Campin' On The Kentucka'

Campite manager: "Ha ma nam's a;sodufhal."

Confused Peter: "Uh......Peter?"

Sitting in our seats at the Cincinnati Reds game, we could see Kentucky across the Ohio River, which divides the two states. After the game, we hopped in Black Sally and crossed into Kentucky. We heard about the world famous Bourbon Trail in northwestern Kentucky, so we found a place on Google Maps that was in the region. It was called "Camping on the Kentucky." From the overwhelming advertising and a professional logo, we expected University of Kentucky students to pack the place. 

This was a welcoming detour for us into the south. We drove over under sideways down on highways like the 127, 1964, 9002, etc. Ponds and rugged terrain surrounded the roads with an occasional mansion here and there. We hadn't seen this many trees since Montana.

In the early evening, we rolled into our newest campsite. It was situated right on the flooded Kentucky River. Four days of severe storms had turned this river brown from the mud flowing in from the banks. We were told that when you cant see any more debris flowing down the river, the water level will decline, and the color will turn blue from the entering creeks. 

As we stood on the porch at the main office to check in, a man came running to us from a trailer across the lot. In a drawl of the most southern kind, the man asked us "y'all lookin for a pla' to stay 'night?" We complied and paid the $18.02 for the site. He was shirtless and we didn't know if it was a tan or mud. His eyes looked in both directions and the yellow glistened off all seven of his teeth. All of a sudden, we were in The South. We told him we were from Oregon and he confirmed, "Ain't that by 'Laska?"

After our conversation, Wolf said, "honestly, nicer than advertised," in reference to the hospitality of our southern host.

How do you know when you enter The South? You see water towers like this one. Welcome to The South Y'all.

The beautiful backroads of Kentucky provided us with plenty of scenery on our way to the campsite. 

View of the "Camp on the Kentucky."

The flooded Kentucky River, mixed with the overwhelming humidity, made it seem like we were on the banks of the Nile. We didn't hop in for fear of piranhas. 

Wolf urged Pete to jump in, but he clearly wasn't havin' it. 

Peter walked across some quicksand mud to find a spot to hit a golf ball into the river. Unfortunately, he didn't find a spot. He just ruined his sandals and stepped in neddles. 

Then he ruined the rest of his outfit. More to come from our golf experiences across America...

Beautiful sunset in Kentucka'. A picture cannot capture it's glory.

Even though it was a primitive, desolate site, they had some pretty fast wifi. Here is Peter beginning to write the Metamora post.

Clearly a frogs paradise as we were constantly swatting away flies and other bugs bigger than us.

Peter awoke a resident of the campsite. It seemed like the only response to his questions was, "What?"

We learned that morning that we stayed in Nonesuch, Kentucky. Wolf asked the old man why it was coined Nonesuch. He said, "In the early 1900's, a woman was driving through town. There were four gentlemen playing a game of cards in the middle of the four-way stop. After she sat there expecting them to move out of the way so she could pass through, they didn't. She drove on the grass around them, rolled down her window, and proclaimed 'Well I ain't never seen nonesuch.'" And from then on, it was known as Nonesuch, Kentucky.

The grocery, gas station, diner, billiards room, and karaoke bar in town.

The Kinks - "Sitting by the Riverside"