Another part of a day on the road as we left the Oaks at Point South and drove about three and a half hours northwest to Baker Creek State Park near McCormick, SC. It was a beautiful drive through swampy land with extensive forest canopy changing to hilly land with extensive forest canopy. The dogwoods are in bloom and liberally sprinkled throughout the pine and hardwood forests on both sides of the road. The blooming wisteria vines around here have apparently gone native and completely cover some of the trees resulting in hundred foot tall purple cascades that seem to really complement the emerald green primary growth with the dogwood accents.
Almost the entire drive was on two-lane blacktop roads with the exception of small towns and the miserable portion of the drive through Augusta, GA, where the Masters golf tournament is scheduled to occur in another week. An abundance of golfers have already arrived for the festivities and these diehard funny dressers are all out and about in big Dodge automobiles cluttering the highways looking for restaurants and perhaps golf balls. Traffic was a nightmare and the stupid Garmin or the stupid guy who programmed it ended up sending us directly by the main entrance to the golf course for this rich person’s event where hordes of golf wannabes are amassing to watch the lack of drama. I am not a golf fan primarily because I lack the finesse and talent to play, I refuse to wear the bizarre but colorful knickerbockers and floppy hats and due to the fact I own no golf bats.
As we drove through these gorgeous rural parts of this world, we noticed that misspelled signage and abundant churches seem to be ubiquitous. We saw signs that proclaimed the sale of “ire wood” which must be oak since it is so hard to split. We also spotted a couple of signs that indicated there was a nearby “A-H Baptist Church.” Now I’m not to familiar with many or any Baptists but Asshole Baptists are a cult I have never heard of previously and I’m not sure I want to meet any. Sprinkled among the Baptist churches, which seem to number about equal to 10% of the population, we would occasionally spot a Methodist church. Almost all of the buildings in each rural enclave seem to be in pretty miserable shape except the churches which are quite attractive, sturdy structures. No wonder some refer to this area as the Bible Belt. I’m not sure who puts up the signs around here but there are lots of them that proclaim that abortion is bad, a fetus’s heart starts beating 3 weeks after conception (I’m not sure what they intend to convey here other than alleged biological factoids), Jesus seemingly died for my sins although I can’t remember committing any sins in his presence and that drugs are bad as long as you are indulging in drug use not used by the purchaser of the advertisement. Right next to the signs advocating refraining from sin of most any sort are other signs advertising adult sex toy stores and gentleman’s clubs which are actually strip joints. It seems unlikely I might find any gentlemen in businesses of this type.
We ultimately made it to Baker Creek and found our campsite right away. It is a beautiful spot with lake views out both sides of the Invader. Unfortunately, the campsite assigned to us was a bit out-of-level so considerable jockeying of the Invader was required to find an area where it could be made level through the careful application of leveling blocks and that was only possible by entering the campsite with the trailer facing the opposite direction originally intended by park staff.
Once I got the trailer situated in exactly the right spot and disconnecting from Charlotte, I promptly drove over a partially concealed stump and high-centered the truck. Some cursing and weird maneuvering later, we popped into town and bought some groceries at a store one of the other campers referred to as the “Food Line” but we found out later was actually called the Food Lion. I foolishly bought a variety of meat because they had great prices. On the way home to the Invader, we found out that only a secret location in McCormick (home of the Food Line) sells diesel motor fuel and considerable driving about was required to find the cleverly hidden location.
Once we arrived back at the Invader and Peg engaged in almost supernatural trickery to get all the meat I bought into our modest refrigerator / freezer combo, I found that a new water hose I found at Pio Pico TT in San Diego was not quite the find that I anticipated because it had a substantial leak in one of the fittings. I am such an anal guy that I had sufficient replacement hoses in my equipment horde to connect to the water despite having the Invader pointing the wrong way in the campsite.
At just about dark, as the temperature was dropping, the 30 amp breaker in the park’s electrical pedestal made some ominous-sounding sizzling noises and failed, cutting off 120 volt power to the Invader. Going again to the anal man’s horde, I pulled out a 20 amp extension cord and some conversion fittings and again hooked up power to the Invader. This lash-up promptly failed right after barbecuing steaks for dinner so we were again on 12 volt battery backup power. I strolled across the street to the campground host’s trailer and notified him that the power pedestal was wonky and he said he would contact the ranger to fix it. However, about 5 minutes later he arrived with a long 30 amp extension cord he had made and cleverly walked into the adjacent, unoccupied campsite and robbed power from that location. We were back in business without having to use propane to run our recently overstocked fridge and heat the trailer. What a guy.
Although the events of today were sufficient to bring sobs and curses, the views and surrounding areas are beautiful and the irritating misfortunes of the day were melted away by the spectacular scenery. I hope the rotten luck of today does not reoccur without being in such a magnificent spot. If these events had occurred earlier in our journeys, I’m not sure we would still be doing this. Protracted vacationing had inured us to these misfortunes but I still hope they don’t reoccur, particularly in such abundance.