It is early March, and we are now on the Gulf Coast of Alabama – where thousands of Snow Birds are nestled in their oversized RVs, in a campground where you can have the newspaper and coffee delivered right to your site.
Impressions of the Gulf CoastEach area we visit has its own distinct flavor, and each leaves me with a different impression. My observation about the Gulf Coast is that it is all about raging hurricanes, and the destruction that is so apparent - even after nearly six years of attempted repair. For example, all around the outskirts of downtown New Orleans, there are rows and rows of houses that are referred to as “shells”. These structures boast new roofs and repaired windows, but they contain no interior walls, plumbing, or electrical wiring. It is alleged that they can be purchased for a paltry $12,000 – but whether or not the putrid mold and mud has been removed, depends on the previous owner.
We also saw a continuous stream of “for sale” signs posted on vacant lots all along the coastline of cities in MS, like Biloxi and Pascagoula. I find these signs a bit ghoulish – especially when they are posted less than 200 feet from the waterfront, adjacent to a huge cement slab where a house or business once stood. They remind me of the white crosses along roadsides intended to memorialize the death of someone whose life was snuffed out in a car wreck. (I am often glancing to the side of the road looking for them - an action on my part that is surely counterproductive to their intent: “Driving can be dangerous, pay attention to the road!”)
In a way, the “for sale” signs are like the voice of a ghost, beckoning the weary traveler to “sleep here tonight”. Of course, that phrase was offered on a beautiful summer evening - when the sun was setting on a calm blue sea, and the fishermen were returning with their daily catch of Red Snapper. Not the same image as when Katrina slammed into the coastline – with her waves crashing ashore at 28 feet above normal.
I can imagine the unscrupulous real estate agent promising lies such as “Katrina? Never happen again in a million years”, or “No worries, they build ‘em better and safer now”. Many of the signs advertise “For sale by owner” or “Owner financed”. I imagine that is because no serious real estate broker or mortgage lender can honestly look you in the eye and assure you of a safe investment – even at a rock bottom price, less than half what it was before Katrina. The reality is that life is very dangerous along the Gulf Coast – and you best pay attention during the Hurricane season.
I know that there is a story behind every door of every house we see, and I wonder about the stories of terror that survivors of Katrina can tell about their scramble to the attic – ax in hand so they could escape through the roof when the water reached beyond the ceiling of the top floor – and was still rising.
We asked many survivors about their ordeal on August 28, 2005 – when Katrina came pounding in as a category 4 hurricane with winds up to 140 MPH. No one escaped our curiosity. We asked everyone from bar tenders to tour guides: “What was it like to be here?”
Something that struck me in their responses, was that most people recounted their stories about “digging out” and recovering the few household treasures they could find – assuming they could find the house – as if it was an everyday event. I would often stare wide-eyed in disbelief as people ended their terrible stories with a casual “But gee, the winters are warm here and the fishing is great!”
Testimony to the catastrophe of Katrina was everywhere, even in some of the tourist attractions that were advertised in the 2011 edition of the Triple A tour guide. In cases like the Spanish fort built in 1737, the brown National Park Service sign still stands but the entrance to the Fort is now blocked by a 21st century chain link fence. Like so many structures along the Gulf Coast, most of the Fort was battered into a pile of rubble, or was washed out to sea by Katrina.
Another thing that memorializes Katrina, as well as one of her sisters from 1969 (Camille), are high water marks in restaurants and bars. They stand out like a proud badge of honor for the buildings that survived the worst storm to ever hit the coast of America.
To offset the tragedy of hurricanes, the Gulf coast does have its charm – like the Magnolia trees that were in full bloom during our stay. Then there are the steamed crawfish - with a taste that rivals our own Chesapeake Bay blue crab. But thankfully, the amount of finger wrestling you have to do for each morsel of crawfish is a lot less work than the nut cracker and ice pick ballet you have to do for the meat of the blue crab.
On balance, conservative Ray thinks it would be crazy to live anywhere along the waterfront of the Gulf Coast! I believe we should take the business of Mother Nature and her occasional anger far more seriously than we do. We should leave the beauty of the seacoast in dangerous places like Biloxi to the birds and crawfish!
Rambling About the Fun of RVingDuring the past two months, we have endured outdoor temperatures as low as 21 degrees – at which point the water froze in the hose leading into the RV. Our bodies shivered in the early mornings, when the inside temperature hovered around 50 degrees.
In an attempt to avoid the record low temperatures of central Texas, we made two extended visits to Texas State Campgrounds along the beautiful beaches of the Gulf of Mexico, where it is supposed to be warm and sunny. But the temperature at night, even on the coastline, was most often freezing and the winds howled constantly, with gusts of up to 45 MPH rocking the RV. Pelting rain also created huge pools of water right outside our front door step in Corpus Christi, extending to the area where we parked the truck – and beyond. It seemed as if our campsite was the only one that was under water out of the 48 sites in the park.
Despite gloomy weather, nearly every site in every campground we visited was occupied. Maybe it is something to do with the $16 fee (which includes water and electricity, but not sewer), or maybe it is the sound of the pounding surf in the background, or the sight of pelicans making their early morning flights along the coastline. Maybe it is the pleasure of knowing that I don’t have to deal with the tons of snow that my big brother Tony and his wife Lois have removed from their driveway in Medway Massachusetts, not far from the New Hampshire border.
We have now traveled through 21 states and logged well over 20,000 miles on the truck. With military discipline, Deb and I have disconnected and reconnected the Montana RV at 58 campgrounds without a glitch. We have also shared the news with Brian and Holly that we might return to Virginia sometime in June, but that we will probably depart two weeks later to launch another long term RV trip to tour the central states of America – now that we have explored nearly all the perimeter states. We are also serious about becoming Snow Birds at an RV campground in a warm place like Tucson AZ. The RV life really is a very happy sub-culture. Snow birds avoid the winter cold while they are comfortably nestled in first rate campgrounds - where the only early morning noise is the sound of birds chirping – and where we can meet people who enjoy the same lifestyle, including playing Hearts and Euchre! Having the amenities of your favorite hotel suite always with you, no matter where you travel, is the best way to go.
Our wildlife sightings have been spectacular. In a campground in Junction AZ, we enjoyed the early morning sight of a flock of at least 30 turkeys who strolled behind the RV as well as a herd of 20 deer just off to the side of the RV. We looked for the resident armadillo and the silver fox, but we missed them. The sight of 14 white ducks, marching single file in Marine Corps precision through the campground to their pen, was absolutely hilarious. Hopefully you have seen the photos Deb selected for these sightings to include in other sections of our blog.
I cannot recount the joy of RV travel without mentioning the wonderful people we have met all along our route. Americans from all walks of life are simply the best – they are the friendliest and most accommodating people in the world – and they are always willing to help a stranger. When we relocate from one site to the next, we are always excited about what is to come. But at more than one stop we have departed with sadness – knowing it would be fun to spend more time getting to know the fine people we have met. Hopefully, some of you are reading this blog – in which case we want to take the opportunity to thank you for welcoming us to your community and for sharing your wonderful stories - and having the patience to listen to ours. We know that we will meet some of you again, and we look forward to that occasion!
Invest in Wind Power and Sell Your Rural Property
The impressions I formed during the earlier part of our trip still hold true. I am even more convinced that wind power is the best alternative energy source for America’s future. We see windmills everywhere we travel – on the mountain tops, in the cities, and even off the coast line, competing for space with the oil rigs.
They seem to be getting larger and larger. We have seen single blades, hundreds of feet long, being transported on “oversized” truck beds in nearly every state we have visited. Many of the windmills we see look brand new. It is as if they are springing up at night under the cover of darkness. Maybe they are really aliens who LAND at night. When you stand close to one that is in motion, the eerie sound of the air as it flows around the blades certainly sounds alien.
I am trying not to overdo my enthusiasm for wind power, so I will report that as I have seen windmills springing up in every part of the US, I have to admit that we have also seen an occasional solar power complex. But more often than not, they look out of place with the panels gathering dust or the edges torn from high winds. They cover a huge area, and there is always a maze of support vehicles and equipment that surrounds them – always ready to repair the always breaking and corroding parts. In stark contrast, the windmill stands alone, with its simple blades connected to one belt that is connected directly to a generator. How much simpler can it be, than to harness something that costs nothing, and connect it to a belt that connects directly to a generator?
Wind power is our future. Why just last week on the Today Show I watched in fascination and conviction as a guest of the program demonstrated a wind powered turbine designed for the electrical needs of your home! It looked marvelously efficient, requiring only a 12 MPH wind for maximum efficiency. But at over $6,000 for each unit, I am thinking there is a little more research that needs to be done; so stay tuned!
I am also more convinced than ever that America’s rural areas are fast becoming a dead zone. Without industry to encourage workers to live in rural areas, they will become more and more desolate – while our cities will become more and more populated. Rural areas are less and less a place to live, and more and more a place for tourists to visit, or for motorists to pass through as they move from one city to another.
What’s NextSo…. Here we are, already in the eleventh month of our marvelous RV adventure. Everything continues to run as smoothly as the blades of a windmill – from our relationship with each other, to our good health, and to all the mechanical issues involved with towing 12,000 pounds around the entire perimeter of the US. Those are the important things, right? We will keep the blog updated because we both enjoy sharing our adventures with people we love. So, please stay posted, and let me know if you want me to ramble on about some other topic – as long as it is remotely related to the RV life it is fair game! Until next time…..
A fellow camper told us about an eagles nest so we spent the first afternoon trooping through the woods to get a good view. 
It took a second visit to catch a glimpse of the attending eagle.
On our walks around the campground we also saw various geckos.
We could have done without other wildlife encountered—4 deer ticks who found their way to me (and ultimately met their demise at Ray’s hand) and various wasps.
We only left the campground twice: once to visit ? House just 5 minutes away
and the other time to get fuel for the truck. On the way back from fueling we found a small cemetery with fascinating headstones. You'll find a few of them below.
