Last post of the day (I promise) … just felt this OCD need to bring everything up to date on our travels so I can be more extemporaneous in future posts. Of course, it’s so freaking hot here … or raining so hard … that there really isn’t much to do except sit on the picnic table. I can leisurely type while I’m looking at this glorious scenery and listening to the “Coffee House” channel on SiriusXM.
Fortunately, I feel rested enough to see about putting my walking stick to good use – Frank and I will spend some time walking around the campgrounds tomorrow. I don’t see how some of these people do it! There’s one lady who walks around the entire campground 3 times every day in the heat of the afternoon. As Frank lays under the picnic table, he lifts his head to follow her as far as he can see her, then looks at me, then gives it a “Pffft” and puts his head down to go back to sleep. We’ll see how he enjoys tomorrow mornings walk.
On Friday, Frank and I visited the Cordele State Farmers Market, about 10 miles from the campsite. It’s pretty large … a series of about 100 truck bays. Some are set up as “stores”, with tables have baskets of produce laid out for you to pick from. Most are simply docks where trucks are parked and you purchase produce directly off them. We visited a couple of the vendors … bought a cantaloupe that had been picked the day before along with some plums and four ears of corn. Everyone there was incredibly friendly, from the guy at the entrance who gave me the lowdown on the market, the two vendors we visited, and the guy who was carting out some rotted melons with his truck, who exclaimed “New Jersey, huh? I lived in Seaside Heights for 15 years!”, which started a conversation about how you can’t find good clam chowder anywhere in Georgia. I was taken aback when he asked, “You ever been to Spike’s on the road into Point Pleasant?” Wow! Spike’s serves the best clam chowder I’ve ever had in my life, and I made a point of going there at least five or six times a year. The world keeps getting smaller and smaller!
As we were driving over to the next row of bays, I noticed two young kids sitting in chairs next to the back of a pickup truck that was loaded with corn! I instantly decided that four ears weren’t quite enough! We stopped – I rolled down the passenger window and one of the boys got up and came over to the car. He was immediately taken in by Frank. Frank aka “The Attention Hog” stood up on the door and started wagging his tail a mile a minute. The boy turned to his brother and yelled, “Come over and see this cute dog.” We sat and talked for about 5 minutes, after which I asked for a half-dozen ears of corn. He ran back to the truck, at which point the younger one started asking a bunch of questions about Frank. “How old is he?” (Eight) “Does he like other dogs?” (Yep, we used to go to the dog park in Charleston, South Carolina all the time and he’d play with his buddies there.) “What does he eat?” (Anything except anchovies.) “What’s an anchovy?” (Tough room!)
“What’s the damage?” I asked when the older boy returned with my corn. “Two dollars, and I game you an extra two ears.” I said, “Yeah, that’s not enough … here’s $3 and I’ll be back next week to pick up some more” and thanked him. Total cost of our little excursion to the Farmers Market – $10 … I gave four of the ears of corn to my neighbors for helping me with my tent and canopy earlier in the week.
By the way, here’s the website I used to find this Farmers Market. I posted it a few months ago and this was my first chance to test it out. I’m pretty happy with the results … and I’ve already verified they’ve got a couple more listed in Spanish Fort, AL, our next stop. I think they’re providing a great service and encourage you to check them out If you happen to reach out to the owner, tell him “Jeff, the guy on the long-term camping trip” sent you!
On the way back to camp, I had to stop and take a photo of this sign … I’ve seen it a few times on the way back and forth to town for a few things during the week and have chuckled every time. “Congested” must mean something different in central Georgia than it does in the New York Metropolitan Area!