The Jeep, Vardo, four-wheeler, and trailer loaded for the trip into Kisatchie National Forest.

We left home with enough tools and equipment behind us to look less like two people taking a weekend trip and more like a small expeditionary force.

The four-wheeler gave us a way to reach the cemetery and move supplies along the rough forest roads. The Vardo gave us a place to sleep, store gear, make coffee, and operate from once we arrived. The trailer carried the four-wheeler, fuel, tools, coolers, and everything else we thought we might need.

Naturally, our first important stop was food.

We stopped at Chuck’s BBQ in Evadale for lunch before continuing north. After that, we made a supply stop at Brookshire Brothers in Kirbyville for more drinks and ice for the cooler.

While we were getting out, an older gentleman noticed the Vardo and came over to take a closer look. He complimented the wagon and asked about it, giving us our first official Vardo compliment of the trip before we had even made it out of Texas.

That is one of the things we enjoy most about traveling with the Vardo. It may be homemade, imperfect, and covered in years of family artwork, but it makes people smile. Everywhere we take it, somebody eventually wants to know what it is, who built it, and where we are going.

The full SETXMisFits convoy stopped along the forest road near the Key-Whatley Cemetery sign.

The farther we traveled into Kisatchie, the quieter and more isolated everything became.

The paved road eventually gave way to narrow forest roads, sandy tracks, tall pines, and thick vegetation. We unloaded the four-wheeler and used it to scout the route while the Jeep and Vardo waited farther back.

The four-wheeler unloaded from the trailer before heading farther down the forest road.

The cemetery was marked by a simple roadside sign directing us toward a narrow trail through the trees.

Ma and the four-wheeler beside the Key-Whatley Cemetery sign.

We quickly learned just how remote the place was. There was no usable cell service at the cemetery, and we did not reconnect with the outside world until we were roughly fifteen miles away the following day.

Once we turned down that forest road, it was just us, the tools, the Vardo, and the woods.

The four-wheeler stopped along the narrow forest road while we cleared an obstruction from the path.

A fallen tree and heavy limbs blocked part of the route, so the cemetery cleanup began before we ever reached the cemetery itself. The chainsaw came out, branches were cut back, and the road was opened enough for us to continue.

Clearing fallen limbs from the forest road before continuing to the cemetery.

Key-Whatley Cemetery is enclosed by a chain-link fence and surrounded on every side by dense forest.

The cemetery itself was still recognizable and had clearly received some attention in the past, but the woods were steadily pushing back in. Thick vines had grown through the fence. Brush crowded the perimeter. Young trees, thorny growth, weeds, and woody plants were beginning to reclaim areas around the graves.

The white crosses and older stone markers were still visible, but some sections were being swallowed by vegetation.

A before-and-after look at one corner of the cemetery fence line.

There was also an old wooden table inside the cemetery that became our workbench, supply station, coffee table, and general headquarters. Beneath it was a pile of old material and debris that needed to be removed.

We parked the Vardo and trailer just outside the fence, unloaded the tools, fired up the generator, and set up a large fan to keep air moving while we worked.

It was hot. It was humid. It was exactly the kind of Louisiana summer day where a person can become completely soaked before the first real job is finished.

The Vardo served as our field base while Ma worked along the overgrown cemetery fence.

We brought string trimmers, brush-cutting heads, a hedge trimmer, chainsaw, rakes, hand tools, fuel, and enough extension cords to make the old table into a proper little work station.

Pa concentrated on knocking down the heavy weeds, grass, and woody growth throughout the cemetery.

Pa cutting back the heavy growth along the cemetery fence.

The ground was dry enough in places that every pass of the weed eater kicked up clouds of dust, grass, and years of accumulated debris.

Dust and debris rising as the overgrowth was cut away from the graves.

Working through the interior of the cemetery one section at a time.

There were graves close to the brush line, so the work had to be deliberate. We were not simply mowing an open field. We had to work around stone markers, white crosses, unknown depressions, old plants, and anything that could have been part of a grave site.

Carefully trimming around the cemetery’s crosses and older markers.

When we reached heavier fallen branches and woody debris, the chainsaw came back out.

Cutting larger fallen limbs that could not be handled with the trimmers.

While Pa cleared the ground, Ma worked her way around the fence with the hedge trimmer and hand tools.

That fence line was the real battle.

Vines had woven themselves through the chain link. Brush grew against both sides. Some of it could be cut from inside the cemetery, while other sections had to be pulled, trimmed, or cut from the outside.

Ma beginning the long job of cutting growth away from the chain-link fence.

She worked one section at a time, cutting low growth first and then reaching higher to pull vines and branches away from the fence.

Clearing the fence from the ground upward.

Pulling vines and cut brush away from the cemetery fence.

Ma cutting through some of the thicker growth around the cemetery perimeter.

The fence line becoming visible again as the brush was removed.

The old wooden table inside the cemetery became the center of everything.

It held tools, drinks, paint, coffee supplies, gloves, and whatever else we needed at the moment. A large fan powered by the generator helped move air across the site whenever we stopped for a break.

Ma also cleaned out the debris that had collected underneath it.

Cleaning old material and debris out from beneath the cemetery’s wooden table.

By the time we were well into the work, the Vardo, Jeep, trailer, four-wheeler, generator, and tools had turned the little clearing into a proper SETXMisFits field camp.

Key-Whatley Cemetery and the SETXMisFits field camp during the cleanup.

This was not one of those trips where one person worked while the other watched.

We both got dirty. We both sweated. We both ran equipment. We both moved brush, pulled vines, cleared debris, and kept going as the sun dropped lower through the trees.

At one point, we stopped long enough to take our official “we actually did this” photograph at the gate.

Pa and Ma with the tools of the day after hours of cemetery cleanup.

Ma also managed to take a photograph that captured the reality of the day: sweaty, dirty, tired, and still smiling while Pa continued working in the background.

Ma documenting the work while Pa continued clearing the cemetery behind her.

By the time we finished, the cemetery looked different.

The fence line could breathe again. The markers were more visible. The ground around the graves had been cut. The woody growth had been pushed back. Debris had been gathered and moved, and the interior looked like a place someone still cared about.

It was not a complete restoration, and we never expected to accomplish everything in one summer trip. Some of the heavier growth will need another visit, better weather, more equipment, and more time.

But we made a real start.

One section of the fence before and after the brush was cut back.

The cemetery visible again in the late-afternoon light.

Before we packed everything away, Ma added one small family mark to the old wooden table.

She painted the name LEE using the colors associated with our family:

• Green for Pa
• Pink for Ma
• Purple for Evelyn and the family

It was not meant as ownership, graffiti, or a claim over the cemetery.

Ma painting the Lee family name onto the old wooden work table.

Later, the same table became our morning coffee station.

Morning coffee beside the small Lee family mark left behind at Key-Whatley Cemetery.

After hours of cutting brush, running equipment, moving debris, and sweating through our clothes, we needed to cool down before settling in for the night.

We drove to Kisatchie Falls, where the water moves over broad stone ledges beneath the trees.

We used the stop to cool off, wash away some of the dust and cemetery grime, and let our bodies come back down from the heat.

Kisatchie Falls, where we cooled off and cleaned up after the cemetery work.

It was exactly what we needed after the day’s work.

Unfortunately, the universe was not finished adding complications to the trip.

When we finally climbed into the Vardo and tried to settle down for the night, we discovered that the air conditioner was no longer cooling.

The fan still moved air, but the cold air was gone.

We had several fans running, and they kept the night from becoming completely unbearable, but it was still hot enough to establish one permanent family rule:

We survived the night, packed up the next morning, and headed toward Leesville. Because the cemetery was so remote, we did not regain reliable cell service until we were roughly fifteen miles away.

Once we were connected again, we stopped for breakfast and began searching for a replacement air conditioner that would fit the Vardo’s existing opening.

The Walmart in Leesville showed a 5,000-BTU Midea window unit in stock with nearly the same dimensions as the old Arctic King unit.

We pulled into the parking lot—and before we could even begin the repair, somebody drove over to compliment the Vardo and take a closer look.

That brought the official compliment count to three for the trip.

Ma went inside on the air-conditioning mission while Pa started the generator, set up fans inside the Vardo, gathered the tools, and began removing the dead unit from the wall.

The new air conditioner was almost a perfect fit.

Almost.

The opening needed to be enlarged slightly, which meant the Sawzall we had brought for the cemetery cleanup unexpectedly became the tool that saved the rest of the trip.

The old unit came out. The border was trimmed. The new Midea slid into place. Power was connected.

Ma cleaned and remade the bedding inside the newly cooled Vardo while Pa reorganized the Jeep and cleaned up at a car wash in Leesville.

The green trim around the opening will receive a proper paint touch-up once we are home. Thankfully, we still have about half a gallon of the original green paint saved for exactly that kind of repair.

The installation was not the prettiest repair ever completed in a Walmart parking lot—but it worked, the Vardo was cold again, and nobody had to spend another night inside a rolling Louisiana sweat lodge.

This trip was never going to restore every inch of Key-Whatley Cemetery in a single visit.

The purpose was to begin.

We cleared the graves, opened the fence line, removed debris, made the cemetery visible again, and showed that the family had not forgotten the people buried there.

We are planning to return around February 2027, after tax time, when the weather should be cooler and we may have more money available for supplies and a larger second-stage cleanup.

For now, though, we left Key-Whatley Cemetery materially better than we found it.

Tired, dirty, and proud of what we accomplished together.