds are amazing! There is even a hippopotamus. Both Andrea and I take lots of photos and they both explain some of the different aspects of this area as this is one of their favorite places to visit. I am intrigued by the  brown pelicans, plus there are storks, egrets, herons, swans, and more. Black vultures are everywhere; overhead in the trees and on the ground. 

What’s great about this place is that some are in cages, some are being rehabilitated (the park takes very good care of its responsibilities), and wild birds also fly in to enjoy the benefits. The flamingos are amazing. I take pictures of all I can: various types of owls, hawks, a bald eagle, and there is a large, wire-topped fenced in area with many smaller water birds. 

The boardwalk meanders around and on the other side are pens with a black bear, Florida panther, and bobcats. All these areas are clean and the animals have plenty of room to move around. They certainly look very well cared-for.  

It’s feeding time at the manatee area, but there are too many people. I don’t care about seeing the creatures being fed anyway, so we continue along and see a pod of wild manatee in the river. Lance explains that the manatees come upriver when the waters in the ocean or gulf get too cold. Unfortunately, there is just enough of a breeze to cause ripples making it impossible to get photos of these gentle giants.  

We follow along the river. There a submersed 180 degree observation room was put in at the end of a small dock just above a hot spring. There are about a dozen steps down and I walk around taking pictures from every window. Hundreds of fish swim around and around because of the warm water bubbling up from the natural spring. I even catch a cormorant diving after the fish. What a sight to see from below the surface as all the fish scatter. They quickly return, though, to swim round and round.

Back up top, a manatee swims by and I am able to get photos. However, by this time, my feet, back, and legs are screaming. We’ve been out here exactly two hours! I hobble back to the Tahoe. Still, this place is amazing and I’m so glad to have come. 

We go to Crackers Bar and Grille in Crystal Springs right on King’s Bay and eat outside. The chairs are really tall and tip easily. Lance has to hold the back of the chair so I can get up into it. The food is very good and big portions. It’s hard to eat it all and I only have a burger and fries. Afterwards I hobble down on the dock to take pictures. It’s so beautiful. 

Lance tells me that the term “crackers” comes from the first cattle farmers in Florida. At the time, the cattle were left by the Spaniards and were wild. The cattle farmers used huge bull whips to drive the critters and it was the loud “crack” of the bullwhip which earned those farmers the name. 

This area of Florida is nothing like the east coast! It’s gorgeous and quiet here. I’m not saying it’s perfect. There are still those who have less than others. Another great aspect is the fresh fruit and vegetables that are available all the time. 

We get back to the house. I know I should go to McDonalds for their internet service. I haven’t even started the week’s work yet. But I’m too tired. I’m just going to have to put in a full day tomorrow. We sit out on the patio until the sun goes down and it gets cold. Andrea and I go to our respective rooms to read. She’s an avid reader and has leant me “The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Society” by Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows. It’s wonderful.

 

Travels with Sasha Day 10

 January 30 

It’s a sleepless night and I’m up by 4:30 a.m. That heater went off and on every ten minutes all night long. (I forgot to put it on fan only.) The packing is done and the truck loaded before 8:30. One biscuit with gravy is wolfed down. I can’t wait to get out of Kingsland, Ga.! 

The temperature is 41 degrees and it’s sunny with a few clouds. I photograph a great blue heron chasing off an egret in the pond beside the hotel and am quickly on I-95S and crossing the St. Mary’s River into Florida a few minutes later. A quick stop is made at the Florida VIC, but I don’t get out. A hotel coupon book is not needed as I will be staying with Andrea and Lance, but I do need to check my notes because I’d forgotten to re-look at Google maps to review the directions to Citrus Springs, Fla. Luckily, I had written the general directions in my little book. 

I-295 is taken around Jacksonville and I-10W is taken from that. The driving isn’t exciting. At least the speed limits are 70 mph for the most part. The scenery along Rte. 301S is beautiful horse country. These farms with pristine fences and huge pastures with beautiful trees are refreshing from the interstate driving. I love this. I wish I could take pictures and visit a farm. 

The driving is good until I reach Gainesville. Gainesville is a big college town. I remember my aunt Margaret went to college here around 1947-48. She wouldn’t recognize it now, I bet. This area has me highly nervous. Stop lights after stoplights and as I’m passing through one, I look to the right and see a Rte. 24 sign. Oops, I was supposed to turn. Thank heaven I notice it before I’m miles down the wrong road. I turn around. 

And still it’s a long time getting through the city (at least it feels a long time). The streets are all numbers with directions: NW 57^th Street, SW 118^th Street. Get me out of here! Will I ever see “real” street signs? The road crosses under I-75. I don’t even know if I’m on the right road as a Rte. 24 sign hasn’t been seen in some time. Did I miss another turn? 

A gas station is pulled into (one at a set of lights in case I need to back track) and the atlas is perused. It looks like I’m headed in the right direction. It’s kind of hard to tell because this area is at the spiral center between the two pages of the book. 

Rte. 41S is finally reached and again, this is horse country and old towns, though still mostly a four-lane highway. I pass through Dunnellon, Citrus Springs, and enter Hernando when I figure I’ve gone too far and pull into a little strip mall to call Andrea. Yep, I’m 10 minutes too far down the road. She says she’ll meet me just off the highway and give landmarks to look for and soon I am following her into the development to her house. 

I really like the style of houses around here. They are not all cookie-cutter shaped. Maybe there are some general styles, but there is character to the homes. Andrea shows me around. I love her art work! If only I could paint like that. It’s impressive! She helps get my things into the guest bedroom and we discuss what to do. Am I tired and want to rest? No, I want to do a little sightseeing… just a little. 

We get in her Tahoe and she shows me around Dunnellon (which is the real town that the Citrus Springs development is in). She also points out a few places that have internet service. (I am too tired to work today.) We stop at Swampy’s for lunch. This was a small restaurant, mostly open and we sat outside right on the banks of the Rainbow River. 

“Food always tastes much better when eaten outside,” Andrea says. “And the views here are amazing.” 

Of course, I agree. How could I not with this scenery? The river has a lazy flow and along its banks are cypress trees with Spanish moss hanging from the limbs. We enjoy a nice leisurely lunch then head back home where I change out of my turtleneck long sleeved shirt. We sit out on the back patio to chat and play with the dogs and are soon joined by Lance and their friend Carol Franzen. (Carol and Rich bought a house and Lance and Andrea are helping with renovations.) 

I learn quickly that, as warm as the days may be, once the sun goes down, it gets cold quickly. Long sleeves are donned by everyone, but we continue to chat and laugh. It’s so good to be relaxed with good friends.

Travels with Sasha Day 9

January 28, 2015 

The weather report this morning at 6:30 says it is 34 degrees here in Charleston, S.C. The packing is finished except the laptop. I go up to the restaurant for one last sunrise. I’m not hungry, not feeling the greatest. I order an English muffin. I don’t even want coffee, just water. The sunrise doesn’t disappoint. 

Photos are imported onto the laptop; another 360. Many are deleted. I keep the camera setting on the running man symbol to catch birds in flight and it’s better for traveling. That means two or three pictures are often taken depending how long the shutter button is held. There are more to go through and I need to do this more often because far too many are kept. 

The hotel is vacated at 8:30 a.m. and Rte. 17S is crossed to catch Rte. 61 back to Magnolia Gardens. The Audubon Swamp Garden had been paid for yesterday and I don’t want to throw the admission away. I stop at Rite Aid for a case of bottled water now that I don’t have to worry about it freezing overnight and Magnolia Gardens is reached at 9 a.m. 

The path is followed to the boardwalk entrance and the pass code put in. The door slowly opens. The boardwalk meanders around tupelos and cypress trees, over swamp water so filled with duck weed that it looks like a solid lime green sheet. Dried cattail grasses bend over adding to the thickness of the area. It’s easy to understand how the old rice fields are filling in. 

The sun is out and I’m walking straight into it. I left my sunglasses in the car. Pictures are taken to later show what I talk about. Various bird calls echo through the trees and across the water offset by someone’s yapping little dog which barked almost the entire time I was there! 

I visit the old plantation cemetery. It looks like they are still finding graves as brush has been recently cleared. There are a lot of little birds, but I can’t get close enough to see what they are. A red-headed woodpecker is up above. I can’t look directly up without my back hurting. 

The rookery is reached and the few trees in the open water have huge nests in them. It’s surprising that nests that large can be supported on thin branches. Four great blue heron are counted. I can’t get over seeing such big birds in those trees. It’s almost comical. 

Wait! What’s that black movement in the water? It’s an alligator. I hadn’t expected to see any because of the cold. Evidently the sun has warmed the water enough for this guy. I wonder if they stay in the open water or if they come over into the duck weed filled sections. The alligator moves to the sunning platform, but doesn’t climb out of the water. (Sunning platforms were built for the ‘gators to give customers a chance to view the creatures and, probably, to keep them from sunning on the dikes where people walk.)  

I continue to follow the paths and boardwalks. This day great herons or ibis are not seen, but there are Canada geese, teal, and other water birds. My back gives me trouble again and by the time I make it back to the car, I’m just barely shuffling along and so intent on getting there that I stop looking around. Arrgh!

I’m back on the road by 10:30 after being at the swamp gardens for an hour and a half. I also realize, as I drive along, that the long straight narrow ridges seen from the road must be old dikes and the low areas on either side were once rice fields. After all, these plantations were once thousands of acres. 

Rte. 17S is soon accessed and after awhile, the traffic thins and the road narrows. Creeks and rivers are crossed. There are places touting wildlife refuges. If I wasn’t hurting, I’d love to visit some of these areas. An hour into the drive, I stop at a place that sells different flavors of cider and buy a peach cider and shortly after that, Rte. 17 merges onto I-95. The Savannah River and the Georgia border are crossed an hour after that and soon I take another break, this one at the Georgia Welcome Center. 

The debate is to spend the night in Jacksonville, Fla., or make a stop in Georgia. I’m looking over discount hotel coupons when an older man asks about my walking stick. He has a really nice one, too – he makes them. He talks about the huckleberry and how it grows counterclockwise around saplings. Other people stop to listen and examine both our sticks. Frank says he’s sold over 1,000 mostly from meeting people on the street. He poses for a picture. 

I pick up a hotel coupon book and spend time trying to decide how far I want to go today.  The decision is made to stay a night in Georgia. I’m going to shoot for a Comfort Suites off exit 3 just before the Florida border. The ad calls it a brand new hotel and that they serve fresh baked cookies every day. 

Georgia is another state with a 70 mph speed limit, but it’s still a drive. I believe the first exit from South Carolina is exit 109 – and I’m going to make it to exit 3? I’m tired and do a lot of wiggling in my seat to keep awake. When the driving is tedious, it’s easy to doze off. Many rivers and creeks are crossed. There are more red buds on trees and signs tempt the traveler to places like wildlife refuges, historical places, islands, beaches, and more.  

Some signs are very high. I don’t understand that. If a driver is looking that high to read the signs how is it possible to watch the road? I drive on and on. 

The Comfort Suites in Kingsland is reached at 2:38 p.m. Cookies aren’t served until 5 p.m. (At dinner time? That’s weird.) The pool is right across the hall from my room and as soon as I get settled, I change into a swim suit and go over. The water is cold, but I still do it swimming back and forth the length of the pool; not that it’s a big pool, but it’s refreshing. My back doesn’t even bother me. 

I return to my room to dry off and change back into street clothes. I find it hard to believe this is a new hotel. At least it has a couch and a more comfortable work space than the Holiday Inn, but the furniture looks worn and a bit abused. I try to order delivery as I’m starving. There are lots of nearby restaurants; one even within walking distance, but there is no way I could walk that distance.  

There’s an ad for a pizza place on the stand with the TV station listings. The phone number, when called, is out of service. Well, that’s not very good guest hospitality. The front desk says I have to look up a number for a pizza place out of the phone book. He is not very accommodating. 

I call Papa John’s. I don’t have a menu (first hotel I’ve stayed that doesn’t have area menus) and have to ask what they have. I order a small cheese pizza and chicken poppers. The pizza is good when it arrives. However, this is the first pizza I’ve ever ordered that comes with a garlic dipping sauce and a jalapeno pepper. Eww. I fill up on a few slices of pizza and don’t eat any chicken.  

The heater in this place is noisy. They are all noisy, but in other places, there is a fan to leave on which makes a constant drone. This place, the heater comes on, then goes off which is a lot of noise, then not. The walls must be really thin because I can almost hear the words from the next room. I watch TV and keep fiddling with the volume to coincide with that heater.

I finally crawl into bed at 9:30, sleep well for a couple of hours, then was very restless the rest of the night.

 

Travels with Sasha Day 8

The hotel is left at 9:30 a.m. for the day’s adventure at Magnolia Gardens and Plantation. This plantation is known for having the first public gardens in the U.S. The day is overcast with the temperature at 42 degrees. The wind makes it feel much colder. 

Gas is purchased at a Kangaroo station at $1.89 gallon and Rte. 61 continues on towards Summerville. The busyness, businesses, and stores eventually give way to a more rural section and the highway narrows to two lanes (my kind of driving). The trip from the hotel is only half an hour.  

This was my favorite place from the 2013 trip. That time was cold, too, but the wind this time has me donning heavy winter coat and gloves. I don’t want to do every tour again and choose the general admission, tram ride, and swamp walk. The tram isn’t until 11, so I wander through the petting zoo until a deer tries to eat the feathers on my walking stick. “Hey, let go!” It is cool to actually pat a deer and have her not be afraid.  

I sit in the front seat of the tram. There’d been a sign stating that people with bad backs shouldn’t ride the tram, but I am willing to risk it. Patrick, the driver, gives me a blanket and it is definitely needed. Any attempts at note taking are a lost cause. I do find out my favorite flower, camellia, is pronounced with a long e and is actually called camellia japonica (also known as the rose of winter). Patrick explains it blooms November to April. Blossoms drop when there’s a frost and new buds will bloom. Unfortunately, there was a frost last week and most the flowers had dropped. I am very disappointed. I was looking forward to seeing these beautiful flowers. 

We drive some of the old dikes between what had been rice fields. Duck weed fills the pond each summer attracting thousands of birds migrating for the winter. There are a few full-timers here. In a few months, the birds eat most of the duck weed. Coots, rails, teal, ducks, Canada geese, and more have easy pickings… when the alligators are dormant and don’t pick them off.  

Only two alligators are seen because it’s an overcast, cold day. Patrick says they mostly hibernate these winter months, though a few will put in an appearance on warm, sunny days. He points out troughs where the ‘gators have moved from one pond to another or from the Ashley River to a pond. We see great blue herons nesting in trees and I also take photos of white ones. 

I head out on the trails after the tram ride. I love the little bridges that cross wet areas and ponds. A path along the river is followed. There are daffodils in bloom and pansies have been planted. I miss the camellia. The river is beautiful with huge live oaks bending over the water with long strands of Spanish moss drooping from the branches. 

The boat ride area is at a crossroads. There are no boat rides in the winter, but the trail looks interesting. A great heron is near the shore and as I’m taking pictures of it, two women coming from the other direction are taking photos of a great blue heron. We stop and chat. They are both transplants from the north and love living in South Carolina. They have a membership here and come once a week to walk. Wow, I’d do that! 

They tell me the trail past the boats is a long way around – a very long way. I decide not to go in that direction and continue on the previous path. I take lots pictures and cross other bridges. The paths wind in and around and along the river, ponds, and various gardens. It’s easy to get turned around.  

Suddenly my back goes into spasm. Owww! What’s with that? And it’s not the side that I pulled the other day. Nor did I make any odd movement. I am just walking. I push on and my back periodically does one of those spasms. An observation tower is reached, but I am hurting too bad to even think about climbing all those stairs. I turn back taking another path and by the time I reach the bamboo garden, it hurts to even walk. I pass many benches pushing myself forward.

I make it back to the ticket booth. There is no way I can do the swamp walk. I have been here four hours. The attendant says I can come back tomorrow to do the swamp walk and I head back to Charleston. The sun had come out and it is warmer.

Rte. 61 is followed back to the city. I took Rte. 61 to Magnolia and figure it would be a straight return. However, when Rte. 171 veers to the left and I stay on 61, I see a sign that says 17N and as 61 goes up and over, I see the hotel off to the left. Uh oh, the directions didn’t say to take 171 on the way back, so when I get to the next set of lights, I pull in to change directions. The bridge is re-crossed, but there’s no access to 17N. Crap, a little further to a set of lights to pull in and turn back around. Hey, this turn comes out on 17 at a set of lights so a left can be taken.

I’m back at the hotel within a few minutes. I hurt, can hardly walk, and am not feeling so well. I hobble inside and take the elevator to the room. There’s not water in the taps. The front desk said there’s a plumbing problem and would be fixed in a couple hours. After a short rest and work on the laptop, it’s time for happy hour and I head for the lounge for more comfy chairs, gorgeous views, and a mai tai which doesn’t need water to make.

Later I have the chicken parmesan with string beans and linguini. I’m stuffed and can’t eat any more half way through. What a waste. I’m sorry.

I can’t wait until morning to import the photos and see how they came out! Some day I want to visit Charleston and the plantations in the spring when more flowers are in bloom. They say March and April are good months... but with the choice between getting out of snowy, cold New Hampshire or waiting until spring is coming...

 

I'm sure glad I'm not home now!

 

 

 

 

Travels with Sasha end of Day 7

The day starts with less pain than Sunday morning. I spend time on the laptop before heading up to breakfast. The waiter of the morning, Shane, talks with me about the ferret, animals getting into homes, and haunted places. Charleston is one of the top haunted cities of the country. There is heavy cloud cover over the city while the sky is clearer higher up. It sun is bright and blinding by the time it tops the dark cloud. Shane goes around pulling down the shades. 

The blog is written after I return to my room and 83 photos are imported into the computer. It takes some time to figure out how to get them to import into the Dropbox cloud and not onto the hard drive, but I think the photos ended up in both. It’s slowing this computer down. I edit a few of the photos and put them on Facebook, respond to a couple of emails then it is time to head off to an adventure.  

Josh is at the front desk. I remember him from the 2013 trip. He remembers me from my walking stick and says he’s the driver today and says it’ll be about 15 minutes and he’ll come get me in the waiting area of the lobby. There I talk with an elderly woman on her way to the hospital. 

The Medical University of South Carolina (MUSC) is a huge place and people come from miles around. The VA Hospital is also nearby. Many people needing outpatient care and families of those with serious issues often stay at the hotel and make use of the free shuttle service. 

The first stop is the hospital where the older lady gets out. Another lady is picked up. At the next stop, the other passengers get out. Josh talks to everyone by first name. This southern hospitality is refreshing and after a short ride, strangers have learned something of one another and we depart with a feeling of camaraderie. 

Josh drops me off at a stop and points out land marks so I can find my way back to the pick-up place. I head off down the street toward the carriage vendors. Almost everyone passing smiles and says hello. I approach the Palmetto Tours ticket booth as Josh had given me a discount coupon. The guy says the next tour is at 1 p.m. It’s just before noon. I don’t want to wait an hour and I certainly don’t want to shop and have to be carrying anything on the tour. 

I cross the street and seek out the carriage company I traveled with in 2013. There are a few people waiting and I recognize the driver from before, Janice. They honor the competitor’s discount coupon. I chat with the ticket lady and Janice and take pictures. I take the front seat and a woman with a 3-year-old daughter sit behind me. (Oh, great, now I have to listen to a kid!) 

Soon we are off. Janet stands up and alternates between guiding Ralph, the big French Percheron, and facing the passengers to explain how the tours work. The horses wear special rubber shoes while working. They also have normal shoes, but the rubber shoes, which look to be an inch thick, help protect the “boys’ ” (this company only has male horses) hooves and joints from the hard surface of the streets. The rubber shoes are removed when the horse is off duty. All the horses get breaks between tours. 

There are five carriage tour companies and the city devised a plan to regulate the tours so there isn’t overcrowding of any particular area or route. Most of these streets also get heavy vehicle traffic and everyone needs to work together.  

So, around the corner, at another corner, is a little ticket house with a bingo machine. The ball that pops up designates the route for that carriage. There are no choices. You get what comes up. That means, should you take another carriage ride, it is possible to get the same route. This system divides the city into three zones, keeps the carriage companies from bunching up in one area, and only 20 carriages are allowed out at a time. Each driver must provide their name and license number, the tour company, and horse’s name to the attendant every time they go out. The carriages also carry little weighted flags and although the horse wears a diaper, if he urinates, the driver drops a flag and calls in “Radiator leak on” such and such a street and a cleanup company goes out to take care of it. 

I couldn’t remember the 2013 route, but not long into this trip, I realize that it is the same. No big deal because it is still enjoyable. Janice explains the old city layout and her stories often have a humorous side. I alternate between taking notes and snapping photos. Sometimes I just hold the camera up and snap away. It’s not easy to manipulate camera, notebook, and pen as the carriage jerks along. 

There are aspects of the city that are beautiful. The little courtyards between homes, some with fancy gates and fences and various vegetation, are gorgeous. Many of the homes look skinny. They are called a Charleston Single House which means they are one room across with porches on either side depending on which way the wind blows. (Allowing the breezes to cool the porches and flow through the house through open windows and doors are important during the hot summers.) The first floor is usually two windows and a door across and three windows across on the upper floors. Some are painted pretty colors, but all must follow particular guidelines. 

This has to do with the 75 Year Rule which dictates that any place 75 years or older cannot be taken down or changed on the outside and nothing can be built higher than the church steeples. Of course, there have been exceptions here and there. Anything can be done on the inside, however. 

A favorite sign read: Please block driveway. Tow truck drivers like your business. 

The tour was enjoyable and for a bit, we followed the Ashley River which is beautiful. By the end of the tour, the sun had gone behind heavy clouds and it was cold. I was glad I’d worn a sweater and coat and had a blanket over my lap. Janice chatted about writing with me for a few minutes after everyone else left then I headed off to check out the market. 

The market is a row of long brick building open on both ends where artisans set up to sell their wares. Some are regulars with the same spots and others are come as they may. I pick up a couple of things for Karen and Evan as a thank you for taking care of Pele and watching the house for me. For myself, I buy a pair of purple leather with fur trim fingerless gloves. (I couldn’t resist the purple.) Many of the vendors are sweet grass basket weavers, but there are also jewelry counters, scarves and fiber arts, food, photos, wood turning, and more. 

I arrive at the pick-up point at 1:50 p.m. I couldn’t quite remember when Josh said he’d be back. I must have just missed him. I don’t dare leave in case he comes. I stand there well over an hour as people come and go on school buses and trolleys. My back and feet hurt so horribly! 

 The shuttle finally shows up at 3:45 and the driver isn’t Josh. The woman is at first grumpy due to her other clients making her late. After awhile she warms up to me and we have a nice chat. We stop at the MUSC and pick up the woman whom I’d talked to earlier. 

I am hungry and quickly drop coat and sweater in the room and head up to happy hour. I get out notebook and pens. Derek brings over a mai tai and I get out notebook and pens. Soon two elderly gents arrive and sit at the table behind me. The clouds over the city are amazing and I take quite a few pictures. Comments are made about where it might be raining. 

 “Look at the rainbow!” Meckie comes running over. I grab the camera again and get up to get different angles.  

“It’s a double rainbow on the left,” someone else calls out. The rainbows disappear into the cloud cover, but what we can see of them is beautiful and they stretch from near the southern tip of the peninsula to past the bridge over the Ashley River. 

I end up turning around and chatting with the two older gentlemen behind me. They tell me about the city and point out landmarks. We have the best conversation! 

It’s time for dinner so I move a few tables down to the restaurant side. Nicole is the waitress. I order the special of roast beef, garlic mashed potato and green beans. It’s delicious. She also works the front desk in the lobby. I’m her only customer so we chat for quite awhile. She explains that although this is a Holiday Inn, it is independently owned and not part of the chain. It’s interesting hearing about the hotel industry and how they have a lot of guests who have appointments at the MUSC or VA Hospitals or have family hospitalized there. 

It’s surprising to hear that many of the guests never venture up to the restaurant. What a shame. Even if someone doesn’t want to enjoy a meal, the views are so amazing and can lend some comfort for those going through a stressful time. 

The evening was so enjoyable. This was the happiest day of travel, yet! The people on this journey have been so friendly and I couldn’t be happier. 

The meal finished, I head back to the room. My back is aching. I check in back home and watch a couple of home shows on TV before crawling into bed.

 

 

 

 

Travels with Sasha morning Day 7

It just dawned on me that I’m doing this backwards. I’ve been blogging in the morning which means I’m actually writing about the day before which is day six when today is day seven. And I’ve been journaling in the afternoon. Backwards, yes, but it’s because I can bring the notebook easier to the lounge/restaurant than the laptop.

When I work on writing the actual book, I’ll have to fix all this. For now, I’ll continue on with yesterday’s doings: 

Yesterday started off rough when I could hardly get out of bed. The pain in my back was excruciating which was surprising as I was comfortable lying down. Sitting up brought a gasp of pain. I could hardly walk and needed the walking stick and putting the other hand out to bed, suitcase, wall, door, etc. I was bent over like a 100-year-old lady. There was something about shifting my weight from lying on my side to being upright with the weight centered.  

But I knew from the past experience that once I was upright for awhile the muscles would relax and settle in to being vertical – the four ibuprofen helped, too. Still, it took awhile (and quite a few tears) before I could get cleaned up and dressed then even consider leaving the room. 

I did make it up to breakfast and a fabulous sunrise where I had some great conversation with staff and other customers. One woman was so impressed when I mentioned I was editor of a local newspaper back home and that I wrote a book. A little later she came up to my table and said she ordered the book from Amazon and asked to have a picture taken with me. Wow! I felt like a celebrity. (Don’t worry, the self-doubts won’t let it go to my head, ha ha.) 

I then went to their table to get photos of them and information. She and her fiancé were visiting her parents who live in Charleston. (I am getting better at talking to people and getting their pictures. Thank you, Gayle Hedrington, for pushing me to be brave and to Annette Vogel, who is helping me be better at writing and interviews.) 

Back in my room it took until noon to finish my weekly newspaper work. By then I needed to move and was able to get my big suitcase down to the laundry room. All the clothes fit into one washer and while that machine was running, I went outside for a walk around the parking lot. 

This hotel sits on the banks of the Ashley River between the north and south bound lanes of Rte. 17. I hobbled to the end of the parking lot to get photos of the bridge crossing the Ashley. Here was a case where there is one angle as seen from the top floor of the hotel, but at ground level, there are scrubby bushes that do not give a clear view.  

This happens often during driving when a nice view is seen, but when I stop and get out of the vehicle, the height difference doesn’t’ give a clear view. There are also times when an even lower view is needed and because of age and body condition, I am no longer able to scooch down, lie down, or get down embankments to get an angle I’d prefer for the photographs. 

I wandered to the left walking along a dirt lane where vehicles sometimes drive and there is some construction debris. What’s that beyond that big puddle? It looks like some kind of animal. I cautiously approached. Did it get hit by a car?  

It had dark brown with a darker face; looked like a ferret or ermine, about 18 inches long. She was curled in a ball. I spoke. “Hey, baby, are you OK?” She just barely opened her eyes. She didn’t pull back or act scared. “You poor thing,” I crooned. I touched her with my stick and she rolled back and I could see her belly. She looked OK. Her breathing was regular. I ran the stick lightly down her back in a pat. She turned around and curled back up in a ball and tucked her head down. Was she just taking a nap in the warm sun? I was concerned that someone might drive over her. Yes, this was at the far end of the parking lot and dirt, so people shouldn’t drive here.  

I continued on my walk and checked the bridge of the south bound lane. The angle was wrong for pictures. Oh, if I could just walk out into the middle of the four lanes, but traffic was heavy. I headed back. The little ermine was still sleeping. I patted her again with my stick and she stretched. I talked to her. I wanted to cry. She seemed OK, but why was she just lying here? I kept talking and watching and patting her a couple times. If my back wasn’t sore, I would have bent over to pat her. She again turned around and curled up for more snoozing. If she was dying, I didn’t want to watch. I walked away with tears in my eyes.

Someone else was using the dryer when I got back inside. A nice young man apologized and said he had to put the machine back on for a longer time. I sat at a computer in the lobby and played spider solitaire until the man told me he was done. I loaded the dryer and figured I had just enough time for the lunch buffet which closed at 2. (Staying at this hotel is not only costly to my budget, but with this restaurant, I tend to eat more.)

A lunch of Salisbury steak, mashed potatoes, and peas and carrots filled me. The clothes weren’t dry when I got back to the laundry room. I hung out waiting. They were still a touch damp so back in my room, I spread things out on the beds and chairs to fully dry. My back was again hurting and I needed to sit. 

I went up to the lounge at 4 p.m. Aaron, the bartender, remembered me and immediately asked if I wanted a mai tai. Yes! I spent the next hour sipping, writing in my journal, and listening to conversations. There was a dark spot near that outhouse where I’d seen the ermine. I focused the camera. It wasn’t moving. I told Aaron about the encounter and he said how he was a softie where animals are concerned.  

A little later I looked and it was moving around. I called Aaron over to see. Others wanted to know what we were looking at and soon there were eight people looking out the windows. The creature wandered in circles like it was looking for something. She eventually moved out of sight as the shadows of evening descended. I can’t stop thinking about that poor little thing. To have her hang around like that… is she somebody’s lost pet? Did someone just leave her? Aaron said he wanted to rescue her. I hope he does. 

(I’m afraid to look this morning.)

I wasn’t really hungry, but when I saw that potato skins were on the happy hour menu, I couldn’t resist. They went well with a second mai tai and glass of water.  

I booked to stay another day here at the Holiday Inn Riverview.