I don’t know what I was expecting when we arrived in Helena, Alabama. Would it be drier? Would it be more sparse? It’s the “Deep South” … will I feel comfortable there? The reality was that the parkway from Mississippi to Alabama was nothing short of lovely. That is, save the break we took at a rest stop where Benny found a hunk of bread when we were walking, ate some of it, and proceeded to projectile vomit said bread, stomach acid included, down the side of the truck while I was putting him in the backseat. Were the roads perfect? Not a chance, but aside from Benny’s stomach incident, the drive was largely uneventful.
Strong, lush, green trees flanked on either side of the parkway. Traveling eastbound, on my right were rows of trees that had a curious look to them. Just behind the mainline of trees were fields of felled trees—perhaps from logging or construction. The logging and treescape were fascinating to see since the parkway was made to look attractive to travelers, and the fields were apparent only to those who had the time and space to let their minds wander, as I did.
Cherokee Campground
As we continued along the way to Helena, I became increasingly enthusiastic about what else would surprise me. Weaving along backroads with the gentle help of Waze, we turned down a long country road and made a left into Cherokee Campgrounds. The campsite is connected to a home with an office that looks like it might be in someone’s garage. Many campgrounds that are not linked to a national brand are often a family’s property that has been turned into a functional business. I spent a significant amount of time researching smaller RV parks that were off the beaten path yet still on the route for our trip. Cherokee Campgrounds fit the bill. Upon checking in, we drove a little way down the road to our site, which had a very easy pull-through despite the tight spaces so that we were nestled between the trees.
On the hill above our site, I could see more campsites. To our left were more campsites that I can only assume were short-term stays, and the ones above us were for longer windows. Facing left was a mid-size road that led to the bottom of the hill and a private pond, the laundry room, and another private residence. I liken this view to a frame from a 1970s movie about summer camp with the serene lake in the background that was inaccessible to the general public. The laundry room and outdoor seating were set back from the pond, closer to the road. There was a large deck attached with tables for those waiting for laundry to finish, which people took seriously and utilized this space for catching up and relaxing while wrapping up essential chores. I passed by this area a few times with the boys while taking them for quick walks to get the blood flowing through our legs.
In the late afternoon, we took a drive out of the campground to get an idea of the area. When we come to our campsites, we often take a direct route, so we are focused on the directions to arrive and not so much on the region until we have parked. Helena isn’t a large area that I could see, but the drive back toward town was pretty and lacked a lot of the busy extras that many towns in other states might foster. There were plenty of auto shops and side yard businesses, and the stores increased the closer we were to the center. Quite a few box stores and a Publix that looked pretty new, which served as a helpful pit stop for water and ice.
Feeling ready to wind down, we returned to the trailer for dinner. I had little desire to cook, so we feasted on our findings from the farm stand. Jamie and I snacked on some chopped carrots, fresh green beans, sweet peppers, and the wedged tomatoes from Cockrell Farm Stand (Brandon, MS) with a side of ranch dressing while we lounged at the dinette and researched parks for the morning walk. In our planning, we decided to forego our intentions to head into Birmingham in the morning due to the limit of open businesses, and I happen to believe we made the right choice above all things. I had hopes, high ones, of visiting MK Quinlan and Ladybird Taco, but that would have to be another time. We mapped out a stunning park in nearby Alabaster, Buck Creek Park, which suited our interests.
A Morning Mishap
Traveling with pets creates unanticipated hurdles as you move from place to place. In some cases, that hurdle becomes a “hurtle.” One such example would be early in the morning in Helena, where I made the perilous mistake of taking out Vito and Benny separately. Early in the morning, Vito was bugging me to go out. He was bouncing around and running back and forth from the bed to the front of the RV and back, stomping his feet and looking at the door, then to me, then to the door again—the potty dance. Benny seemed to be fine (he usually is) and did not initially want to go, so I climbed out of bed, slid on my shoes, and popped a leash on Vito. Letting him go out the door ahead of me, I turn just in time to see Benny bolt past my legs, unleashed, out the door, and pivot right. I yelled, lunged, and fell into the gravel. I also managed to grab Benny in the process.
…Ow. I landed on my hand, elbow, and knee. Benny just seemed startled. The poor guy has an issue with not understanding that something happening to Vito does not mean it’s happening to him, positive or negative. This lack of understanding ranges from getting a bath to receiving medication and, I suppose, leashes. Thankfully, he was fine and came through the experience unscathed. He did not attempt such a feat for the remainder of our stay. A little sore but primarily relieved, I grabbed Benny and popped him back in the trailer before attaching a leash and gently bringing him back out again. Brushing off the dirt was an afterthought. With exception to extreme weather circumstances, I would not be making that mistake again and employed Jamie to keep the dogs busy when one such experience would occur.
Buck Creek Park
Later that morning, we piled the boys in the truck and went off in search of a walk. May I advise you that if you do not have Sunday morning obligations, you should seek out a hike at this hour when in the South? The roads were largely clear, particularly between 9:30 and 11:30 a.m. That is your golden hour, and I encourage you to take advantage of it.
Driving down the road past the church-turned-Sikh temple that lives rent-free in my mind with a smile sends us toward Alabaster to Buck Creek Park, which flanks a baseball field, an ample supply of clover, and a babbling brook. Lovely and serene, the parking lot was about ¼ full, and there was plenty of shade to tuck the truck under a tree so we didn’t have to release the dragon upon return. The weather was just starting to get steamy, but there was enough coverage to make a decent walk tolerable as we wandered along a combination of dirt and paved pathways through the woods, over bridges, and past lush, green groves.
There has been some money invested in maintaining the park’s elegance through Boy Scout contributions and various clubs, as well as educational enrichment with a Music Wall that I found both sweet and whimsical. Someone had played a little too rough with a couple of the features that radiated the lingering air of ‘bored teenager’ by way of missing parts that were torn off, but otherwise, the sentiment was there. Other aspects of the park included more sporting areas, a stage-like grove for music and plays, sans sound equipment or apparent hookups, and exercise circuit supplies. We wandered around for the better part of an hour till the boys were well worn out and ready to return. As we headed back toward the parking lot, we noticed a well-functioning and clean bathroom near the park. Jamie took advantage while I sat with the boys among the clover and soaked up the sunshine for a few minutes while we drank water and rehydrated.
Climbing back into the truck, we spent a little time driving around Alabaster, over train tracks, and around bends. We decided to check out a nearby farm stand purely for the sake of inspection, which is where I bring up my second piece of advice when visiting the South on a Sunday. Perhaps, despite your comfort level in clothing, choose something other than a low-cut blouse and snug-fitting overalls on a Sunday while shopping. I made this error, and while I do make an effort to choose my clothing carefully for wherever we visit, it slipped my mind. I was made to feel uncomfortable through the stares and size-ups from a gingham-clad, hair-sprayed, and coifed shopkeep, enough so that it served as a permanent reminder to “pack accordingly.” Oops.
Not having finished wandering around and perfectly famished from our walk, we headed on over to SAW BBQ in Hoover, Alabama, about a 20-minute drive from the campground. I am not well versed in the differences between barbecue styles, but lighter sauces are something I can appreciate.
Jamie and I both enjoyed a Smoked Chicken Sandwich that came with a pickle and a side of fried green tomatoes (yippee!). We had Sweet Tea on the trailer, so after running in and ordering our sandwiches, we piled back into the truck and drove “home” so we could put up our feet, enjoy lunch, and let the rest of the day gently roll into the evening.
I wish I could describe the level of deliciousness through the computer. I’ve mentioned before that I love a good, drippy, messy barbecue sandwich that is heavy on the black pepper. I’ve also become a bit of a pickle aficionado, having made plenty of batches at home that we store through the fall, so a bum pickle is devastating. This pickle wasn’t a bummer. The balance in salt, vinegar, and spices worked well, and even if it wasn’t the most exciting, it complimented the flavor of the sandwich beautifully. Between the dripping of the sauce all over the fries and, the saltiness of the pickle juice and the sweetness of tea, I was well satiated. What has occurred before when we eat a heavy lunch is that dinner becomes less critical. We don’t always need three square meals a day; sometimes two will suffice.
Better still, it paved the way for afternoon walks down the road to the pond and back to help me digest the ample amounts of barbecue we had been eating over the last few days. If my intention was to eat my way through the South, I’ve been doing an exemplary job.
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