Troll's Trip Report

[Lil' Lisa]

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[itch1]

I can atest to throwing Beer cans into the woods along the beach as well as down the nature path. Often as teenagers on Spring Break we would partake in liquid libations while sitting at the beach or walking around with new friends we would meet everytime we were at the Fort.
I remember swinging in the hammocks with Spring Break sweethearts at the end of trading post along the beach, it is now cart parking. Oh Memories !!!

Thanks Mr. Troll for the trip down Memory lane !!!!!!!
itch

 

[takeme2epcot]

Lucky you!

So when is it?

TCD

Likely February. She and I had a long discussion about how we're going to do it this next time. She wants to buy a small travel trailer -- just big enough for the two of us and Zoe. I suggested buying one of those really big tents.

I think she's won.

So, I take it Mrs. TCD is not a full convert yet?

Yep. They weren't the kind that are in the comfort stations. No stalls, just shower heads. It would be easy to miss. I didn't even notice them on the way in. It was the kind of setup you would use to rinse off while wearing your bathing suit after spending time in a pool. I remember thinking it was strange that they were still there, but figured it was probably just cheaper than removing them. I wish I had taken a picture.

Ah ha! You see? They've reopened the showers in the ladies room in preparation for the grand reopening of River Country!

Just kidding...maybe.

Oh, the memories....

Aren't they grand? Kind of bittersweet. But I don't know if you and I can be friends if you keep posting pictures of that New England Patriots mascot.

Anyway, so picking up where we left off, the ghosts of River Country were giving me the chills, so I decided to get out of there. I snapped a few parting shots on the way out:

Many people have clearly sat on this bench over the years:

Oh, and Mrs. Troll did go in the ladies shower house and snapped this shot of the old timey hair dryer:

It's still oddly there. And I think she says it still works!

And the bathrooms still have these old fashioned barrel trash cans:

Ah, and look closely -- you can see the floor tile is still Disney original!

So on my way back, I decided to walk through the pavilion area, behind the Pioneer Hall.

Here's the ugly backside of the grand Pioneer Hall:

There's a pretty strong rumor that the evil boardroom bean counting Disney execs are planning to build a new timeshare thing here along Clementine Beach (and around other parts of FW). One of the buildings will back up to the Pioneer Hall's service area, which would be an awful view.

You don't think something bad might happen to the Pioneer Hall, do you?

I bet the stupid new timeshare thing won't even be themed appropriately.

Like that monstrosity next to the Contemporary.

Anyway, I'll climb back down off my trollbox and get back to just reporting.

Here's the Pioneer Hall's chimney stack:

I walked through the Mickey's BBQ pavilion, which during the day just looks like an abandoned restaurant. But I noticed this:

In another thread, there was some discussion over skulls like this one in River Country. Specifically one of the water spray guns in the faux springs area, Indian Springs, had a cattle skull mounted on it. I wonder if that one and this one are one and the same?

Then there's this:

The reason why I posted it is because there's a not-so-hidden Mickey in it? Can you find it? If not, my optometrist is pretty good. I can give you his business card.

OK, time to whip out the trollbox again.

This time, I have to rant about the hidden Mickeys. It's just out of control.

There.

I said it.

And I'm not taking it back.

Out of control. And I mean in a bad way, not the good way as in putting a Musket Mickey decal on your golf cart.

You see, back in the day when hidden Mickeys were dreamt up, they were created as a fun little inside joke amongst the Imagineers. They were never really made up for the benefit of the guests. And the more obscure and creative places they could put them, the better.

Inside joke.

Among the employees.

But then along the way, guests started finding them. So they got on the Internet and started telling each other about them. Soon there were little communities like this one on the Internet were folks would discuss the hidden Mickeys.

Then word got out to everyone. Everyone knew about the hidden Mickeys.

Then the sinister bean counters said, "Hmmmm...these rubes really like those hidden Mickeys..."

"...Let's put them everywhere!"

"...That way those fools will buy extra day passes just to go on stupid scavenger hunts to find them! And then when they think they've found them all, we put more in, so then they'll have to buy more day passes to find the new ones! We'll even throw in some really easy-to-find hidden Mickeys so their kids can find them on their own and then get addicted to all this madness. So then the kids will bug their parents even more to bring them here. More day passes! More annual passes! Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!"

So that's how we end up with "hidden" Mickeys painted blatantly in the middle of a mural.

OK, I'll stash the trollbox away again.

I emerged from behind the Pioneer Hall to take in this magnificent view:

This is the walkway leading to the Pioneer Hall. Back in the day, this walkway was lined on both sides with beautiful rose bushes. As a kid, my family and I would walk this path every evening to have dinner at Trail's End or Davey Crockett's or whatever it was called back then.

As we approached, images of chocolate cake, key lime pie, and strawberry shortcake all washed down with a glass of ice cold whole milk danced around in my head.

By the way, there used to be this very cool old windmill that stood right at the rightmost edge of this photo. Anyone remember it?

Pop loved windmills.

Speaking of Pop and River Country, I have a story to tell of a tragedy that struck us in 1976, shortly after RC's grand opening.

I was 7 years old in 1976, and I could swim pretty well.

Only I didn't know it.

I was not, you see, a certified swimmer.

What is a certified swimmer, you ask?

Well, beginning at the age of 5, my mother had me attend swimming lessons over the summer at the local city park swimming pool. They taught us all the mechanics of swimming -- the proper stroke, bobs, floating on your back, etc.

At the end of the four or five weeks of lessons was The Test.

That dreadful, terrifying Test.

Looking back now, The Test, of course, was nothing. But to a six-year-old, it was life threatening.

Horrifying.

Spine tingling.

Mortifying.

Impossible.

You had to jump off the diving board into the Deep Water and then swim laterally from one end of the Deep Water to the other end, stopping along the way to float on your back for thirty seconds to "rest."

Piece of cake, right?

Not to a six-year-old.

I had visions of sharks and barracuda swimming on that side of the pool.

And it didn't help matters that the sociopathic teenagers who conducted the swimming lessons really trumped up The Test to terrify us all for their mere amusement.

The Kenny Cart thieves were lifeguards when they weren't at the Fort, you see.

"Oh, you'll never make it," they'd tell us.

"Swimming in that deep water isn't like swimming in the shallow end. Since the water's so deep, it's like swimming through syrup!"

"If you swim halfway and start struggling, we may not be able to save you in time."

"Your parents signed a waiver that says if you drown and we don't save you, we're not liable."

So needless to say, The Test, which the responsible adult rec director designed to instill confidence in us, had just the opposite effect because of the little sociopaths he hired for minimum wage.

We were all terrified of deep water.

So needless to say, when we walked through those turnstiles at RC for the first time and Pop said to me, "Wow, Norman, just look at those slides! Aren't they neat?" my first question was, "How deep is the water at the end of the slides?"

And as we all know, the water at the ends of Whoop and Holler wasn't shallow.

So Pop said, "You can swim, Norman! I've seen you."

And I said, "But I'm not good in deep water."

So Pop said, "Well, I tell you what -- we'll do the slides together. I'll go first and then wait for you to come down. That way, if you have any trouble swimming, I'll be there to help you."

With that mental security blanket in place, I was all in.

"Let's go!" I shouted.

And off we went.

We'd go up those awesome faux red rocks, slip and slide down, hit the water, swim to shore, and we'd be right back up those red rocks again, ready to slide back down.

All.

Day.

Long.

Over and over and over.

Until, that is, the tragedy struck.

Pop, you see, was very nearsighted. I am, too, but I wear contact lenses. Back in 1976, contact lenses weren't anywhere near as common as they are today, and they were the hard kind, not the soft disposables we have today.

So Pop wore glasses.

Everywhere.

Including when he went swimming.

And sliding down body slides at River Country.

OK, now dig back into your memory. Remember how the body slides operated? You'd get to the top and the person in front of you would hop on the slide and start sliding down. There was a flag marking the safe distance that slider had to pass before the lifeguard would shout, "Go!" to you, signaling that a safe distance had been established between you and that person.

So per our agreement, Pop went first.

I, as I always did, obeyed the rules, and waited for the lifeguard to give me the "Go!"

And she did.

So I went.

Down I slid, happy as can be -- up along a wall, and for a moment worrying that I was about to slide over the edge. But then I'd come back down and slide up the opposite side of the chute, just having a grand old time at the Ol' Swimming Hole.

But then as I neared the end of the slide, where it dumped into Bay Cove, my heart leaped into my throat and my eyes bugged out wide as I was shocked to see something in my path.

Somehow, some way Pop had come to a dead stop at the end of the slide!

Don't ask me how. To this day I have no idea.

How could anyone come to a dead stop on the Whoop and Holler slides?!?

But somehow, intentionally or not, Pop had.

And I crashed right into him.

I promise you, I waited for that lifeguard to give me the greenlight before I started my slide down.

Promise.

Anyway, boom! I crashed right into Pop's back. Now a six year old really isn't that big -- especially me, as I was a beanpole back then -- but even so, imagine 40 or 50 pounds of kid -- feet first -- crashing into your back! I effectively dropkicked Pop straight into Bay Cove...

Head -- and glasses -- first.

Needless to say, those glasses did not come back up on his face.

"Norman!" he yelled, "now look what you've done! You knocked my glasses off!"

And there I was, shocked and mortified, treading water...

Treading the Deep Water, that is.

So Pop started diving down, like those people hunting for soggy $100 bills, trying desperately to find his precious glasses that were now lodged in the loose sandy bottom of Bay Cove.

Now I don't know if you remember this or not, but there were more Disney Nazi Lifeguards posted at the ends of the Whoop & Holler slides. This girl started yelling at Pop, "Sir, get away from the slides! Get away from the slides! You're going to get hit!"

And Pop said, "I lost my glasses!"

But the lifeguard, like a robot, just continued to yell, "Sir, get away from the slides!"

Pop could not lose those glasses. He didn't have a spare set. So that's when it happened.

"Norman," he shouted, "go get Michael!"

Michael, you'll recall, is my brother, who is four years older than me. That would make him 11 at the time. Pop's thinking was simple: Since he could not see well enough to find his glasses, he needed Mike to come out and help him look. But he needed Mike fast before the glasses got washed away or buried in the sand.

Now I'm treading water in eight feet of Bay Cove. I turned and looked toward the shore and I tell you, that distance seemed like miles away. Visions of those evil teenage swimming lesson lifeguards in their red bathing suits started filling my head.

"You'll never make it!" one said to me. "Syrup! Syrup!" another one chirped at me over and over. They were like demons, swirling around in my mind's eye, taunting me in my subconscious, like the visions Ralphie had of his mother in that jester's outfit and his teacher dressed up as the Wicked Witch of the West, chanting, "You'll shoot your eye out! You'll shoot your eye out!"

I turned back to Pop and pleaded, "I can't make it!"

Pop appeared to consider it for a moment, but then I saw the determination wash over his face.

"Go get Michael!" he demanded. "You can make it! I know you can. Go get him or I'll lose my glasses and we'll have to go back home!"

Go back home?!?

That's all I had to hear.

I stuck my head in the water and started swimming furiously.

I was not going back home. Not on my watch.

Swim, swim, swim, I told myself.

It was like I was swimming the English Channel.

That enormous Bay Cove.

Soon enough I got to that wonderful spot where you drop your toe and realize you can touch. I had made it!

I looked back for a moment to admire what I had just accomplished, but then I saw Pop still at the mouth of Whoop & Holler Slide Number One, still being chastised by that teenage Nazi lifeguard in her Disney bathing suit and I remembered my mission.

I ran to the shore and found Mike on the beach and feverishly informed him of Pop's dilemma. Mike bolted to the water to help, like Superman hearing the cry of Lois Lane in distress.

In the end, Mike found Pop's glasses, and we didn't have to go home.

And the next summer, I aced The Test.

Up next: The steptroll visits us!

 

[storyteller]

Aren't they grand? Kind of bittersweet. But I don't know if you and I can be friends if you keep posting pictures of that New England Patriots mascot.

Football is a game,, camping is life.
Maybe not football freinds but camping friends, sure anytime.

 

[clkelley]

And it didn't help matters that the sociopathic teenagers who conducted the swimming lessons really trumped up The Test to terrify us all for their mere amusement.

Teenage lifeguards!! (I used to be one) Oh the power!! When you make the bully kids and the other teenagers you hate stay out of the pool for some trumped up reason!!!

Sociopathic??? Never!! We are just administering the rules of the pool in a fair and unbiased manner!!

However, what's worse is when you are an adult taking lifeguard classes to get recertified and those teenage lifeguards that are younger than your children are teaching the class!!! (I had lots of holes in my tongue that week)

 

[takeme2epcot]

I can atest to throwing Beer cans into the woods along the beach as well as down the nature path. Often as teenagers on Spring Break we would partake in liquid libations while sitting at the beach or walking around with new friends we would meet everytime we were at the Fort.
I remember swinging in the hammocks with Spring Break sweethearts at the end of trading post along the beach, it is now cart parking. Oh Memories !!!

Thanks Mr. Troll for the trip down Memory lane !!!!!!!
itch

Aha! The mystery of the wilderness brewski pounders is solved!

And I sure wish they'd bring those hammocks back. I mean, after all, why not?

Teenage lifeguards!! (I used to be one) Oh the power!! When you make the bully kids and the other teenagers you hate stay out of the pool for some trumped up reason!!!

Sociopathic??? Never!! We are just administering the rules of the pool in a fair and unbiased manner!!

However, what's worse is when you are an adult taking lifeguard classes to get recertified and those teenage lifeguards that are younger than your children are teaching the class!!! (I had lots of holes in my tongue that week)

Sweet! Was there a lesson on effectively terrifying 6-year-olds?!?

OK, folks, I have to admit something: As a photographer, I use the shotgun approach -- that is, I take a thousand shots and hope that I get one good one in the bunch. Digital cameras make that possible.

Back in the days of film, you didn't have that luxury. You really had to know what you're doing and plan each shot thoroughly. Fortunately for shot gunners like me, those days are over.

Why do I mention this? Well, allow me to bring you this:

The first person to guess what this is gets bragging rights for the day!

Anyway, while capturing this "stunning" shot, a very enthusiastic and curious woman (who might have been a Fort Fiend) came up to me and asked, "What are you taking a picture of?!"

Again, I was merely using my shotgun method, hoping I'd get lucky something cool would come out in the picture. I wasn't really taking a picture of anything in specific.

So I was caught off guard. After all, what the hell was I taking a picture of?

So I blurted out the first thing that came to mind: "Um...details!"

And she said, "Oh."

And walked away, cautiously.

Anyway, so it was time for me to head back to camp, as Mrs. Troll and I were expecting a special visitor -- my steptroll himself, Hunter.

Before I departed, however, I noticed this:

This is the tree standing in the middle of the cart parking by Pioneer Hall. Notice the missing bark. Is the missing bark due to a) too many brewskis at Davey Crockett's or b) too many underage, unlicensed cart drivers?

If you answered a) or b), you're right!

[Trollbox]
The young kids driving golf carts were really unnerving. Having not learned the essentials of safe driving, many teenagers operate golf carts very recklessly and mindlessly. They just haven't learned proper awareness. Like looking over your shoulder before merging right into traffic.

Or looking over your shoulder when backing up.
[/Trollbox]

Anyway, the steptroll Hunter works in Orlando.

He can come visit Disney and the Fort anytime he likes.

But he doesn't.

I don't think he's all that crazy about Disney World.

There are people like that in the world, believe it or not.

But he was nice and came to visit us anyway. But I began to wonder if he was more interested in us or in Zoe:

He loves Zoe.

The steptroll does like fishing, so we decided to grab the poles and a cooler full of brewskis and head back up to the dog park area.

Mrs. Troll took Zoe to the dog park while step troll and I got our lines wet.

And not much else.

Steptroll got his line in some weeds and pulled the hook off the end. So he had to attach a new Made-in-China hook out of my deluxe Made-in-China pocket tackle box.

While we fished, these girls were playing tetherball:

I often worry that with all the creeps in the world, if parents wonder why I'm taking pictures of their kids. I just love photography. The world is just full of great, happy images. Too bad the Kenny Cart creeps have ruined things for the rest of us.

Anyway, it was time for a brewski:

Fishing just wouldn't be fishing without a nice cold one.

Life is too short for cheap beer:

Anyway, while we were fishing, I met Daryl. Daryl is a true blue Fort Fiend and a doggone good fisherman.

Much better than me and the steptroll.

In the hour that the steptroll and I fumbled around, trying to keep our lures out of the weeds, Daryl caught two fish right out of the same very water.

Pop's secret weapon bait was clearly not working.

So I asked Daryl what he was using for bait. He told me he was using rubber worms that a fishing guide had shown him. He gave me a couple:

Daryl told me that he lives at the Fort six months out of the year. He has one of those highly waxed, sparkling tour buses. So I asked him, "So you're retired, I take it?"

And Daryl said, "Well, yes. Actually I've been retired since I was 36."

You know that scratching sound when a needle is abruptly and violently ripped off a record?

Play that sound in your head right now.

Retired at 36?!?!

You know what we have here?

We have a successful person!

And the Troll just loves talking to successful people!

He's always hoping he'll be able to glean some awesome secret or tidbit that will enable him to retire at, um, 41 and live at the Fort for six months out of the year in a sparkling tour bus, too.

Turns out Daryl was a successful commercial real estate tycoon.

I don't have any commercial real estate.

Darn.

Anyway, so not only was Daryl better at retiring young than the Troll, he also much better at catching fish:

Some guys have it all. Other guys are just trolls.

Anyway, while Hunter and I talked with Daryl, Mrs. Troll joined us after Zoe was finished playing chase in the dog park. I introduced her to Daryl. I also gave Daryl a beer in gratitude for the worms he gave me.

Now I've said it before and I'll say it again -- Zoe is the smartest dog in the world. As I've said previously, she can count.

Literally.

She can also crack and eat peanuts.

Don't believe me?

I have the evidence.

We brought along a bag of peanuts to enjoy while fishing. Here you see her taking a whole peanut from me:

Here you see her cracking the peanut:

And here's the empty peanut shell:

It's awesome! One peanut will keep her occupied for about five minutes, and she never eats the shell.

After we enjoyed our peanuts and finished our respective beers, we said so long to Daryl and decided to go looping.

Now I know what you're thinking, but I had only one beer.

I wanted to show Hunter something.

OK now, folks, you know how I feel about the holiday blowups. People have Santa being chased up a tree, Santa in a helicopter, Santa in a bomber jet, Santa in a travel trailer...

OK, fine.

Then there's Mickey dressed up as Santa, Minnie dressed up as Mrs. Claus, Donald dressed up as an elf, etc.

Again, OK, fine.

Then there's even Scooby Doo -- not even a Disney property -- in a Santa hat.

OK, I get it, fine.

But now I bring you this:

Do you see what I see?

A Child, a Child inflated in the Fort...
Let us bring him silver and gold,
Let us bring him silver and gold.

Yes, folks, it's a blowup inflatable baby Jesus:

I mean, all right, come on.

Come on.

Are we really putting the baby Jesus -- the figure that 2.1 billion people believe is their Lord and Saviour -- in the same medium as this:

And look at baby Jesus' expression:

He doesn't look too happy.

Earlier in the week, I rode baby troll Andrew by this blowup nativity scene:

And I asked Andrew, "Andrew, can you say 'sacrilege'? Sac -ri -lege...say it, Andrew!"

Let the hate mail begin.

Up next: We stop by the group camping area to check out the teepees!

 

[stacktester]

I think the pic was taken at Pioneer Hall looking up at the roof that overhangs the top porch. Yes?

 

[takeme2epcot]

I think the pic was taken at Pioneer Hall looking up at the roof that overhangs the top porch. Yes?

Bingo! Donnie wins bragging rights for the day!

Can you guess this one:

 

[we3peas]

Guess you are gonna hate my blowup because it's a nativity also. I was going to buy the Santa in an airstream and actually did purchase but then returned it deciding it really wasn't worth the $139.
I'm not a total purist I'll have other Christmas flash on my MH this weekend while I'm there!

 

[Tri-circle-D]

Likely February. She and I had a long discussion about how we're going to do it this next time. She wants to buy a small travel trailer -- just big enough for the two of us and Zoe. I suggested buying one of those really big tents.

I think she's won.

So, I take it Mrs. TCD is not a full convert yet?

True. Mrs. TCD likes to visit on occasion, but she is not interested in long stays at the Fort. She has already made it clear that we will not be spending our golden years enjoying the RV lifestyle. But, I have time to convert her.

I emerged from behind the Pioneer Hall to take in this magnificent view:

This is the walkway leading to the Pioneer Hall. Back in the day, this walkway was lined on both sides with beautiful rose bushes. As a kid, my family and I would walk this path every evening to have dinner at Trail's End or Davey Crockett's or whatever it was called back then.

As we approached, images of chocolate cake, key lime pie, and strawberry shortcake all washed down with a glass of ice cold whole milk danced around in my head.

By the way, there used to be this very cool old windmill that stood right at the rightmost edge of this photo. Anyone remember it?

Pop loved windmills.

The windmill is still there.

I circled it for you:

You must have seen it.

TCD

 

[takeme2epcot]

True. Mrs. TCD likes to visit on occasion, but she is not interested in long stays at the Fort. She has already made it clear that we will not be spending our golden years enjoying the RV lifestyle. But, I have time to convert her.




The windmill is still there.

I circled it for you:

You must have seen it.

TCD

Well I'll be! You're right! And the funny thing is, you're right -- I did see it...I just didn't see it! Clearly I saw it because it's in my photo, but at the same time I totally missed it.

So the windmill's tower is still extant and covered in ivy, but the windmill itself is gone?

 

[DaveInTN]

Here is a more "close up" view of the windmill tower, where you can make out the framework.

This is a pic TCD lifted from a video on YouTube from 1972. If you look at the right of the photo you can see the windmill as it looked in its heyday. The blades on top were not that large, so I suppose it's possible they are still in place up there covered with ivy?

 

[kampfirekim]

swim Forest!!!!!!

 

[YodaGirl]

For the most part, I have enjoyed your pictures. I do have to say, however, that I think a blow-up nativity scene is much less sacreligious than someone comparing it to the other picture you posted. I don't think that it's really an appropriate picture to be posting...even if you do have it cropped the way you do. Pretty tacky.

 

[Vaughn4380]

Hooked, nice TR!

 

[BRDof3]

For the most part, I have enjoyed your pictures. I do have to say, however, that I think a blow-up nativity scene is much less sacreligious than someone comparing it to the other picture you posted. I don't think that it's really an appropriate picture to be posting...even if you do have it cropped the way you do. Pretty tacky.

Agreed. If you were going for the laugh, you missed. You don't exactly have a lock on good taste. You might keep that in mind when tempted to comment on anyone else's.

 

[stacktester]

Agreed. If you were going for the laugh, you missed. You don't exactly have a lock on good taste. You might keep that in mind when tempted to comment on anyone else's.

I thought the pic was funny IMO because I know the owner of the nativity inflatable and I saw her putting clear tape all over it to cover the holes. I'm sure the trolls shown inflatable would need the clear tape at some point too lol.

 

[lmbcdb]

"Taste" is a relative term. (beauty is in the eye of the beholder type thing)

I consider myself a pretty tasteful person (once again, relative). I don't take my kids to Wal-mart with just a saggy diaper, I don't wear holey clothing or houseshoes (in public) and rarely curse. (infrequently, and defintely not in front of my kids)

But I thought it (the picture comparision) was funny. In fact, it made me snort.

 

[VACAMPER]

Did you really just compare Jesus to a sex toy?

 

[VACAMPER]

I thought the pic was funny IMO because I know the owner of the nativity inflatable and I saw her putting clear tape all over it to cover the holes. I'm sure the trolls shown inflatable would need the clear tape at some point too lol.

Are you speaking from experience? (u know i luv ys donnie but u asked for it..)