Day 45 -- Sandy Springs, Ohio to Blue Licks, Kentucky

We had so much excitement yesterday, including smacking the left-rear corner of the RV into a road embankment while exploring for cemeteries and discovering the grave in Rome, Ohio where three times great Grandfather, John Jones reposes, that we decided to take it easy today.

Taking it easy did not mean sitting in lawn chairs resting as one might envision. It meant visiting Walmart to stock up on a week's provisions, doing the laundry (Concetta), and replacing the smashed running light on the RV (Me). In between we needed to put a few miles on the rig before cocktail time so that someday we'd be able to arrive back in Nevada, hopefully before the snow flies.

Our camp last night in Sandy Springs, Ohio was truly outstanding. Though spaces did not come with a sewer connection, we used the dump station this morning, and it was easy to access and very easy to use. They even had a workable flush hose with a usable connection. Located as it is on the north bank of the Ohio, you couldn't find a more idyllic place to hang out for a day or a week or whatever. In fact, owner Anna told us that people often come intending to stay a day and end up staying much longer.

Since the season is largely over, and the weekend had not arrived, Anna told us to just put our rig wherever we saw an empty space. "Really," she told us, "take two spaces if you want." Anna was so nice to talk to that she ended up just visiting with us for quite some time. Her father was Italian, she told us, who came from the area of Naples. So she and Concetta had a lively talk on what we experienced in that part of Italy.

At one point Anna told me that there was yet another cemetery right across the road from her park just up from an old barn (photo right). "Really," I said. "I didn't see it on the way in."

"That's because you have to hike a trail through the forest to reach it," she said. "Come on, jump on the golf cart and I'll give you ride and show you where you start climbing."

I raced to put on my hiking boots, then grabbed the camera and we were off. It was a short ride to the spot across from the park's entrance. I jumped off and was about to cross the road to the trail head when Anna said, "you watch out for snakes now!"

I stopped short and turned around. Anna went on. "Now you need to especially watch out for a funny smell," she said. "Something like oranges or apples or strawberries -- something like that."

"Strawberries?" I said.

Anna seemed to ponder that idea for a bit. "Yeah," she said slowly. "I think it's one of those fruit smells. It means there's a copperhead nearby."

That got my attention and I'm sure my eyes widened a bit. "Copperheads," I repeated.

"Wait," Anna said laughing. "I know what it is. It's cucumbers. You smell cucumbers when copperheads are close."

"Okay," I said, "if I smell cucumbers I'll be careful." I turned to go.

"And you have to watch out for rattlesnakes." she called. "We have those, too."

I turned and waved and told her thanks a lot for the warning, then I headed across the road, past the old barn, and into the trees. I was sort of expecting a leisurely walk along a forest trail in the dappled afternoon sunlight, but almost immediately the trail launched into a solid 30 percent gradient that put my seventy-year-old leg muscles to the supreme test.

Fortunately, before long, I had managed to groan and wheeze my way to the top of a medium-sized hill and emerged into a clearing where the slanted rays of the sun illuminated about fifty grave stones in varying degrees of decay (Photo right).

The entire cemetery was largely dedicated to the McCall Family just as the marker on the trail's entrance predicted. But a few other names appeared as well. I photographed each one that was at all readable, even to the extent of assembling one marker that had cracked and the top half had fallen to the ground (Photo below left).

I'm sure few people feel as I do about these markers, but since I have dedicated a substantial part of my life to the pursuit of genealogical knowledge and understanding, it bothers me very much that the very last remnant of a human being's life often turns out to be an insubstantial marker that simply melts away over time. One hopes that there is somewhere a written record to mark the deceased person's passing, but you're never sure.

Too often the marker is made of marble, which is just a soft sedimentary rock and easily dissolves as the decades pelt it with wind and rain. Granite is a far better stone to use for grave markers, though if the engravings are not deep enough, they too become unreadable when a century or more has passed.

After spending a half hour with my silent friends, I retraced my steps back down to level of the street. This was no small feat since the leaves on the steep path were so darn slippery I nearly lost my footing a couple of times. After ending up sprawled in Stout Creek just an couple of hours before, I was trying really hard to be more careful and not repeat my earlier performance.

But I was telling you about the Sandy Springs camp. All the RV spots are widely separated from the next campsite and all have a variety of mature trees. Predominantly, the spaces appear to be anything but level, fore and aft, OR side to side. But with the usual trial and error system of using my wood block sets, I was able to mostly level us, though the front end was about six inches off the ground to do so.

I found the amenities to be pretty nice. They had enough shower rooms for six or seven people at a time. Each shower room was in effect a separate bathroom with sink, toilet, and shower in each room. In addition, there were ample tables and hooks and shelves to stow whatever gear you brought with you for your shower. Since we had no hookup for sewer, I took my shower in Room #1 and didn't have any difficulties at all.

In addition to the thirty or forty RV spaces of varying lengths, the owners had purchased used travel trailers to rent out to folks who just dropped in to do some hunting for a few days and wanted accommodations provided. Anna said that they had started naming the "Trailers for Rent" group for Goldilocks and the Three Bears, as well as Hansel and Grettel. But unfortunately Baby Bear had proved unsuitable for guests so they were at present minus one member of the Bear Family.

Though I didn't venture there, Anna said that they have a wide variety of groceries available in the main office for those who don't want to drive into town.

Bottom line, the Sand Springs RV Camp is a fine place to hang out for a few days next to one of America's most storied Rivers, the Ohio. In the process, you'll meet Anna and her husband and hear some fine tales of their life as a married couple of 51 years who spent much time driving long-haul trucks. The camp is quiet, the other guests are friendly to a fault, and you're about 100 miles from Cincinnati if you need a big city for some reason. I know we'll be back someday.

And when you venture into the back country along all those picturesque two-lanes, the Happy Wanderers wish you happy travels and exciting destinations.