Jinxed

We are jinxed. Like I said a few weeks ago, this trip has had more problems than any other we’ve taken, and we’ve only been on the road for less than a month. More on that in a moment. First, let me bring you up to date.

I’m writing this from a casino parking lot in Pine Bluff, Arkansas. You might be wondering why, since the plan was to be cycling the Natchez Trace in Mississippi. That part isn’t due to the jinx, just my short attention span. As I’ve said before, the Trace is a lovely ride. It’s wide, paved, has almost no traffic, and trees on both sides, lovely. But here’s the problem: it’s all the same. And it looks like it stays that way for the entire 745 km stretch to Nashville.

Now remember, we have to cycle it both ways, so 1,500 km of near-identical scenery. That was a bit much. Years ago, Mike and I flew our little plane over the Grand Canyon. Back then, you could fly just above the canyon walls. It was absolutely stunning. After 45 minutes of it, we came to a fork: keep going over the canyon or take a shortcut to our destination, Las Vegas. I felt terrible, but I voted for the shortcut. It wasn’t that the Grand Canyon stopped being beautiful, I was just ready for something different. That’s exactly how I felt about the Trace.

In 15 days at the campground, we only managed to ride 222 km (138 miles) thanks to endless rain. That gave us about 100 km (62 miles) along the Trace. I’m glad we did it, but I didn’t want to keep doing more of the same, especially when we probably can’t finish it anyway. We have a June return to Canada planned.

So I suggested we head to the Ozarks in Arkansas. Mike and I don’t go for big, expensive campgrounds. I liked the Mississippi state park we stayed in, and I was looking forward to trying out some Army Corps of Engineers (COE) campgrounds. They’re all near water, have electricity, usually have water (but no Wi-Fi), and they’re cheaper and smaller than the full-service campgrounds. Win/win for me.

Enroute to the Ozarks, we stayed at a COE campground on the Arkansas River. It looked ideal for us. Again, we were quite a distance from anywhere with the nearest town and restaurants about 25 minutes away (lucky for me, Mike enjoys driving). At 5 p.m. on our arrival day, we got the following screeching alert on our phones.

OK, so this was scary. We pulled in our slide-outs, but there wasn’t much else we could do. A couple of hours later, it looked like we’d avoided the hail, but the severe thunderstorms definitely hit. Sitting in a giant tin can while rain hammers down is not ideal. That racket lasted nearly all night.

The next morning was predicted windy but dry until about 2 p.m., so Mike and I went for a short ride. Forecasts were predicting more storms, hail, thunderstorms, and tornadoes for the next five days.

Wednesday night brought another deluge. Usually in the RV, rain sounds like a drumline on the roof. This time, it was pouring but oddly quiet. The rain was coming at us sideways, very strange. Thursday we went out for lunch and groceries, and when we got back, the campground was evacuating, fast. The Arkansas River was expected to flood here the next day.

It was 3:30 p.m., the skies were dark, and the campground was closing, but where to go? No real guidance. I remembered a casino about 20 minutes away, across the levee, that allowed RVs. We packed up fast, trying to beat both the next round of storms, and other campers who might be headed to the same “safe port in the storm”. It wasn’t raining yet, just threatening.

As soon as we hit the road, the rain came. The wind picked up. You could see water blowing sideways across the road. Then everything changed, the sky turned black, the wind reversed 180°, and it howled. Mike had a hard time controlling the motorhome, but we couldn’t stop in the middle of a major road. It was awful. Sheets of rain blasted us from the opposite direction now. That’s when I took the picture at the top of this post.

After 5–10 minutes of chaos, the wind shifted back, and the sky started to lighten. What we drove through, I have no idea. But it wasn’t nice.

The casino turned out to be great. We parked a bit of a hike from the casino itself, but there was a shuttle bus if we needed it. Better yet, free parking and free electricity. They said there wasn’t water available, but Mike managed to find the one working faucet. No Wi-Fi, though, which is starting to be an issue. Oh, and we each got free slot credits — $20 for me, $10 for Mike. They’re paying us to camp here. How nice 🙃. When we went in for lunch the second day we used the free credits and walked away with $25 cash. Not exactly a jackpot, but a nice free bonus.

The RV lot is beside a fire/police station. Good news: it has two tornado-proof rooms. If our phones scream out a tornado warning, we can run across and shelter there.

That night, the weather ramped up again. Thursday’s storm was the worst we’ve ever experienced. And we’ve camped on the edge of two hurricanes in Canada, in Croatia’s brutal Jugo and Bura winds, and once in the USA we got stranded for days at a Cabela’s waiting out a storm that shut down our next campground. This storm was worse. The wind wasn’t as strong, but the lightning and thunder were off the charts. Thunder shook our RV like a subwoofer cranked way too high. Mike lay in bed with the blinds up, watching lightning strike trees nearby, sometimes in sheets across the sky. The storm centre stayed right overhead of us for hours before it started to move away.

Today is Friday. People have died in this storm, just like the one two weeks ago. This is not good and it is not over. The forecast says the thunderstorms are lined up like freight trains, rolling over Arkansas, Tennessee, and Kentucky. including us. It’s supposed to let up after Saturday, with Sunday bringing only light rain and no major warnings. We plan to leave then and head north to Little Rock, Arkansas.

Jinxed — just like I said.