Sunday, December 23, 2007 - Foscue Creek Park, Demopolis AL
< previous day | archives | next day >
Anybody who knows me knows I'm a man of few words so finding enough of them to fill this space on a daily basis is quite a challenge. Wish me luck.
Later: I've been spending some time this afternoon adding photos where missing and doing some minor editing on the Journal. There should be a photo on all the journal entries from December 8th on. Have a look.
Night camp
Site 42 - Foscue Creek Campground, Demopolis AL
- This is a well maintained US Army Corps of Engineers campground with level paved sites, most with full hookups
- Many sites overlook the water of the inlets off Demopolis Lake on the Tombigbee River
- There is good biking on the park roads
- The campground is pretty full Thanksgiving week and is generally booked solid the weekend of the Demopolis Christmas on the River festival in early December.
- Poor Verizon cell phone service - access is via Extended Network, roaming
- No Verizon EVDO service - access is via the Extended Network and service varies is slow but reliable
- Only 3 miles to Wal-Mart and other services in Demopolis AL
- Find other references to Foscue Creek
- List the nights I've camped here
- Check the weather
- Reserve a site
- Get a map
Relive Your Traumas
I suppose you have to relive your traumas in a way that is somewhat controlled and contained in order to move on from them. Some things you can walk quickly away from and never look back and other things bid you look again and again until you see something of the truth of them. I believe you have to let yourself remember and relive, that you have to find a way to settle with your past because you and it are always going to occupy the same headspace - you cannot separate yourself from anything you have ever done or seen or thought. You have to be able to look at the elements of the past without flinching and I believe that sometimes takes a few kicks at the cat. Or it does for me, anyway. It doesn't change anything - but it makes it easier to be comfortable in my skin.
Living Art - Photography and Stories By Catherine Jamieson