DETOURS

Before I had my Scamp trailer, road trips were about making miles—quickly. The odd-numbered interstates took me north and south to see family, and even-numbered ones west and east to fish. Now that I tow my home with me, I get off the expressways, taking detours to places that I am glad I did not miss. A few of my favorites follow.

Lynch, Kentucky

Returning home from fishing in the Smoky Mountains, I opted for a route of two-lane highways through the Appalachians. Without camping reservations, I arrived in Harlan, Kentucky, at nightfall and found that nothing was available. A gas station attendant thought there might be a campground about 30 miles further on, near a defunct coal mine.

I found the place—half a dozen empty spots, no one else there—well after dark. There was no one to check me in. With no other options, I decided to set up camp and pay in the morning. After breakfast, I found someone in a nearby office who charged me all of $5 for the night. In the daylight, I could see that I had parked between a series of abandoned buildings: a railway station, a coal tipple, hulking stone structures. All remnants of Lynch, Kentucky—once