May 7 -8
 |
| Appalachian Mountain Foothills (not my photo) |
How many times have you read that message on your
vehicle’s mirrors, “items appear closer than what they actually appear”? As we
traveled highway 70 west out of New Bern to connect with I-795 to I-95 north for
our summer trek to pitch our campsite near Sylvan Beach New York, the mirrors
on our rig distanced the familiar landscape of our coastal Carolina as we mile terrained toward the foothills of the Appalachian
Mountain range.
One of the great atlas’ we have is a topographic North Carolina
map that details the back roads and country paths of our southern state. Snow
Hill, on the Contentnea Creek, has as its city motto, “A Nice Place to Live”.
This town, dating back to 1713 and only distancing a little over one square
mile, is said to be a growing community, and its town name originates from the
Tuscarora who lived on the creek and referred to the sandy banks of beach as
snow. I would assume that if, and when, Snow Hill gets snow that their form of
snow removal is to wait for July!
As we travel northbound on I-95, we are fortunate, from
the riding height of our chairs, to see above and beyond the shrubbery and
green space of the roadside, that we see acres and acres of solar farms. It
seems that these massive farms, sans mooing, clucking and manure wagons,
contribute substantially to local power grids.
Apple is planning to build a third solar farm near the center of the
state to power its data center. Sadly,
it seems the family-owned farms seem to be vanishing along the countryside. We have become so technologically advanced
that the challenge of farming is becoming extinct. 
The rural landscape of the
farm is becoming urbanized and its families are pushed into that urban
lifestyle, as well because they cannot compete with large corporations and
investment group. Gone are the days of
working hard planting and harvesting and then running to the pond or creek and
wading in the clear waters while chasing tadpoles and eating peanut butter and
strawberry jam sandwiches while waiting for the corn to grow.
Nearing Roanoke Rapids and the Virginia state
line in the distance we got a glimpse of Medoc mountain, that is a remnant of
an Paleozoic age mountain range.
Traveling through the towering hardwood forests of
Virginia and West Virginia light filters through branches overhead and the
silence of the forest is broken only by bird songs. The pastoral backdrop of Maryland and
southern Pennsylvania with its valleys that resemble artichoke, asparagus,
forest and moss green makes me want to hum the old folksong, “Shenandoah”.
Okay, go ahead, hum a few bars and I’ll start you off with a few lines: O
Shenandoah, I long to hear you; Away you rolling river; O Shenandoah, I long to
hear you, Away, I’m bound away, ‘cross the wide Missouri”. Keep reading as you hum this song for the
next two weeks and wonder why it keeps replaying in your mind. And I will apologize to you now.
Friday, May 8
At 7:30 a.m. with the morning sun rising we hit the
asphalt of I81 north. The mountain ranges along the Appalachian Trail are
blanketed with eerie shrouds of early morning fog clouds. As we near the coal region of Pennsylvania the
forested mountainsides are budding into Spring; the reds of the trees remind me
of bushel baskets of candied apples. As we drive past the fringes of
metropolitan cities we a blessed to appreciate the forested valleys of rolling
farmlands that reach up to the many mountaintop vistas. 
Interstate 81 stays true to form, or should I say
unformed, of being one of the roughest roads in the northeast to travel,
whether you are going north or south. In
the motor home drawers were unlatched, cabinet doors swung open, cans of soup
spilling onto the floor, and the rig was whimpering as it bounced over the
frost heaves of the winter. 
We crossed the state line into New York about 10
a.m. and became absorbed in a lifetime of memories as we neared Syracuse and
our homesite (until September) at Sylvan Beach.
We leveled out on site 45 at Mayfair Campground, which
is about five miles eastward from the touristy area of Sylvan Beach. All plugged in, hydraulics down, time to push
the button for the slide-outs.
Wait, push the button again for the full-wall
slide out. Okay, let’s not panic. Nope, nothing in the way, the other two
slides out fine; push the button again. What the Hey!!!??? Slide inched out
about to the length of our index finger and is stuck. Does not move in, does
not move out. It acts like someone super-glues the upper right corner. Hello
Camping World!!!!!
Good Sam Club sends out a couple of good ol’ boys who seem
to only know who to scratch their heads and wonder what they are supposed to
do. In the meantime, phone calls placed to Tom Johnson where we bought the rig,
and Camping World in Syracuse. Unfortunately, we are left to our own resources
to come up with a plan. Fortunately, the RV tech who worked on our rig last
year was staying a few sites from us and helped to narrow down the problem.
After a few calls to Winnebago it seems that the mechanisms that control the
slide have been sheared. An appointment for Camping World has been scheduled
for Tuesday morning to diagnose and advise the plan. In the meantime, we are
thankful that our journey was safe.
May 12
Today we took the rig to Camping World for an early
morning appointment, and when we left at 3:15 in the afternoon, we returned to
our campsite with our crippled motor home. Prognosis is hopeful. Complete
mechanism has been ordered from Winnebago with the anticipated delivery in two
weeks and repair to be completed within three days. Although we are temporarily inconvenienced we will make the best of it. 
No comments:
Post a Comment