WHEN YOU’RE HOT, YOU’RE HOT!

June 22-28

Friday-Saturday.  We took US 60 almost entirely from Grove to that crossword puzzle favorite, Enid, OK.  The road was much better on the stomach than yesterday’s drive and the scenery through northwest Oklahoma is certainly pleasant enough.  This wasn’t a high-mileage day so we just took it easy.

Not a lot to choose from in Enid, but the High Point RV Park was adequate.  I had to park cockeyed as there were a lot of depressions to avoid if we wanted to be level.  It had power for the A/C (the heat is steadily rising as we motor west), and good cable with ESPN so I can watch the Euro Cup final tomorrow between Spain and Italy.  Unfortunately, the wifi signal at our site is the pits, so I have to wander down to a hotspot and sit out in the heat if I want to get on.  The place isn’t much to look at, but the trees provide some shade.  Loni, of course, worked her magic in the kitchen.  Enid is the home of the Railroad Museum of Oklahoma, but on Saturday we just wanted to flop.  It was too hot to be walking around outside looking at rolling stock, no matter how interesting it might be.  Besides, the Euro Cup final should have been a corker.  Too bad Italy was a no-show.  Spain, 4-0.

Sunday.  Once again trying to avoid the interstates, we stayed on US 60 all the way from Enid to Amarillo.  Although the skies were clear, the wind was blowing to beat the band.  Although I certainly could feel it, and had to correct-steer a lot, our relatively low profile compared to the SOB’s kept it from being a white-knuckle affair, despite the meager road shoulder.

Once we got to Amarillo we stayed at an old favorite, Fort Amarillo RV Resort at the western edge of the city.  The evening forecast didn’t auger well, but we’d be in the rig the whole time and the cab air cools well.  We won’t suffer until we have to get out.  These temps will look cool to us in just a short while.

Monday.  We got up extra early to get a start on the drive before the sun did its work, not so much for us but rather so that the engine could have some relatively cool air for a while.  We don’t have a Scan Gauge, but we’ve never seen any problem on the rig’s gauges vis-à-vis overheating.  This portal is always a welcome sight, as New Mexico is one of our favorite states to drive through.  After leaving Amarillo, we just hunkered down on I-40 to make time.  Besides, it’s views aren’t shabby.

Doesn’t look like much in the above picture, but the vistas soon are pretty impressive and you know you’re in “the West.”

In Albuquerque, as we did on the way east, we stayed at the American RV Park to the west of town.  In fact, we got the same site as before.  The temps are really climbing, but they have a very nice pool which we made good use of for a couple of hours.  We looked like prunes getting out, but it was worth it.  Loni’s finishing up her biography of Andrew Jackson, American Lion, while I perused less weighty matter.

Tuesday.  I forgot to set my alarm clock for Mountain Time, so got up at 5:44 instead of 6:44.  Needless to say, we got a nice, early start for what we had planned to be a stop in Holbrook, AZ.  But we got there before noon, so decided to keep on going to Flagstaff.  We stayed again at the KOA, which is OK, but a challenge to get level in.  Had to abandon the first site they assigned us.  The second was almost as bad, but we got level “enough.”  It had been a fairly long driving day, so I was willing to settle.  To add insult, this KOA uses Tengo as its internet provider, which I hate.  I’ve had nothing but bad times with Tengo, from awkward logging in to crappy connectivity at various parks throughout the country.

Wednesday.  Fairly short run today to the Avi Resort, our “go to” stop on almost all of our outbound and return excursions in this direction.  Again, nothing to look at, but it does have a multiplex theatre and a decent dining room.  But the temps!!

By our thermometer, we’re at 112!  You better believe we made a beeline for the theatre and the restaurant until the sun went down.  Didn’t cool off much.  I don’t think the A/C ever got us lower that the mid-80’s, but that felt just fine.

Thursday.  Straight shot into L.A.  Oh, god, we’re home.  Let’s turn back.

THE LONG TRUDGE HOME I: PADUCAH TO GROVE

June 18-21, 2012

“A journey of 2,119 miles begins with a single waffle.”  (Houn, 2012)

Monday. Thanks to our good friend and fellow Lazy-Dazer, Barb Allen, we have a cast iron stove-top waffle maker that really works well.  I opened it a little early for the left photo, but they brown up quite nicely if you leave them alone.  With some TJ’s real maple syrup, breakfast heaven!  We decided to just sit for a day to relax and figure out how we wanted to wend our way home from Cave City.  There wasn’t much we wanted to see that was new for us, but we didn’t want to just hop on a freeway and make time.  We did have to get home in time for Mom to arrive from Indy, but that still gave us a couple of weeks to make L.A.  Very hot outside, so we took advantage of the power and stayed in with the A/C on all day.  I played hearts online in the evening with Chuck, Paul and Zip, all fraternity bros from old Delta Chi days.  I got slaughtered, as usual.  I swear they’re all running card counting programs on the side.  Loni read while I carped.

Tuesday.  Early start this morning (well, getting moving by 9 a.m. is pretty good for us) after a fiasco with the park water system.  We got ourselves showered, ate breakfast (alas, not waffles), and started dumping the tanks.  Our procedure is to hook up the drain slinky to the black valve, dump the black (making sure the dump end is well held down – no more writhing pythons for me), then hook up a garden hose to the park water tap, attach a multi-point spray wand to the business end of the hose, then stick the wand down the toilet straight into the black holding tank directly below.  Turn on water, move the wand up and down while it sprays the walls of the tank, and any “residue” floats out the slinky.  I generally close the valve and let the tank fill up a bit while doing this, to aid in the outflow of gunk when I open it.  We were in the middle of the wand bit when I went to turn off the water flow.  Boing!  The park spigot broke and would not turn off.  We couldn’t take the wand out of the toilet as it would spray all over the bathroom.  I ended up unscrewing the hose from the tap, getting thoroughly soaked until it came off all the way.  I let the tap run while I ran.  For the park manager.  He sent out the maintenance guy, who screwed a secondary valve onto the old one, and thus shut off the flow.  We had quite a lake all around the rig, but fortunately it was all clean water.

Off to Paducah, Ky.  Paducah?  Well, of course.  The home of the National Quilt Museum!  Now, suspend your disbelief.  I actually enjoyed it.  Loni’s not yet into quilting, but does do a lot of knitting and really wanted to visit here.  I’m glad she did.  There was some amazing stuff.  Unfortunately, they allow no pictures inside, but the link above to their website has some examples.  Some of the pieces exhibited dated back to the mid-1700’s and were still in remarkable condition.  They had to survive a couple hundred years of use before being preserved here.  If you’re in these parts, do make a stop.  “Downtown” Paducah didn’t cover much territory, but they did have a small shopping district of old buildings which had some pretty interesting looking restaurants from the menus we saw posted.

Unfortunately, the pie restaurant was closed.  Can’t remember why.  We had a similar disappointment when we visited Pie Town in New Mexico.  I can’t catch a break with pies.  But ice cream, now, that’s another matter.

 

That’s a hot-fudge-brownie-coffee-ice-cream concoction with real (not sprayed) whip cream on top.  Yes, I ate the whole thing, except for the candied cherry, which I loath.  Loni had her ice cream cone.  No paramedics were called.  We had an omelet for dinner, back at the Fern Lake RV Park.  $30 for a gravel spot, but it did have electricity, which was needed for the 90’s+ temps.

Wednesday.  Got up at 5:30 today to try to make some miles in cooler temps.  Sun was up anyway and the birds were singing.  We kept off the interstates, traveling on US 60 across the Mississippi and into Missouri.  This small road stuff leads to some interesting moments.  This bridge is really narrow when you’re nearly nine feet wide with mirrors and trying to keep from scraping your side on the guardrails.  Fortunately, we didn’t encounter any trucks coming the other way.

Missouri down this way was pretty flat and boring, but that changed as we passed into Arkansas.  We kept on 60 as far as Poplar Bluff, MO, then dropped down on state 160 to state 142, which is where we hit the roller coaster.  My god, the hills just kept on coming.  Loni felt very carsick from the whoop-de-doos and the curves.  The insult-to-injury was getting stuck behind the striping truck for a l-o-o-n-g time.

We ended the day at Lake Norfolk near Mountain Home, AR.  Our site was nothing to write home about (nor photograph), but it was level, had some shade (temps in the 90’s again), and we could walk down to the lake.  Lots of folks here camping, even in mid-week.  Those empty spots all had reserved signs on them, and filled by evening.  There was a little swimming beach down at the bottom of the road.  It was way too hot to cook (no hookups here, but we ran the generator a while for A/C), so Loni made a nice salad.

Thursday.  Up at 6:30 to get underway.  Loni’s feeling rather punk, some nausea and lots of bronchial congestion and laryngitis.  I sympathized, as I have been coming down with something for a week now.  Lots of runny nose and congestion.  As I write this, almost a year later, it’s interesting to reflect that this is where my health problems of the last 10 months or so probably began.  As I’ll blog later, it’s resulted in cancellation of two major trips, two excursions to E.R.’s in two states, and no real diagnosis in sight.  Sigh.  Aging ain’t the piece of cake I thought it would be.  No dumping today.  We found a super-WalMart and stocked up on food.  We drove about five hours thru the Ozark Mountains to get to Grove, OK.  Again, we had a day of twisty ups and downs, with a zillion superfluous arrow signs warning of curves.  A single sign warning of a straight would have been more economical. 

Loni was really feeling sick from both the motion and her illness.  We did pass through a cute little town that lined US 62 – Eureka Springs, AR – which existed solely for the tourist trade, with lots of bluegrass music places, arts & crafts, restaurants and hotels.  Even had signs now and then saying “Motorcyclists Welcomed.”  With the twisty roads, I’m not surprised.  It reminded us a lot of Ruidoso and Alta, New Mexico, in the way it existed almost entirely along the single main road and nothing was more than 100 feet from it.  We stayed on 62 until we hit US 71, north on that until we nudged back into the SW corner of MO, to SR 90 west.  A couple of jogs, and we were at Grove, OK, where we made our way to Lee’s Grand Lake Resort.  Their website warned that GPS directions would be unreliable, and provided primitive instructions.  The problem is that we didn’t get into the area via the road in the instructions, which quickly became impossible.  In the end, we fired up Dora and hoped for the best.  I’ll be darned, but she guided us right to it.  This was a rather peaceful spot for $20 a nite.  That didn’t get us much in the way of a site, as the Resort is mainly geared to permanents/long stays, and we were sandwiched in a rather forlorn stretch between (im)mobile homes and trailer residents.

That said, the rest of the Resort was quite nice.

A big lake, created by a dam somewhere, with quarry-like sides (on our side, not the other), and a nice big rambling deck where we could sit and enjoy the quiet.  I may have to re-think this beard thing.

For the residents, there was the prettiest lineup of mailboxes I think we’ve seen.

MAMMOTH DISAPPOINTMENT

June 13-17, 2012       

As we weren’t planning to go far, we had a leisurely morning, with a nice breakfast and hot showers at the Natural Bridge KOA park, seen outside our window here.  Like a lot of parks these days, they have erected cabins for non-RV visitors.  Nothing much to see here, as the area is heavily treed, but it was pleasant enough.

Our original plan was to drive to Abingdon, VA, about 160 miles down I-81, but that went by relatively quickly.  We’re so used to taking secondary roads that I always overestimate the time required to get anywhere.  We had intended to cut west there on 58 and go

through the Cumberland Gap, but it would have added more miles without much difference in the scenery, so we pressed on to Kingsport, TN,  passing by Bristol, home of one of NASCAR’s famed short tracks.  We weren’t sure what this dozer was doing, but the hillside he was on certainly was colorful.  You wouldn’t believe how many manufactured homes we saw being hauled around, and they always slowed things down as everyone has to squeeze over into one lane to get around.  Tennessee, at least in this area, all looked pretty much like the lower right.  We spent the night at Warrior State Park, very pretty sitting on a lake, and only $20!  No TV or WiFi, so we ended the night with an “All Creatures” episode, which we never tire of.  The first series, which is the one we have DVD’s of (thank-you, boyos), was filmed 1978-1980.  Peter Davison plays the role of young Tristan Farnon.  Not being “Dr. Who” fans, we often wondered what became of him as an actor.  Last night, while watching a “Foyles War” DVD, there was a trailer for another Brit series called “The Last Detective.”  I kept looking at the protagonist and said to Loni, “Isn’t that Tristan?”  Sure enough, 30 years older, and much fleshier of face, there he was.  Now we’ll have to Netflix that one as well.  But I digress.

We started out the next morning with breakfast at a nearby “Waffle House,” a largely south- eastern institution (1700 outlets).  We’d eaten at another one in the Carolinas 2 years ago, and liked it.  This one likewise didn’t disappoint.  Perfectly cooked waffles, crisp bacon, slightly wet scrambled eggs, grits, toast, OJ and coffee.  Everything just like we ordered.  At a chain!  The portions were substantial, so we skipped lunch.  Shopping stop at Wal-Mart for groceries, through the “Gap” without much of interest to photograph, and stopped for the night at West Gate RV Park in London, KY.  This definitely ranks low on the beauty scale, being an appendage of a budget motel, and situated behind a gas station and fast food place.  But, for $23 a night we got full hookups, great wifi, entertainment from the families at the adjacent swimming pool, and 90 stations on the cable!  With the outside temp at 85, and humidity making it feel like 100, we mostly stayed inside with the air on and I watched England beat Sweden 3-2 in a good soccer game.  Loni fixed a fake-crab pasta with asparagus on the side, so all was good.

Saturday, we finally made it to the Mammoth Cave area and found a newer (small trees, no shade) RV park in nearby Cave City.  After signing in, we drove the rig over to the Cave to check that our reservations for tomorrow’s 4-mile “Grand Avenue” tour were set.  I had made these via the internet, but couldn’t print anything out.  I could, however, flash the email from them on my iPod.  Everything was in order.  Instead of going back to the RV park and sitting in the heat, we decided to use the rest of the afternoon to take the only self-guided (read: free) walk into the cave via the old, natural entry.  This only allows you to go a short way in.  Loni was last here when she was four, so didn’t remember a lot except for the boats on a river.  Wha?  We found the entry and went on down.  (I’m just a few days into a new stash and beard.)

Hmmmm.  There wasn’t a whole lot to see down there.  Just a big cavern that looked like it had been blasted out.  Certainly no water.  Oh well, tomorrow’s tour, which covers just about everything, should cover some interesting ground.  Right?  We found out later that Loni’s memory of an underground boat ride, complete with blind fish, was correct.  However, the new order has determined the visitors and rides were harming the fish, so that area has long been closed off to the public.  We remember taking a similar River Styx excursion on a river deep within the Gouffre-de-Padirac (this is a cool link; it looks like the French are still boating down under) when we were students in France in ancient times (1966).  That was pretty cool, so I was disappointed that this similar feature has been removed from access at Mammoth.  Back to the RV park and a “pre-Father’s Day” feast of steak smothered in balsamic onions, mash, broc, and a bottle of Bogle Petit Syrah.  Yeah, life can be good.

Next day we drove back and parked near the Visitor Center where we were to meet up with the tour.  This one starts through a man-made entry, not nearly as neat as the original.  In retrospect, there should have been a sign over the door saying “Abandon Hope of Anything Interesting All Yee Who Enter.” Before going in, the ranger did his best to disclaim any responsibility for the infirm, over-hyping the “difficulty” of the “arduous” hike we were about to take, with lots of steps up and down.  Gee, you think?  I guess this is a sad commentary on the general fitness of the American public, although the group we were with seemed pretty fit.  In fact, we were about the oldest on the tour.

We covered about a mile in the first 45 minutes, and it was mostly flat and monotonous.  It looks for all the world just what it is:  a rock tunnel carved through the earth by long-gone underground rivers.  No stalagmites.  No stalactites.  No formations.  Just lots of dark walls.  The ranger did his best to make things interesting, but . . . you can’t make a silk purse. 

It wasn’t much longer before we stopped for lunch.  Nothing gourmet here.  Turkey & American cheese on white bread with nothing to juice it up.  Veggie soup, pasta salad, an apple and a cookie.  With a drink, it was only $8.50, so can’t complain too much, especially considering where we were.  But I was sure thankful for that soup to help wash down the dry sandwich.  And, they had real bathrooms!

We kept on going, ever hoping for something, anything, to look at.  But it was just more of the same, occasionally broken up by a narrow passage.

   At one point we all got to sit down for a spell, and here was where they did the old “turn out the lights and sit with your thoughts” routine.  My thoughts were unprintable.  (No, I didn’t take this during the dark time.)

We did, finally, at the very end of our four-mile hike through nothingness, reach a small area where there were some formations, but they looked crude and uninteresting compared with those we had enjoyed in Luray.  Clearly, we have been spoiled by Luray, Carlsbad, and even Kartchner Caverns.  Heck, even the little thing that is close to the Grand Canyon, whose name escapes me, had more to see than did Mammoth.  Very, very overrated.  After we got through this small area, we went down some narrow stairs, wound around, and found ourselves outside, being herded like cattle at the slaughterhouse through footbaths designed to avoid tracking out anything that might harbor the white-nose bat disease.  Now they warn us!  Maybe that’s why I’ve been sick ever since.

Mammoth’s claim to fame is its sheer length.  They’ve found 350+ miles of passages, and still don’t have a handle on the entirety.  But this is a case where size really doesn’t matter.  It’s just so uninteresting.  Heck, on size, the huge dome areas in Carlsbad dwarf anything at Mammoth many times over, and they’re beautiful to boot.  Enough rant.  You get the picture.

Back at the rig, Loni made a delicious chicken cous-cous, I watched the U.S. Open (golf), and we got Father’s Day calls from both of the boys.  In the end, the day turned out just fine.

WOODROW & A WASTE OF WAX

June 12-13, 2012      Moving on this morning.  Of course, the rain held off just long enough for me to start dumping the tanks, then it poured throughout the process.  At least the drain was high and dry and not under water itself like we’ve experienced elsewhere.  That done, we set off down the Shenandoah Valley on our way to Staunton, VA, the birthplace of Woodrow Wilson and the site of his museum.  Thus far we’ve seen LBJ’s in Austin (while attending an AABB convention in San Antonio), Clinton's in Little Rock, and Eisenhower's in Abilene.  Even though Reagan’s and Nixon’s are in our back yard, we haven’t  gone to  either.  Probably won’t.  Anyway, we made it through the drizzle to Staunton, where the skies cleared up and we found parking close to the museum on a side street.  Given the narrowness of the streets, and the compactness of the towns in these parts, parking is tricky.

Wilson’s museum is very much a home-town, low-key affair, unlike the museums of more recent presidents.  It is housed in a lovely brick house on a tree-lined street just two doors away from his birthplace.

 

 

His birthplace is that white house you can just make out on the far right.  The museum is the brick house on the left, with Loni standing on the porch.

Wilson was born here in 1856, and was elected the 28th president in 1912, beating Taft, Teddy, and Eugene Debs.  He wasn’t anyone’s first choice, not getting the nod until the 36th ballot.  Promising to keep us out of Europe’s wars, he was re-elected in 1916.  We all know how that turned out.  Along the way, he was president of Princeton, developed its classic liberal arts curriculum, and had a rather inflated view (see below) of the value of a Princeton education.  Like I said, this is a low-key museum, but still was full of interesting items, along with some hokum.

After the museum, we went through his birthplace, but weren’t permitted to take pictures.  It was a former Presbyterian “manse” when his father served as minister.  The guide was well-versed in the lore, and made it pretty interesting, including opining on the origins of common expressions.  Supposedly, “down to the wire” refers to a candle burning down to it’s wire-ring base.  Who am I to argue?

We walked a couple of blocks to the “main drag” of Staunton, which was quite appealing.

Even more appealing was the “Pampered Palate,” a little sandwich shop located in the storefront on the left just across the intersection.  We had a delicious soup, half a wrap, tea for Loni, and, embarrassingly . . .

Ok, I just had half of each dessert, and the milkshake.  Shameless.  Oh, yes.  Do make a beeline for this place if you ever find yourself in this out-of-the-way town.

We spent the night nearby at the Walnut Hills KOA which was pleasant enough.  It was getting pretty hot and humid, so we made good use of their pool.  No TV reception at all, but we didn’t miss it.  Fairly good wifi, so got caught up on emails.

The downside of the place is that there had been a lot of rain, and the “cheap” spots (no utilities) were all in a rather low area that had a lot of standing water.  It was nicely shaded, and had a picturesque winding stream through it, but we were concerned about sinking into the soggy soil.  Our tire should be above the grass, but the whole ramp has been squashed into the ground.

When we drove off it the next morning, I had to pry it out of the earth.  For now, though, we (well, I;  Loni was making dinner) just kicked back and used the iPod for mail, and watched the birdies.

Next morning, we took a stroll around the park.  Many of the sites surround a moderate fishing lake with an improbable name.

Our next stop was only 50 miles away – Natural Bridge Historic Park, just south of Lexington, VA.  This leg was all on I-81, the only N/S highway in western Virginia, and it was heavy with truck traffic.  The Valley, though, was beautiful.  I’m not sure just what to say about Natural Bridge.  If you’ve ever been to Arches N.P. or Natural Bridges N.P. out west, you really don’t need to make an effort to see this one.  It’s impressive for the East, but pales in comparison to the western giants.  The entrance fee is $18, but includes such attractive extras as the butterfly museum, a re-creation of an Indian village, a toy museum, and, saving the best for last, the wax museum.  Oh, be still my heart.  Having come this far, we took the plunge.

We got our exercise for the day on the 137 steps down (and back up) to the riverbed, checking out the promo marker.

Once down there, you’re there!  For scale, look at the tiny figures directly under the bridge, not those on the path in the foreground.  We’re posing under the arch, looking back the other way.  The square is marking the site where Washington allegedly carved his initials in 1750.  Although the above “history” seems pretty confident of this, the docents were a lot more wishy-washy.  The box is on the wall on the other side of the river from where we’re posing.

A state highway runs across the top of the arch, so I guess they’re pretty confident in its integrity.  We did not put it to the test with the rig.

So, what did we get for the rest of our $18?  Well, a few nice butterflies in some small rooms.

The Indian village was not worth photographing, and the toy museum was mercifully closed.  Ah, but the wax museum.  Yes, the wax museum, without a doubt the worst-made figures and the most ridiculous settings we’d ever seen.  Truly, we were stifling laughs so as not to offend anyone connected with it, nor the few other tourists who seemed vaguely enthralled.  The truly awful Garden of Eden scene was paired with what could only be a true hell on earth ---- a gathering of past presidents, all but one of which were barely recognizable.  But that lonely one truly was absolutely lifelike!

OH, SHENANDOAH, YOU’VE LURAY’D ME IN

June 10-11, 2012

We stayed an extra day at the Charlottesville KOA, but just as a down day to do laundry, watch the Belmont, and plot our next few days accommodations.  On Sunday we left to make our way west to Skyline Drive, the northernmost end of the Blue Ridge Parkway that we traversed back in 2010 on our Southeast States trip.  We motored west on I-64, made what we thought was the proper turn to get on the Parkway, and Gertrude started acting up.  But I don’t want to make a U-turn, Gertie.  We had to pull over and reboot the gremlins out of her, and all was well thereafter.  At least she didn’t try to turn us onto railroad tracks like she did once before.  Actually, I’m pretty pleased with our Garmin, and have upgraded from Gertie I, seen here, to Gertie II, a 2555, which comes with lifetime map upgrades.  Woohoo!

We headed north on Skyline Drive, pointing towards the town of Luray.  Can’t say that this part of the BRP/SD road is all that interesting.  Unlike the southern part, the northern lacks the vistas of endless mountain chains that you see down there.  Still, we had some longer views.  Mostly, however, we had a lot of foliage on both sides which blocked any view at all.

Occasionally, a tunnel would pop up for interest, and there was one park service stop at the Byrd Visitor Center where there was a small museum dedicated to the Shenandoah National Park.  All in all, it was just a pleasant drive without the wow factor.

We made the town of Luray in the mid-afternoon, and pulled into the Country Waye campground which, at $50 (!!!) per night is probably the most expensive place we have stayed when out in “the sticks.”  Only our D.C. campground was more expensive.  I have to say, however, that the place had a quiet charm that was quite restful.  Not $50 bucks worth of restful, but pretty nice.

Our pad was at the beginning of a downslope, so we had a pretty nice vista out the back, and the front was not bad either.  It definitely was weird having the scoot hang out in the air like that.  Loni made an enchilada casserole for dinner, a little beer, an evening walk around the grounds, played some gin rummy, and generally chilled in these very peaceful surroundings.

Next morning, with drizzles in the offing, we decided to keep the scoot racked and took the rig to see the Luray Caverns.  This place was spectacular.  I rate it as one of the high points of our many trips and, if you’re anywhere close, you definitely have to check it out.  Carlsbad Caverns beats it for size and huge formations, but nothing tops it for the intricacy and beauty of its “mites and tites.”  My little camera (Canon S95) doesn’t do it justice, but these shots will give a taste (I took over 100 shots).

Here’s Loni as we were beginning the tour.

I thought these were two of the most spectacular formations.  I love the light through the “drapery.”

All sorts of fantastical formations seemed to be around each turn of the path.

At several places there were pools of absolutely still and clear water that reflected the overhanging ‘tites.  Every thing you see below in the bottom half is a reflection.  Way cool!

More nifty stuff.  That same cone as seen from below is in the collage above.

One of the more, ah, unusual things in the cave was the organ that used stalagmites as pipes.  Yup, they actually play the thing, or at least 37 notes, by gently hitting certain of the mites.  When we were there, I recorded what we heard, but it was so soft that it didn’t come out all that well.  I Googled the organ, and found this recording that sounds much better.  The lower right in the collage below shows the mechanism attached to the ‘tites.

On the way out we passed one last feature:  the “wishing well” where visitors throw in their coins.  They even keep a tally on the annual take!  The upper right photo shows the most whimsical formation – the “fried eggs.”

Across the parking lot from the caverns entrance was a (from the outside) nondescript auto museum.  As the entry fee was part of our caverns ticket, we decided to go in.  Am I ever glad we did.  I like auto museums.  Here in L.A. we have one of the best, the Peterson.  So, I wasn’t expecting much here in the Shenandoah Valley.  Wrong again, Sherlock.  They had some of the niftiest cars I’ve ever seen, all in absolutely superb condition.  Again, here’s just a taste.  DO take in this exhibition if you have any interest in historical cars.

Good night!  That Benz IS automotive history.  I loved the wood on this one below.

I also liked the fact that they grouped cars together for comparison, like this 1915 trio:  Dodge, Ford, and Chevrolet (front to rear).

One of the most impressive was this exquisite Hispano-Suiza.  Was there ever a more graceful hood ornament?  Puts the Rolls’ “Spirit of Ecstasy” to shame.

After all of this, we didn’t even mind the drizzle as we went back to the park for the evening.  We had thought about taking in a local baseball game, but the moisture wimped us out.  There’s an attraction, however, to sitting in the rig, windows open, on a warm night with a gentle rain tapping on the roof.  Life could be a lot worse.