Apr 20, 2021 – The Best City in Louisiana

In one day, we crossed 3 state borders pulling the RV on I-10 for a total of 470 miles. It didn’t help that the I-10 and I-12 sections in Louisiana are among the worst roads encountered. But compared to Louisiana’s backroads, the interstate feels smooth. This is Baton Rouge around 3:30 pm.

No matter where Vivian and I travel, no matter how horrible the road conditions or bleak the communities we encounter, we somehow always discover a bright shiny penny. In southern Louisiana, not far south of Lafayette, we found that shiny penny in the form of a story from Avery Island.

Avery Island is privately owned and is where the Tabasco factory is located. In addition to the factory tours (which are closed for Covid), you can take a tour around Jungle Gardens, basically the entire estate of the McIlhenny family. The live oaks are quite beautiful.
As part of the Jungle Gardens is the Buddha, which Edward McIlhenny received as a gift in 1936.
From a plaque – “This buddha was built for the Shonfa Temple located northeast of Peking, by the order of Emperor Hui-Tsung 1101-1125. It’s builder was Chon-Ha-Chin, most noted of ancient Buddha makers. The temple was looted by a rebel general who took the statue as part of his loot and sent it to New Your to be sold.” The statue was purchased by two friends of McIlhenny and sent it to him.

The story begins with Edward Avery McIlhenny who was born on Avery Island in 1872. Edward was the son of Edmund McIlhenny who began Tabasco brand products and became the heir to the business. One day, Edmund heard a story about an Indian king who kept birds in large flying cages. As the king grew old the cages were left abandoned and fell apart. Yet, the freed birds continued to raise their young year after year at the same spot they themselves were raised.

The McIlhenny home on Avery Island. The island is actually a salt dome thought to be as deep as Mt Everest is high. Nevertheless, it was a perfect location for making Tabasco sauce.

This story inspired McIlhenny to build his own flying cages. This was in 1895 and by that time, five million birds were being slaughtered each year to fuel a fashion. That fashion, feathers and sometimes entire taxidermied birds in women’s hats began in the 1870s. Among the most popular of feathers were those of the white snowy egrets and great white egrets, particularly the more extravagant plumage that is grown during mating season.

Heir to the Tabasco company, Edward McIlhenny was a good businessman who expanded the company internationally. The factory is the only one in existence, producing over $700,000 worth of product each day.

During the fashion craze, plume hunting was extraordinarily lucrative as an ounce of feathers became worth more than an ounce of gold. Being quite conscience of the Florida Everglades, both Vivian and I understand that plume hunting was a severe and dark stain on its history and is included among many of the stories that come out of the Everglades. It is no surprise to us that Louisiana, being ecologically similar to Florida, has its own dark history when it comes to the decimation of bird populations.

So many ways to burn your tongue!

Here is where the shiny penny comes in. McIlhenny, being a conservationist was despondent about the declining bird populations and wanted to save the Snowy Egret. So, using a wet area on Avery Island known as Willow Pond, he built a dam and increased the pond’s size to 35 acres. He then built large flying cages of poultry netting suspended over the water. He did so because he knew birds preferred nesting over water where the alligators could discourage other predators from stealing eggs or chicks. He found eight snowy egrets and began to hand-raise them. The birds thrived and seemed content. In the fall, he set them free to migrate south. In the spring, as he had hoped, 6 of the 8 returned, paired off and hatched several more chicks. This pattern continued and 16 years later in 1911, McIlhenny estimated about 100,000 birds occupied the rookery.

The road to Bird City.

And that is how ‘Bird City’ came to be and what Theodore Roosevelt referred to as “the most noteworthy reserve in the country”. From southern Florida, we have the tragic story of Guy Bradley, the warden hired to protect rookeries in the Everglades and was consequently murdered in 1907 by plume hunters. While Guy Bradley was put out there to protect birds in the middle of the Everglades swamp, a wealthy heir of the Tabasco Company was rebuilding the bird population in a most unconventional way and doing it from his own backyard. And in 2021, we stood overlooking the pond watching hundreds of adult egrets tend to their nests, many with 2 or 3 chicks soon to fledge and take to the sky. They too will one day come back to the ‘flying cages’ and continue the cycle. All because of one man.

A overlook gives you a panoramic view of Bird City
Birds are indicators of the environment. If they are in trouble, we know we’ll soon be in trouble.” Roger Tory Peterson

Avery Island was a pleasant diversion but what we really wanted to do was immerse ourselves in the deep south’s melting pot. In this regard, we got ourselves a couple of history lessons, first from Vermilionville Historic Village in Lafayette and then the Bayou Teche Museum in New Iberia.

One of the many historical homes on display at Vermilionville Historic Village.
Joseph Broussard was a leader of the Acadians and eventually led them to Louisiana from Nova Scotia in 1765. The Broussard family integrated into the slave-owning upper classes of the colony.

Louisiana’s history is a complicated and long one woven in and out of periods of French, Spanish and U.S. rule. And as far as a melting pot goes, it is a spicey one. First, there are the natives of several tribes including the Avoyel (one of which we met on our tour) and Chitimacha. Then you have the immigrants from France, Spain, and Germany, the Anglo-Americans and the free and enslaved Africans. And then you have the native Americans that were pushed out of the east and moved into or through the area. Mixed in with all that were the French-speaking Catholics from Acadia, having been expelled from Canada in 1755 by the British, later to be known as the Cajuns. And then there were the refugees from the French Revolution, Creoles from the Mississippi River Valley and the Spaniards from the Canary Islands and the Island of Majorca. And don’t forget the immigrant refugees from Saint Domingue coming in after the Haitian Revolution in 1809.

At the Hilliard Museum on the UL campus of Lafayette, we learned about the art and history of handwoven Acadian brown cotton fabric.
In 1910, Louisiana banned the French language from its schools.

Despite all the melting pot ingredients, Louisiana was a slave state and indeed, in 1810-20, almost half the population in Louisiana were enslaved people of color. Which brings me to the stark reality that Louisiana is the second poorest state in the country. And what does that have to do with its 1820 demographics? I’m not sure, but as we drove over the worst roads ever encountered in one state (and yes, we have been to Indiana), or passed one dilapidated or abandoned building after another, we couldn’t help but think there is a connection there somehow. Evidence of poverty is relentless throughout the areas we explored.

Downtown New Iberia, where the historic Evangeline theatre is now the Bayou Teche Museum. You’ll see the name ‘Evangeline’ a lot down here, it is the title of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s famous poem. The poem tells a story of a young Acadian woman during the Grand Derangement, which was the expulsion of French Acadians from Canada by the British.

Both Vivian and I really wanted to take in southern Louisiana’s culture, but it left us feeling underwhelmed. And a bit perplexed, especially upon meeting many Louisianians who are among the friendliest and politest we’ve met throughout our travels, and after receiving valuable history lessons from tour guides who present it with an enthusiastic personal touch.

Our Louisiana history lesson continues however, as we travel a little further north. And with that, I will leave you the following question, “How do you pronounce Natchitoches?”

Here is southern Louisiana’s favorite dish, boiled crawfish. We learned that crawfish are farmed in rice fields where they burrow in the mud; hence the nickname ‘mud bug’. Sounds delicious doesn’t it?
Southern Louisiana’s favorite pork dish is boudin, basically seasoned pork sausage with rice. We stood in line at Billy’s Boudin and Cracklin’ so Vivian could sample more Louisiana cuisine. Not one to eat pork, I settled on a crawfish ball, a deep fried ball of crawfish meat, spices and rice.

Apr 11, 2021 – Gorgeous George

Clear skies over Chokoloskee Island, the morning we left to begin our 2021 travels.

Eleven months earlier to the day, both Vivian and I sat down with our ipads and a smart phone running an atomic clock app. After studying a satellite image of St George Island State Park campground, viewing each site at street-level, and taking measurements of selected sites on Google Earth, we chose 3 or 4 sites we thought adequately sized for the RV. At about 7:30 am, we each got on ReserveAmerica website and honed in on the state park’s campground and chose an available campsite from among our picks. This went on for about seven days and on each day at exactly 7:59:55, we both hit the book now button on our chosen site and each time we failed. Finally, on the morning of May 11, 2020, we succeeded in securing a campsite for five nights beginning April 11, 2021. From that point on, we commenced to build our travel itinerary for 2021.

It stalled us, but eventually the storm passed and we continued north.

Now that you know how insanely difficult it is to get a Florida state park reservation, it will make sense why we were not going to let a little ol’ storm get in our way. It tried and it almost succeeded. This time of year, it isn’t easy getting out of Florida, especially when the starting point is as far south as you can get on the tip. A grueling 8-hour drive from Chokoloskee to a rural campground near small town Chiefland was our initiation into our 2021 travels. Seems everyone came to Florida over spring break and everyone decided to leave on April 10. Heavy traffic, long crawls through road construction areas and consistent rain made us think twice about leaving our paradise island in southern Florida.

The suspicious looking chicken had nothing to do with the fallen branch. It was simply taking advantage of a short break from the impending storm that would keep us in place all morning.
At last, we arrived at about 5:30 pm with clear skies prevailing.

But we did it. After all, we had hard-earned reservations at St. George Island, one of Florida’s best state parks, and we were not about to give that up. After spending the first night and the entire next morning at Breezy Acres RV Campground listening to the rain pelt our rig, we finally got ourselves back out on the road at 2:30 pm for the 3-hr drive to the park.

The drive into the campground passes a small coastal lake.
Across the street from the campground, a short walk to the Gulf waters where creatures lurk.

What is so special about St. George Island? Other than requiring an atomic clock and two people to get a reservation, it is one of Florida’s most pristine and beautiful sand dune beaches. Gorgeous St. George Island is in the middle of the forgotten coast and the modest drive on highway 98 through the coastal towns of Panacea and Carabelle makes you realize this really is the forgotten coast. Compared to most of Florida’s development-saturated coastline, this area is low key and offers a sizeable dose of wilderness.

Vivian trying her hand at fly fishing along the shoreline.
While Vivian fished, I photographed the sand dunes.

Despite the nearby charming little towns and inviting wilderness areas such as Tate’s Hell Forest, we had no compelling reason to leave the state park until it was time to hitch up and leave. With four full days and one additional morning to do what we like to do most -fish and photograph, we concentrated all our efforts within a small region – a narrow band of a sand dune island. And we had friends to share that with as they too put fishing and photography high on their list of things to do and they too made their reservations 11 months in advance.

Fishing lines along the coast, attempting to capture the running pompano. That’s our friends Van and Jane with their beach fishing set up.
On one side of the island is the Gulf, but the other is an inland bay, where low tide reveals oyster bars as seen here at sunset.

Two hundred miles of coastline comprise the Forgotten Coast and much of it contains Florida’s last remaining stretch of unspoiled, pristine Gulf Coast beaches. A small section that is St George Island belongs to this coastal section of Florida’s panhandle. Later, toward the end of our travels this year, I will describe the quaint and charming communities and some of the forested wilderness areas of the Forgotten Coast because our 2021 travels will end here just as it began. That is, as my mother would say, “God Willing and the Creek Don’t Rise”. But for now, let me tell you about the sand that makes up pretty much the entire St George Island State Park.

Evidence of Hurricane Michael of 2018 is seen in the park which is trying to rebuild some of its boardwalks.
To everything, tern, tern, tern…

Dunes are created by wind-blown sand. And amazingly as the sand piles grow, deep-rooted plants colonize on them. As organic materials accumulate, more plants grow thereby strengthening the dune which becomes known as a scrub zone. These robust dunes, like the mangrove islands of the southern Gulf Coast serve as a natural barrier from high tides and storm surges and help protect the inland areas from erosion. And when not pockmarked from the footprints of humans, these dunes have a wild and graceful wind-swept beauty to them. Evidence of the effects of wind is seen everywhere – trees uniformly bent and smooth sweeps of sand mounds formed at its will. Nature dictated by weather and the birds reacting in a similar way. As we breezed into the campground on the heels of a storm, warblers and other songbirds had already landed on the island to rest and replenish their bodies for a day in the beachy pine forests before continuing their northerly migration.

Although I did see several birds including a fledged eaglet, nesting osprey and great horned owl, my only bird photographs other than shorebirds are the birds that frequented our campsite, like this male cardinal.

And then there are the pompano, which played a significant role during our short stay. Pompano have a narrow preference for water temperatures (68 to 75 degrees) and like birds are highly migratory along Florida’s coastline. Come spring, they migrate north and then west along Florida’s Gulf Coast. For fisherman, the most likely place to catch them is in the surf, where there is lots of water movement. And this is where you will see fishermen lined up along the beach with at least 2 lines in the water each. Lucky for me, I was among three fishermen, and we had fresh pompano for dinner – not once, but twice, and again for lunch.

Jane catches another pompano!
We ate well.

And there was some early morning quality time for photography. Enamored with the form of the sand dunes, I used what little time I had with sweet light to capture them. When it came time to leave, if not for the two days of rain, Vivian and I would have had to drag our tired bodies out of there.

Another attempt at capturing the expressive wind-worn beach sand dune.

As it were, the rain and overcast sky were relentless during our last full day on the island and the morning we left. Consequently, precious time was given to us for cleaning, which equated to sand removal from the interior. No matter how skilled you are at sand management, it still manages to work its way into everything.

The first couple days on the island were under totally clear skies, as seen here before sunrise from our home. Despite traveling to beautiful places throughout the country, it is still our home and every time we enter it we try to keep the great outdoors (i.e., sand, mud, bugs) from getting inside.

As I write this blog one day after leaving St. George, we remain in a holding pattern in Florida’s panhandle, this time about 100 miles north of St. George. The gray overcast skies and intermittent rain continue to dampen our spirits as we wait for our second shot appointment. Once fully vaccinated, the skies will open up and the sun will shine (tongue and cheek, folks). And we will once again leave Florida behind to explore the United States. I cannot wait to photograph more sand dunes, this time in New Mexico. But before we get there, we have Cajun culture to immerse ourselves in and the world’s largest cypress forest to explore. Stayed tuned.

Rain storms continued on the day we left the island and crossed the Bryant Patton Bridge to the mainland. From there, we traveled a short distance north near Tallahassee.

Oct 5, 2020 – Her Florida

After several months of traveling, we are welcomed back to Florida.

We need above all, I think, a certain remoteness from urban confusion.” Marjory Kinnan Rawlings

After several months of traveling, crossing the state line into Florida conjures mixed feelings. We could easily turn around and continue traveling, but we also get a warm and fuzzy feeling when we come back to Florida. It is our home and despite all the baggage that Florida carries with it, we love it and always look forward to coming back to it. It is for this reason and the fact that our home base is way down on the southern end of the state that we take advantage of the great distance between the state line and Chokoloskee to explore Florida.

And no matter where we are in Florida, we experience everything we dislike about the state and everything we love about it. While getting our annual Forever Warranty service done in DeFuniak Springs, we decided to check out the little town of Seaside.

A walking path or an actual road? Hard to tell in Seaside.

Seaside is an unincorporated planned community on Florida’s Gulf coast designed by Andrés Duany and Elizabeth Plater-Zyberk, architects that have influenced the green urban design industry. Their vision was to create a community that would “cut through the smog of America’s car dependency”. The result was Seaside that is laid out with a grid so that stores and community buildings were only a few minutes away from any home on foot. Never been to Seaside? If you watched Jim Carrey’s movie “the Truman Show”, you most certainly have seen it as it was the backdrop for Truman’s Rockwellian hometown, aptly named Seahaven Island.

Just a block or two off highway 30A, one can easily drive through the neigborhoods of Seaside. This leaves you feeling secluded and you would not think about all the traffic and crowds along 30A.

So while I can appreciate the green architects vision, driving around a Florida coastal town with a full ton truck does nothing to cut through the smog of America’s car dependency. Seems everyone visiting Seaside and perhaps living in Seaside leave a vehicle parked somewhere, which is why we could not find a place to park (or at least one accommodating to our smog-creating diesel engine truck). Besides, you could not spit without hitting a tourist or community dweller, so we drove slowly around the Trumanesque town, enjoying the neighborhoods filled with a range of building designs from Victorian to Postmodern, often hidden by a thick growth of native plants in the front yard.

The boardwalk in Deer Lake State Park stands above a beautiful dune ecosystem. The boardwalk keeps people from walking all over the dunes.

Along highway 30A, the crowds and traffic were relentless, that is until we came onto a little oasis in the middle of a sea of development, and that is Deer Lake State Park. Deer Lake is one of the rare coastal dune lakes which, in the United States, are found only along the Gulf Coast. From 30A, a small gravel road takes you to a deadend parking area where $3 gets you a parking pass. From there, a short walk on a boardwalk takes you into (actually over) the dunes before ending at the waterfront beach. Except for the surrounding development, it is pristine and and wild, and without human footprints. The dune ecosystem is one of 11 natural communities in this 1920-acre state park and the boardwalk provides a full view of it.

The dunes overlook the Gulf of Mexico.

After a few days, we left the panhandle to settle in for a week at Wilderness RV Resort, right up against the Ocala National Forest and on the Ocklawaha River. This gave us an opportunity to paddle a wild Florida river as well as visit the little town of Micanopy and the Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings Historic State Park. Never heard of either of these places? Welcome to old Florida!

I had the best turkey reuben at the Old Florida Cafe in Micanopy.
And after lunch, we visited the Micanopy cemetery.

Kirkpatrick (once the Rodman) Dam was built along the Ocklawaha River to facilitate navigation along the Cross Florida Barge Canal. The Florida Barge Canal was to go through the Ocklawaha River and construction was stopped in 1971. Thankfully, there are over 70 miles of natural river with a significant part of it running through undeveloped Ocala National Forest giving you a scenic view of Old Florida. This is the part of Florida that we love.

The Kirkpatrick Dam is a leftover from the Cross Florida Barge Canal project. You can read more about the canal in one of our first blogs from 2018 when we began to travel with the RV and passed through another area of Florida also affected by the canal project.
We spent a day paddling the Ocklawaha River.

Speaking of Old Florida, long before I moved to Florida, I knew about a book popularized by a movie, titled “The Yearling”. In the spirit of “Old Yeller” I honestly could not gather the nerve to see the movie. Nor have I read the Pulitzer Prize winning 1939 novel by Marjory Kinnan Rawlings. But having recently seen the movie titled “Cross Creek” which stars Mary Steenburgen as Rawlings in the biographical drama romance film, Vivian and I took a keen interest in visiting the Marjory Kinnan Rawlings Historic State Park located in Cross Creek.

At the entrance of the Marjory Kinnan Rawlings Historic State Park is a wooden sign with a Rawlings quote befitting of Old Florida.
Rawlings home is on display at the park, and is pretty much the way she left it when she passed away in 1953.
Unfortunately, the house tour was closed and we were unable to go inside.
But the park volunteer spent some time with us telling us about Rawling’s life on her orange grove. In the bowl are small fruit called roselle, a type of hibiscus First time I ever heard of it, but apparently, Rawlings grew it on her land.

Rawlings once wrote, “Cross Creek belongs to the wind and the rain, to the sun and the seasons, to the cosmic secrecy of seed, and beyond all, to time.” There Rawlings lived on a 72-acre orange grove between Orange and Lochloosa Lakes. Her stories that fictionalized many of her Florida cracker neighbors immerse the reader into the remote wilderness and those that lived in the area. Rawlings spent long periods of solitude at Cross Creek and wrote that she could feel “vibrations” from the land. Her Old Florida land is now her historic state park.

A 1940s Oldsmobile, similar to the one Rawlings owned, sits in the farmhouse’s car port.
I believe the boat is the original one used by Rawlings, whereas the motor is a replica of the one she used on her boat.

After our short time in Rawling’s Old Florida, we headed south and eventually crossed the bridge to nowhere – our home. Fall did not feel much different from spring when we left five months earlier, yet there was just a hint of winter in the air as hurricane season finally passed and we settled in for the long haul. As our northern friends and family braced for a long cold winter, we got our canoes out and enjoyed the Everglades for the next four months. As Rawlings once wrote, “Here in Florida the seasons move in and out like nuns in soft clothing, making no rustle in their passing”. Indeed, as I write this, we are well into spring barely feeling a change in the air.

Still hurricane season when we arrived at the bridge to nowhere, rains clouds hover over Chokoloskee Island.

Yet, the calendar says it is time to go. Our 2021 travel adventure begins – now.

As Rawlings has said, “Here is Home”.

Sep 19, 2020 – Waterfalls, Canyons & Lakes

Burgess Falls, Tennessee. The water falls about 136 ft into a limestone gorge.

For family, our travels always include Indianapolis; so once again like many times before, we drove from Indiana to Florida’s panhandle by way of Tennessee and Alabama. This time, we took our time heading south and meandered off the beaten path so to speak. With no cities in our way, the next few weeks were nothing but waterfalls, canyons and lakes, oh my!

One of our favorite campgrounds is Defeated Creek on the Cumberland River, about 50 miles east of Nashville.
The campground is maintained by the Army Corp of Engineers as with many campgrounds we enjoy staying in.
The fog in the Appalachians and over the creek was a beautiful sight to see each morning from our campsite.
And not to mention the herd of whitetail deer that wandered in open fields within the campground.

In Tennessee, we camped on reservoirs and while Vivian fished from our campgrounds, I drove to Burgess Falls State Park one morning. Before 7 am, I waited in the truck outside the closed park gate until someone came to open it. Finally, a ranger opened the gate, and other than him, I was the only person in the park. I walked the short distance down to the water from the parking lot. Since traveling, waterfalls have eluded me, and most of them have presented themselves as nothing more than a trickle. But not today.

Along the path that follows the water trail is the remains of a foot bridge that once gave people a full view of the Middle Falls.

At last, my tripod stood on rugged rocks being swept by gravity-driven water. Today, I had exuberant water and I was alone in my own private Tennessee paradise (at least for a short time before other visitors showed up).

About a 1/2 mile up river from Burgess Falls was a beautiful area of the river from which I could photograph safely.

Further south, we spent a couple weeks in Alabama. We have become very familiar with Alabama as it is conveniently located next to Florida and quite difficult to avoid on our travels north or west. And each time we come here, it surprises us – this time with its deep canyons, grand overlooks and yes, waterfalls. The southern Appalachian Mountains come into northeast Alabama with canyon rims, bluffs and sandstone cliffs, and gorges carved by the Little River.

The Little River cutting through the landscape.
One of the lookouts within DeSoto State Park which is located atop Lookout Mountain. We enjoyed several hikes within this mountainous state park.
There are so many hiking trails in northeast Alabama. Check out the state parks such as Bucks Pocket and DeSoto, as well as across the Georgia state line to Cloudland Canyon State Park.

Little River Canyon (a National Preserve since 1992) is one of the deepest canyon systems east of Mississippi River and the deepest in Alabama. While staying at a campground in Fort Payne for one week, we had time to explore the area. Lots of hikes, photography atop a waterfall, and lunch at a quirky mountain town called Mentone.

With only a small water fall, I was able to walk over the rocks above Little River Falls with my tripod and camera.
A day after spending the morning photographing from the top, an afternoon storm brought the falls back to life.
Another view of Little River Falls before the storm. While I photographed, a person walked across the rocks and sat down near the water falls. In this photo, the person is sitting out-of-view behind the horizontal rocks in front of the water falls.

Heading further south, we come out of the mountains and the rolling terrain becomes less rugged and more gentle. We were getting closer to the gulf coast and Florida, and temperatures were increasing. On our way down, we stopped at Wind Creek State Park, one of the largest state parks in the United States and where people can access Lake Martin.

During a morning walk along the edge of Lake Martin.
From a narrow peninsula that juts out into the water about 1/4 mile, I photographed Lake Martin early Sunday morning. No one else was out there.
You’ll never forget which state you are in when camping in an Alabama state park. On an early Monday morning, this sight is uninspiring compared to the ostentatious red decor that filled the campground over the weekend.

Following Wind Creek, We headed south and stayed near the town of Eufaula with its southern hospitality and historic plantation homes. We were in the deep south, the antithesis of the badlands where we spent much of our travels this summer.  Which makes it even more ironic that while staying in southern Alabama, I was able to explore a canyon. A very strange and quirky canyon.

While camped at White Oak Campground, another Army Corp, Vivian got a little fishing in from her inflatable kayak.

Eufaula is on the Walter F George Reservoir, a large vertical expanse of water that is split down the middle by the Alabama-Georgia state line. As the early morning sun rose, I drove across a bridge from Eufaula on highway 82 into Georgia and headed north about 16 miles to Providence Canyon State Park. The drive there took me through rolling hills of forests and farmlands, nothing special for these parts.

Satellite imagery of Providence Canyon gives you an idea of its peculiar terrain.

As I got closer to the park, I had thoughts of our visit to Badlands National Park in South Dakota a couple months earlier where we drove through the flattest country for hundreds of miles before all of a sudden, like being tele-transported to another planet, we were surrounded by extremely tall and very strange rock formations. Likewise, once inside Providence Canyon, you feel you are in another world, certainly not southern Georgia.

It isn’t until you get inside the canyon that you realize how strange and quite surreal this place feels.

But yet, there it is. But this time, unlike the badlands we visited this summer, Providence Canyon or ‘Georgia’s Little Grand Canyon’ is manmade, which makes it even more peculiar. Apparently, Georgia recognizes its Natural Wonders and considers this one to be one of its seven. The canyon was created by erosion after years of poor agricultural practices during the 1800s (I suppose that’s natural considering man is part of nature).

Constant erosion from water is quite evident in the canyon that is comprised of mostly sandy clay.
You’ll find several of these crevices barely wide enough for one person to walk into along the canyon walls.
It is difficult to believe that canyon walls several stories high are made of this.

The erosion created several gullies as deep as 150 feet and you can climb down and wander around many of them. As you walk the gullies, you are surrounded by very tall and colorful canyons comprised of pink, orange, red and purple hues. The clay and sand soil appears fragile, like a sandcastle on the beach. The rare plumleaf azalea grows here as well. All this makes Providence Canyon a strange and beautiful thing, thanks to farming gone bad.

The colorful canyon wall reminds me of tapestry.

Out 2020 travels included many places that are not only far removed from our southern Florida ecosystem, but so broadly varied from each other. Although we traveled far and wide to see some of these strange lands, it is remarkable that so many of them border right up to Florida. The United States is diverse in many ways and to explore it by RV is a wonderful thing. And yet, as we leave Alabama and cross the Florida line, I begin to think of how I could spend a lifetime simply exploring this state. Well over 500 miles lay ahead of us before we settled down for in Chokoloskee for our winter hibernation. So, we spent a little time near the Ocala National Forest to do some exploring. Stayed tuned for our final 2020-travels blog coming soon.

Another foggy scene from the Defeated Creek campground.
Outdoor seating or takeout only from the Wildflower Cafe in the colorful mountain town called Mentone, in Alabama.
A nice view of an Army Corp Campground called Long Branch, on the Caney Fork in Tennessee. Spacious campsites spread out wide and on a weekday, we had the place practically to ourselves. Water levels on the fork vary widely from water release from the Center Hill dam located several hundred feet upstream.