Today we traveled west-southwest from Lake Jordan (Pittsboro, NC) down I-85 through horrendous, mind-numbing, bumper-to-bumper traffic around Charlotte, North Carolina, passed Gastonia. We toiled in more mind-numbing traffic around Spartanburg and Greenville, South Carolina. Finally made it to Pendleton, South Carolina, just south of Clemson. Light traffic finally.

Using our trusty Google search engine, we discover 56,000-acre Lake Hartwell, created by Hartwell Dam on the Savannah River, seven miles downriver from the confluence of the Tugaloo and Seneca Rivers, the principal inflow rivers to the lake. That confluence, of course, is now under the lake. We cross the Savannah River on the Intracoastal Waterway when traveling in our sailboat, Flicka.

The earthen and concrete dam is 15,840 feet long. The concrete part is two hundred feet high and houses a hydroelectric power plant that produces 468 kilowatts of electricity annually. Yes, I am a Google freak.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lake_Hartwell

The tongues created by the Tugaloo and Seneca Rivers are 49 and 45 miles long respectively. Surprisingly, much of the land on the shore of the lake is not overly developed. We were lucky to find the Twin Lakes Recreation Area Campground where we took a site with water, power and very nice bathroom facilities (10 rating) on a bluff overlooking the lake. Very few other campers. Thirteen bucks a night. Not too shabby.

“Highway robbery!”, I say to Butch the park gate attendant.

Very pleasant. The weather is perfect. We decide to stay here for two nights.

Waves of pollen clouds creep across the lake on the cat’s paws. A Great Blue Heron flies by gracefully, neck craning. Two Little Blues erupt out of nowhere and flap their way southerly.

April 11. Up early. The ever important two cups of French Roast for me. No cream, please. Emily gets her green tea. We have breakfast, enjoy the morning then plan for the unmentionable. A trip to the local dog park. Yes. We have become dog park people. Don’t knock it till you tried it. People start conversations easily in dog parks. I find that they will tell you about the most intimate things. One can hear a lot of life stories at a dog park.

Once in Staunton where I live, I met a man in our dog park who was traveling with his dog around the country, working to soothe his grief at the loss of his wife recently to cancer. Together they worked for the National Park Service in stations all over. He spoke at length about his love for her. He said she was his soul mate. They did everything together. He missed her something awful. He had no connection to Staunton other than that he had a dog and found our dog park online. I listened and attempted to console. What can one say?

He shed a tear as he told me his story.

Two visits to the dog park today. Sawyer is a high maintenance dog.

We return to Twin Lakes for another pleasant evening on the lake. Tomorrow we are heading to Montgomery, Alabama for a visit with my friend Cary Doss.

Sweet dreams.

Mitakuye Oyasin