February 25 – 26, 2011 Titusville and cruise preparation

Friday we drive maybe 35 miles to catch up with the rest of our caravan at “The Great Outdoors RV, Nature & Golf Resort” in Titusville. Wow. Not my kind of life but spectacular. An 18-hole par 72 golf course with many other amenities, real estate sales, RV sales. Colonial style architecture, with modification: the church behind us has a huge drive-through portico for motorhomes. The clubhouse looks like a California funeral home or furniture store.

We are camped in what the park calls “Rally Lot” but we would call it a parking lot with generous space and hook-ups for water and electric, no sewer. This is fine with the 17 couples that will be on the optional ship cruise starting Sunday but perhaps may challenge the 7 couples staying until our return a week from Sunday.  There is a dump station, if needed.

February 26, 2011 Marcia turns, boldly, to smuggling…

Not allowed to bring alcohol on board, which – not our fault – forces us to the dark side.

At Target I buy “The Cube” – a $16 box of cabernet sauvignon that seems a reasonable balance between some pretense to quality and the risk of wine forfeiture.  Apparently I already look guilty because the cashier asks for a photo ID; if a manatee doesn’t get me, I’ll turn 70 in less than three months.  She swypes my driver’s license and we are good to go.

I plan to put the box – equivalent to four bottles - in my checked bags, keeping our carry-on innocent.  To my surprise, and delight, Marcia puts it in her suitcase, not mine.  But then I notice she attaches to her suitcase a baggage tag with my name.

February 24, 2011 We go to the shuttle launch…

Seven rigs, all but one from California, decide to break from the caravan for 24 hours to see one of the last three shuttle launches.  But first we need a temporary home for a night.

We drive to Melbourne in the lower third of the Space Coast and camp at Land Yacht Harbor, which is not near a harbor.  LYH was founded as an Airstream park but “broke-the-buck” a few years ago and now admits what we call SOBs—some other brand – a controversial decision to this day. We are “comped” probably with the hope we will buy shares here. Almost all the sites are occupied by snowbirds  Most rigs are restrained at their corners with chains and turnbuckles. Probably the rigs, minus the owners, stay through hurricane season. At least they try. They say our mini-caravan is the biggest thing to happen here in a while. Lots of hand waving from friendly people, all seniors. A local helps Larry park and remarks he has been here a month and is on the board; he suggests Larry buy some shares.

It is a couple hours to launch time. We split in to two groups, the first managing to get to the edge of Cape Canaveral and the security perimeter. We have to leave later and settle for Fisher Park in Cocoa Beach as spots are disappearing rapidly. (If memory serves me right - which is rare, but if interesting, why worry about the facts - “The Right Stuff” portrayed Cocoa Beach as either where the first astronauts lived, or perhaps where they partied. I think it also may be where that lady, supposedly diaper clad, was headed to confront her rival for the attentions of a modern day astronaut. Also I think “I dream of Jeannie” was set here. Other than all that, it is a typical beach town.)

Beth and Bill, center, coordinate launch.  Larry on camera.   Kathy and Marcia wait for lunch.  I mean launch.

Turns out it was way to the left.

Larry and Bill claim a small sandy knoll with their long-lens cameras facing north toward what with binoculars looks like a white gantry; but the binoculars also show what looks like a grey gantry to the left. Beth checks launch e-mail updates on her iPhone and has what we think is a live image on her iPad: it shows what looks like even a different gantry. With this much gear locals accrete to our knoll, asking questions about where to look; we disagree amongst ourselves but give authoritative answers anyway. Someone says we are all wrong, those are abandoned gantries, and the real launch site is not visible. We dream on.

The countdown, via the iPad, is dramatic. We focus toward the presumed launch point, I with my little pocket-sized point-and-shoot set on video, Larry and Bill with the big gear. I hear a shout and look maybe 30 degrees to our left and see a long white flame rising toward the clouds. The vapor and combustion gases billow massively. In a few seconds the flame disappears into the clouds and I pan my hand-held camera hoping to catch another shot. As I turn off my camera a quiet rumble hits us. Even before the sound dissipates people begin to swarm back to their cars, hoping to beat the traffic. Beth’s iPad still shows the shuttle on the launch pad; we now realize it was showing delayed images. We go for pizza in Cocoa Beach, very happy we made the effort to see this historic launch.

(The video above is how it looked with naked eyes.  Bill - with his more professional camera, telephoto lens, superior skills, tripod, and photographer's demeanor - captured this look: http://web.me.com/ferry360/ferry360/Blog/Entries/2011/3/14_Discovery%E2%80%99s_Last_Voyage.html)

February 23, 2011 A Tampa bay tour and Airstream temptation...

Gaita - derived from celtic bagpipes. 

Ybor City 7th Ave.

In the morning several of us truck to Ybor City, now a ward of Tampa, but founded by Cuban expat cigar makers in the 19th century. They were experiencing labor unrest and Spanish persecution in Cuba, and reestablished their businesses in Key West. But more labor unrest drove them north to the Tampa area where they built the company town known as Ybor City. It ultimately collapsed even here because of labor unrest when machines were introduced to lower costs, and the rising popularity of cigarettes.

We aren’t going to complain about heat after our very cold crossing of the country, but it is warm and humid. At the museum they tell us high humidity is ideal for cigar making but it must have added to the unrest. Although workers were provided nice homes at low cost, there was of course no air conditioning and disease was a big problem. Nonetheless, Ybor City was at one time a significant manufacturing base in the Tampa area because of the cigar industry.

Casino boat in drydock.

A large ship clears a small lighthouse - the keeper's house on the left.

 We then drive to Tampa and join the group for a harbor tour and luncheon on the SS Star Ship. Impressive meal with choice of entre, but the tour narration cannot be understood because of the noise. Tampa itself has an impressive modern skyline. The bay is mostly industrial (this is a major phosphate center). An old spoils island has been developed into luxury housing. The humidity in July/August must be unbelievable.

Marcia and I then drive to Bates RV. It is known for its stock of Airstreams and unique freeway advertising: a bunch of old Airstreams, half-buried on end. The local sign ordinance people don’t like it but we do.

We have a 25’ Airstream and are tempted by the new 28’ models but the added space is largely cancelled by the introduction of other design problems. The salesperson is cheerful but unhelpful. We leave.

February 22, 2011 Busch-league in Tampa and our 3rd GPS of the trip...

I’m not the type that would ever have suggested going to Busch Gardens, but it was buried in our caravan fee so off we went.

We have a good time but Busch Gardens (owned by Sea World) could learn a lot from Disney. We ride a rollercoaster but the wait is close to three-quarters of an hour, the line curling in a building so we greatly underestimate the wait. No sign indicating the wait from a certain point. Later we take the train around the park, stopping in three stations. Each time the engineer cajoles people to squeeze together so more can board. More frequent trains would have been a better solution, or the use of a more orderly way of boarding passengers. At each stop we have to listen to the same loud PA dialogue as we pull out: “Now say goodbye to Tami your station attendant!”—“Good Bye, Tami!”—“You can be louder, say it again!” “GOOODBYE, TAAAMI!!!” as we unhappily proceed to the next stop.

An unusual way to view the tigers.

Vertical drop.

Busch, for those that haven’t been there in 45 years, has a wild animal area, shows, and rides. I only ride (aside from the transportation train) the traditional wooden rollercoaster, partly because of time issues and mostly because I refuse to go on rides that invert me in a cork-screw spiral and then drop me straight down to an abrupt stop. I would never do these, but now I can easily claim the excuse of senior status, heart meds, lose my glasses, my lunch, etc. But I have to concede that Larry and Bob, both only 1-3 years younger, did do those rides and gloat fairly with satisfaction. Huzzah.

Mike, Jane, John & Marcia are ready and dry.

We go to a 4D Sesame Street show. A 4D show at Busch means wearing 3D glasses and having Big Bird briefly turn a fire hose on you. This, or an equivalent set-up situation, leads to several sprayings through the 25-minute program. We know it is coming – we can see the nozzles pointing our way from the backs of the next row of seats – but they still get us. John and I are drenched, others get off somewhat better.

We miss the acrobat show and understand it was outstanding. We do see one of those family entertainment animal shows where the humans engage in unlikely dialogue and body language while interacting with dogs, cats, birds, mice, and exotic species. The show is great, we don’t get wet or pooped-on, and we do not know how they get cats to do those things.

Busched with Mike and Jane.

For two-nights-running Marcia needs to be taken to TJMaxx and Marshalls, this time with Jane. Mike has his equivalent needs and I accompany him on a hunt for a new GPS, he disgusted with the one built-in to his Ford (“Jane complains because it won’t tell her to the nearest Starbucks.”). We both end up buying Garmen Nuvi 1390 units with lifetime map and traffic updates.

This is the same unit I bought in November that died near Houston and was replaced with a TomTom. We don’t know which unit we will keep – we are having a bake-off, both running simultaneously, one with a male voice and the other a female voice. This is not easy on the driver, and often Marcia adds a third layer with her interpretation of where we really should turn. This situation needs to resolve itself quickly.

February 21, 2011 Lazydays in Seffner near Tampa

We stay at Lazydays Campground in Seffner near Tampa. This campground is not the largest we’ve seen – that record for us is held by Myrtle Beach, which had around 1800 sites. But it is large and populated mostly with motor homes. The clubhouse has a restaurant at one end made from an enlarged cutaway from a luxury motor home.

The complex includes the largest sales and service motor home complex I’ve ever seen, a large Camping World, an adjacent Cracker Barrel restaurant, and a Flying J service station. A free basic hot breakfast and lunch is included with reasonably priced camping, but the café is at least a half-mile walk if you know the shortcuts. This is our morning exercise.

Sue, Paco, and Dave.

Thanks.

A drivers meeting at Seffner.

The campground has a large pool enclosed by a bug-screen but life has been too busy to use it. The WiFi is advertised to work throughout the campground but it does not.

February 15 – 20, 2011 A week in Sarasota...

Florida State Rally - opening ceremonies

At last count 325 Airstream rigs (roughly 700 people) are present for the 38th annual Florida State Rally.

Not very long ago over a thousand rigs would attend this rally. As with the International Rally and many other club events, attendance is way down and the average age is rising. People put a lot of work into these events but as attendance shrinks activities and quality entertainment decline in what looks like an irreversible spiral. You have a good time if you know enough of your fellow campers but there is little to entertain a new person. The location is the saving grace here.

We camp on lawn, daisy-chaining hoses to get running water and connecting to temporary electric ports that offer maybe 6 amps of service. The fairgrounds have restrooms (no showers).  We do not have sewer hookups so we need to be careful.

We rise a bit chilled Tuesday and with Mike driving we explore the southern end of the keys bordering Sarasota. The day quickly warms and at Siesta Key we buy deli sandwiches, park easily in a large lot, and walk across a firm base of very fine and white sand to a spot on the beach. This is the Gulf and no wave is more than about a foot. The water is beautiful. There are people on the wide beach but it is not crowded – most are tanned seniors, and nobody is in the water. The lifeguard tells me that the water is 59 degrees, too cold for these people; the water is slow to warm because the nights are still cold and the Gulf shallow.

Are we there yet?

Marcia and Jane spread the blankets and we find ourselves sitting one couple behind the other, as if we were still in the truck. Perhaps we have been traveling together too many miles and in too many towns. I think we likely look a little silly, seated in this pattern, wearing our badges and Florida State Rally ribbons, clothed except for shoes. I ask some deeply tanned semi-Speedo-clad Canadian seniors to take our picture and they oblige good-naturedly.

The beach is clean, few trashcans, populated with squadrons of possible gulls; if gulls, they are small by California gull standards. As we face the water eight swarm at Mike’s hand, stealing half his sandwich. The Canadians, and maybe the back seat, laugh. Mike - as even-tempered as anyone I know - is upset at the bold theft but doesn’t at first show it. But he is a hunter; I once saw him spend I think $1800 on a shotgun. He says if he had his shotgun this matter would be quickly settled. We remind him of the sign at the entrance: Bird Sanctuary – No Hunting.

We soon leave the beach and explore some older residential streets. We come across a for-sale sign on a not-to-bad empty home and Mike turns in to the driveway. We explore, noting that it backs on a canal, has a screened pool and patio allowing use in the summer. The place is not spectacular but is better than its neighbors. It is priced at a little under $600,000, less than I expect.

John & Elain show how it should be done.

We try our best.

Tuesday night is nice, the temperature never falling out of the fifties. We rise Wednesday and join John and Elain and others for a brisk walk about 8:00 AM. John has an unusual plan: acknowledging that our biggest elevation gain in this flat state is probably the three steps into our trailers, he drives us to a park on the other side of a mile-long bridge that rises high enough to allow boats to pass. In a morning haze we walk over the bridge and a little way into the city then return – a nice walk that quickly has us down to T-shirts. Our cold days and nights seem to be over.

Beth, Marcia, Ed

Later we invite Ed and Beth, two friends from the Viking Trail caravan (now themselves leading the Civil War caravan) on a drive to the northern end of the keys explored yesterday. In this direction we encounter many expensive homes and vastly more attractive canals. One is having a Realtor’s “open house” and we explore. Attractive, 4000+ square feet, built in 2008, on a nice canal, filled with upscale features, not ostentatious. Asking price: $2.5 million. The realtor explains the owner is “upside down” and wants to sell the home, used only during the winter. (To a Californian, this is a topsy-turvy world: Sarasota is crowded in the winter and empty in the summer. Well, ok, the price also seems ridiculous, even to a Californian.)  ((I had an English teacher that threatened an automatic “F” for any use of ok, OK, or okay in composition. I wonder what she would think of double parentheses. Personally I’d give an “F” for using them.))

We continue our drive up the key to its end and have a very nice dinner at a restaurant called the Beach House. While waiting in the bar Ed and I talk about the Droid smartphone as we both have one.   I explain how we were able to track our son Andrew’s nonstop drive from Seattle to Roseville in bad weather for Christmas using Google Latitude. I login to Latitude and show Ed that Andrew is currently at his office in downtown Seattle. I explain that Andrew can also track us, if he chooses, as we have exchanged permissions. Very oddly the phone rings, I answer, and it is Andrew in Seattle. He asks if we are at the Beach House Restaurant in Florida, and we are. This is a too spooky.

Dave, Marcia Kathy, Cam

Thursday finds us returning to the same area with Dave and Kathy, friends from the Southeast Coast Spectacular several years ago. While returning from the Alaska caravan last year they unfortunately dumped their trailer on a road in British Columbia. There were no injuries of note but the trailer, an impeccably maintained model, was a loss. Their caravan leader was very sympathetic: he has totaled two rigs in his many years of towing. Dave and Kathy have bounced back and now own a newer model with almost the same design. We enjoyed fish and chips with them at Rotten Ralph’s near the old pier. I look for manatees but no luck.

This is historically a circus town, so Friday night we go to the not-for-profit Sarasota Circus, under the, well, medium-sized top. This is a modern one-ring circus, no animals save some horses and dogs. OK, maybe it was really a small top, but it feels traditional and good compared with modern arena shows.

I’m first at the ticket booth and misunderstand my instructions from Marcia and buy $25 tickets rather that the planned $10 tickets.  The others from our truck follow suit to be nice.   It turns out there really are no bad seats in this small circus, and even if there were, the crowd is sparse and you can just move forward to a better seat.   Well, not a better seat: the seats are planks certainly upholstered by Airstream and very uncomfortable.

The acts are good, even the clowns, and very professional – mostly Europeans. The surprise is the last act. The very competent (and by lack-of-accent probably American) ringmaster discards the high hat and long coat and becomes the lead attraction: ‘The Edge”. Without tether he walks a giant revolving metal frame, sometimes on the inside, and sometimes on the outside.  As the speed increases he begins to run and jump, occasionally seeming to lose his balance, risking probable death. A few more spectacular jumps and his act ends, leaving a very satisfied audience.

I worry throughout the performance about my missing credit card.  A call to Thursday's restaurant finds it safe in their lock box, so early Saturday I again drive the route to get my card back.  I dread this third trip in as many days and fear weekend traffic, but I'm by myself, a cup of Starbucks on the console, traffic is light, and the trip is actually very relaxing.

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A cherub is surrounded by a growing banyan tree.

Banyan branches eventually root to the ground - this is all one tree.

Mike and Jane contemplate part of John's art collection.

On Sunday we squeeze in a good visit to the circus museum on John Ringling's 1920s estate at the bay's edge.

Marcia wins 1st in the hobby "misc" category at the Rally, and later sells four.

Susan wins 1st and 2nd in the quilt category.