The Adventures of Fric and Frac: Adventure 284: Salt Fork State Park, OH

Wash well to avoid beaver fever.

I declined Karen Franz's offer of frozen strawberries this morning for fear that I'm much too old to contract the beaver fever. I did enjoy a semel with jam and cheese, a fair sized piece of egg bake, and a nice hot cup of coffee. We hugged our good byes, Judy and sister Karen shared a good cry, and we were off just before eight. We were on a mission to find someone to fix a small propane leak we discovered in one of Frac's hose fittings. First, we tried Circle K RV in Pettitsville as Luther suggested. We were informed they don't do propane work, not even the selling of parts. The nice lady did send us to TriFlo Inc. which handles and sells propane to the residents in the area. The man behind the desk said I should try Circle K RV, and after I told him they had sent us here he grinned as he made a call for a young man named Tim to come look. I should have taken Tim's picture because he is definitely the best human I've met today, but my paranoia issued by the hissing of propane caused a myopic brain freeze. He wouldn't take money, but he was a perfect example of what's best about the midwest where salt of the earth people are more than eager to help their fellow man. He undid the fitting, inspected the threads, wrapped them with some silicon tape I had, tightened the hose, and smeared some goop over the end. It seems to have done the trick. By half past eight, we were off toward Salt Fork State Park (At Kel's suggestion), and as is our want, we kept to the back roads for most of the way. As soon as we left the confines of Mennonite dominated Archbold, the Catholic church spires began poking up out of the corn fields like bishop mitres. Within a stretch of twenty miles, we saw four magnificent churches, two of which had schools attached. We then wound our way up and over Ohio until the hills became steep, the forests became dense, and the cicadas began their incessant chirping. Judging from the sound around the trailer here at our site, there must be about a billion per acre. On the way, we stopped in Ottawa to buy strawberries (See photo above), which Judy scrubbed like a midwife prepping surgical tools. Again, the fear of Scott's beaver fever caused our precaution. We ate them for lunch in a little town called Perrysville, where I soundly skunked the Wily Cager in a game of cribbage. We stopped again in Loudonville, to stretch our legs and enjoy some of the architecture, especially the Mohican Manor, a magnificent old home now posing as a posh restaurant and event center. Our only disappointment of the day was our jaunt through the heart of Northeastern Ohio's Amish country. It's become so commercial, we're wondering who is in charge of gouging the tourists. No worries, neither of us was interested in stopping to "buy" a little culture. We declined every offer: buggy rides, cheese plates, magic shows featuring Elvis, the oldest building in Ohio, nuts, berries, chocolate, and even fine German Cooking. We also bypassed the a chance to see the world's largest Cuckoo Clock. Our last leg down I-77 was as easy as it was short. The traffic was light, the weather was warm, and our spirits were buoyant after a great week of Swamp Living, wedding love, and family fellowship. We consider ourselves lucky in so many ways, and most certainly, life is good, especially today.