We cross the Big Sandy River into Kentucky with minimal fanfare. Past broken down trailers and a rusting bus with a flag of Daddy Trump holding a grenade launcher (no pic for fear of getting shot) we wind towards the Red River Gorge. Suddenly we are shunted into an unlit cave tunnel barely wide enough for van!
We emerge onto a gravel road and follow it to a family farm campground. The hosts proudly introduce us to “their boy” and load us up a truck of fire wood been dryin’ in the barn since they drug it out the river. “Sometimes the river takes, and sometimes it gives.” We are warned of flash floods…
Not responsible for accidents. 
After 4 weeks of trying to escape the smoke, we now frantically build a smoky fire in an attempt to stave off the swarms of mosquitos. I run back to the house and am graciously offered a bottle of OFF. There is much rejoicing, Kentucky Bourbon style:) As it begins to rain, we notice that the portos and picnic tables are all roped to trees to prevent them floating off…
