Damn The Torpedoes... Full Speed Ahead

   Silence.

  It's been ten days since we arrived and I've had nothing to write about. I've been without inspiration and I'm loathe to write just for the sake of putting words to figurative paper. Until today.

  Am I inspired? No. Did something unusual happen? No. It's just time. I feel a need to take all of you with me on this journey and, even though nothing momentous occurred, I think I need to share my thoughts.

  First, our search for fresh shrimp was finally satisfied. In fact, once Ben and Sandi arrived and we took them to Dauphin Island Monday we even managed to buy some from the shop there that's always closed. Score one for the good guys.

  While we were there we stopped at Fort Gaines. Built in 1821 it was part of Mobile Bay's defenses. In 1864 it, along with Fort Morgan on the eastern side of the bay, played a significant part in the Battle of Mobile Bay, the last major battle of the war. As it was unfolding, the Union's Admiral Farragut, upon encountering torpedoes launched by the Confederate Navy and determined to capture Mobile uttered his famous quote, "Damn the torpedoes... full speed ahead!"

  After a brief visit to the fort we spent an hour on the beach watching the waves roll gently onto the beach while pelicans, terns and an odd duck hung out nearby:

  There's something about ocean waves I find mesmerizing, like a campfire. If I lived in an oceanfront house with a firepit I don't think I'd ever be bored.

  Today is Halloween and I believe I mentioned we live across the street from a huge cemetery. We haven't seen any kids around here so we don't think we'll get any action this evening but old houses across from 100,000 dead people sounds like the perfect locale for some scary stuff.

  Speaking of Magnolia Cemetery, I've been walking Willie there and checking out old markers and memorials. There's a section reserved for 1,100 Confederate soldiers' graves and there's an unusual marker set just to the side as it was added recently.

  The unknown sailor's skeleton was discovered in an archaeological survey of the CSS Alabama off the coast of Cherbourg, France ten years ago, and was interred in a special ceremony. The Alabama is revered here, as is the Confederacy in general. In 1864 the Alabama sailed to France for drydock repairs as the South did not have adequate facilities to service it. A Union battleship followed it and blocked its exit after the repairs, sinking it in the English Channel. An interesting connection to find here.

  There's also memorials erected to Confederate generals by the Sons of Confederate Veterans, which is a bit Klannish in it's beliefs. All this is accepted quite openly around here although the state government forced the removal of a statue of Confederate hero Admiral Semmes two years ago in the "good people on both sides" aftermath.

  Alabama is a very "red" state in US political terms. We're not seeing many Trump signs here, unlike most other states we've visited. I think it may be a case of not preaching to the choir. Between sympathy for the Confederacy and support for Trump we think it wise not to engage in political discussions.

  Apropos of nothing, there's an injury lawyer in Alabama by the name of Alexander Shunnarah. It appears he told an ad agency to buy every vacant billboard in the state.

  Everywhere you go, and I mean everywhere, you see his smiling face. I'm sure he gets a ton of business because of his ads but I'm sure he's charging a ton to pay for all those signs.

  Weather-wise, it's been 30ish and sunny since we got here... until today. It got cold last night, into the single digits, which is rare here at this time of year. The forecast calls for a return to normal by Thursday but I had to turn on the heat this morning. I mean, I can do that back home. This is NOT what we came here for. /whine=on

  Speaking of cold weather, we're trying to come up with a plan for the winter. We'll be home in early December and were planning to hit the road again in late January. The question is, where? We'd prefer someplace warm. Our options appear to be, come back to the US south, go off to Australia or find a warm spot around the Mediterranean. I guess it's possible something in the Caribbean will come up but the greatest volume of possibilities is in those three areas.

  The US is easy and cheap as all we need to do is drive. However, once we leave North America we run into the "no car" problem and long stays will run up huge rental car bills. Many Australia and New Zealand sits provide a car but airfare is steep. Most of the European ones are in rural areas where cars are necessary but not provided. It's a quandary.

  We have time on our side as it's three months away and I'm betting we'll find something but the uncertainty isn't welcome.

  With seasonal weather returning Thursday we'll go back to exploring Mobile with our friends, playing some golf and hitting more beaches. Life will be good once again. Until then we'll tough it out like real Canadians... and make gumbo.

"Mobeel" Not "Mobyle"

  We've completed our first weekend in Mobile, having recovered from the endlessly boring three day drive, so it's time for some thoughts on our current house sit.

  Let's talk about the "where" first. Mobile is situated on the west coast of Mobile Bay, which empties into the Gulf of Mexico. It's in the little neck of Alabama that sticks out between Mississippi and the Florida Panhandle, part of what's affectionately known as the "Redneck Riviera". It's an oil-rich area with drilling platforms scattered around the Gulf south of the bay. In fact, the "Deepwater Horizon" disaster of 2010 occurred just south of here and oil washed up on the coastal beaches for months afterwards.

  Mobile itself is an interesting place. Founded by the French as the capital of Louisiana in the early 18th century it became British territory after the Seven Years War then Spanish during the American Revolution and finally American early in the 19th century. It's where Mardi Gras was first celebrated in the U.S. and much of what New Orleans is now known for began here.

  To the south are the fertile saltwater bayous where oysters, shrimp and crawfish abound. Fresh seafood is all around us although we have yet to eat any of it. More on that a bit later. To the north are cotton fields, a reminder that the economy was wholly dependent upon farm labour, provided by slaves. When the federal government started moving to outlaw slavery in the 1850's it threatened the profitability of all southern landowners and led to the Civil War.

End of history lesson.

  One of the first things that hits you when you arrive is how you interpret the word "mobile". For example, a sign that reads "Mobile Veterinarian" anywhere else would advertise a vet that makes house calls. Here, it just tells you where they're located. And, it's "Mobeel", not "Mobyle". I guess having a car here makes you mobile in Mobile... in an automobile 😉.

  The city itself is an amalgam of French, Spanish, new, old, slums and old money neo-classic architecture. Where we are living, in the heart of the "old" city near the waterfront, is a few blocks from an area replete with boarded up shacks and tenements ready for urban renewal. Two blocks in the opposite direction reveals antebellum manor houses. Across the street is a noteworthy cemetery where Civil War dead are buried. To the west is the "new" Mobile, full of housing developments and big box stores. Oh, the incongruity of it all.

  Our house, for the next three weeks, is a pokey little two-bedroom place around a hundred years old. It's undergone a few badly executed renovations over the years, which I try to ignore, but it's homey and warm. It's a corner lot so the backyard is small but it's shaded and comfortable and they have a Blackstone grill, which makes it all okay. Fun fact: one of the owners is in the Coast Guard and hangs from helicopters during rescues. For the first 65 years of my life I didn't meet anyone who hung from helicopters to rescue people and I've now met two in the past two months (see Jim in the "Smoke Gets In Your Eyes" episode). Life is funny.

  With unpacking and some basic grocery shopping completed we headed out to check out the beaches this weekend. Our first stop, on the way to Gulf Shores on Saturday, was a British Car Show put on by the South Alabama British Car Club. We're suckers for these things so off we went to Fairhope, AL with Willie along for the ride. No pictures to show but there was a gorgeous 1954 Jaguar XK120 I'd be happy to have in the driveway. Willie liked it too and would have climbed in had Penny not had a good hold on his leash. I'm sure the owners would not have been pleased.

  One of the ubiquitous things you see along roadsides in the southern states are billboards advertising gun shows.

  I'm determined to go to one. I'm curious to see what it's all about and find out if it's as easy to buy firearms as the media makes it out to be. Maybe I'll buy some camo at Costco so I can blend in. Also, don't wear the maple leaf hat.

  We continued down to the Shore where we were confined to walking the concrete fronting the sand as Willie wasn't allowed on it. I mean, he's pretty well-mannered and I'm sure he wouldn't do anything wrong, but rules is rules.

  The beach at Gulf Shores is pretty much the same as any you'd find in Florida, with bars, restaurants, condos and hotels vying for views of the water and sand. Unable to enjoy the sand and uninterested in quaffing beers amongst the locals glued to TV's showing the Crimson Tide game we headed home promising to revisit the area without our furry friend.

  But wait. There are two beach areas here. Gulf Shores is the touristy barrier island stretching across the eastern opening to Mobile Bay. To the west is Dauphin Island and research revealed the area to be the home of fishing fleets where one can buy the catch of the day as it comes off the boat. Having not yet sampled any of the local seafood it became Sunday's destination. With our dog-unfriendly beach experience fresh in our minds we left Willie at home. With a doggie door and lots of water we knew he'd be fine without us for a few hours.

  DI, as it's known by the locals, is at the end of a long causeway/bridge affair that spans the rivers and bayous that make up the Mobile Bay estuary. It's a peaceful, scenic area with lots of waterfront vacation homes on stilts, safely above potential floodwaters during hurricane season.

  The island itself has two characters. The western half is a narrow sandbar strewn with beach houses competing for water and beach views to the south and jetties for their boats along the marshy north. The eastern half is mostly treed with nice beaches and is where the permanent residents live. After driving the length of the island we stopped at the easternmost beach to walk the sand and dip our toes in the Gulf waters. Of course, Penny took this opportunity to search for stones and shells to add to her collection.

  While lying on the sand staring at the gentle waves rolling in and counting the drilling rigs in the distance I noticed people were walking the beach with their dogs. It seems we got it backwards; we should have brought Willie with us here and left him at home when visiting Gulf Shores. We'll be back.

  Now then, I did mention this seafood thing. Before we drove down to DI I looked up the best shop to buy fresh seafood. Our plan was to hit it on our way home as it was open until 5 pm. Well, no. We drove over at 3:30 and they were closed. Maybe they had sold everything. Maybe it was Sunday and it was time for NFL football. Who knows? Anyway, no seafood at DI.

  I did have a Plan B. The map revealed we were only twenty minutes from Bayou La Batre. Yes, Forrest Gump strikes again. The same Bayou La Batre where Bubba grew up. The place where Forrest would go when he wanted to become a shrimpin' boat captain. They must have shrimp there so off we went.

  Did I mention it was Sunday? Did I mention it was late afternoon? No shrimp anywhere. We tried. We really did. Back home we went, shrimpless. We'll be back, but not on a Sunday and not in the late afternoon. Oh, and we didn't see Lt. Dan either.

  This week we'll start exploring the city itself, head back to DI, with Willie this time, check out the local seafood and maybe a golf course. The weather forecast is calling for a week of  sunny, 30C days so it sounds like a good plan. Later.

Riding The Tail Of The Dragon To The Deep South

  And there we were, back on the road again. This time we're headed to Mobile, Alabama, deep in the Deep South, home of gumbo, magnolias and the original American Mardi Gras.

  Our journey started Tuesday when we bid adieu to all the kids and grandkids and pointed the car south. We left cool, damp and windy Newmarket and aimed ourselves at the balmy shores of the Gulf of Mexico with a couple of stops planned along the way.

  The first stop took us somewhat out of our way but we felt fate was our co-pilot. As I mentioned in the last episode, I've been trying to find shoes for girls' soccer teams in South Africa, managed by our guide from last year's Kruger Park backcountry trek. When I started this project almost a year ago I was led to believe a woman near Toronto could supply us with used cleats from the local soccer leagues. She emailed me when we were in Minnesota with the news that she had shoes for me and all I had to do was find a way to get them to Absalom in S.A.

  Finding no standard freight forwarding, mail or courier service that would cost less than $500 Penny suggested posting a message on a Facebook group she follows for fans of Kruger. Maybe there was someone heading to S.A. who might agree to take the box of shoes if we paid the cost of the extra baggage. Well, lo and behold, it took only a few hours for me to receive a response from Marilyn in Pennsylvania who was heading to Cape Town in early November. We connected, discussed details and we agreed Penny and I would detour to her house on our way to Mobile.

  Alas, the donated shoes never materialized and I changed to Plan B, creating a GoFundMe campaign to raise funds and allow Absalom to buy the shoes locally. To those who have contributed, I thank you for your generosity. If you haven't contributed yet, you can use this link to send a donation now!

  No longer having a need to transport the shoes to Marilyn I thanked her for her offer and prepared to follow our original path south. That's when she came back to me and invited Penny and I to stop by for lunch and meet her and her husband, Rick. We took her up on her generous offer as we're always interested in meeting new people and off we went to eastern Pennsylvania.

  We had a wonderful time with them full of good food and interesting conversation which culminated in Marilyn's suggestion that she could help our campaign reach its goals by canvassing her friends. Fate lends a hand. Here we are a few days later and she's already found some donations as well as a potential other source for used shoes. We've found a partner in our enterprise and a new friend. All it took was our willingness to go a couple of hours out of our way.

  The next day led us to the one of the most exhilarating drives in North America. During lunch with my buddy Steve a couple of weeks ago he asked if we planned to drive the Tail of the Dragon as part of our trip south. I'd heard of it but didn't realize it was close to our route so I added it to our itinerary and we managed to get there late Wednesday afternoon. The Dragon is well-known amongst driving enthusiasts and motorcyclists. The stretch within Tennessee is eleven miles long and contains 311 turns. It continues into North Carolina but most of the excitement is over by then. Here's a map to give you an idea:

  It's a lot of fun if you like tight turns piled one on top of the other. If not, like the guy from Georgia who crawled along in front of me for half of it, stay away. Here a video clip to give you a feel for it:

  What a hoot! Not only was it a joy to drive but I was pleasantly surprised at our little racecar's handling characteristics. I'd love to do it again but I'll wait until we have a little convertible so we can do it with the top down. At the end there are a couple of t-shirt and beer places catering to the bikers who travel from all over to enjoy the road. The force is strong here:

  We stayed the night in a treehouse overlooking a forest and river. No pics as it was getting dark when we arrived and we were in a bit of rush the following morning but it was a beautiful spot and a sweet suite 😉.

  Yesterday was the final segment of our run to Alabama and we found a few things to pique our interest along the way. Of course, it's the Bible Belt so there's a lot of this:

  And, an American matryoshka doll:

  Atlas Obscura reared its bizarre head once again and pointed us at this giant moving chicken in Marietta, GA:

  Once we entered Alabama things got really interesting, as we finally got to stop at a Buc-ees. I know most of you are asking, "What the hell is Buc-ees?", so I'll illuminate you. Started in Texas, Buc-ees set out to be the gold standard for roadside convenience stores and, a few years later, is blanketing the southeast with football field-sized marts full of the usual snacks and souvenirs. But wait, you ask, what's special about that? In the middle of this acre of blatant consumerism and dozens of gas pumps is their hot food area and they happen to serve the best barbecued brisket sandwich outside Texas. Now you know why I had to stop there. No pictures of the food, as I don't do that, but if you're headed south you must try it.

  With bellies full of wonderfulness we continued on, detouring into Montgomery, AL, the centre of the civil rights movement in the 1950's and 60's. We stopped near Troy University where the Rosa Parks Library and Museum stands.

  Across the street is the Wounded Peace Dove sculpture, commissioned by Pope Benedict.

  With the day's history lesson taken care of we hit the road again, cruised down to the end of I-65 and rolled into downtown Mobile. This time we're in an old neighbourhood filled with history and majestic tree-lined streets. Meet our new charge, Willie, full name Willie Nelson:

  He's about six months old and is quite a cutie. The homeowners are Corey and Jennie. Yes, Jennie like in Forrest Gump. In fact, the book takes place in Mobile; the movie moved the location to the fictional town of Greenbow. Oh, and their two year-old daughter's name is Forrest. Yes, life really is like a box of chocolates.

Travel In Interesting Times

   Those of you who have faithfully followed our adventures over the past few months know we'll be heading back out onto the road Tuesday. Our next destination is Mobile, AL for three weeks followed by three weeks on Hutchinson Island on the east coast of Florida. We're looking forward to a few weeks of warm weather as we escape the creeping misery that is November in Toronto.

  When I told my son, David, of our upcoming itinerary his first comment was, "It's hurricane season! Why would you go there?" I then told him we were also hoping to travel to the Middle East next spring to visit Kate in Jordan, new friends in Israel and see Egypt. David's response? "Egypt? You could be kidnapped or killed!" Of course, with this week's events in Israel the idea of such a trip has become somewhat moot. Throwing oneself into the jaws of a shark goes beyond adventure. Having said that, we could be kidnapped by a rifle-toting militia  in Montana.

  Thinking of our recent excursions, to remotest Antarctica, deepest Uganda and unsettled South Africa, we have exposed ourselves to unnecessary risks with little thought. The reward of unusual experiences has far outweighed the potential risks.

  The world is a dangerous place. Sitting here in front of my laptop in Jen's kitchen I face untold potential catastrophes. The gas furnace could explode. An electrical surge could cause my computer to blow up in my face. A meteorite could fall through the roof. Shit happens. Are we courting disaster by traveling to places the media have labeled "dangerous"? I guess it all depends on your tolerance for risk.

  When we went to Antarctica we could have been stranded thousands of kilometers from rescue in a very hostile environment. When we trekked in Uganda we could have been attacked by a protective silverback gorilla. Trekking at Kruger National Park could have exposed us to attack by any number of predators. Hell, just driving South African roads risked being swallowed by man-eating potholes! Oh yeah. Carjacking too.

  (BTW, I'm running a GoFundMe fundraiser to buy soccer shoes for girls living on the border of Kruger National Park. They play in a league run by the guide who shepherded us through the backcountry at Kruger. They are currently playing in bare feet. Click here to read about it and please contribute and share it with your friends and family.)

  Our recent trek around North America took us to places where the temperature hit 43C. We drove through Death Valley where many of the unprepared have died. Our car was broken into near San Francisco and we blew a tire in the middle of a busy highway near Seattle. We skirted wildfires in BC and plowed through hail covered roads in Yellowstone. Oh, and we finished it all off by driving around Toronto, the most dangerous place of all!

  For our next act we travel to the Deep South, home of racists, Trump-loving right-wing politicians and a crazed neo-Nazi state governor. No, we wholeheartedly disagree with all of it, not supporting any facet of that madness. The flip side of all that is warm weather, friendly people, great seafood and lots of history in which to immerse ourselves. Politics? That's not a subject that will enter any conversation we have with the locals. We're not going to change their views and exploring the depths of irrational fears and hatreds won't enrich our time there.

  Hurricane season? Sure, a tropical storm may come our way but the National Weather Service is pretty good at forecasting these things and providing lots of warning. Besides, it's not our house. We're just keeping it warm for the owners. Also, I love watching violent weather. If I worked for CNN I'd be the guy who volunteers to hang onto a telephone pole while a 200 kph wind howls around him!

  A few years ago my chiropractor told me of his plans to take part in the Mongol Rally (look it up). Drive 10,000 miles across the Gobi Desert in a car purchased from a junkyard. He suggested I might be interested in entering it too. I thought about it for an entire hour; no thanks. After further thought I think he arrived at the same conclusion.

  The point of this installment is that experience comes with risk. Minimizing exposure to risk is great for insurance companies but does nothing for the soul. We travel to see and do the things and meet the people that provide us with warm memories and enrich our lives. We calculate the risks and avoid those where the odds are stacked against us. To quote Sir Edmund Hillary, we do this because it's there.

  So, faithful readers, follow us once again as we set out into the Great Unknown. It will be fun.