“I can touch it? Photograph it?” I asked in awe of the journal lying on the table. A journal from 1840 by a canal boat captain.
“Sure, carefully and we only allow pencils here,” replied Mark Bloom, Senior Archives Associate with The University of Akron, Archives and Special Collection.
The smoke curled lazily in the night air as I listened to the lament of a young woman seated next to me. I was comfortably wrapped in a warm blanket and sipping a spiced apple cider. I was not inclined to move.
“I just don’t know why my in-laws like camping so much.” She sighed. I then heard her tale of driving four hours to a campground in West Virginia with a toddler and a new tent. I nodded empathetically as I watched the group of campers mingle at the campground’s Halloween-themed social gathering.
I stepped down from Wilbur the Campervan balancing on my two canes and carrying a plastic garbage bag. I was recovering from a broken leg and the distance to the garbage cans seemed insurmountable. As I stood there considering my dilemma – short drive or long walk – I heard a voice behind me. “May I help you, Ma’am?”
I pulled the heavy blanket tighter as I lay on the picnic table. My eyes were focused on the twinkling stars above me as I watched vigilantly for the predicted meteor shower. The experts said there would be a slight chance of spotting them in my area but I couldn’t resist the possibility of viewing a shower of sparks in the clear night sky.
Hocking Hills State Park is the crown jewel of the Ohio State Park system. Located south of Logan, Ohio this park has experienced a tremendous growth of visitors. On a recent trip to nearby Ohio University, I stopped for a few days to visit the park that my family traveled to every summer.
I pulled my stocking cap down over my ears as the frigid wind blew off the gulf pulling at my full-length downcoat. The beach was empty to the west and the east save for a lone kite soaring offshore. I ambled along keeping a close eye on the dark and heavy clouds along the distant horizon as I noticed the kite growing larger. I watched in amazement as a kiteboarder sped along the surf soaring and flipping in the air. Taking out my phone, I began to film the acrobat as he skimmed the surf spraying me with salt water, and then zipped back out to flip in the air again.
I squinted upward searching the tree’s canopy for a glimpse of the sky. The trees soared above interlocking and blocking the sky. I strolled through the county campgrounds with my shower kit in search of the showers. Perched on the outside of the building were weak solar lights that barely cut the gloom of the day. It was noon. It felt like midnight under that tree canopy.
I squinted against the glare of the bright California sun as I navigated the narrow Oakland street. I was lost. Searching for a Walmart that existed only on my map. Spotting an open parking lot, I pulled over and reassessed. Obviously, I couldn’t find the store and it was getting late in the day. I had been moving since 5 am; the 7-hour flight, taxis, and rental of the small camper all meant I was mentally and physically exhausted. I decided to postpone the shopping and head north like I intended for a week exploring the northern California coast camping on the beach and among the majestic redwoods. If only I could find the highway.
The clear blue sky rolled in front of me as I engaged the pedal assist gears of the e-bike. I moved over the side to accommodate the small tourist tram following the same paved path through the Everglades. In the distance, I spotted a log across the path. The tram slowed and eased into the grass around the log. As I peddled closer my stomach clenched when the log became a large alligator. I was reminded that this is nature’s Florida.