We are drenched
September 21, 2009

Chris says the Arctic has permafrost and we have perma-rain, and so it seems. We hie ourselves away from the mountains with our nose pointed eastward to the leveler land toward the coast with great anticipation of seeing the sun.

It has been raining pretty steadily for five nights and five days, still quite a ways to equal Noahadic proportions, but more than enough for me. By telephone, Mom says Hendersonville, right by the RV park we left an hour ago, has flood waters nearly topping autos in places. I am grateful for nothing worse than hooking up this morning while standing in a pool of water with the falling precipitation reduced to a sprinkle for a while.

The incessant rain caused us to defer some activities certainly, but did nothing to diminish the pleasure of time with Mom and Dad. We also got to spend one evening dining out with the four of us plus cousin Will and his wife Charlotte, personable and fun companions. Much to my disappointment, the photo I requested to be taken by a waitress turned out just like last year’s pic of them - unusable. I must get a good photo on our return. That dinner out at Giardini’s was stupendous - everyone’s meal was outstanding - a must return for sure.

We have felt somewhat besieged during this stay. The leakage into the under-the-fridge cupboard once again reared its head and made a monumental mess of the bin’s contents. We had repacked that storage so that little was ruined except for boxes; however, it necessitated unpacking all of it with no place to put it except all over our already skimpy walking space.

This problem has been with us since last summer. The first time we thought it was a result of 11 days of pounding rain received courtesy of Hurricane Ike when we were in Fort Scott, Kansas. Clean up and move on. The next time, we deduced it must have been because of driving in the rain. Clean up and move on. This time, additional investigation via the loan of Dad’s ladder finally revealed the cause - a broken-off gutter spout that was clipped by the car wash mechanism last year in Denver.

At the time, that seemed such a minor matter: we had no idea it was related to our sogginess. Finally, fixes to the refrigerator compartment and the uptop vent not taking care of it, it was discovered by the process of elimination. Three trips to the RV parts place later, a short break in the rain gave us the opportunity to replace the part and eliminate the problem. We weren’t sure it was dry enough or dry long enough to effect the repair, but so far, so good.

Another loan from Mom and Dad - a spiffy ceramic heater/fan facilitated drying out of the soggy area, and plastic bins have replaced the sodden cardboard boxes. Everything is dried and restowed in its place, and our fingers are crossed. And the RV place has ordered our lost hub cover to be picked up when we return. Our lesson is to keep everything replaced and/or repaired at the time of its brokenness, no matter how minor it seems. And I shall purchase one of those tiny mighty heater/fans to carry in the Totee.

We filled the gas tank in South Carolina before departure. It’s standard operating procedure in those parts to bop across the border for fuel, encouraged by a whopping 26 cents differential between the two Carolinas!

Mom and Dad retired to Tryon, North Carolina, the same as his parents. The tiny town (1.8 square miles) is named after William Tryon, governor of North Carolina 1765 to 1771. It is nestled in the foothills of the Great Smoky Mountains. A charming little place, its residents’ homes are nearly invisible behind the trees and slopes and scattered along random winding mountain roads.

Our daily drive there takes us across the Green River Gorge where we are awed by the misty clouds hanging down among the trees. There are other routes that we take sometimes - one is the back road through Saluda following the Pacolet River down its gorge, also an awesome drive. Everywhere we look is natural beauty (and wet).

The vine that ate the South . . .

Unfortunately, this area, as well as many regions we’ve seen since Kentucky, also has the scourge of the South - kudzu vine, that large-leafed incredible grower that was imported for those very attributes, but which is smothering native foliage. It seems unstoppable, appearing as gigantic green living carpets covering all in its path. Bamboo, too, finds this climate ideal and appears as impenetrable forests in places.

John & Melissa, English dancing (or not) . . .

One evening, we were happy to visit our friends John and Melissa at their lovely home. Although both were recovering from colds, they treated us to Melissa’s fabulous chili and cornbread and a fun evening catching up. I’ve never quite forgiven them for moving from Prescott. Their first grandchild was due the day before we were there, but not anxious to make his appearance.

Their many bird feeders attracted purple finches, a life bird for us, among many others.

We intended to enjoy English country dancing with them on Sunday afternoon (John is the dance master), even stayed over a couple of days to do so, but when the time came, I couldn’t make myself go out again in the rain. It didn’t help knowing the trailer was in a flood plain and that the RV park had to be evacuated four years earlier due to flooding.

The getaway . . .

By midday, we are in nearly level country, full sunshine, and the forests have transformed into a much more evergreen, piney nature, probably due to sandier soil. After the past five days in the rainy mountains, it really is a relief to see some blue sky above and farther horizons.

The Tryon area was rife with vegetable and produce crops, as is this land farther east. Produce stands dot the countryside, but in this flatter terrain, we’re seeing additional field crops, even cotton. We began our day with blackberries fresh from the farmer’s field and topped them with cream - yummy!

The Atlantic . . .

A longish drive - about 3 p.m., we maneuver the traffic of Wilmington and locate our KOA home for the next few days. A very nice place, sparsely settled, with excellent accommodations. Set-up’s a breeze as we free the drenched awning to begin its dry-out. Some fiddling around and resting and then we’re off to find a beach, it being illegal to be this close and not put one’s feet into the salt water at the earliest possible moment. We were turned back at our first try: the map didn’t indicate we had to be an owner or guest to go out to that island. Private - humph!

Ahhh, at long last we have made it as far as we can go without a boat. Lovely beaches, great breakers with surfers astride their boards, few people. We walk in the warm water, always a welcome surprise to someone who grew up Pacific-side bracing for the frigid water of the ocean.

On our return stroll, we are treated to a sunset rainbow over the water. Now there’s something you’ll never see over California way.

Home, more relieved relaxing until about midnight when the skies opened up. Chris estimates several inches of rain pounded us in a few hours of much thunder and lightning, so much that I surrendered my life at one point, realizing it was absurd to fear the deafening bolts. Either one was going to zap me or it wasn’t, so I might as well calm down.

Day has dawned (well, not really) without rainfall, but also without sunshine. We will plan non-sunny-requiring activities for the day and hope it goes away.

Arizona, how I miss thee!