. . . a Boar, and, not one mouse in my car, but two!
I headed south later in October than usual due to some medical appointments and after two hurricanes, Helene and Milton. I got to Elizabeth Furnace in Virginia and stayed a week. I fell in love with nearby Strasburg where everyone was so friendly.
Then I drove to South Carolina, undecided which campground to go to. I learned that Parsons Mountain was closed due to hurricane damage. I’m glad I went to Brickhouse because I met Lacey, a nice young woman from North Carolina. Brickhouse was a mess with downed trees and sawdust everywhere. I couldn’t even walk the horse trails because so many large tree trunks were blocking them. Lacey was going back to North Carolina to help restore the artwork damaged by flooding. I headed south after only one night there.
I arrived in Palatka and called Ed, camp host at Hopkins Prairie. He called his boss who gave him the okay to reopen the campground. It was just him and me there for most of the next six weeks. In the first week I saw ten bears, displaced by the storms, some on the dirt roads, some crossing the paved roads, one by the bat house that scared the living daylights out of me. I screamed and it went thrashing into the woods, scared of me.
After the long drive south, my back was in the worst pain ever. I could barely walk when I got out of my car in the morning. Thankfully I had some prednisone on hand which I used to get back on track, in addition to buying a back brace, using hot water bottles constantly along with ice, when I had extra. I finally found a great chiropractor an hour’s drive away.
I left after fourteen days to go to ForeLake Campground, which was just okay. Then back to Hopkins Prairie where I was in bliss with no noisy campers. I wanted to live there on site 21 forever
One night at dusk I was lying back in my car next to the open window with its handmade screen, and heard a sound outside. I sat up, saw a huge bear just feet away. I immediately said, “you need to leave, Mr. Bear” and it somehow managed to get its big butt around the fire pit and picnic table to go into the woods. The next day Ed showed me a video of the same huge bear flattening his tent with his cat inside. Thankfully the cat was okay.
There were a few cold mornings in the thirties and I had vowed not to be cold yet another winter, so after staying at Indian Lake State Forest in Ocala, which had been completely under water and didn’t have its usual white sand, I decided to head four hours south to Panther Pond, where I stayed for fourteen days, left for three and returned for another fourteen days. In between I stayed at Collier Seminole State Park and scouted out the Everglades, Marco Island and Naples. I wanted to know all the campgrounds in the area.
It was so hot on site 7, unlike my usual shadier site 2, that I felt like I was at the equator. I actually had to drive off my site a few hours each afternoon to keep the food in my car cool enough. A few days before Christmas I treated myself to a straw “cowboy” hat at Tractor Supply.
I stayed three nights during the week at Seminole Collier State Park which was about double my usual budget of ten dollars per night. At least I got to charge my computer on the electric site. The primitive section was not too bad. I got to see glamping sites already set up with huge screen houses, beds, bikes, Adirondackchairs for about $200 a night. The royal palm trees were huge, and there is a dredge machine on display.
While at Seminole Collier I had to have blood work so I drove to Marco Island to a Labcorp at a Walgreens. The city was so posh, just like Naples, where I had previously driven to a Sprouts near the ocean, and in both cities, I kept saying to myself: wow, wow, wow when seeing all the opulence, manicured landscaping, fancy houses and shops.
On the day I left Seminole Collier I used my tire pressure unit to inflate my tires causing a fuse to blow, which I assumed because I was unable to charge my phone. I drove to Marco Island thinking I was driving to the same Walgreens I had been to the previous day where a nice local gentleman employee had given me tips on beach access.
However, my GPS sent me to a different Walgreens, where I parked and approached a seasonal local “health walker.” The woman who happened to be from New England was very kind as I explained I needed the name of a trustworthy mechanic, not a shyster. She was so nice and texted her sister, and then her brother-in-law recommended one named Executive Auto Repair. When I arrived, I found myself surrounded by Porsches, Audis and Volvos. I told my story to several mechanics and within an hour my fuse was replaced and I was on my way. NO CHARGE. Thank you!
While at Panther Pond I explored Immokalee with its colorful downtown Mexican buildings, walked through the free Roberts Ranch Museum, ate picnic lunches at Lake Trafford, drove through miles of rural dirt roads at Pepper Ranch Preserve and Dinner Island both with lots of cows. I scouted out parts of Fort Myers and Cape Coral and really liked the little town Labelle.
One night around Thanksgiving while watching the sun set over Panther Pond I met Ian and his partner Henry. Ian had a tripod set up and told me he was a professional photographer and showed me calendars where his nature photos had been published. We really clicked. I told him about Hopkins Prairie. The couple planned to return to Panther Pond from their home in Atlanta at Christmas. Unfortunately, that never panned out and I was at Panther Pond alone because sadly Ivan passed away after a couple heart attacks. I was devastated for his sake, his partner, and selfishly for myself. I camped many nights alone at Panther Pond before Christmas, which was both scary and stunning. I definitely felt Ivan’s presence around me. In some of my photos the clouds above are in the shape of an angel. Rest in peace, dear Ian.
I got to know where all the Sprouts stores were. I was still on a lectin-free diet and needed pasture raised chicken which they carried, and I was addicted to my raw sesame tahini and grain free chapatis for lunch, and my Lily’s chocolate bars, and goat’s milk kefir for breakfast.
On Christmas night I was chatting with George, single dad and disabled veteran. He and his preteen son were fishing at Panther Pond as I was throwing my trash in the dumpster. George told me his son loved snakes and had gotten snake tongs as a Christmas gift. He mentioned never having seen any panthers there. After saying goodbye, I drove to the nearby overflow and hunt camps to see who was camping there in case I had an emergency. I went back to my site 2, facing my car out as I was the only one on the campground. The sun had set and it was twilight as I was getting my sleeping space inside my car ready for the night. Suddenly I saw a tan panther walk past the front of my car. I casually said “Hi, beautiful.” It looked at me and continued along the dirt camping road.
A couple minutes later I saw a panther behind me on my site, appearing to be sniffing at my picnic table where I had earlier prepared shrimp for myself. I was caught off guard, wondering how a panther had squeezed past me and my car. I immediately jumped inside with dirty shoes on my sleeping bag, searching for my phone. I almost got a photo out the rear window as the panther exited my site through a newly cleared path to a thicket beyond.
I continued hurriedly getting ready for sleep when suddenly I saw two panthers on the dirt road in front of my car coming from the direction the first one had. One was chasing the other with a snorting sound, his nose to the butt of the one in front. I managed to get in my car unharmed and by then it was pitch black. I was on the speaker phone with a friend when we both heard a loud snorting scuffling sound just outside my window as if the panthers were fighting but it was too dark to see anything. I started honking my rubber horn, then laid on my car horn and turned on my high beams to get the animals to move on. Each of the two times I got up to use the bathroom I again used my high beams and made a lot of noise. Wow, what an amazing Christmas! Here, I was all alone and what an event to witness. I later learned that there are only about 250 panthers over 250 square miles, so the odds were definitely against me to see so many.
I had not exchanged contact information with George, but he had given me a wonderful zippered imitation alligator-skin pouch he had handmade and his name was on a label inside. I knew the city he lived in so the next day after googling his name I left messages on a few voicemail machines. He was excited to hear my story when we ended up chatting.
I was on a high for weeks, texting my friends and telling other campers and every ranger I happened to run into. I approached the wildlife crew that I learned was trying to catch and tag some panthers due to an illness affecting their gait. Shy person that I am, surprisingly I was not even nervous “giving my presentation” in front of eight people, young and old, uniformed and not, standing next to and sitting atop a tank-like vehicle, the trap. The wife of the man in charge clapped when I finished relating my story. I got confirmation from them that there indeed was a family of panthers in the area, and that what I had witnessed was probably two males fighting over a female, making it likely that I had seen a total of three panthers that night. Other campers had mentioned to me they had previously seen a mother with a baby, so maybe I witnessed a mother “scolding” her “teenager,” as they were the same size.
The reason I hadn’t been frightened upon seeing the first panther was that, ten months prior, another camper on an electric bike had given me a photo of a panther in the same area. I had given away the photo, but coincidentally I ran into Matt at another campground a couple weeks after my sightings and told him my story. He gave me more wildlife photos from his trail camera.
The campground where I re-met Matt was at Reedy Creek Campground in Lake Wales Ridge Forest, near where I would fill my jugs with water. I was camping in the same forest seven miles away at Walk in Water Campground, where I met Jane, the weekend ranger. She was very kind, helpful, and loved her job for two decades and loved camping herself.
On New Year’s Eve I was once again camping alone, this time at Walk in Water, when a guy kept crossing my boundaries and scaring the wits out of me. He was about my age with a high-end camper with all the bells and whistles. First, he marched onto my campsite at dusk, saying that he didn’t want to scare me but scaring me nonetheless with his forwardness. He said he liked my setup. I thought to myself “a four-dollar tablecloth from Walmart? I must have the homey flare!”
He needed help making on-line reservations on his phone. I tried to help, but at some point. I mentioned it was almost sunset and I needed to get my car ready for sleep. His face went angry but he left me alone. Temporarily. At some point he lifted his shirt to show me the gun in his waistband saying it was the brand I should get for myself. After a few interactions with him I was finally inside my car for the night sitting in the driver’s seat when he once again was right there next to my window. When I said “now you’re scaring me” he quipped “I hate it when that happens.”
He finally somehow got the gate code on-line and drove through the campground choosing one of the sites closest to me, shining his headlights in my direction. Needless to say, I didn’t get much sleep for worrying. In the middle of the night, I awoke to the smell of coffee. Not the worst thing, but creepy.
The next morning, I hurried to finish breakfast and left before he awoke, I was a bundle of nerves the entire day, wondering if he would be returning; he had indicated that he would be staying about a week. Late afternoon, I checked to see on reserveamerica.com whether anyone had reserved any sites that night and no one had. But wouldn’t you know, at five o’clock he was back, marching onto my site. This time I was prepared, having a friend on speaker phone. I told the guy, ”Sorry, I’m on the phone.” He left dejectedly, appearing like a lost soul. I slept somewhat better. As I rushed around the next morning to leave, so I wouldn’t have to engage with him, I soon realized he had left already quite early. I told Ranger Jane the next weekend and she looked up his name and realized he had not paid for the second night.
I calmed down somewhat in the next few days, until a thirty-eight-degree morning, as I hiked the nearby trail to warm up after breakfast, bundled up in my parka. Suddenly something large crossed my path directly in front of me. My brain had difficulty processing what I was seeing. Buffalo? Cow? Panther? Bear? None of these, but a huge wild boar with horns. It looked like it was on the warpath. I’m not sure if it saw me out of its peripheral vision but I sure wasn’t going to linger. I had my bear spray in hand and I determinedly turned around and walked back to the campground.
It got very cold at Walk in Water, so I left three days early forfeiting my reservation money and headed east to Vero Beach, then south along Route 1. The only place that wasn’t to be hit with the extreme cold front was southeast Florida, so I decided to drive until I felt warm enough. Despite being midweek there were no available campsites at Jonathan Dickinson State Park, about which I had heard amazing positive reviews for the campground. As I drove through Hobe the homes appeared to be built on sand dunes. Very beautiful.
In Broward County I stopped at a rest area in Pompano Beach at suppertime and called a couple county parks with fifty-dollar-a-night rates and was told I couldn’t sleep in my car, but had to set up a tent. I tried explaining I was a senior citizen, it was just for one night and it would be too cold in my tent. I didn’t want to continue driving two hours to campgrounds I knew of along the Tamiani Trail, and possibly break down in the dark surrounded by alligators in the Everglades. The sign at the rest area near the Department of Transportation with tons of traffic going both north and south, with a huge cell tower and lots of gasoline pumps had signs posted saying three-hour parking limit. Now what?
I went inside where bathrooms and eateries were and spoke with the kind concierge who gave me hotel coupons, and told me not to worry, that I could sleep in the parking lot longer than three hours, no problem. So that’s what I did, with all those bright lights and people walking past my car. It was better than a Walmart parking lot, as it certainly was not a safe area. Earlier I had seen a security guard in a nearby high-end supermarket parking lot. The next morning, I drove to a Sprouts in Fort Lauderdale and there was a security guard making laps in his car. I continued driving as far as Everglades National Park and stayed one night at Long Pine Campground, where the host told me to be careful as there were pythons around. Thankfully I didn’t see any and hope I never do.
The next day I drove through Homestead, so much improved since I had seen the devastation a couple decades ago after Hurricane Andrew. I traveled fifty miles along the Tamiani Trail through the Everglades, nearly driving off the road when seeing the dozens of alligators in the gully along the road and stopped at Burns Lake Campground, but I really wanted to be somewhere I loved for my birthday mid-January, (instead of the usual cold Ocala forest), so I headed back to Panther Pond. My favorite site 2 was unavailable so I chose shadeless site 7.
Finally, at the end of January I was back to my favorite site 2 and my friends Ben and Dave were now also there. I got to see the spotted skunk and sit around campfires. Then there was a cold rainy week, but I wasn’t alone any longer and I could rest easier.
I finally had a good cooler that I spent close to $100 for from Walmart. The first two seasons I used an inexpensive 36-quart Igloo cooler. I’d buy ice every other day and keep it in plastic pitchers so that my food wasn’t swimming in melted ice. I didn’t dare keep meat or dairy for more than a day, and would buy eggs already hard-boiled. The next two years I had a 48-quart Igloo cooler and used the same pitchers of ice. It was difficult to keep the temp below 50 degrees, so I would hard boil a whole dozen eggs as soon as I purchased them.
The fifth season of camping, with the larger cooler, instead of using pitchers of ice cubes, I placed seven-pound bags of ice in clean plastic wastebaskets inside the cooler. I could sometimes go three days without buying new ice. The first year it was easy to find ten-pound bags of ice for relatively cheap. As the years went by, it was exceedingly difficult to find ten-pound bags and stores were charging the same price for seven-pound bags. I probably spent sixty dollars a month on ice. Eventually I planned to buy an electric cooler that could plug into a lighter. I was worried about my old car battery not being sufficient enough.
When mosquitoes became intolerable, I drove from Panther Pond to Lake Wales Ridge Forest, exploring a free campground on the way called Hickory Landing, which was gorgeous, a place I would plan to camp the next year. As I drove in the hot sun I prayed as usual that if I’m meant to break down, as by now my car had close to 255,000 miles on it, please allow it to be a safe place. Not by the side of a busy or isolated road in full sun.
I arrived in Lake Wales Forest a day earlier than my reservation, trying to decide which campground to reserve for one night. I checked out Walk in Water which was too crowded, and the county campground which was an anthill of people. And temporarily pulled into site 1 at Reedy Creek trying to figure out which site to choose for the night, either there or across the street at Livingston Campground. A couple of times my engine made a kkkk sound when I started it up, and I should have paid better attention as in the past I knew that sound meant a bad starter. I could have driven straight to a mechanic’s lot and slept there until they opened first thing Monday.
Instead, the starter stopped working and I was stuck on that site in full sun, but the good news was that it was by now three in the afternoon and within a few hours it would cool down, and I felt safe enough there for overnight though the site smelled of urine and there was a huge log preventing me from driving closer to the picnic table. I texted Matt who gave me Ranger Jane’s phone number, which I didn’t realize was her private number. She answered and was very supportive, giving me suggestions for local mechanics.
The next morning was quite an ordeal figuring out my roadside service, which I had had the foresight to prepare for the previous summer for this exact scenario. My car was slightly off the paved road, but not on sugar sand, which generally precludes a tow truck from venturing out. First a mechanic on call tried to get my car started without a tow, but to no avail. Then I waited another couple of hours for a tow truck. Thankfully, Randy, ranger/pastor stayed with me until help arrived. While we waited, he suggested I move permanently to the area, as the town desperately needed a health food store, giving me contact info for bankers for business loans and suggestions for housing.
The tow truck driver was fun to talk to, currently living in a metal shed on his mother’s property. He loved it better than some apartments and it had air conditioning. He was saving up money to build a log cabin in West Virginia. We arrived at the mechanic Elrod’s in the small town of Frostproof at about noon and by one o’clock my car was fixed, though I was worried about my food and medicine spoiling in the searing sun. Afterwards, I drove to the Chamber of Commerce to get maps and I freaked out when my car vibrated intensely as it sat idling. My friend Patrick talked me through my anxiety on the phone as I slowly drove to the two lakes at either end of downtown while literally sweating from the hot weather.
My dear friends from Indiana were camping all around Florida in January and February. I had met them at Hopkins Prairie several years before and I didn’t see them in 2024 because they had spent their winter vacation time in Alaska. This year we kept in touch as they tried out some of my suggestions for campgrounds in Florida. Eventually, we camped together at Serenova Tract, a free equestrian campground I’d heard good things about but never tried out.
I got there on a Sunday about one in the afternoon, after my GPS sent me to the wrong entrance where the gate code didn’t work, to find the place totally crowded with horses, people, campers and generators. I could have camped in that section but instead drove a little further to the quieter primitive section. It was lovely, but I was not happy about the rope blocking me from driving deeper on the campsite. As a “car camper” with my cooler and other possessions inside I need to have my car close to the picnic table. Instead, I had to park along the dirt road where everyone walked past with their dogs or horses, constantly startling me as I dug around in my car to lug my tent and possessions back to the far away picnic table. I spent a lot of time dousing the nearby fire left over by the weekend campers and planning to sleep in my tent for the first time in a year.
After setting up I walked back to the equestrian campground to find that the horses and almost everyone had left by late afternoon. It was Super Bowl Sunday, and people came onto the site next to me and I didn’t feel like hearing party noise all night, so I decided to sleep in my car after all. Oh well. I stayed on the primitive site until my friends arrived a couple days later. I moved onto their site in the original loop and my time with my friends was very pleasant. They are avid readers like me, and they kindly took me out to lunch right on the gulf water in nearby Hudson. The campground was nice except there was no trash disposal dumpster so I had to sneak my trash into the receptacles at the supermarket across the street or at the car wash down the road.
My nervous system was revved up from the few days dealing with constant interruptions on the primitive section, and traffic noise so I was happy to receive an invitation from a good friend to stay for a week indoors near Cocoa Beach, which I had never explored before, despite having lived nearby in New Smyrna Beach for many years. Jackie and I had fun watching sunrises at the beach on the Atlantic Ocean and riding around in her golf cart and hiking each day at a different preserve each day, including Merritt Island. She had an app on her phone for bird calls and I learned of some new birds. I later downloaded the Cornell Lab Merlin bird app onto my phone.
Ten days later on my two-hour drive from Cocoa Beach to Indian Lake Forest the battery light on my dashboard was flickering. This time I was determined to not break down, so I was proactive in getting the electrical system checked out. It took a week of multiple days at my wonderful mechanic in Silver Springs. Finally, it was discovered that it was my alternator, not the battery, so another expensive repair.
Finally, back at Walk in Water Campground enjoying my favorite site, I met a great guy, a full-time camper, about my age who looked like Bon Jovi with his head of thick hair. He did not own a car or camper, but instead, traveled from campground to campground on a $6000 bicycle, low to the ground, pulling his possessions in crates on a trailer. I asked him where he went in the heat of summer and he told me he camped along the river in Alabama where Core of Engineers campgrounds were. I thought that still seemed too far south to remain cool enough. I hope to run into him again because we discussed videotaping each other’s nomadic experiences for YouTube.
One gorgeous Saturday, I drove to Pinecraft, an Amish community near Sarasota. I went to yard sales, Amish stores and saw many Amish people, some playing shuffleboard, riding large tricycles, socializing outside a coffee shop.
After leaving Walk in Water I checked out some campgrounds close to the Sarasota area. I camped at Myakka State Forest, which I was not happy at, with so many downed trees and loud gunshots. I’ve heard good things about Myakka State Park which is more expensive.
I then stayed at Pioneer Campground, a county campground near the Peace River. I met a young mother who was being extremely cautious with her three curious children near the alligators. Later she approached me, asking if I were a car camper. She was enthralled with my lifestyle. She was facetiming with her dad in Hawaii and she put me on the phone with him, while trying to convince him to try out car camping. She told me about a Facebook group for women car campers.
After most of the cold snaps were over, in early March, Carol Lena arrived at Hopkins Prairie a couple days after me. Her favorite site was 20, next to me in my favorite site 21. Ed, the host, thought the guy on 20 was leaving the next day, so I invited Carol Lena to share my site which was plenty big enough. We got along great. Instead of one night we shared my site for three nights. The only challenge for me was that I got up around six am, she at nine, and I had to remember to be quiet especially as she was in a tent, where of course, one could hear a lot more than when sleeping in a vehicle.
When we finally realized the guy in 20 was staying another week, Carol Lena moved to site 19 to have more privacy to do her writing. She wasn’t so keen on that particular site but readily adapted to its unique qualities. A catbird that “chatted” with her, and the huge live oak directly across the way.
One night I awoke after having a dream that I was pushing a dog off my bed, to thundering footsteps crossing my site. I saw nothing, but blew my horn a couple times. The next morning Carol Lena showed me her tent which had been punctured with bear claws. She said the bear had lunged on the small tent with her inside. Thankfully she was okay.
On Friday I met my childhood friend in artsy downtown Mt. Dora. I hadn’t seen her in about six months and knew I’d soon be heading north. We had a great time as usual, and I returned to Hopkins Prairie to disperse to other friends the many wonderful repurposed gifts she had given me.
On Saturday my friend Jackie wanted to stop at Hopkins Prairie on her way to Ichetucknee Springs, where she, Ben, Dave and I had reservations to camp together the following week. I also learned that John was coming to Hopkins Prairie for the weekend. I hadn’t spoken to him in a year since we had had a disagreement on the phone, so of course I was somewhat nervous about running into him. However, when he appeared near my site we hugged and had a great hike to see the sunset, then a campfire with other friends.
Early on Sunday after the clocks got pushed forward, I drove halfway to Ichetucknee Springs, with the knowledge that storms were approaching. I happened to make a stop at Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings State Park to tour the historical site before crowds came in. I had been there years prior and it was one of my favorite places. I always wish I could live there.
When I returned to my car and checked my phone messages, I learned Ben and Jackie had decided to postpone the trip for a couple days due to the storm. I drove the hour back to Hopkins Prairie, after the sudden appearance of mouse sounds gnawing away in my car.
That night I got little sleep and got up a few times to try to scare the mouse or whatever it was out with lime wedges and garlic bulbs placed in the trunk and glove compartment. I thought I heard a bear in the woods adjacent to my site. What a fiasco with intermittent rain, wind and thunder.
With Jackie’s help the next day I put everything from my trunk onto the ground and into my tents, with my stuff getting wet from lingering showers and wind blowing everything around. Jackie suggested trying to smoke the mouse out so I lit some incense meant to repel mosquitoes. I tore out a lot of the plastic and carpeting around the rear speakers, cleaned the entire trunk and spare tire area with vinegar, got rid of mouse poops. My camp host friend, Ed brought over a metal wire, and camera to try to find the mouse, to no avail. Then he put two traps in my trunk.
After fourteen hours of cleaning, I sat in my car at dusk, trying to figure out where to sleep as it was supposed to get too cold overnight for me to sleep in my tent, but I didn’t feel relaxed sleeping in my car. Then I heard the mouse noise and became hysterical, called my friend Patrick, got out of my car and literally wailed. I went on and on to Patrick, that first thing in the morning I most certainly was going to hire an exterminator. Patrick was amazing, remaining steady, trying to calm me.
Suddenly I heard a loud large animal thrashing in my trunk and I cried out to Patrick that it was bigger than a mouse, sounding like the size of a cat. (I had wondered earlier what with some of the poop sizes and sunflower seeds whether it could be a squirrel.) Then quiet.
I’m not sure at what point I realized one of the traps must have snared a mouse, but Patrick walked me through the process of my opening the trunk, with flashlight in one hand, phone in the other. I was dumbfounded as I didn’t see the trap by the tail light where I was sure Ed had placed it. The only things I had left in the trunk were my 2.5 gallon salad spinner, my laptop and a duffel-like bag of clothes. I finally saw the dead mouse and in its throes of death, while attached to the trap, somehow managed to push the heavy laptop aside, spin fully around the salad spinner and land behind the clothes bag. I felt frightened it was possibly still alive.
Patrick asked if I had any gloves but I was fearful the mouse would bite through the ones I had. Suddenly I declared, “tongs.” I knew somewhere I had campfire tongs, but where were they now? After finding them in one of my tents I had to make the decision what to grip: the trap or the mouse? I decided to grip the trap, then had to decide what to do with the mouse. I couldn’t just whip everything in the woods and likely attract a larger animal. I suddenly said, “the bear bin.” So, I stored the mouse and trap in the metal bear bin for the next 24 hours. I felt so horribly mean that I had had to resort to killing an animal. Ed showed up on my site when I was eating dinner the next day, so I declined to look at the mouse as he threw it into the woods.
Needless to say, I was still convinced there were more mice. I bought some peppermint oil and doused some fabric scraps and placed them in my car in various locations. It took weeks to get past my anxiety.
Ben and Jackie had gone on to Ichetucknee Springs but I was too exhausted to make it, so I ended up forfeiting some money, but my friends seemed to have a good time there. Jackie said I wouldn’t have been happy with the close cell tower, traffic noise, crowds of tourists, and loud saws and blowers cleaning up storm debris.
I stayed another week at Hopkins Prairie, then spent a week at Indian Lake, where the leaves had just sprouted causing more shade than when I had been there the previous month. Unfortunately for my nervous system, there were bulldozers, bobcats, dump trucks right near my site preparing the day-use parking lot to be paved. So, I spent the week leaving the campground daily to visit the World Equestrian Center, Fort King, Shalom Park with its labyrinth and Zen garden. I treated myself to “lingerie” at Walmart despite that store usually being the least quiet place for me.
After Indian Lake I returned to Hopkins Prairie where temps were in the high eighties and there wasn’t much shade on my site due to live oak leaves all falling off and new leaves not due yet for another week or two.
I had reserved Potts Preserve, a free campground, and looked forward to exploring the Inverness area, but for the second time I decided to cancel. I simply did not have the energy to head a little southwest in ninety-degree weather.
One of my teeth was causing pain, I was having pollen allergy symptoms, and the skin on my face was literally burning from the sun. I knew there were wildfires blazing in NC and SC, so had to make the decision whether or not to chance going to Parsons Mountain, where the temps were warm but not too hot for the upcoming week, then getting almost too cold thereafter. If it became too smoky, I would have to continue further north to Virginia and chance being too cold. I lined up dental appointments in Massachusetts and a tentative plan to stay at a friend’s house the last week of April. Despite feeling sad over leaving Hopkins Prairie, it was time to head north.
I camped at Lake Sinclair in Georgia for a couple days. It was very nice, having private wooded sites, some overlooking the lake, and a host, which always made me feel safer. I ran into a few people I had met or seen in the past in Florida. Small world.
Then onto Parsons Mountain Campground, which I liked better than Brickhouse Campground for my South Carolina stop. I had previously fallen in love with the nearby town called Abbeville, this time meeting a lot of women my age who were beekeepers, librarians, herbalists, foodies. I ended up putting my name on the one-year waiting list at an apartment complex there. It was a long drive to buy my healthy foods, over an hour to Sprouts in Augusta, GA, but that wouldn’t stop me from possibly living in the area permanently. My friend, Ben, came to Parsons Mountain this time and he said it was one of his favorite places, as well. We had fun hiking and eating Thai food downtown and once again visiting Cedar Ridge Farms, whose owner, Carol, is an amazing herbalist and has a wonderful little shop, teaches classes and has raised-bed gardens and free running chickens.
After a couple weeks I camped at Sedalia campground on Easter, where I met a friendly African American couple who are Harvest hosts at their nearby home. My friend Janet always stayed at Harvest host places, which could be a winery, another type of business, or someone’s property. It wouldn’t work for me until I own a van or camper, which I have been looking for sporadically over the years.
I headed north to North Creek, where another mouse must have entered my trunk, despite the precautions I had taken. When I arrived at Elizabeth Furnace Campground, I once again had to take everything out of my car, and put it into my tent. I bought mouse traps and peanut butter, and a very nice retired couple with a high-end RV, helped me set the traps. The mouse was dead in my trunk the next morning and I headed on my way further north.
The campgrounds in Pennsylvania and New York are not open until Memorial Day, so I always sleep in a rest area. At four in the morning, still dark, I was reaching for something in the console area and heard a whoosh sound. Then I smelled it. I had unintentionally sprayed bear spray onto my hands and my sleeping bag. I ran to the bathrooms, a little worried about my safety at that hour, and washed my hands and arms thoroughly. I started driving to Massachusetts with my eyes burning, my throat itching causing me to cough. At seven I called a friend and she researched what I should do about my eyes.
It took days to wash the spray off all my bedding and pillows and other items in my car. My life is certainly not boring. Never a dull moment!!!