Well, you didn’t really think I wanted a hubcap so bad that I would follow the old geezer home did you? Later I checked the left front hubcap and found two bolts attached the remaining hubcap to the wheel. Guess my hero was really only trying to help me since there was no sign of bolts on the one he tried to remove.
The second night of the trip, in Troutville, Virginia, I “boondocked,” my first experience sleeping in the motor home by the side of the road with no hook-ups for electric or water. I pulled off Route 81 into a large parking lot behind McDonalds Restaurant. There is a knack to sleeping peacefully when one does this called, “Fear no evil.”
In the dark next morning I traveling through the Blue Ridge Mountains. Once again metal monsters kept me company. When packs of them passed me I became afraid they would not see the lights on my tiny VW Rabbit in tow, when long past me I yearned for their company. At the top of the mountains the sun winked at me on the horizon as it spread golden fingers over fog wrapped valleys. Pine spires rose in black clusters above the fog heralding a new day. I traveled 494 miles that day and arrived at my destination at 5 p.m. for the “Great WIN Fall Gathering.”
WIN – Wandering Individual Network, a national group of single men and women traveling about the United States in recreational vehicles. Years ago Dorothy Prince founded the organization. We all fondly referred to her as “The Princes.” She traveled in a 40 foot motor home with her computer and printer firmly anchored to the dash so she could produce the monthly ‘Windows’ newsletter, the only means of communication among members. There are no meetings, no officers, and no fuss, just tons of gatherings and caravans all over the country throughout the year. Painted on the rear panel of her motor home is a three foot square WIN logo, the black and white checkered flag seen flagging in winning cars at race tracks. Each afternoon of a gathering, with chairs and drinks in hand, WINners gather in a large circle to meet old friend, catch up on past adventures, drink and eat munchies, and finally learn the itinerary for the next day’s sight seeing. On the last day of the gathering future gatherings are planned.
Linda Key-Millsaps, owner of Chanticleer Plantation in Milner, Georgia, offered her lovely plantation with its spacious grounds for our fall gathering. Linda is a true southern bell with an extremely soft voice and gentle manner. She drives a 38 foot Star Craft motor home with a slide-out section that holds her sofa and dining table. Two years ago, when I met her in a caravan to Mardi Gras, she stopped at a flea market along the way and bought a parrot. Rainbow, as she named it, promptly became ill and Linda spent days boondocking in a veterinarian’s parking lot until Rainbow was well enough to travel. When she finally caught up with the caravan, then parked for Mardi Gras, she found she could not leave the bird because of it’s constant need of medication. Linda willingly missed all of Mardi Gras for the love of her parrot. Rainbow still travels with her, complete with his cage perched on the passenger seat and a huge piece of drift wood across the entire dash of her motor home. No need for Rainbow to fly with a first class viewing platform from which to see the world.
Chanticleer Plantation, managed by Linda’s son-in-law James, operates a facility that produces approximately 900,000 broiler chickens per year for McDonald Restaurants. It also grows pulpwood and hardwood trees.
Chanticlier Plantation, Milner, GA.
I arrived at the gate leading into the grounds where Live Oak trees cast long shadows over the lawn as the sun flickered through the leaves creating an achapeligo of lemon green islands wavering on a dark green sea. I drove along the spotless white drive past a glassy lake where two sleek white swans serenely glided over the dark blue surface. James directed me to the circular drive in front of the white pillared mansion and around the house to the sweeping lawns in the rear. I arrived bleary-eyed, hot, sticky, tired and hungry. The Ham Hog Hurrier parked easily in the old orchard behind the house and my Rabbit, then unhooked, rested easily by its side. James greeted me with an itinerary five pages long, and of course my favorite – Hugs! Hugs from all, those I knew and those I would come to know, but hugs. This is a tradition with WIN members. First time greetings, and every morning thereafter throughout the gathering, every person hugs every other person. Does this ever start the day right!
WINners arrived the next day in various types of rigs. A great many motor homes towed cars, trucks towed fifth wheels and trailers wheeled in behind vans or trucks, and they too scattered about in the old orchard. I watched an interesting woman named Margaret park her motor home next to me. She told me she left her home in Colorado for the trip east. Twenty miles down the road she found a sale on hot tubs she could not resist. After her purchase, with the hot tub strapped to the roof of her tow vehicle, she proceeded on her way east to Georgia first taking a turn through Ohio. When she drove into the plantation orchard the new hot tub sagged over the car doors like a melting moon. Prior to leaving for home she planned to stop in Alabama, and Texas where she would spend the winter returning to Colorado in the spring, all with the hot tub strapped to the roof of her car.
Milner, Georgia, located between Atlanta and Macon, is close to many interesting places. Sightseeing, with Betty and a new WINner, Wizard, proved to be the beginning of a long odyssey. We chose to tour The Hay House, in the city of Macon first. This 1800’s ante-bellum mansion, built by William Butler Johnson, the keeper of Macon’s Confederate Treasury, nestled on the edge of the Georgia Piedmont. The interior glistened with crystal chandeliers, sterling silver, and elegant, polished, antique furnishing and oriental rugs. We walked through the rooms in hushed awe of true Old South elegance.
Our next stop, the Holt Home, became known as the Cannonball House. General George Sherman, of the Union Army, ordered a cannon fired at the house on July 30, 1864. The infamous ball flew through the wall of the house and fell to the floor of the front hall during the battle of Dunlap Hill in Macon. No one has swept up the ball yet.
We returned to the plantation to find southern chefs preparing a pig roast on the patio by the pool, and WINners assembled with lawn chairs and appetites. Those without chairs sat at the pool’s edge dangling tired feet in the water while eating roast pork and corn on the cob.
The next day James’ itinerary included a tour of the Little White House, Franklin D. Roosevelt’s summer White House.
Hot Tub and Pool
The sun burned up the sky leaving us parched and ready for leisure hours in Chanticleer’s hot tub, with it’s soft bubbling overflow into the pool. It restored many tired limbs and feet. Moonlight beamed down upon us through giant palm trees creating a tranquil and romantic place to chat and swim.
One evening we all watched “Fried Green Tomatoes” in preparation for the next day’s visit to historic Juliette, Georgia, the location of the successful movie of the same name. The town consists of the Ocmulgee River, a mill, a railroad depot, and of course the famous Whistle Stop Cafe where WINners lunched on fried green tomatoes.
The last evening James assembled several tractors to pull wagons for a hay rides to the Light House Restaurant where we enjoyed an extravagant seafood buffet. We ate until we were full to the brim and overflowing, and then again climbed aboard the wagons for a slow moonlight ride returning to the plantation over country roads lined with Live Oak trees dripping Spanish Moss.
Mid-way through the gathering it started to rain. It did not stop for days. On departure day no dry land remained for us to traverse to the road through the apple orchard. To the rescue of those of us in need it meant a tractor tow by James. Seven days, orchestrated with ‘winning’ southern hospitality, gave everyone memories to carry on our separate ways to all points of the compass.
Andersonville National Cemetery
Heading south to Unadilla, Georgia I stopped at the Andersonville Civil War Prison site. During the Civil War the village of Andersonville became the terminal for 45,000 Union Army prisoners of war who arrived by rail during 1864 and 1865. The prisoners marched a quarter mile to Camp Sumter where 13,000 men perished. The cemetery is a very moving memorial to the Civil War dead, made even more impressive by massive state monuments erected among the crosses of their dead.
Miles traveled to date:1,654
Copyright©1995 by Anita Bacon
