Along the Ray

Along the Ray

An alien from a different plane wandering the universe in a tiny camper

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September 6, 2023 JOURNAL

8-21 My body exhales, Amish farmer, wrench in machine

A couple days later of no connectivity I’m finding my body truly appreciates it. It’s far more relaxed and less tense, esp. in my neck, back, and eyes from the strain of being online.

Internally I sense more inner peace. There are just my thoughts alone without the entire world inside my head.

I’ve long been aware of the stress being online puts on my body but I didn’t feel the palpable exhale of relief from it until after being off-line for an extended period of time.

What a difference it makes!

I sometimes reflect to the days when there were no cell phones and I remember how more vibrant life was - maybe because I was more in touch with it.

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Rather than catch up with news of the world on my phone each morning since there is no connectivity I’m going to try jotting down thoughts in a paper journal and see where it takes me.

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Just saw a raven swoop through. Whenever I see one it’s a good sign that I’m on the right path.

When I first started this very nomadic journey by going up the east coast in to Nova Scotia, there were ravens all along the way, guiding and accompanying this newbie.

Much later, the day when I resumed my travels after a long battle with Mr. Lyme a pair of ravens perched above my camper to see me off.

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Today I move from Defeated Creek in Tennessee to Tailwater further north. I had plans to stay here longer but my spot has no shade and it’s too hot to sit outside like I usually do. And I don’t want to sit inside my camper all day, A/C or no.

Waterfront spots are nice but shade is a must to enjoy it.

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Took a long detour through the Kentucky Highlands countryside to stop at an Amish farm shop. It was like stepping back in time via rolling hills sprinkled with farms and old homes. As I got closer I began to see tell-tale signs of skinny ruts and dried horse poop on top of the asphalt road — a sure sign of Amish horse drawn wagons.

The farmer’s market was a delight, complete with ancient cash registers. Varieties of veggies n such were spread throughout mixed with assortments of homemade breads, jams, granola, baked goods and more.

I asked the Amish farmer if I could just buy a couple of potatoes rather than the bundle he sells.

He waved me into the back and said to pick whatever I liked. I choose a couple small potatoes and he gestured to bigger ones, encouraging me to upsize.

I pointed out the back door to my tiny camper. Small camper, small space for food.

He got it and grinned, long white beard dancing.

As we walked back to the front, he asked where I was from.

Florida… but that camper is my home.”

Eyes wide, he confirms, You live in it??”

Yes. It’s my home wherever I go!”

He laughs and waves his arms around, Your home is everywhere!”

I nod and smile.

Curious, he asks if I’m alone.

Yes.”

What about a wife?

I divorced a long time ago.”

His gentle blue eyes dig into mine.

It’s all good,” I affirm.

He gestures again, Your home is wherever you are!”

Home is where the heart is!” I reply jovially.

I ask where he is from. Pennsylvania.

Why did he move to Kentucky? Everything was getting expensive and land prices getting too costly for farming he says, shrugging.

And the kids, he adds, we don’t use electricity, cars, or cell phones — they’re fading away from our way of life.

It was a somber moment.

Then he says I’m here now and happy and our farm is expanding!

We grin again in unison.

How old are you, he asks? 55 I say. 77! he reciprocates.

Another customer walks in. It was time for me to get back on the road.

He rings me up, I fork over bills, proffer thanks and wish him the best.

You too! he says with a twinkle in eyes as he whimsically looks over at my camper.

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I arrive at Tailwater COE campground a day early thinking it wouldn’t be a big deal to shift my reservation back having left my prior reservation at Defeated Creek a day early too.

The campground host was clearly unnerved I brought chaos by showing up early and she was unsure what to do.

Is it really a big deal with the campground being mostly empty and my spot available, I ask?

Stammering and stalling out, her brain sputtered to a stop.

I ended up running over to the COE management office (luckily they were close by) where a kindly ranger banged around on her computer for awhile and got things sorted out.

I asked why it was such a big deal. She shrugged it is what it is, we have to make sure everyone is checked in properly and with a proper reservation.

I forgot COE (Corps of Engineers) is actually part of the US Military. And being engineer-run, they got rules and they gotta be followed!

My mistake for throwing a wrench into the machine.

penned
September 6, 2023 JOURNAL

8-20 Stillness, books

The stillness of these wild, out of the way places pull me in as invitation to meditate and merge with it.

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Recent books I really enjoyed: My own devices” by Dessa and River House” by Sarahlee Laurence.

penned
September 4, 2023 JOURNAL

8-19 Salt Lick creek, peace without cellular and writing

A quick note: I’ve been off-line for a good while thanks to camping in areas with little to no cellular signal. One of the benefits? More writing in my notebook journal.

I have a pile of notes to catch up on and type into the computer for this here blog so you’ll likely see em spilling through soon (as long as I have a good connection and desire to be on a computer).

These notes will be backdated to when they were written to stay with the flow.

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I’m at this sprawling campground far larger than what I’m used to. It’s beautiful in some kind of way like a perfectly maintained subdivision of campsites with wide, sweeping lawns and hulking big rigs everywhere. Like any Americana neighborhood — there’s people milling out n about, tending to their BBQ grills (one prodigious camper hauled his own huge grill behind his rig) and parties plopped into circled lawn chairs and beers in hands. Kids darting here and there, tiny dogs yapping and gnawing (and pooping all over).

It’s so strange to be ensconced in all this in the middle of nowhere where there’s no cell signal to be had.

Suburbia implanted in a pocket of wilderness.

Each time I walk around the campground I feel like an alien out of place in my tiny camper and wild, rustic spirit.

It is what it is — I’m glad to at least see people experiencing nature even if sanitized and mowed over. Often in these areas it’s the only camping to be had.

I lucked out snagging one of the last waterfront campsites left here and I can see why — it’s one of the few scraggly, untamed parts of the campground with rambling trees and vines yarned all over. To get to the water I had to machete my way through — just how I like it.

It’s like being in a womb of green with smatterings of life — a box turtle who stopped by for a visit, squirrels flaying themselves from tree to tree and all sorts of birds that visit my little oasis tucked away from civilization.

As the sun sets over the river I’m able to witness its pink and orange beauty over the valley beyond through a hole in the greenery.

And so it is.

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Being in an area with no cellular coverage brings remarkable peace. The noise in and out of my head is gone, no more constant chitter and chatter. Just blessed silence.

Deep, deep silence — the kind that sinks into my bones akin to a spiritual moment.

Smart phones and civilization seem to disconnect us from ourselves. It’s been awhile since I’ve felt this kind of silence and it’s a balm for the soul.

It’s ironic that to reconnect to ourselves we must disconnect from the world.

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I keep looking for something creative to do with sustained effort (and possibly make a living at) - painting, drawing/sketching, photography, etc. etc. Yet deep down I know my strongest talent is in writing.

And yet I always seem to run from it. Maybe it’’s because it takes the most effort yet it’s the easiest for me to do.

Writing does require a shifting of consciousness and a slowing down and often I don’t think I have (more like want) the time or energy to slip into that mode.

There could be other more subtle reasons such as facing myself and my mind and whatever lies within.

Maybe it’s simply sheer laziness?

Nonetheless I shall take the plunge yet again and see where it goes.

penned
August 17, 2023 ON THE ROAD

Dale Hollow dam

Altitude 166.993 ft
Celina, TN
73°F (feels 75°F) Mostly Clear (wind 4.4 mph)

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Lovely little campground on the Obey river. Beavers abound!

August 15, 2023
Garner falls on Garner Branch off Cumberland lake:river. Monticello, Kentucky has so many falls it’s wild.
Garner falls on Garner Branch off Cumberland lake:river. Monticello, Kentucky has so many falls it’s wild.
August 13, 2023
Waterfall at Mill Spring near Monticello, Kentucky. Civil war battleground nearby.
Waterfall at Mill Spring near Monticello, Kentucky. Civil war battleground nearby.
August 11, 2023 ON THE ROAD

Fall Creek campground

Altitude 228.555 ft
Monticello, KY
76°F (feels 80°F) Clear (wind 3.3 mph)

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Loved driving through hilly countryside & farms to get here. On Cumberland river.

You cannot discover new oceans unless you have the courage to lose sight of the shore. ~ Andre Gide

August 8, 2023
The Carney Fork river in Tennessee is usually misty in summers so it makes for a surreal kayak.
The Carney Fork river in Tennessee is usually misty in summers so it makes for a surreal kayak.
August 8, 2023 ON THE ROAD

Cages Bend campground

Altitude 137.951 ft
Gallatin, TN
79°F (feels 82°F) Sunny (wind 1.9 mph)

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So strange to drive through neighborhood of million dollar homes to this oasis on Old Hickory lake…

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https://alongtheray.com Along the Ray

An alien from a different plane wandering the universe in a tiny camper

Along the Ray

Somewhere on a river...

North American continent usually

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