Getting to Florida - Texas to the FL Panhandle

Stage 1: Mt. Pleasant, TX, to Wagon Wheel RV Park, Rayville, LA

Sunday, 18 December 2022

today's route -
the orange line on the upper left that runs into the blue line
that runs into the orange line on the right
(got that?)

Google said today's drive would take about 4 hours, so we left the campground about an hour after sunrise.  It was pleasant to drive through the east Texas pines in the early morning.

I'd been expecting a river to mark the boundary between Texas and Louisiana, and the Sabine River does that farther south.  But in this northern section, there's nothing but a straight surveyor's line for the boundary.  Still, I got welcomed in 2 languages: "Welcome to Louisiana" and "Bienvenue én Louisiane."  For all the French I found in northern Maine and along the border regions of other northern states, Louisiana is the only state that based its system of law on the Napoleonic Code rather than on English law.

At one point during the drive I got really lucky.  I noticed the small car in front of me encounter some serious bumps as it crossed a railroad track, so I slowed way down for it.  Turned out there were big lumps of asphalt next to the tracks, and if I hadn't slowed down I might have lost a major auto part.

I was very low on propane and hadn't wanted to wait until the office at last night's campground opened to get it there.  I found a U-Haul dealer in Shreveport that sold it and stopped there and that worked out fine.

I saw a strange billboard that read: "There are no dangerous weapons, only dangerous people.  Louisiana law helps keep firearms out of the hands of domestic abusers."  And it was sponsored, apparently, by the state attorney general and law enforcement officers.  Online reaction was about as mixed as this message.

Four times I saw police cars parked along the road.  Seemed like a serious effort, though I wasn't sure what precipitated it.

As I passed through the town of Ruston, I noticed both the Methodist and Baptist churches were absolutely huge.  Surprising because Ruston didn't seem very big - and I now know it had 22,166 residents at the 2020 census.  I can't imagine who's supporting those two really super-large churches.

Not far from tonight's campground, I stopped for gas at a Love's truck stop and paid $2.49/gallon.  I really appreciate these lower prices.

The only reason I was able to find tonight's campground was because I'd looked at Google's street view so I could tell where I was supposed to turn, as it wasn't clear on the mapping program.  Later, when I was walking Dexter, I found the campground's sign - a banner - that had come partly detached and was folded over itself.  I don't know why the campground wouldn't have fixed it before now.

This campground was truly weird.  It's owned by an older couple (who are trying to sell it, according to the "for sale" sign at the entrance).  When I made the reservation, the woman told me to call when I got in the vicinity and they'd come check me in.  Which I did, and the husband met me.  They had exactly one space available, because all the others were filled with long-term stays.  That one, that they gave me, was supposed to be "full hook-ups" which I was looking forward to so I could dump my waste tanks after driving all day.  

Instead, the hookups for this space were at the base of the wall of the office and I couldn't reach them because there were big old trees with branches that reached as far down as my RV (and I'd already lost my TV antenna and didn't want to lose anything else), so I couldn't drive very close to the building.  Also there was a line of shrubs on either side of the hookups, a line that broke only enough to sort of gain access to the electricity and water outlets.  

The man wanted me to drive head-in to the area, to put the connections on the correct side of my RV, but I didn't want to do that because then I'd be stuck with trying to back out in the morning without having anyone to help, whereas the man could (and did) help me back in tonight.  But backing in put everything out of my reach except the electricity.  

But when I went over to plug my cord in, I found the electrical box wasn't attached to anything except the power cord; it was lying upside down on the ground propped against the wall.  I couldn't turn it right side up because of the way it was connected, so I didn't dare plug in my surge protector, which needs to be right-side up to stay waterproof and rain was forecast.  I had to take a great leap of faith to plug my RV straight into that box without the surge protection.  Plus, it had a plug only for 50 amp, which meant I had to use an adapter, so I couldn't have used the surge protector even if the box hadn't been upside down.  I never did find the dumpster in this place.  So much for full hook-ups.

Stage 2: Rayville, LA, to Hattiesburg KOA, MS

Monday, 19 December 2022

today's route -
the blue line

The day didn't start out auspiciously: one of the drawer latches decided this was a good day to break, and it was raining before I got on the road.

And it kept raining - often pouring - all day long without even much of a slight let-up.

I saw the Oscar Mayer Weiner car going in the other direction.  If you haven't seen this thing, it's a sight to see, and unmistakable.

Oscar Mayer Weiner Mobile

Today's state boundary was on a river - the mighty Mississippi River.  "Welcome to Mississippi - Birthplace of America's Music."

For some reason I saw a lot of dead deer today.

MS had an unusual take on a common problem: "Y'all STOP Littering."

And then there was this: "Drink and Drive and Yule Be Sorry."  (Christmas is coming up.)

At Jackson, I was a little surprised to see a Sikh Temple.

I stopped for a break at a funeral home, which I at first thought was closed.  But then I saw signs of life inside and went in to ask permission to stop for a bit.  And they almost said no, which surprised me.  But then they agreed to let us stay.  I didn't see that any funeral event was coming up, but we still didn't stay very long, just in case.

I'd planned to bypass the campground and go down the road to the other side of Hattiesburg to a place I'd gotten bbq and some really wonderful side dishes when I was passing through this area during my month in MS.  But it was still absolutely pouring rain and I was tired from driving so many miles in it (well, it was just under 200 miles, but it felt longer because of the heavy rain).  So I decided to stop at the campground, figuring I'd either go later today or tomorrow on my way out of town, depending on the weather.

At my campsite, I tried to fill my freshwater tank, but I couldn't get the water hose to thread onto the spigot; I'd have to kneel down to get the right angle but I didn't want to kneel on the wet ground, and anyway I was trying to balance the umbrella while I was maneuvering, and that wasn't working any better than the hose.  So that was something else I decided to wait and see if the rain would let up for.  (It didn't.)

But the gauge for my water supply showed the tank was pretty much empty.  So I turned off the water pump which meant no water would pump into the toilet and I used the extra supply of water I always carry now in the bathroom for just this kind of water-nonavailability problem, and I didn't wash the dishes tonight.

And with all that, I didn't want to try to dump my tanks either, though I was getting worried.  I called tomorrow night's campground, and it took ages for them to answer the phone, but they assured me that not only did they have a dump station, but also that it was dry and somewhat warm there.

So I had electricity (protected with my surge protector), but I was almost out of water and nearly as full as I dared to get on my waste tanks, and the rain just kept coming.  Dexter hates to walk when there's that much rain.  He doesn't have an umbrella.  With all that, I just found it hard to work up any enthusiasm for doing anything constructive with my evening.  Strange day.

Stage 3: Hattiesburg, MS, to Rocky Bayou State Park, Niceville, FL

Tuesday, 20 December 2022

today's route -
the blue line and the orange line

It was still raining this morning.  I'm sure this is part of that massive storm system that hit much of the rest of the country as snow and ice.  And if that was the choice, I'll stick with the rain.  But it meant I wasn't interested in taking the side trip to get to the bbq place.  I was really sorry to miss it.

Once again we left fairly early (sunrise was hard to see) because Google said the drive would take 4 hours (which meant at least 6 hours for me).

The sign said, "Welcome to Sweet Home Alabama."

A bit of study of Google's favored route through Mobile a few days ago reminded me that it includes a tunnel.  I don't like tunnels much in this RV.  So I decided to follow the route I'd taken on my earlier trip through here, which you can see on the map is marked in blue, with today's orange overlay.  This route took me past historic Africatown and across the New Bay Bridge - a fearsome bridge coming from the other direction but not so bad from this direction.

Fortunately by this point the rain had stopped, or this whole area would have been tough to cope with.

The route put me right back on I-10 just past the tunnel - I saw the entrance/exit when I was waiting to turn onto the highway.  And from there onto the ultra-long bridge across Mobile Bay.  I looked it up: it's 7½ miles long.  But there's not really a sensible alternative, so I just did it.

I always think the Florida state line is just beyond Mobile and am always surprised to find that there're still quite a few miles to go before that point.  This is another state border that follows a river - Perdido Bay and Perdido River.

And then the sign: "Florida Welcomes You."

Florida - my 45th state

A little way past the rest stop at the border I came upon a horrendous 2-car accident that had obviously happened just a couple of minutes before I got there.  There weren't any first responders anywhere in sight, and regular folks were still stopping their cars and hopping out to help.  The 2 vehicles were on the other side of the road, smoke was coming from at least one of them, and wreckage was spread all over.  I didn't want to gawk and besides had to pay attention to the traffic to avoid being involved in a 2nd accident.  But it looked like one of the 2 vehicles was missing its front half and the other one was missing its back half.  I saw someone open the door of that front-intact vehicle to help the driver, but I couldn't tell what was going on with that mutilated 2nd vehicle.  Very unnerving just to see the aftermath, let alone the accident itself.

For about an hour I was driving along Florida's Panhandle and having a hard time staying awake.  I find this section of interstate to be among the most boring in the country (and having driven in west Texas, I know that's saying something).  But I made the turn that took me down to the town of Niceville, and then on to tonight's state park.

I stayed here when I went through Florida almost 5 years ago on my way up to Pennsylvania, and I remembered parts of it very well.  Other parts were completely not in my memory, which seemed odd.  Nonetheless, I found the place to dump my waste tanks, which was the same place to dump my trash, and then I filled my water tank at the campsite and took Dexter for a walk, and we settled in for the night.  Thank goodness for a place that could let me take care of my chores.