Communications breakdown

One. That's the number of cell phone towers I've seen here in the mountains of southwestern Virginia. (Leonard tells me that what I was looking at wasn't really a cell tower. I choose to continue my delusional thinking for now.) We knew before arriving at Mt. Rogers that keeping in touch with family and friends during our stay here would be challenging because of the remote, mountainous nature of the place. Little did we know just how challenging it would be. 

In southwestern Virginia, the landline

is a lifeline to the outside world.

For the curious among you, here's a breakdown of our communications capabilities, or, rather, the current lack thereof.

Phone calls:

Remember land lines? Pay phones? We're fast becoming reacquainted with these dinosaurs of electronic connectivity. With cell service requiring “line of sight” access to signals, it's nearly impossible to find a decent cell signal amidst all those lovely Virginia mountaintops and valleys. While our Verizon phones worked well in other rural areas – nobody beats Verizon's coverage area in the U.S. - even the best phone cannot manufacture a cell signal where none exists.

After two weeks spent chasing rumors like, “There was a guy once who said he got his cell phone to work at [insert name of remote hillside lookout here],” we have come to accept the fact that the closest reliable service is 13 miles away at the lone gas station/general store in Whitetop.

Good thing we have a backup system, something we began using while in Costa Rica. Skype, an Internet-based platform that turns our laptops, desktops and tablets into telephones, works really well, provided you have Internet access. This brings me to my next section.

Internet:

This tent serves as a wilderness-style Internet café. It is a 10-minute
walk from the RV and our closest connection.

Apparently “surfing the 'net” isn't a big priority in these parts. A few places provide access, including the above-mentioned gas station/general store as well as the local library. It's a pain in the rump to have to drive 30 miles over a mountain and back just to check e-mail.

Happily, we discovered - after a series of inquiries to people who knew of its existence but weren't sure it was okay to divulge the secret - that our campground does have Internet. The campground is managed by a Forest Service contractor, Cradle of Forestry in America, so router access is restricted to the camp hosts who volunteer for that organization. We seem to have endeared ourselves enough to those folks that they decided to share their secret. (We just can't let any of the non-volunteer campers know about it.)
 

Signal boosters for Wi-Fi and cell phones

can  improve a connection but can't create one.

Before arriving at Mt. Rogers, Leonard and I subscribed to Netflix' streaming service so we could catch up on some of the movies and television series we'd missed out on while living in Costa Rica. (Who knew a show about early 20th-century British aristocracy and their servants could be so funny?) With no Internet in the rig, we've had to go “low tech” on this as well, returning to the old system of DVD mail order. It's better than nothing, especially given that our campground doesn't have cable. This brings me to my last segment for the week.

Television:

Two. That's the number of on-air stations we can get using the TV antenna that came with our rig. (In point of fact, we get a signal for four channels, only two of which are viewable at any given time.) Before you say, “Oh my God, how do you stand it!” know that this is two more channels than anyone else here gets using their antennas.

Most camp hosts here have satellite TV. We decided not to indulge simply because we're not big TV watchers. Even if we had a dish, given the number of trees surrounding our RV site, we probably couldn't pick up a signal for that either.
 

So there you go. The very things that attract some of us to wilderness living – experiencing nature up close, leaving traffic and crowds behind, vibrating at a lower level – sometimes come at a price, that price being limited access to the outside world.
 

I think the benefits of this lifestyle far outweigh the detriments. Besides, if we find we can no longer live with so much isolation, we can always roll on down the road to a circumstance that better suits us. (Wasn't that the point of moving to an RV in the first place?)
 

As for Leonard, well, let's just say he's had a little harder time coping, though it appears he may have taken up a new hobby. Last I saw the man he was headed out the door carrying a roll of aluminum foil and strips of duct tape and muttering...something about making a helmet.

Creeper Crawling

I was beginning to think it might come, a day off from volunteer duties that was also dry. This week, the skies cleared just long enough for us to get out and cross two activities off our “must do while in SW Virginia list.”

The first was a drive up Whitetop Mountain. At an altitude of 5,520 feet, this peak stands as Virginia's second tallest (after the 5,729-foot high Mt. Rogers). Whitetop is sometimes called the “meadow mountain” for the large grassy areas once used by local ranchers and farmers who grazed their stock there during the summer months. These balds offer spectacular views of the communities of Whitetop and Green Cove as well as the mountains of nearby North Carolina and Tennessee.

The second was a bicycle ride down the Virginia Creeper Trail. I say “down” because the route we took, which is the one most tourists here take, is on a slight downhill for the better part of the 17-mile trek from Whitetop Station to Damascus, Virginia. As far as I'm concerned, the ride counts more as an activity than it does exercise or sport, simply because it involves so little exertion. Mind you, the ride does call for a certain amount of effort in order to avoid getting caught in ruts left by the wheels of previous riders in order to stay upright and, thus, not plant one's face on the path. (It happens.)

What makes a ride down the VCT so noteworthy is the fact that it offers a much more intimate glimpse into the beauty that southwestern Virginia has to offer than does, say, a car ride along a highway.

For us, there was also a practical reason for pedaling this path. Leonard and I get a lot of questions from riders departing Whitetop Station for Damascus. Now, when someone asks, “How long does it take?” or “Is there any place to eat along the way?” we can respond with something more informative than shrugging our shoulders and staring down at our shoes.

I'll let the photo journal below do the rest of my talking. Besides, I really should get to work cleaning my shoes.

 

North Carolina's mountains appear in the distance. This photo doesn't do the view from Whitetop Mountain justice.




Balds like the one shown in the foreground served as summer pastureland

for local farmers and ranchers.

This rider shows off his cool new trail bike. Nice wheels!

The road to Damascus features 29 wooden trestles passing over numerous streams.

Don't jump! It's a long way down.



Interpretive panels posted along the VCT educate travelers

about the trail and surrounding forest.



This apple tree was likely planted by a railroad passenger tossing the

spent core of his or her snack to the ground while the train made its

way down the tracks.





Lumber industry practices of the early 20^th century made Virginia's streams hostile to

native species of fish. Today, trout fishing is a favorite activity among locals and tourists alike.



Debris from the old railroad serves as a reminder of the VCT's iron horse roots.

Bicycle shops rent bikes and shuttle riders to the trail head at Whitetop Station.

The VCT attracts and estimated 200,000 tourists annually.

Damascus and other towns that would otherwise have perished for lack of an

economic base survive today because of tourist dollars the VCT attracts.

The pitter-patter of little feet

Forecasters predict the rainiest July in Virginia's recorded history. This past Sunday, I took advantage of a break in the weather by setting out on a power walk. Leonard stayed behind to take the weight set out of Kong's basement (under-carriage storage compartment) for his own workout. Wet or dry, it promised to be another good day.

Exhibit A in the case against Mickey

(or Minnie)

Upon my return, I found Leonard peering intently into the
basement and holding a nearly-new roll of paper towels kept there for the odd outdoor cleanup chore. Its outer sheets had been partly shredded, from the looks of it by something that knew how to use its tiny teeth with gusto. It could mean only one thing. Mice!

This was inevitable. After all, we share the forest with numerous other creatures great and small. It was just a matter of time before something made its way up a water line, electrical connection or some other grounded contact into our living space in search of food and shelter.

Deer mice are common in this part of Virginia. They carry diseases

like Hantavirus and are not to be messed with!

Obviously, we do not want rodents in the rig. Besides carrying disease, mice love to chew and can make short work of anything that might serve as building material for a warm, soft bed. They really love electrical insulation. The damage to an RV can run into the thousands of dollars if a rodent infestation goes unchecked.

Leonard made his discovery probably not more than a day or two after the invasion began, thus greatly improving our odds for preventing harm to any of Kong's critical systems. We have taken up the dual challenges of getting rid of any mice already residing in the rig and discouraging new immigration with great enthusiasm. So, Mickey and Minnie, you stand warned. It's game on!

Getting rid of rodents isn't rocket science. It is, however, an ugly business, one I don't undertake lightly. I took my last bite of dead animal nearly 40 years ago, and while the Western world hasn't considered mice food since Emperor Nero fiddled at that famous Roman barbeque, the thought of killing one, even for what are arguably valid reasons, still bothers me. I wanted to find the quickest, least cruel way of accomplishing the deed. After a bit of research, we headed to the local general store to purchase a handful of Victor spring-loaded traps.

Mice love peanut butter (and who

doesn't?) This trap's ready to spring

into action!

For the uninitiated, these traps work by luring unsuspecting prey with bait then quickly and forcefully snapping shut on the neck of whatever had the misfortune to trip the tension-loaded wire as it nibbled the tasty morsel set out for its dining pleasure.

I prefer this method to poison, which works by slowly desiccating the animal from the inside out. In addition to being more cruel than the spring trap, it leaves open the possibility that the victim will die within a hard-to-reach confine of the home. It takes weeks for the odor of decaying mouse flesh to dissipate, and I'm telling you, you have not lived until you have caught a whiff of rotting rodent corpse!
 

The spaces above a hitch pin make great hiding places for

various other critters, including snakes and birds.

Besides eradication, it is also important to stop further immigration. To that end, Leonard has begun identifying every possible point of entry and blocking those with either steel wool or spray foam insulation. It turns out mice have yet to develop a taste for either, so these materials make good barriers when applied appropriately.

We've already trapped two mice and are waiting to see how many others appear. Oh, if only Leonard weren't allergic to cats....





[Here are a few photos from this week's wanderings around the Mt. Rogers area.]

Lumber was once a major industry in Virginia. By the 1950's, most of the region's trees had been harvested. Today, thanks in large part to the efforts of the U.S. Forest Service, the woodlands have been restored. Christmas tree farms like this dot the landscape and help support the local economy.

 

Thanks to an abundance of rain this spring and summer, coral fungus is thriving in the woods around Mt. Rogers.

This small stream runs through Grindstone Campground. Most mornings, the loudest sound you will hear is the water running over these rocks.

The "Whispering Waters" (above) feed this manmade pool. Campers are invited to wade in the shallow, cool water.

 

Workamping

Whitetop Station, a replica of the original train station that

sat on this spot, serves visitors to the Virginia Creeper Trail.

We first heard about “workamping” at a workshop we attended in Texas last year. The workshop was sponsored by RV-Dreams, an amazing resource for full-time RVers. Howard and Linda Payne, the organization's founders, gave us a glimpse into a world where people work while camping in their recreational vehicles. In that world, “work” applies to employees – from what we've seen thus far, this includes everyone from insurance adjusters to computer programmers - and volunteers alike. Last Sunday, Leonard and I officially entered the ranks of workampers as volunteers for the U.S. Forest Service.

An eager volunteer ready to help the public at Whitetop station.

We'll start at this, the slower of two visitor centers, then move to

Green Cove station about three miles down the line.

For the next four months, we will each devote 20-25 hours per week staffing two visitors centers located along the Virginia Creeper Trail. The VCT is a rails-to-trails project situated within Mt. Rogers National Recreation Area, part of the George Washington-Jefferson National Forest. Nearly 200,000 bicyclists, hikers and horseback riders visit Mt. Rogers annually. Our job is to provide information (general and interpretive) and keep the centers presentable for those venturing past.

We also sell souvenirs, snacks, and other assorted items to benefit The Friends of Mt. Rogers, a non-profit organization established to support the historical interpretation that we and other volunteers offer trail visitors.

These interpretive materials tell the story of the retired

Virginia-Carolina railroad, which operated at Whitetop,

Virginia between 1912 and 1977.

In return for our efforts, the Forest Service allows us to use an RV site with full hookups (water, sewer, 50 amp electrical connection) at no charge for as long as our volunteer assignment lasts. They reimburse us for mileage to-from our work sites. We also receive, courtesy of the Friends of MR, a small stipend for lunch on each day we report for duty.

While it's certainly nice to receive some remuneration, we're not doing this to get rich. We're doing it because we wanted a way to contribute our time and talents for a worthy cause, in this case the continued operation of public lands that might otherwise be unable to remain open in the face of shrinking budgets.

Learning the history and local color is one of the nicer aspects

of our work at Mt. Rogers.

 

So, how did we find this terrific opportunity? Again, credit goes to RV-Dreams, where we learned that the U.S. Government posts announcements about volunteer positions at Volunteer.gov. I used the website's search feature to identify openings fitting our interests, abilities, availability and need for an RV site. I applied via the website's online application form. After an interview and reference check by Mt. Roger's volunteer coordinator, we signed a work agreement and were on our way!



Whitetop Station's mascot du jour takes a well-earned break.

Thanks to Volunteer.gov, not only did Leonard and I manage to snag the Mt. Rogers gig, we've got another one lined up that will allow us to spend mid-November through January at a national park in south Texas. Not a bad place to spend the winter, I'm guessing.

Anyway, we're settled in at our little piece of Mt. Rogers and will remain here through October. It's good that we're planning an extended stay. Fitting Kong into our smaller-than-expected space proved nearly impossible, so we may need the extra time to determine how we're going to get out. Should make for an interesting Halloween.

 




Truckzilla and Kong nestle snuggly in the woods of Grindstone Campground. Because of the narrowness of our space and the variety of fixed, solid objects nearby, Leonard had a tough time parking the trailer. Good thing we've got four months to develop an "exit strategy."



Unseasonably heavy rains have yielded lush pastures and green landscapes. Can't wait to see the Fall colors!

 

The mountains of southwestern Virginia offer breathtaking vistas as well as great hiking, cycling, horseback riding and camping. We'll try to explore as much of the region as we can during our days off.




Rhododendron blossoms dot the forest.

 

If it's Wednesday, this must be Asheville

We settled in last night at a lovely campground in the mountains of Asheville, North Carolina. This is our fourth stop in a week. The RV travel ritual of stop, set up, take down, drive, stop, set up, take down, etc. without more than a couple of days between cycles gets a bit tedious, at least for us. Suffice it to say that Leonard and I both look forward to the luxury of our upcoming longer-term stay in Virginia.

Why weren't Kong's amber lights activated by Truckzilla's turn

signal? Don't you just love a good mystery?

All continues to proceed reasonably well, the exception being our rather exciting discovery that somewhere between Columbia and Cape Girardeau, Missouri the 5th-wheel's turn signals had stopped working. This unfortunate
revelation came during a monster rainstorm that hit Cape Girardeau just before we intended to leave.

After several minutes spent lying under the truck in the mud whilst groping for a loose wire or some other potentially easy-to-fix cause of the problem, Leonard gave up and suggested we
proceed to Paducah, Kentucky sans signals. Our route took us through Kentucky's back roads, so not much traffic, and we arrived sans incident.


Our busted buss - so small,

yet so important

A good night's sleep and a few cups of freshly-brewed coffee later, Leonard resumed his examination of Kong's electrical system.
Aided by an RV technician who just happened to be in the park at the time, Leonard spotted the likely culprit. Turns out our buss was busted! Here's why that meant trouble.

During towing, Kong's exterior lights are connected to Truckzilla so that when the driver brakes or signals a turn, it won't come as a surprise to our fellow travelers. Key to this is something called a signal separator, which allows Truckzilla's red directional signals to flash amber at Kong's rear. Without getting too technical [read: I don't know what the heck I'm talking about here so will gloss over this part], a small breaker box, or "buss" protects the separator from a power surge. For some as-yet unknown reason, that breaker wasn't automatically resetting as designed.



Separation anxiety of a different kind

After a few calls to the manufacturer, a couple of FedEx deliveries, and two extra overnights in lovely Paducah, we were back in business!

For me, this was a lesson not only in RV electronics 101 but also in RV trip planning. Many RVers describe their travel plans as being "etched in Jello." Now I know why. With so many moving parts - literally and figuratively speaking - in play at any given moment, one must learn to expect the unexpected and adjust accordingly.

Before closing, I need to give a "shout out" to the folks at RV's for Less in Knoxville, Tennessee. We spent a couple of days there as RVFL's techs ran through a list of warranty repairs we'd identified.
The dealership's reputation for integrity and solid work is well-earned.

I'm also throwing in a brief photo journal about our stop in Cave City, Kentucky, home of Mammoth Cave National Park and birthplace of my 3rd great-granny Lucinda Jane Smith. Enjoy!

Friday, we complete our 1,200 mile journey to Mt. Rogers National Recreation Area. If you happen to be in the area, stop by and say "hello." We'll leave a (turn) light on for you.

Mammoth Cave is turning "green." Note the solar panels on the roof of this visitors center. There are also a rainwater

capture system that serves the park's non-potable water needs and vehicles powered on liquid propane and electricity.

Mammoth Cave's original entrance. The cave got it's name because it's mammoth, as in really, really big. Of the estimated

1,000 miles of karst tunnels, only about 400 have been surveyed to date.

What Mammoth Cave lacks in natural beauty, it makes up for in history. Miners began working Mammoth Cave in the late 1700's. There was once even a tuberculosis hospital housed inside. The thinking was that TB could be cured by having the inflicted sole breath cool air for long periods of time. It can't.

Nearby Diamond Caverns is really spectacular. This cave got its name when the slave who discovered it reported to his owner that the cave's walls sparkled with diamonds. In fact, they sparkle with water. These stalactites and stalagmites are still growing. Think you'd like to watch that? Think again! It takes 350-500 years to form one cubic inch of mineral deposit.



 

There's a first time for everything

It happened so fast I hardly had time to become nervous. One minute, I was resting comfortably as we cruised down I-70; the next I was behind the wheel towing Kong and thinking, "Oh, my god, I'm doing it!"

My first turn at towing came as a surprise and without prior discussion with my camping partner. In fact, Leonard so nonchalantly suggested that we switch places that I almost missed what he was trying to say.

Watching the "Tow Your 5th Wheel

Trailer Like a Pro" video from RV

RV Education 101 prepped us for

towing.

In retrospect, it's probably better that my life as a towing virgin ended without a lot of forethought. I might otherwise have worked myself into a jittery stupor pondering the tremendous responsibility associated with moving 26,000 pounds (mas o menos) of RV + truck in traffic at 65 mph. Add to that the knowledge that it's your house behind you and one wrong move could trash it, and the prospect can be downright nauseating. Because there wasn't time to think, I can probably best describe how I was feeling using the words of that great philosopher Alfred E. Neuman. "What, me worry?"

After about an hour, I pulled us off the highway and into a truck stop for gas and lunch. In St. Louis traffic, mind you, I'd managed several traffic merges, a construction zone and three turns (to get to the truck stop). We both judged the experience as a successful one.

Why all the hoop-de-doo about my learning to tow? Just go to any RV gathering and ask who tows their rigs. You'll find that the overwhelming majority of raised hands belong to the males in the room. Fact is, most women do not learn to tow (or drive) their RV's.

I knew from the start that not only did I want to tow our 5er for the experience of it, but it just seemed the smart thing to do. After all, what if something happened to Leonard and he couldn't drive? Or, more likely, what if he just wanted a break from driving?

It's not clear to me why women are generally hesitant to take on this challenge. I just know that
my glass-ceiling-braking momma would be proud to know that her girl had stepped up.

Moving KongZilla down the road can be intimidating. Hard to imagine, but many 

RV's out there are even longer than this!

Not to be outdone, Leonard decided to take on another special RV challenge (something I have yet to do). He backed Kong into place. To this point, we've been able to avoid the whole backing-up thing by staying at parks that have pull-through sites. Eventually, that party will come to an end, which makes learning to move in reverse essential.

Lest you think this is not a big deal, imagine this. You're driving an eight-and-a-half foot wide, 55-foot long box using only your side mirrors to gauge progress. You have to push the thing
precisely between the marked lines of a parking space without touching any nearby objects.
Complicating this is the fact that the 5th-wheel's hitch acts like a hinge, so the trailer you're pulling doesn't track with the truck. Rather, it has it's own pivot point. All this going on can deliver a real
antacid-popping experience!

Needless to say, backing up requires both good driving skills and lots of patience. Leonard
executed his first go with the calm of a veteran trucker. Well done!

Cape Girardeau's Red House Interpretive Center is a replica

of the original trading post, owned by Louis Lorimier whose

family played host to Meriwether Lewis in 1803.

Another first for the week: we spent time actually touring the sights at one of our stops. This is news because with our previous camps it seemed we always had a bunch of chores to deal with and really couldn't stop to smell the proverbial roses. Cape Girardeau, our current locale, proved the exception. We spent a good bit of Saturday wandering through the center of this historic, charming and old (by U.S. standards) city.

(If you're even in the area, this place is worth checking out.)







The Red House is full of interesting relics depicting life

on the U.S. frontier in the late 18th/early 19th centuries.

A typical 18th-century garden with herbs to serve the

household's kitchen. (What? No Safeway?)

This replica of the garrison at Fort D was built to preserve the last

of four Civil War sites build to protect Cape Girardeau from

capture by the Confederate Army.

The Cape G garrison, under the command of a young Hiram

Ulysses Grant (a.k.a Ulysses S. Grant) set up painted logs to look

like cannons, making the fort appear better armed than it was.

No doubt, many more firsts lie ahead of us on this adventure, some good, some not-so-good. I guess if it all went smoothly, they wouldn't call it an "adventure," now would they?

Moving on, drying out, and avoiding the black cone of death

We pulled up stakes this past Saturday - after nearly a month in Topeka visiting family and friends - and headed to northeast Missouri for a brief stop to see more family as we progress eastward to our four-month volunteer "job" at Mt. Rogers National Recreation Area.

These moves get a bit easier as Leonard and I become more familiar with the myriad of related tasks, our growing confidence buoyed by our attempt to create a fool-proof, no-way-we-can-forget-anything departure checklist. Using said list, we readied Kong and Truckzilla for Saturday's trek.

All started well, thanks to Leonard who managed to hitch truck to RV in one easy maneuver. This "third time's the charm" occurrence made us feel pretty good about our abilities as novice RVers. Alas, our enthusiasm would soon be, well, dampened.

Kong's water/waste control center

Upon arriving at our new campsite, we began ticking off our fool-proof, no-way-we-can-forget-anything arrival checklist. All was proceeding smoothly until I heard Leonard shout, "Is there water running inside the RV?"

"No," I yelled, secure in the knowledge that when I opened that kitchen faucet to relieve pressure in the water line so Leonard could disconnect us from service in Topeka I surely must have remembered to turn it off. "I'll go check."

Sure enough, when I entered the kitchen, the faucet was wide open leaving both kitchen island and surrounding flooring glistening with water. It seems yours truly indeed had forgotten to turn it off. (Good grief!)

Thankfully, Leonard had shut off the water at the main connection before any real damage could occur to either our home or our senses of humor.

On the bright side, I completed my first solo attempt at draining our black tank - the tank that holds all things that go into the toilet until the tank can be dumped into a proper sewage receptacle. This job, crucial though it may be, is one no RVer relishes, and you definitely won't read about in any RV lifestyle promotional materials. Still, someone's got to do it. This time, that someone was me.

Sewer Solution connection to Kong's
black tank. No "stinky slinky" here!

To understand just how offensive this task can be, it might help for me to explain that the hose linking black tank to sewer is known in the RV world as the "stinky slinky." Slinky, because the tubing is made of corrugated plastic. Stinky, because even the most thorough rinsing won't clear out every bit of waste hidden in its folds. That nasty thing travels in the underbelly of your rig where it can get quite fragrant, especially during hot summer days. Lovely!






Fortunately for us, Leonard discovered another wonderful RV product, the aptly-named Sewer Solution. Its design features a macerating chamber that breaks up waste as it leaves the black
 tank and a hose connection that sends fresh water into the tank to clear out whatever materials don't discharge by gravity. Because the hoses in this system are smooth-sided, no particulate can find refuge.

The result is a much cleaner process with a lower risk of contaminating the surrounding area. (Use your imagination on that one.) Better still is the reduced chance of ending up with that most dreaded of all RV disasters: the "black cone of death." (You can probably work that out for yourself, too.)


Tracking connections can get complicated.
Note the gloves, important in case of a leak.

This day brings us dry carpet, sunny skies, and a move to Columbia, MO. Perhaps it will also provide me with the ability to remember to shut off that darned faucet (fingers crossed).