Turkey Foot and the Quest for Wifi

While I don’t plan where I’m traveling very far in advance, I do plan. The inability to do work due to a lack of Internet service forces me to resort to “Plan B”, which is simply to drive until I find a good spot. It’s usually a coffee shop.

Starbucks is a sure thing if you’re looking for a good place to fire up the ol’ laptop. However, privately-owned coffee shops that a few entrepreneurial individuals pour their hearts and souls into is far preferred over a sprawling conglomerate.

After leaving Slade, my search took me to Beattyville, Kentucky. I drove the Jeep through town at a slow pace, frantically scanning the roadside for coffee shops. Tucked away in the corner of town, I discovered The Art Factory.

The Art Factory

The Art Factory is one of those rural gems. It didn’t look like much from the outside, but inside, I discovered a fun and colorful atmosphere, with walls adorned with local art, a gas fireplace contributing to the ambiance, and the softest red sofas that I’ve ever had the pleasure of relaxing on.

I ordered a drink from Morgan, a fiery young barista, and settled down at my laptop to catch up on some work.

Since it was still the middle of the work week, and I’ve done zero reconnaissance of the wilderness surrounding Beattyville, I asked Morgan if I could pop the camper right out front in the parking lot that night, as I’d like to return to the shop in the morning.

She replied, “You can, but it’s your own ass if something happens!”

Do you know the wifi password?

Morgan’s colorful words of warning didn’t discourage me. Parking lot camping will always be a last resort, but I was in a pinch because my week wasn’t going according to plan.

When the coffee shop closed, I went out to the Jeep, popped the camper, and settled in for a rainy night. I didn’t sleep very well at all, as every little noise caused me to stir.

At 4:00 AM, a car pulled up and idled in a nearby parking space. After about 15 minutes of idling, I heard a car door, and approaching footsteps on the wet pavement.

“Is anyone home?”, a young man asked.

I replied sharply through the tent fabric, “Yup.”

“Do you know the wifi password?”

“Sorry, I don’t.” I responded.

It was 4:00 AM, in a dark and rainy parking lot, and someone just woke me up to ask me for a wifi password. No. Just, no. I was not doing this.

“Thanks anyway.” he said, before returning to the idling car and driving away.

Later that morning, I groggily entered The Art Factory, ordered a coffee, and went about my business. This time, I was bound and determined to finish everything I needed to do before nightfall, so I could press onward and find some secluded wilderness in which to sleep.

Hard

Back on the road, I once again referred to the downloadable overland route for Kentucky, by Jeff@QuadShop, found on the Expedition Portal forum. This was an invaluable resource, as it assured that I’d find some four-wheel drive trails worthy of exploration.

I studied the route on my iPad, using Gaia GPS, and found a nearby route simply titled, “Hard.”

As a long-time four-wheel drive enthusiast, to call something “hard” is compelling enough to warrant exploration. Is it really hard? What do they mean by “hard”? Instead of a succinct warning, it might as well be an invitation for the insatiably curious off-roader.

Miles of winding two-track passed, and while remote, and very primitive, I began to doubt it would ever become difficult. Then the mud-holes started appearing; slowly at first, and then one after the other.

Every single mud-hole was accompanied by a well-traveled bypass, which I took with my pride fully intact. Then the bypasses became narrower and narrower. It became clear that they were designed for ATVs, not four-door Jeep Wranglers laden with awnings and kayaks.

In a last hurrah, the bypass trail threw a sharp, off-camber, left turn at me. As I positioned the Jeep to do a multi-point turn, my awning cover was ever-so-gently grazing a tree. It was clear that excessive maneuvering would make this situation far worse.

After carefully examining my position, I backed the Jeep up a few feet and placed a large Y-shaped log at the base of the interfering tree. As my tires climbed up the log, it tilted my awning away from the tree, and I was able to safely make the multi-point turn as planned.

Shortly thereafter, the trail transitioned to a gravel road, and I was back on the move!

Turkey Foot Campground

By happenstance, the overland route I was following traveled past Turkey Foot Campground, near McKee, Kentucky. The timing was perfect, as I was about to start seeking out a good place to spend the weekend.

The campground was nestled in a coniferous valley next to an aquamarine stream, and there were a dozen or so well-maintained sites, each with a fire ring and a picnic table. Many of those sites were vehicle accessible, and only a couple of them were already occupied.

I drove around the campground looking for rules and regulations, and to see if there was a fee. The rules were just a few unremarkable common sense items, and there was no mention of a fee anywhere. So I found a good site and settled in for the weekend.

It was an unspoiled destination that felt like a best-kept secret, and I was happy to be someplace that felt safe for the first time in a few nights. The week had been full of ups and downs, and this beautiful campground felt like the light at the end of the tunnel. I highly recommend staying at Turkey Foot if you’re overlanding through Kentucky