Category Archives: vacation

Color my world with dog

Posted on October 16, 2011 by Donna Black-Sword

Yaxley says smells have a color.

Got another mind blowing factoid for y’all today. Turns out that dogs can actually see colors; their world isn’t just shades of grey as we’ve been led to believe by modern folklore. Now they are indeed colorblind in the literal sense that their optical spectrum filters out reds and greens, which could be why my little fuzzy friends don’t get so excited about our annual leaf-peeping road trip adventures.

For curiosity’s sake, here’s a color spectrum from a study performed at the University of California, Santa Barbara that tested the colorblind theory. The full article from Psychology Today can be found here. It goes on explaining about cones and such. What? Not enuf info for you? Well then, grab a cup of coffee and click here to read the actual study results.

Image from Psychology Today’s Canine Corner (click here for full article)

It’s a long way rattling down the highways to North Carolina from our Hershey PA campsite and we are compelled to stop for the occasional bio break for the dogs. They leave their mark in three states before we even make it to the northern border of North Carolina. Ah, but now we come across a scenic overlook off the highway. Time for a mental break for us human beans.

Whacha all looking at?

Micron just doesn’t get it.

And we find ourselves reminded again to always have CCI brochures on hand. Yaxley all handsome in his training cape attracts attention and some in depth conversations with the other leaf peepers hanging around the scenic overlook. I step away and leave the Husband to talk with these nice folk. He’s the people-person, I’m the socially awkward nerd. We are a fine team, we are.

Micron and Yaxley know what’s coming next. Food Lady is messing with that black box again, so it’s time to sit and put on a doggy smile. Even the onlookers remark on what pros these two are as they pose for the camera. They’ve done this before, haven’t they?

Yes, my leaf peepin’ friends. Yes they have.

Both sides are my “good side”, you know.

I think Micron smells like a color. Can you guess what it is?

Smile Yax! Dang, you’re so serious.

Because the daylight hours are shorter this time of year, we stop before we can reach Asheville. The Husband prefers not to drive the moving house through unfamiliar territory in the dark and I have total buy-in on that. That it’s tougher to do the RV hookups by flashlight nails the choice down. I’ll go hookup the water and electric now. Not at the same time, I hope, Honey.

We consult the camping guide and select Fort Chiswell RV Park to rest our weary wheels. By the time the dogs are fed, watered and toileted, then our dinner is set steaming upon the dinette table, it’s nightfall. Not a good time to walk the campground and check out our surroundings. Besides, we can get WIFI here and I’ve got to check the farm. Right, I mean email.

But the next morning, the pups and I are met with some glorious natural wonders.

These next set of photos were taken from the dog run area. A light fog, dewy grass and the sunrise all made for some dreamy shots.

Next post: We take a look at how the other half lives.

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Chocolate: it’s not just for breakfast anymore

Posted on October 15, 2011 by Donna Black-Sword

Well, we were out roughing it again in the SWRCT* last week. One more road trip in the creaky old RV before we ~~set fire to the damn thing~~ winterize it for the season. (*SWRCT – the Six Wheeled Rolling Cat Turd. See previous posts Recipe Swap – RV Road Dawgs and Top 10 reasons to take an RV vacation with your dog)

What’s that you say? I must explain how vacationing in a portable house qualifies as roughing it? Yeah, yeah I know. We got us all the luxuries of home with beds, fridge, air conditioner, and a full bathroom all within 34 feet. The snack bar’s always open. Trendy sofa all extra cushy with stylishly matching dog hair. It’s not like we’re tent camping in the rain or something. So, what else could a citified girl like me possibly want?

Right, first of all get this. It has a kitchenette, otherwise cleverly disguised in RV language as the galley. Whatever pleasant imagery that may come to mind with that galley word, what it boils down to (pun, ugh) is that I cook full meals in my teensy little traveling kitchen. On vacation, I remind you. Aw, but that’s not really so bad, truth be told. I like to cook almost as much as I like to stuff food in my mouth. It’s a sad fact that I collect cookbooks just so I can look at the color photos and pretend that it’s just one big menu.

Put on your walkin’ shoes, Yax my love.
The outlet mall is just yonder those trees.

(A quick side note to the uninitiated. Regardless of however badly your weight loss program is going on your RV vacation, never ever fry fish in the galley. It may be a moving house, but it’s only about 150 square feet of home sweet motorhome. Just sayin’.)

To summarize road adventures in the SWRCT, it may be helpful to envision the thing as the ancient beast that it is. This machine is older than my college kid. In dog years it should be dead. But no, it lives on to sputter and cough down the highways of America. Every time we roll into a new town, I check for two things in the immediate area. The nearest emergency vet should any of the dogs need care. And a Camping World so we can buy replacement parts for whatever is sure to fall off the flippin’ thing this time.

And this fall adventure gets it start in a big grassy field. No hookups at all, which means we’re on our own for clean water, grey and black water (don’t ask) containment, electricity and whatnot. That means no cable TV, people. And absolutely inconceivable to me – no WIFI (think Wilhelm Scream sound effect). Ok, is that roughing it, or what? Believe me now?

Starbucks! Internet access and a latte.
It’s gonna be a good day, Tater.

We’ve rolled into Chocolate World, USA. This annual October outing to Hershey PA is to enjoy the flora and fauna of the Antique Automobile Clubs of America fall meet. I’m sure there’s fun to be had over there across the street looking at other people’s old cars. And talking shop with the vendors with their arrays of used car parts all spread out on a blanket like it’s some kind of a rusty picnic lunch for Lightening McQueen and his pals.

Good times to be had, as is reported back to me. I haven’t actually been able to confirm any of those wild rumors. You see, I don’t venture out that way. Instead, I put the working cape on Yaxley and we hoof it out to find a WIFI spot. And perhaps fit in a bit of shopping at the outlet mall just a short walking distance away.

Yaxley is people watching outside
Starbuck’s window

Yax enjoys a quiet moment of introspection while I check email at Starbucks. Then we stop at Times to Remember shop to grab some Hershey specific scrapbook papers and such. I’ll bring this new acquisition home and put it in the pile of stuff I bought last year.

So, that’s us in the photo at the top of the blog post. Camper parking is across the street from from Hershey Park, which is cruelly closed for this weekend (see my lamentations from last year’s Hershey trip here at Ten Ten in Penn).

The SWRCT is in the foreground of the photo, just right of center. What, it’s too small? Can’t see it? No matter, I didn’t really intend for anyone to see the thing anyway. Even from this distance.

Can we go now?

But if you could actually make out the details, next to the RV you would find the Husband, Jager and our camping-in-the-field neighbor chatting in the comfy lawn chairs. Our new friend is a body shop owner from West by God Virginia. A nice fella helping us to pass the time away during the long evening.

And I didn’t see this one coming . . . the guy is an appreciator of the arts as well. He bought a slew of pedal cars in various versions of customized rust patina with the intention of displaying them as a sculpture in his body shop back home. True story.

Recall now – we’re dry docked in an open field. No TV, internet or even Hershey Park to busy our minds with. So we find entertainment in other desperate ways. So things like this happen:

Objet d’art titled You’re not bringing that
into my house

Oh, but this is merely the first leg of our journey. More adventures to come as we travel further away from our Ohio base and into North Carolina.

We pack up the lawn chairs, give the pups a chance to do their business (I told you guys to go before we left the open field), and we’re off to rattle down I-85.

Or is it I-83? Aargh, but I hate this navigator job.

Next post: Heads up, Ashville. We’re coming to darken your doorway.

What walkin’ shoes? I’m a dog.

What is this? Not really sure, but looks to be some
kind of new and awesome ride for Hershey Park.
These were all over the field like a big yellow
obstacle course for RV’s.

Addendum

I slipped in yet another obscure movie reference on you, so let me ‘splain this one. The Wilhelm Scream is a classic of sorts. Here’s a YouTube compilation of the popular cinematic “man being eaten by alligator” sound effect.

It was a dark and stormy night

Posted on September 20, 2011 by Donna Black-Sword

August 18 2011 . . .

“It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents, except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the streets (for it is in London that our scene lies), rattling along the housetops, and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the lamps that struggled against the darkness.” –Edward George Bulwer-Lytton

Storm’s coming in, says the Husband, I’m going to pull in the window awnings. A storm?! Coo-ell.

Okie dokie, I say, grabbing the Canon. I’ll be at the beach if you need me.

You know, my husband sighs a lot. And he knows there’s little to be done from me making one dopey decision after another. Not only am I just the tiniest bit stubborn, I’m also faster than he is. I’m already outside the RV, screen door slamming behind me before you can say certifiable.

But a storm! Besides pesky rain, storms also mean contrasting clouds and wonderful filtered light you don’t get on any normal sunshiny day. And normal this is not. There’s a beautiful coastal storm on the horizon here at Myrtle Beach. Once we’re back in landlocked Ohio, we won’t be seeing another one of these wonders until the next road trip down this way.

Oh, but let’s be clear on something. There’s a rather healthy amount of self-preservation running through my psyche. These swollen and rolling clouds are merely a harbinger of things yet to come. It’s not like I’m going to stand in torrential rain and risk getting the Canon (my preciousssss) wet. Now that’s lunacy, I say. Naw, I just want to get out there and capture the mood before the heavens open up on us.

So I can get shots like this.

That’s not our sand castle masterpiece. Actually, I don’t know whose it is other than some Pirateland family who had the common sense to get back to their camper when the sky started to darken.

The Husband stops at the beach to check on me during a potty break with the dogs. Micron!, I exclaim, Photo op time, my love!

A couple of quick shots with Sir Micron, brave knight and castle protector. Well, that was my vision. What really happened was more of a medieval-era Godzilla style rampage. I send the boys on their way back to the RV before the rain starts. I’m getting low on Febreze (Sunflowers! Sunshine! and wet dog), you know.

Humm, not only did we seem to lose the third castle tower here, but where did the sticks go? Micron?

I got it! I’ll protect your castle, m’Lord! Oh. oops.

Me thinks the tavern wench was a little heavy handed
with the margarita salt

With the boys back in the RV, I start capturing the aura of the imminent tempest . . .

Not easy to see in the panorama above, but the dark section in the sand on the left is the sand castle creation from the first set of shots On the right, you can see folk in the water, still fishing as the clouds move in. Silly people.

Another wondrous thing about evening coastal storms are the sunrises the next day. Here’s a sunrise from a normal day, hazy and humid. Soft, pretty colors, but nuthin [yawn] special, really.

This, however, is the stuff you get the morning after a good storm comes through.

Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about.

Know what else is a rare wonder of nature; something you only see with that elusive, but magical combo of sun and rain?

Rainbows, that’s what. And this time . . .

I found my pot of gold.

And this time, the treasure at the end is for me.

Addendum

I’m rather excited about an improvement by our website host, blogger.com. Photos on the blog can now be viewed through Lightbox. Just click on any of the photos to bring up a large screen view. You can navigate through all the images in the post from the Lightbox view. Very cool stuff indeed, especially for a nerd like me who likes to tell a story through pictures.

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Nature gets uppity

Posted on September 19, 2011 by Donna Black-Sword

August 17 2011 . . .

A couple of days enjoying sand and surf at Myrtle Beach, then it’s time to blow this pop stand. We dress Yaxley in his CCI cape and we’re off to see the sights. But where to go today? Hmmm.

Shopping at Barefoot Landing

Well, we’ve always enjoyed walking around the shops at Barefoot Landing, an outdoor shopping experience designed to remind you of an old fishing village. Docks, boardwalks, saltwater taffy and alligators. And it’s just a skip and a jump down the road to get there.

We walk around the Barefoot complex, checking out as many of the blessedly air-conditioned stores as we can. Yaxley is a rock star as we meet folk who ask about him and the Canine Companions for Independence program. In all our road travels, we’ve found the Myrtle Beach community as one of the very few places where we’ll encounter a challenge with service dogs in restaurants. So raising awareness of CCI is always time well spent there.

If I don’t like the ocean, Food Lady, sez Yax,
then why the heck do you think I’ll be a surf dog?

Carolina Vineyards Winery

Elvis sighting in MB

These signs were on every boardwalk at Barefoot Landing.
Kinda falls into the same category as
“Careful! That cup of coffee you’re about to drink may be hot!“
Thank you, Captain Obvious

Wheels of Yesteryear

This was a new and different stop for us. Wheels of Yesteryear is an impressive collection of restored classic and vintage automobiles. About fifty cars you can see up as up close and personal as your little V-8 heart desires.

Being a dog person, this could have been a yawner for me. But no, as we pull into the parking lot, the marquee is shouting out at me with “SEE JOE DIRT’S CAR”

Holy Cow! Joe Dirt’s 1969 Dodge Daytona?! From the soon-to-be-a-classic movie?! Well, why didn’t you say so before?

Dang.

Sadly, I’m not kidding this time. It’s a fun movie and if I’m flipping the channels around and discover Joe Dirt is on, then I’m heading for the microwave popcorn. It’s true. Sorry you had to find this out about me.

But it gets even worse. The Husband tells me that as I walked up to the car and looked inside, I actually said, Da-a-ang. I have no memory of this happening, but I’m inclined to believe him.

Because he was laughing at me.

Joe Dirt’s car (!) from the (destined to be classic) movie

Dang

Brookgreen Gardens

What a treasure this place is. I just love Brookgreen Gardens, both an outdoor sculpture garden and nature preserve. So much history there. It was my reward for surviving the car museum, cuz marriage is all about the give and take, isn’t it?

Because of the nature preserve, we decide to leave Yaxley to relax in the air conditioned RV with the other dogs. As puppy raisers, we’re asked to avoid taking the young pups to zoos and such. And you can get pretty darn close to some of the animals in the Low Country Zoo, especially in the aviaries.

For example, we enter one particular aviary to greet a big flippin’ turkey vulture skulking about the boardwalk like some kind of bridge troll. Huh. So, do we keep walking and hope he doesn’t go all medieval on us? Or back away slowly to the double door exit?

Never one to shy away from a really bad decision, I went for Option C, which was to raise the camera to get a close-up shot of his ugly mug. Turns out, turkey vultures are camera shy. Well, who knew? Put that little nugget in your field guide, Audubon.

That’s right. Fly away, tough guy.

Yeah, I know that photo is near impossible to make out. But this is the back of the big, bad turkey vulture as he takes flight so the Canon lens can’t steal his dark and shriveled soul. Just below the center of the photo you should at least be able to see his gnarly yellow vulture feet, then squinting may help to make out the wing span. [shudder]

Anyway, Brookgreen’s sculpture garden is truly a one of kind experience. As my usual style, I took a gadzillion and two photos. But to keep in the theme of all things canine, here I will share my shots of Louise Peterson’s Bella and the Bug. The sculptress created this image after watching her Great Dane concentrate on a fly crawling on a wall. I think this lady knows her dogs; she’s absolutely captured the spirit of the moment.

Bella and the Bug

Not trusting those beady little eyes

We take a break from walking around and rest on a bench under a shady tree. Rustling above reveals a squirrel busy at some kind of urgent tree rat business. Ah, a fox squirrel. We don’t have these fancy critters back home.

Hoping to get a nice clear shot of the fuzzy tailed rodent, I get closer and closer until . . . I say to the Husband, If this thing jumps from the tree and goes all militant on my head, you’ll save me, right? The Husband, still back on the park bench, is looking straight ahead as he takes a sip of his Sierra Mist. He says in reply to me Sure, I got your back.

Right. Well, rodent, I say. It looks like it’s between you and me. Now just hold still a sec, willya.

An experience in fine dining

The Husband and I joke about folk who come back from a vacation at some exotic locale only to talk in grisly detail about the what they had to eat on the trip and what the best restaurants were. We say it’s a sign that you’re getting old.

And I suppose it’s possible that we could be creeping into that distinction as one of us had a milestone birthday during this vacation week. To maintain dignity, I won’t disclose which of us it was. I’ll only say that I’m the younger one and leave you to do ponder on it.

All right, my mateys! It’s Shrimp Night!

The kid called to check on us and asked what our big plans were for the night. Why, it’s Shrimp Night!, I say excitedly. O-o-o-o-kay, is the reply. Hey, ever since we saw the sign in Pirateland’s parking lot that Hog Heaven BBQ was showing up, we’ve been looking forward to this dinner.

With the sound of the waves crashing and the ocean breeze blowing gently through our campsite, we settle down at the picnic table to nosh upon some barbecued crustacean goodness. Now this is what I call a (stop that barking in there, dogs!) vacation. Some white wine in a plastic cup is the icing on the cake, so to speak.

A lovely ending to a busy day.

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Pawprints in the sand

Posted on September 18, 2011 by Donna Black-Sword

CCI pup-in-training, Yaxley, watches
his first South Carolina sunrise

August 14, 2011 . . .

The briny smell of the sea, the roaring sound of the waves, the skin blistering heat of the South Carolina sun. Yup, we made it to Myrtle Beach. Not just Myrtle Beach, my friends, but we’ve scored a great beachside campsite at our beloved Pirateland Family Camping Resort. What’s that you say? Arrr, Matey. Pirateland? Really?

Oh, really.

Now we’ve done the MB vacation a few times over the past years and gave a couple of other local campgrounds a try. When you travel in an RV, you’re tempted with thinking, hey we don’t need to plan ahead. Campground reservations are for sissies. Guided by the glossy RV magazine ads, we cruise around believing we can park this beast anywhere we want, whenever we feel like stopping. Sadly, this is not always true. It’s possible your destination of choice may actually be booked solid and you end up needing to find an alternate spot for your arrogant self and the house you rode in on.

So this one year, we were able to snag a spot at local mega-campground when Pirateland was full. We’ve certainly heard of this other camping resort, but had never checked it out before. The place was touted as being voted “best in MB” and family-oriented. This will be just fine, we said. We arrive in late evening and navigate our way into a labyrinth to find our site. And found ourselves entering an alternate universe. It was like some dystopian city where the entire adult population, and their 16 year old kids, were driving a golf cart. Full speed ahead, they all say, let’s take these babies to warp speed!

Anarchy, martial law and no apparent traffic rules. Ever see a golf cart traffic jam? Not something on my bucket list, either. It seems everyone was in a rush to get to the beach to set off bottle rockets and other such fireworks for the next few hours. Which had one of the dogs in hyper alert mode the entire flippin’ night.

You never know what the tide will bring in.
(holding back on the otherwise obligatory seahorse quip)

Bleary eyed, we packed up the next morning and moved on with renewed vows to always call Pirateland ahead of time. And of course we did for this summer’s trip by reserving one of their great camping sites within just a few steps from the beach. We can actually see ~~Russia~~ the ocean from our house.

The public beach rules in MB have restrictions on when you can take your dogs out there to enjoy the sand and surf. Before nine o’clock in the morning and after five in the evening. Understand, agree and will comply. The dogs aren’t here to sunbathe or read a cheap novel on the beach anyway, so not a problem to keep them out of the heat of the day.

Jager, a true road dog, has been to the beach before. This fastidious little Felix Unger incarnate can go for a mile walk along the surf and come back clean and dry, with not even a grain of sand between his prim little raccoon toes.

I’m so shiny, clean and bright!

Jagermeister and water just don’t mix well.

Boiling acid sewer lava! nooooooo . . .

The big yellow dog, on the other paw, is a whole nuther animal, so to speak. Micron has those webbed toes for a reason. He’s a natural water dog.

Micron channels his inner sea lion

Doing the doggy twist

I love watching dogs as they discover the wonders of the seashore. Once Micron worked out that the rolling, foamy stuff was made of water there was no keeping him out of it. We held tightly to the leash, fearing that if he started swimming we’d be left ashore just watching his bobbing noggin as he dog paddled across the murky deep towards the horizon. The big goober.

I think I see a Squirrel out there.

Yaxley, however, had a different experience altogether. While he was trying to get his head around the sand shifting under his paws, he next realized the roaring ocean just ahead. A little overwhelming for the little yeller feller, so we just sat by the sand dunes and watched the waves for a few minutes so he could process all this through his puppy brain.

Why won’t the ground stay
still under my toes?

Yax and I took the rest of the week in puppy steps until he found his comfort level. By Friday, we made it to the shoreline and he ventured into the water. Well, ventured is a strong word. What really happened is he stuck one toe in the surf and said, Yep. That’ll do.

In the end, the best we got out of the pup was a tolerance of this nonsense. Ok, Yax says, I can accept this weird moving ground and whatever the heck is going on over there with the water. But I don’t have to like it. His favorite part of his beach walks was finding washed up dead things to try to roll in.

But the mighty Micron is a social creature. He just attracts new friends like flies on a . . . oh my, I need a better analogy than that. Anyhow, I’m reminded again of my dashed hopes for his future as a Facility Dog for CCI. Which leads me, like a smack to the head, to the renewed realization that this is my dog.

And that I am one lucky chick.

Others have mentioned it to me as well, so I do believe there is a positive energy about this dog. Folk want to be in his presence. Being around Micron just makes you feel better. Kids want to be with him; dogs want to be him.

A beach walk with Micron is a time to meet some of our Pirateland neighbors. Like these two delightful kids, who tell us they have six (six!) dogs back at home. They miss their dogs, can they give Micron a hug?

Of course you can, you adorable young people. Take your time and enjoy him.