Sep 29 2011

Fahren fahren fahren

Remember that 1970s-era Euro-pop tune by Kraftwerk? “Wir fahren fahren fahren auf der Autobahn” (English: We drive drive drive on the motorway) That pretty well sums up the past two days.

We just needed to get the Airstream from the panhandle of Florida to north Texas as expediently as possible, and for that job there’s nothing like a nice boring Interstate highway. Load the snacks, the podcasts, and some books and and the Gameboy for Emma — we’re going to check out half a dozen Interstate rest areas along I-10, I-49, and I-20! Woo-hoo!

After an unremarkable overnight in Alexandria LA, where the height of excitement was discovering that we had accidentally spent the night parked next to a sign that said “NO OVERNIGHT PARKING,” we plowed up through Louisiana and across north Texas into the dark heart of the Dallas/Ft Worth metroplex. The Louisiana roads were fine, quiet and even a bit scenic, but I do not enjoy the D/FW traffic nightmare when towing. We encountered about 40 miles of construction zones (narrow lanes, signs missing, Jersey barriers) and the usual maniacal drivers making high-speed radical drifts across three lanes right in front of us while texting.

Twice we were forced off the road by a combination of “Exit Only” lanes that weren’t marked in the construction zones and drivers who would absolutely not let us enter “their” lanes. At one point I decided to assert the mighty power of a 48-foot rig and almost literally crushed a small econobox that was being obnoxious. He got the message. But most of the time we played nice and tried to be steady and smooth as much as the twisting and crazy construction zones would let us.

We survived D/FW once again and eventually emerged on the northwest side near Decatur. We are now parked at Paul Mayeux’s home, where he is running his own 2-man Airstream service center. Long-time readers will recall that last April I left our Caravel here for repairs and never got back to pick it up. So now we have two Airstreams here at Paul’s, 900 miles from home.

Our primary reason for coming here was to get a new air conditioner installed. We’re going with a 15K BTU model (high capacity than the 13.5K model it is replacing). We’re skipping the expensive dual AC/heat pump unit because we hardly ever used the heat pump and we have two other sources of heat anyway (furnace and catalytic heater). That saves about $450. Paul and Denver (who used to work on our Airstream when Roger Williams Airstream in nearby Weatherford was in business) will install the AC on Friday.

It always seems that when we get to a service center we find a bunch more things to fix or check. During our last two days of roadtrip we’ve noticed that the refrigerator has climbed up to 52 degrees during the day. That’s very bad, because it could indicate a failing cooling unit, which is very expensive. The fridge has been running on gas during this time, so Paul checked the gas pressure with a manometer first and found that our pressure was below spec. We adjusted the regulator and left the fridge running in a test mode (basically at top cooling capacity) all night to see if it would cool down. This morning it is showing 42 degrees, which is better but not yet good enough.

Since it was packed full of food (thermal mass), it may be that a few more hours are needed to reach optimal temp (somewhere in the low 30s). These gas absorption-type refrigerators are very slow to remove heat relative to your home refrigerator that uses an electric compressor. That’s why you have to start them the day before you go on a trip. Today we are expecting highs in the upper 90s, so it’s a good test day. If the fridge continues to cool, we’re fine, but if not, we’ll have to dig a little deeper to find the root cause.

We’ve also noticed that the bathroom vent fan seems to drip a little in the rain even when closed. It probably has a crack in the plastic, so we’re anticipating replacing it on Friday as well. That’s not a major job.

Parked next to us is a Canadian couple in an Argosy who are here for installation of solar panels, Marvin and Annie. We’ve met before, way back in 2005 when Project Vintage Thunder was first displayed (unpainted and incomplete) at the Florida State Rally in Sarasota. They remembered us and Vintage Thunder. So it’s like being in a little campground here at the shop.

The best news we’ve had so far is that nights up here are cooling down nicely. We’re getting 65 degrees by daybreak, and the humidity is low, so even without AC at the moment it’s very comfortable. We finally used a blanket on the bed last night. And added to that, we zipped up to Decatur last night and got our first Texas barbecue dinner of this trip, which is always something that makes us all happy. I don’t know why, I guess it’s just a tradition now. Memories of other great trips.

Sep 28 2011

Showering with tree frogs

Life in Florida is very colorful. The brilliant white sands of the panhandle make a perfect backdrop to emphasize the vibrancy and exotic aura of the subtropical things that live there. And of course, when camping you are close to the earth, facing nature at almost every step, rather than being insulated from it by man-made structures (hotel rooms, concrete walkways, swimming pools). On our last day we started to count up the colorful things we had encountered — for good or for ill.

Item #1: Emma took a break from homeschooling on Monday afternoon to visit the beach one last time. The waves were still moderate, but at little higher than on the previous calm days. The red-fringed jellies we had noted earlier seemed to be absent, but while splashing around she got stung by jellyfish tentacles and in that moment discovered just how much that can hurt.

We never saw the jellyfish that did the deed, and fortunately Emma got only a glancing swipe that left three 2-3″ marks on her leg — enough to get her attention (she likened it to a bee sting), but not enough to do any serious damage.

Item #2: In the campground shower we’ve noticed a few peeping Toms, or to be accurate peeping Green Tree Frogs. They sit up above the showers on a shelf, or stick to the walls with their three-toed suction cup feet, and just silently stare at you while you are showering. They’re sort of cute, benign little companions, and we favored their participation in the shower since (we theorized) it helped hold down the mosquito population.

Item #3: Right across the bay is the Naval Air Station where the famous Blue Angels are based. If you are camped here during the week there’s a good chance you’ll see them practicing overhead. We got a free air show on Tuesday morning while packing up to depart. If you aren’t a fan of jets streaking overhead and nearby, you might want to consider someplace else, or find a week when the Blue Angels are doing a show away from home.

Personally, when I hear military jets practicing I’m reminded of the comment I heard in England from an old guy who remembered the Blitz during WW II. A British jet tore by, making an enormous racket, and I said something like, “Wow, that’s loud.” The old guy smiled and said, “That’s the sound of freedom.”

So that’s green tree frogs in the shower, red jellies in the water, and blue angels flying overhead. Florida was a magical place even before Walt made it official.

With Pensacola behind us, we’re obligated to make some miles now. Our goal is near Ft Worth, where we have arranged to have a new air conditioner installed on Friday. So for Tuesday it was drive-drive-drive, with only one significant stop, at the new “Airstream of Mississippi” dealership in Gulfport MS. We parked the Airstream in their lot next to inventory of about a dozen new Airstreams, and met president Rick Foley and sales rep Gillis Leger. Both of them are great guys, very friendly. Gillis and I bonded a little when he learned I was an LSU grad, since he’s from Baton Rouge.

Being new, they haven’t gotten full up and running for service (otherwise we’d have had the new AC installed there) but it’s obvious that Rick means to have a top-notch Airstream dealership. Once they are fully ready, I expect we’ll see Airstream of Mississippi in the pages of Airstream Life.

We made it Alexandria LA on Tuesday (417 miles) and spent the night tolerably well given that the daytime high here was 94 degrees. You can do amazing things with three vent fans. Still, it will be nice to have our air conditioner fixed soon. Since the forecast along our route is for temperatures in the mid-90s, we’ll spend today in the air conditioned car and stop only after the heat has begun to abate.

Sep 26 2011

Nothing to do … isn’t that great?

I deliberately booked four nights here at Ft Pickens State Park so that we’d have time on our hands to do nothing. A two or three-night visit is always busy; setting up, seeing the local sites, running an errand, making dinner, etc., until the final tear down, which always comes too soon. With four nights I knew we’d have time to visit the downtown, spread out, see most of the state park, and visit the beach … and then have another day with “nothing special” planned. That’s today.

It would be better if today weren’t Monday — the day my phone is most likely to ring and the day I receive the most emails — but the people who really might need to reach me all know better than to expect an immediate response. My motto has always been that there are few true emergencies in a quarterly magazine schedule. Whatever it is, it can wait until Tuesday, when I’ll have lots of time in the car as we tow the Airstream westward along I-10.

Sunday was our day to visit Fort Pickens, which is only a mile from the campground and technically part of the Gulf Islands National Seashore rather than the state park. I think I was last here in 1983, as a senior in college. Pensacola was one of my favorite hangouts, four hours drive from Baton Rouge in my heavy old hand-me-down 1977 Camaro. I loved coming down here and seeing the dazzling white sands and the long empty stretches of dune covered with sea oats, along Santa Rosa Island.

The island has of course changed with the tropical storms and hurricanes that stretch and replenish the island, but Fort Pickens is still the same as I remember. It was fun to show it to Emma and Eleanor, with the ghostly dark passages and dramatic brick arches.

The interpretive museum adjacent to Fort Pickens is currently empty, having been devastated by Hurricane Ike, and so all we saw there was a 25-minute video and the historical buildings that now house the park staff. Nearby on the bay side is a small fishing pier, and further along toward the west end of the island is apparently a popular diving spot. We saw families surf fishing, people zipped past on jetskis and in larger boats, aircraft practicing approaches from the Naval Air Station across the bay, and schools of fish jumping all at once. Yes, it was hot (86 degrees) and humid (don’t ask), but I can see why many people pay the $8 entry free to the National Seashore — there’s so much to do, and the park is beautiful.

More than once we were asked by someone where we came from. To keep things simple, we usually just say “Arizona,” rather than try to explain the complexities of our current tour. Then they say, “Oh, well you’re used to this heat!” or “So this is nothing to you!” I guess they think that Arizonans don’t feel the heat. We do; It’s just that we don’t stand around in the direct sun for long when it’s 108 degrees, even if it is only 6% humidity. Since we were out walking in the sun most of the day, we had broken out the same gear (clothing & sunscreen) that we’d wear in Tucson in June. When it came time for our picnic lunch, we chose a fine spot in the shade of a grove of Live Oak trees.

Afternoons like this were made for the beach, or perhaps the quartz-white sand of Florida’s panhandle were made for hot days. The sand never gets too hot for bare feet, and it squeaks as you walk on it. The water was crystal clear and bathtub-warm. The water’s edge at first seems sterile, with few shells to collect, but when Emma and I waded out we made some little fish friends, who circled us curiously and seemed to be wondering if we might be carrying a bit of seaweed that they could nibble off. Tiny schools of fish wandered by, and there were occasionally clear jellies with pinkish edges floating by (all dead for reasons unknown to us) many of which were hosting cute little scavenger fish taking their lunch from the tentacles. We were three of perhaps 20 people spread out over a half-mile of beach. There was nothing to do but make sand castles and play in the water …

Having learned from prior nights, we wrapped up at the beach an hour before sunset so that we never saw a mosquito. That left plenty of time to rinse off in the campground showers and enjoy a moment of coolness. We were lucky last night; our neighbors’ charcoal fire was carried off in a different direction by the wind, so we finally got that blissful evening of fresh breezes in the trailer while Eleanor made a fine dinner for all.

That brings us to today, the Monday that we will pretend is Sunday, part 2. We have no plans. We may go somewhere, we may not. Looking ahead on the travel schedule I see many long days of driving and absolutely no beach time, so this is our last chance to soak up la dolce far niente and we will make the most of it, or perhaps more accurately, the least of it.

Sep 24 2011

Ft Pickens State Park, Pensacola, FL

We arrived in Pensacola to a light rain, which is always a drag when you’ve got to set up camp and even worse when there’s a a tricky back-in to the campsite. A few mosquitoes add zest to the whole procedure, since someone (Eleanor) has to be out there to guide the trailer in while someone else (Rich) sits in air conditioned comfort to turn the power steering wheel.

My experience is that if you have to set up camp in the rain, the rain usually stops right after all the work is done. This is exactly what happened last night. But at least we were rewarded with the first great sunset of our visit to Florida and a rainbow over the Airstream.

We are near the tip of a long (25 miles or so) and narrow barrier island. Our elevation is approximately three feet above sea level, and due to the narrowness of the island, the sea is only a few hundred feet away both in front of us and behind us. Even when driving it is hard not to be aware that we are existing on a relatively delicate deposit of sand that is subject to the vagaries of weather, and which moves in every major storm. Signs along the roadway in the Gulf Islands National Seashore area warn that the road is subject to flooding and a phone number to call for current status is posted. This weekend, the flood risk is considered “low” since no appreciable weather is expected. It’s going to be upper 80s by day, about 70 degrees by night, with lots of sunshine.

The campground has been rebuilt since various major storms, but still the new asphalt sites are generally short and the turns are tight for longer rigs. A tree across the road from our site limited my turning radius as the Mercedes slowly nudged the Airstream into the site, so it took a little longer than usual. Also, the park is very strict about staying on the parking pads — no wheels on the grass, under penalty of fine — so I took the mandate seriously and got the Airstream into its assigned space without even briefly dropping a wheel off the asphalt. Eleanor suffered only one bite during this procedure, but as it turned out, many more were to come.

I was surprised to encounter the mosquitoes. We’ve never had a bug problem at the beach before, but then I realized that normally we visit Florida in the winter. Last year we went to Destin in November and the park was stunningly gorgeous, under-utilized, and bug-free. We’re earlier this year, which means it’s a little hot, very humid, and the Floridians are still looking for ways to beat the heat so it’s crowded in the campground. We had a few minutes to run out to the gulf seashore after sunset, and we all quickly got a few mosquito bites. No wonder the people on the beach cleared out at sunset.

Being flat and low, the campground also doesn’t have much drainage, so the rain of yesterday flooded some sites. It’s more of a novelty than a problem, as the parking pads are above the rest of the ground, and the water just sinks into the sand eventually. I told Emma there were alligators in the puddles but she’s now too old to fall for my lame tricks, as you can tell by her pose.

By morning all was dry again — or at least, as dry as it ever gets here. The last of the summer humidity is still evident and (let me remind you) we don’t have air conditioning at the moment. We’re doing fairly well with fans, but we do need to get out of the trailer all afternoon.

So with that rule in mind, we took off about noon to check out the Pensacola Seafood Festival in the downtown historic district, which was great. We split a platter of fish, shrimp, salad and paella, and then went back (because being full is no excuse to stop eating awesome seafood) for a soft shell blue crab sandwich. The crab was a special mission. Many years ago I convinced Eleanor to try a soft shell crab sandwich up on Tangier Island in Virginia, but we were not at the best restaurant for that, and the result was disappointing. The Pensacola Seafood Festival was her chance to try again with a better example, and it worked. Soft shell crab is not for everyone, as the crunching sound when you eat it sometimes reminds you of things you don’t want to know. But she loved it and so did I.

We got back to the Airstream early enough to change into beachwear and hit the pure white sands of Santa Rosa Island. The white sand and bathtub-warm clear water are always the best here in the Florida panhandle. I’m looking forward to more of that tomorrow …

The only bummer about being here is the abundance of campground smoke. I’ve noticed that in some state parks everyone seems to act as if it were legally required that they have a campfire, and the smokier, the better. In other campgrounds, campfires are a rarity. This one seems to be in the former category, and it has made evenings almost unbearable. Normally a great pleasure of camping near the ocean is the constant sea breezes that smell of salt and trigger thoughts of ocean vacations past. Here, all we can smell is wood and charcoal smoke, as if we were camped in the midst of a forest wildfire.

We can’t close up the windows to avoid the plumes of drifting smoke, so we have to just breathe it until late at night when the last fire is out. There’s been no breeze at night to take it away, either. I am hoping that tomorrow, being Sunday, the campground will empty out and we’ll have a night of blessed fresh air to match the purity of the sunny days.

Sep 22 2011

Oak Mountain State Park, Pelham AL

Birmingham is a city we’ve never visited before, which by all rights should be a good enough reason to come here. Added to that, we had a mission — to visit the Mercedes Benz factory in nearby Vance. I’ve been trying to get there for two years and it hasn’t worked out despite multiple attempts. With the SNAFUs on this trip (orthodontics, air conditioner) it would have been easy to skip the plant tour this time as well, but I really wanted to make it happen.

So we dropped in on Oak Mountain State Park, which is just south of Birmingham, and made camp for two nights. This is a large park, with a 5.5 mile drive from the entrance to the campground along a scenic and pleasantly meandering road. At the end of the road is a good campground by a lake with lots of fragrant evergreens and even full hookups in Loop A.

This morning we managed to get the whole crew into the car by 7:45 a.m., in time to make the 50 minute drive to Vance AL and make the first scheduled tour at Mercedes Benz US International ($5 per person, reservations required). The factory campus looks very clean by design, with stark white buildings set among a green, almost golf-course-like rural setting. They boast that 100% of the factory’s waste is recycled, and I’m sure the exterior design is intended to help give the appropriate impression.

This is where our tow vehicle, the GL320, was made. It’s the only plant that makes the GL, ML, and R-class vehicles, so here you’ll see cars with right-hand and left-hand drive on the same assembly line, destined for export all over the world. Even Germans buy Mercedes Benz SUVs made right here in Alabama. Yes, in America we still do make things that people in other parts of the world want to buy, and this one huge plant accounts for a billion dollars or so worth of exports all by itself.

As with the other car factory tours we’ve done (Corvette in KY, Nissan in MI), photos are not allowed so I’ve got nothing from the inside to show you, but I can say that the tour is really interesting if you’re into that sort of thing. Which obviously, I am.

This was also the first auto plant tour that Emma has been able to do, and she didn’t die of boredom during it, which counts as success given her pre-teen status. The photo above (from the Visitor Center, where photos are allowed) shows one of the things she was mildly interested in, an ML-class Mercedes from one of the Jurassic Park movies.

I was so excited about the tour that I had made no plans for the rest of the day, so we just swung into downtown Birmingham to see whatever it had to offer. Turns out that Birmingham has a pretty interesting downtown, with tons of Civil Rights-era history, great architecture, and much more that deserved a bigger investment of time than we gave it.

Besides, we were hungry, so the first stop was a Cajun restaurant on 20th Street. I wanted to get some Cajun in Louisiana, but now with our abbreviated trip plan a good stop seems unlikely there. This was a surprise find in Alabama, which is not Cajun country. We went nuts and split a half-muffaletta, blackened red snapper, a few side dishes, and a double order of beignets.

The staff, all related by marriage and coincidentally all escapees from other careers, were over the lunch rush and had time to chat us up about our travels. We were as interested in how they got from jobs like building contractor and CPA to restaurateurs, as they were in our nomadic life. They definitely were doing an excellent job, as the taste of everything they made was equal to places in the heart of Cajun country. They were a little disappointed, I think, that our 30-foot Airstream was not parked somewhere on the downtown streets of Birmingham for them to see.

Of course after that were weren’t in a great condition to do a ton of walking in the downtown (full stomachs), but we managed to browse a bit and run into some interpretive signs about Civil Rights era history. This gave us a chance to talk to Emma about what it all meant, which was actually kind of fun.

Back at camp this evening we were running all three roof vents to combat the mild heat and humidity when a massive line of thunderstorms came upon us with no warning. It was a real gully-washer storm, with several near lightning strikes, but we were high, dry, and safe in the Airstream, watching a movie as the storm played itself out.

This reminded me that we really do have to resolve our AC problem soon. I’ve got a plan in development now that looks like it will work out, although once again our route is going to change, to I-20 through Texas instead of I-10. Once I’ve got that nailed down I’ll post it here and try to figure out a few good stops along the way so it isn’t just a maintenance run. Fortunately, we have friends along the way and even if nothing else fun pops up it will be nice to see them again.