Ok, alright. According to some feedback received from early Hot Springs or Busk dispatches, travel blogs are a dime a dozen. People don’t want more words belaboring the obvious or redundant. Instead, some have suggested we try something compelling and original from these observations and meditations. And now, as we emerge from the 2024-25 deep freeze in balmy South Florida, it’s time to reboot HSoB along the southern coast in the heart of Dixie. After that, when Spring really takes off, we’ll travel up the Eastern Seaboard in the search of ghosts, poets, and visionaries.

Now, we sincerely apologize for those snoozy dispatches of Hot Springs or Busk Phases I, II, and III (West and Midwestern states). Once a better modus-operandi is developed, maybe we’ll revisit them. Seriously, WA, OR, and CA literally gave Rohlfie the creeps with NO due justice done to those feelings. Anyway, at least for now, the new angle is STATE NAME: Take a Walk on the Wild Side. We’re gonna string, like pearls, stories from each state, all the while honing and fine-tuning our voice. Boring is not allowed. “Ecstatic truth” is the aim. But as Werner Herzog has already shown, details might come in fuzzy or even somewhat inaccurate. As long as deeper truths are captured, the details can go to the Devil. And so…

Without further adieu, This Land: Alabama

We landed in Foley en-route to Mobile. Our boondocker‘s workflow required landing somewhere close to an urban center large enough for a Planet Fitness without frustrating traffic snarls, but small enough to function at a pace suitable for wayfaring senior citizens. Foley, AL is perfect! Less than 50 miles from Mobile with all necessary accommodations located along a single boulevard. Once settled and underway, we met some nice folks at the library and the nearby dog park.

And the stories… well…

For instance, this one fella, a sort of silver-haired gent told us he’d seen a Sasquatch stomping around Conecuh County. “A hairy beast hollerin’ and crossin’ roads like he’s late for supper,” he said. “Back in my day, we had ‘possums, maybe a bear. Now folks are scared,” he winked. “He’s prob’ly just lookin’ for a decent sweet potato pie.”

I asked him if anyone had a clear photo to be sure it wasn’t just Florida Man paying a visit to some Alabama relatives. “No sah,” he said giving his glasses a wipe-down. “But my neighbors smartass teenager created a deep fake of the one they think they saw.” He handed me a photo from his wallet. “I know there’s probably no real bigfoot, but it gives the boys at the donut shop something to gossip about.” He slipped the photo back into his wallet, took off his hat, and wiped his forehead with a handkerchief.

“Then there’s them boomin’ noises,” he said. “Like the sky’s got the hiccups.” He tried to describe the scope of his neighbors’ concern. “Mountain Brook to Arab, everyone’s hearin’ it. Folks tweetin’ James Spann like he’s got the answers to the universe.” He paused a moment to take a tennis ball out of his dog’s mouth and throw it several yards. “Even NASA’s scratchin’ their heads. They say they don’t know. Don’t know! Used to be, if you didn’t know somethin’, you’d just say, ‘Must be thunder.’ Now, it’s a mystery for the ages.”

“And speakin’ of mysteries,” he continued. “This lawyer fella got tossed from his own church. On Easter! Over a court order.” He flashed a wide-eyed expression of surprise. “Seems the Lord’s house ain’t a sanctuary from ex-wives or security guards. Banned from all 15 campuses! That’s a powerful ban, ain’t it?” I nodded. “Used to be, church was for repentin’. Now, it’s for keepin’ folks out.” I agreed, “I guess that’s taking restraining order to a new level,” i said.

I took a sip of coffee and decided to stay with this interesting fellow a while longer. He went on entertaining his energetic beagle with the ball, silent for a moment. After a brief tussle with the dog, he threw the ball and cleared his throat. “Then there’s the fella mauled by a trained emotional support dog.” With a furrowed brow he said. “On a plane!” After a brief pause he continued, “now, i knew these animals were becoming more common at airports. But don’t they have certain standards for training before venturing out there in the world with a mission of calming some poor soul’s jangled nerves?” I shrugged. “Used to be,” he said, “a dog was for huntin’ or guardin’. Now, they’re givin’ folks emotional support and bitin’ peoples’ faces off?” “Wa-what?” I asked, finally waking up to the implications. “This emotional support dog mauled another passenger on the plane?” “Yup,” he replied. “And Delta’s got to deal with it. Times have changed, i reckon,” he said with a grimace. “That’s certainly one way to put it.” i said.

“And speaking of wild animals,” he said. “This Cullman woman, stompin’ through a windshield. Did you see that computer video? They tell me these short video clips spread like viruses.” “Yes,” i said. “That lady is a stone cold badass.” He gave me a quizzical look and said, “ok, well, she said she prayed about it, knew it was wrong, and did it anyway.” “You don’t say,” i mused with a chuckle. “That’s… that’s a new level of logic, ain’t it? Used to be, prayin’ was for askin’ for forgiveness after you did somethin’ foolish. Now, it’s a post-action justification.” I laughed so hard i had to wipe a tear from the corner of my eye. “She might have started a trend,” i said.

The beagle was finally tired of chasing the ball and started doing that circle dance that generally comes before plopping down for a doggy break. “Lordy Lord, what a world.” my new companion said. “It’s enough to make a ghost shake his head. Used to be, life was simple. Now, it’s Sasquatch, mysterious booming, church bans, and emotional support attack dogs. I reckon i’ll just keep on keepin’ on and watchin’ the world go round with ol’ Sparky.”

I thanked him for the conversation, we bid fare well, and went our separate ways. He and Sparky to their home. Rohlfie, Ronnie Hays, and i back to good ‘ol Rocinante for some breakfast gruel before heading to the library to get all of this down while it was fresh in the ‘ol memory banks. Next stop, Mississippi!

Onward through the fog… RH

In Conecuh County…
They have a Sasquatch…
Mountain Brook booms…
When sky gods hiccup…
Best be kind in…
Romantic breakups…
Alabama girls will…
Kick your glass!