We continue our slightly southward but mostly eastward drive to Alachua, near Gainesville. We are now about the equivalent of a third of the way down the Baja peninsula.
The Travelers Campground staff and our own parking crew quickly have us in position, the first time we’ve ever camped in long columns of trailers. Also a first, the campground staff connects our trailers to power, water, and cable – tasks we have always done. They even clean corrosion from our electrical cables if needed. They don’t ask, they just do.
We ride to dinner with Kathy and Larry, Kathy having programmed her Garmen with the address of the restaurant. In twelve miles, now past our appointed time, the Garmen announces we have reached our destination – a farming area with no buildings or town in sight. I enter the same address in the Google Navigator on my Droid phone, and the phone rings – John wondering if we are lost. I eventually get back to the Navigator and we arrive at the restaurant rather late, to thunderous applause. Apparently the others did what Al said to do: following the directions posted on the outside of his trailer.
That night I risk additional humiliation by partnering with Larry and Bob against Kathy, Deanna, and Marcia in a game of Joker – all five very competitive players. The guys win; I survive and have a good if intense time.
 |
| Miss Ashley explains tobacco drying to Elain and John. |
 |
| Gracie, her cracked bone better, gets a loaner wheelchair. But Al sometimes forgets Gracie can't move without his help. |
 |
| These docents were very good. He used to be a school teacher. |
 |
| Warm enough for 'ya? |
 |
| Apparently, the Dudley's also had a gourd fetish. |
 |
| Ignore me at your own risk, lady. |
 |
| These are Cracker cattle - a Florida breed. |
The next day, Larry is feeling unnecessarily guilty about the Garmen incident and offers to drive. We leave (tailgating others, I note) to the Dudley Farm Historic State Park. This is a well-done preservation of a farm building complex dating to the 1850s. In the back I see a three-hole privy, appropriate as the family had twelve children. Also, Captain Dudley was released from the Confederate Army before the war's end with disabling diarrhea, in his end.
 |
| Old Florida Cafe |
 |
| So, how's your shopping going? |
 |
| Kathy exits a shop. |
Afterwards we travel to lunch at the Old Florida Café in the small town of Micanopy. Large trees draped with something that looks like Spanish Moss; metal-roofed small buildings; rotting windowsills. We are not in California. These picturesque buildings are now antique stores: southern dialects from sellers, northern from buyers.
We check out Gainesville but nothing particularly sparks our interest. On the way back Marcia spies an Airstream dealer and wants to go tomorrow. She claims she just likes to look at the new models, but I am concerned because in prior discussions we were either resigned to our trailer or would only upgrade if we found a recent vintage used trailer of interest. What is going on here?
That night's happy hour at Ed and Susan’s becomes a dinner after too many peanuts and peanut-butter-filled pretzels. I have things I want to do but reluctantly join some others for Joker in the meeting room. Larry will be along later; he wants to download updates to his Garmen. I say I will sit in until Larry returns.
This time I am partnered only with Bob as there are just four of us. A retired school principal, He has a reputation in Joker circles for being a tough player and partner. Light-hearted and fun but watches the entire board like a hawk, plans his moves far in advance, and plays aggressively – he is likely a great chess player. But he is a little unnerving to this novice. His eyes dart about, the throat clears, the cards rattle, the body shifts. I start to make a move and he says no – the others tell him to quit signaling. I play. He coughs, shakes his head, and bounces his cards on the table and tells me why I made a wrong move; I see his point it doesn't look like a game killer. A while latter I start to make another move and he fidgets in his chair and clanks his cards three times. Is he saying he has a 3? Is he just having a hard time not intervening? I dunno and play a joker I think reasonably, stopping an opponent from going home and positioning myself three-quarters of the way around the board. Bob tells me why this was a bad move and I tell him he doesn’t know what cards I have to work with. A few moves later I draw another joker and try to decide my move, when Larry comes in. I hand my cards to Larry and say goodnight.
The next day Bob apologizes and I explain there is no reason – I was standing in for Larry and had other things I wanted to do anyway. He feels bad that he may have driven me away. I’m reminded of an earlier caravan where the experienced bridge players offered to teach bridge to beginners; I went, had a good time, but after a couple nights the criticism got a little heavy and I was out of there. Haven't been back.
 |
| Of course I'm having fun. |
 |
| Especially now. Are those gators still there? |
On Sunday we awake to 32 degrees and a frozen water supply, 46 degrees inside. The only good news is the sun is shining and the Airstream dealer is closed. We putter around with minor repairs and Marcia working on her gourds. It is warming and we relax in the sun. Bill walks by talking excitedly about a wildlife preserve he just visited, so we head for Paynes Prairie Preserve State Park and a three-mile hike (round trip) along a sinkhole and river edge, unprotected. Alligators. Many large alligators, some only 20 feet away. We must have seen 80-100 here in the wild, so many I’m not clear on how they find enough fish and birds to live. They are (mostly) very still and don’t seem to be watching us.
We also see incredible numbers of Ibis, Sandhill Cranes, and a few of the very large and endangered Whooping Crane (400 or so left in the wild). Most seem to be a safe distance from the gators.
We return to the camp in 65-degrees only to notice a trailer with yellow tape around it and a sheriff’s car nearby. The trailer is not part of our group. We learn the man inside did not report for work and when coworkers checked they found him dead. He was in his forties. Our group averages in the upper sixties, at least. We pause very briefly to reflect on this then go about our business.
 |
| Marcia wonders if these are equine. |
