Chewalla Walla Bang Bang...

July 2, 2007: Cloudland Canyon Hike and Chewalla Lake

After yesterday’s grand adventures and excitement, we woke up early on the gravel under the tent and prepared for the morning hike. Cloudland Canyon was so beautiful and we took a lot of pictures, both goofy and scenic, as we hiked along the beaten path…when Sara actually followed it that is! Either way though, it was breathtaking or we made our way down to the bottom of the canyon to a secluded waterfall and eagerly dipped our feet in the stream fed waters. It was a little taste of heaven and well worth the descent. Upon our return to the campsite, we packed up Marge and headed out to Holly Springs National Forest in Mississippi for our next campground.

We are definitely in “the Deep South” now and Sara and I are trying to tailor our accents to have more of a southern drawl as to not attract too much attention. Our atlas and generic directions have proved helpful, but not as much as the locals that we’ve consulted along the way. We had been driving for about five hours and we started to think that it would be impossible to find a campsite, so we decided to stop and become familiar with the locals of Holly Springs. It’s easy to get directions when you enter a gas station carrying an atlas that measures 12”x16” because they take one look and say “Yer lost ther ain’tcha carryin’ that big ol’ map ther.” We promptly respond with a smile and some giggles and begin to make note of the route.

We came upon Chewalla Lake and perused the park in search of a good campsite. We were losing light, exhausted and just wanted a place to set up camp to sleep for the night. This was definitely a more primitive park and there was no ranger on duty to maintain the campsites, but we didn’t care at that point so we paid our $13 via envelope and decided that we would merely keep our mace handy at all times. There were other campers in the park, but they were much more along the lines of the Clampet's second cousins, twice removed, and they had setup their Hillbilly compounds.

Sara tried for a good hour to start a fire with no luck. We managed to make some smoke, but no embers, there would be no chicken and potatoes this evening and sandwiches it was. After our gourmet dinner, we went to the sub-par restroom facilities to brush our teeth and encountered the matriarch of the Clampet Compound. She was escorting her super drunk old man husband who could barely stand and she promptly set him down on the bench and told him not to move, which he didn’t, even after she had abandoned him and made her way back to her site, but not before corralling Sara and me into ridiculous conversation regarding roasted marshmallows, her 23 grand children and her one great grandbaby. Good for you lady, good for you. Birth control, you should look into it, seriously, look into it.

Sara was really sketched out that night and didn’t get too much sleep. She wasn’t very comfortable with the other people in the campground. They were, after all, a breed that we were unfamiliar with. I awoke that night and glanced over at Sara, as she was frozen in position with her eyes opened wide, there was neither sound nor movement until her eyes blinked. I asked her if she was awake and she responded with a whispered yes followed by “did you see that?” Apparently there were dogs roaming around our site, some only three to four feet from our tent. I was exhausted and promptly fell back asleep, but sleep would be elusive for Sara and she lay there clutching the mace.

We packed up camp in lightning speed the following morning and were very much looking forward to getting out of Chewalla walla bang bang as fast as possible. Before leaving, we ran into another camper, a vagabond. She travels with her boyfriend both on foot and by hitchhiking. They had no job or permanent address, they just roam. Sara and I had a lengthy discussion on what that must be like and what kind of freedom that would be. She was an interesting woman and we talked about books, travels and the local wildlife. Apparently the dogs that Sara saw weren’t dogs at all. They were, in fact, coyotes. I think it’s a good thing as Sara was disturbed by the presence of wild dogs, confirmation of coyotes at the time would probably have prompted her to sleep in the fetal position inside the car!

We were happy to be rid of Chewalla and prayed that our next campsite, Lake Ouachita (pronounced Wash-it-aw) in Arkansas would be a major improvement. Then we started to think that maybe we were too spoiled by Cloudland Canyon, but before we made our way there, we were of to Memphis, Tennessee to see Graceland. After all, we had to pay our respects to the King when he was so close (about an hour). Graceland or Bust baby!