Our dispositions better after a good night's sleep, dry and warm.
Clouds above, sans rain, we got a quick breakfast at McDonald's, turned west on I-20 headed for Alabama. The sky improved. By the time we arrived at AL's high point, Cheaha Mountain at 2,405 feet the sun highlighted the stone observation tower and allowed a shirt sleeve visit.
"We need to get gas. What's the nearest town?" Dr. Bobo said, consulted our map sources, checked route directions. "We should have enough gas to get to Munford," Dr. Bobo concluded.
We knew we might be running on fumes before we found the next gas pump. Primate crossed his fingers.
At a T-junction, we wondered, "Which way to Munford?" A car marked SHERIFF approached, slowed. The uniformed driver prepared for a turn by us.
"Ask him." I pointed at the sheriff.
The sheriff stopped his car when Dr. Bobo signaled by hand. "Where's Munford?" Dr. Bobo said.
"You're in the middle of it," the sheriff answered.
He gave us directions to the two nearest gas stations
"Who'd have thought this was Munford?" Dr. Bobo said to me.
"Yeah, a stop sign, one house and one barn," I replied.
We limped to a gas station, filled up, continued west towards Mississippi.
"Look at all the campers," Dr. Bobo said.
A gaggle of RVs and cars blanketed a field, grouped tight together, mingled with tents, created an improvised city. A garrison-sized white flag with the word TALLADEGA in red letters waved in the wind.
"Oh, that's Talladega," I said. Farther off the highway I recognized a racetrack-viewing stand.
"Race cars," said Primate.
"Well, now we know where it is," Dr. Bobo said.
"Yeah. Now that I know where it is, I don't have to come back," I quipped.
Clouds hung overhead again, grew thicker, darker as we proceeded west, looked threatening as we cruised through Birmingham, then turned north for Huntsville.
Thoughts of tornadoes came to mind.
Farther north and west rain returned, intensified, lightened, intensified again.
I built lunch sandwiches for us as we neared Woodall Mountain, Mississippi's high point at 806 feet. A smooth gravel road led us up the last mile to the summit where the cool temperature, under partial cloudy sky, made a picnic meal on the bench near the marker a good idea.
"Want a beer with that sandwich?" Dr. Bobo asked.
"Yeah," Primate answered.
"Why not?" I said.
Lunch consumed, another high point achieved, we headed towards the Mississippi River at the southwest corner of Kentucky. Clouds came and went. We passed through Green Frog and Friendship without slowing. Timing dictated a stay somewhere near Tiptonville. Campgrounds on Reelfoot Lake looked promising. We pulled into the campgrounds at the lake nearest Tiptonville and paid for primitive camping. The soggy primitive campsite area, which currently could second as a well-manicured swamp, offered several dry high spots, so we pitched the tent on the highest place closest to the gravel roadway.
I couldn't resist taking a number of photos along the lake shore of trees and birds before we prepared dinner of canned-chili, instant rice and spicy peppers, washed down with a cold beer.
Another 484 miles logged today.
Low points - nine; high points - eight.
Clouds above, sans rain, we got a quick breakfast at McDonald's, turned west on I-20 headed for Alabama. The sky improved. By the time we arrived at AL's high point, Cheaha Mountain at 2,405 feet the sun highlighted the stone observation tower and allowed a shirt sleeve visit.
 |
| Primate at the AL High Point Sign. |
"We need to get gas. What's the nearest town?" Dr. Bobo said, consulted our map sources, checked route directions. "We should have enough gas to get to Munford," Dr. Bobo concluded.
We knew we might be running on fumes before we found the next gas pump. Primate crossed his fingers.
At a T-junction, we wondered, "Which way to Munford?" A car marked SHERIFF approached, slowed. The uniformed driver prepared for a turn by us.
"Ask him." I pointed at the sheriff.
The sheriff stopped his car when Dr. Bobo signaled by hand. "Where's Munford?" Dr. Bobo said.
"You're in the middle of it," the sheriff answered.
He gave us directions to the two nearest gas stations
"Who'd have thought this was Munford?" Dr. Bobo said to me.
"Yeah, a stop sign, one house and one barn," I replied.
We limped to a gas station, filled up, continued west towards Mississippi.
"Look at all the campers," Dr. Bobo said.
A gaggle of RVs and cars blanketed a field, grouped tight together, mingled with tents, created an improvised city. A garrison-sized white flag with the word TALLADEGA in red letters waved in the wind.
"Oh, that's Talladega," I said. Farther off the highway I recognized a racetrack-viewing stand.
"Race cars," said Primate.
"Well, now we know where it is," Dr. Bobo said.
"Yeah. Now that I know where it is, I don't have to come back," I quipped.
Clouds hung overhead again, grew thicker, darker as we proceeded west, looked threatening as we cruised through Birmingham, then turned north for Huntsville.
Thoughts of tornadoes came to mind.
Farther north and west rain returned, intensified, lightened, intensified again.
I built lunch sandwiches for us as we neared Woodall Mountain, Mississippi's high point at 806 feet. A smooth gravel road led us up the last mile to the summit where the cool temperature, under partial cloudy sky, made a picnic meal on the bench near the marker a good idea.
 |
| Connard and MS High Point. |
"Yeah," Primate answered.
"Why not?" I said.
Lunch consumed, another high point achieved, we headed towards the Mississippi River at the southwest corner of Kentucky. Clouds came and went. We passed through Green Frog and Friendship without slowing. Timing dictated a stay somewhere near Tiptonville. Campgrounds on Reelfoot Lake looked promising. We pulled into the campgrounds at the lake nearest Tiptonville and paid for primitive camping. The soggy primitive campsite area, which currently could second as a well-manicured swamp, offered several dry high spots, so we pitched the tent on the highest place closest to the gravel roadway.
 |
| Fishing at Reelfoot Lake. |
I couldn't resist taking a number of photos along the lake shore of trees and birds before we prepared dinner of canned-chili, instant rice and spicy peppers, washed down with a cold beer.
Another 484 miles logged today.
Low points - nine; high points - eight.
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