Trading Wheels for Walls: A Holiday Weekend with Friends
After almost a year of living full-time on the road, it felt both strange and luxurious to step into a sticks and bricks house again. Suddenly, we had room to spread out, hot showers that didn’t come with a mental calculation of tank levels, and a fenced in backyard for Kaia to run off leash.
Tight Squeeze
With one more tight squeeze and parking experience to add to the road rash we’re another step removed from rookie status and working toward seasoned veteran.
Sensory Overload
So how in the world did I find myself standing at the base of St. Helens thinking…meh, that’s nice.
Small RV, Big Drama: My war with a winged demon
I killed it. And I meant to do it. I told myself I was protecting the dog but who are we kidding. This flying demon from H-E-double hockey sticks was five feet, I mean inches long with a hornet’s body and a three-inch tail.
Purls of Wisdom
Peals of laughter, screeches of joy, biker gangs (the type with playing cards clothes-pinned to their spokes) roaming enthusiastically … the campground was abuzz with activity. It was actually refreshing as, so far in our journey, most campgrounds have been relatively quiet. All was well until the little outlaws decided to invade our site. Kaia was not impressed, and neither was I.
A Bit of a Learning Curve
So we fled the heat to this current “remote” wilderness outpost. While the nearest metropolitan area is only an hour away, the campground is wild enough that there is no hookup for sewer. That means a finite capacity in the camper to contain what goes down the drains of our shower, sinks and toilet. It also means trekking down a narrow dirt path at all hours to reach the shower house…that a large number of other campers use. Let’s just say that not everyone was raised with the same importance on cleanliness.
Earthquake!
The rumble grew and grew, louder and louder. Our camper started shaking just enough to rattle the dishes and the shades. We were sitting on the recliners in the slide when, instinctually, we both jumped up and moved to the center of the camper. My first thought was something large hit the side of the mountain we were staying near.
Don’t Wish Away the Days
The steady march of time will continue regardless of whether it’s viewed through the eyes of a six-year-old or 56-year-old. But age and experiences directly, and mysteriously, affect the speed of the hands on a clock. One thing is for certain, I’ve heard numerous times in the span of my years: “Don’t wish away the days.”
Our First Campground Conflict
Our travels have brought us to amazing places and have surrounded us with fantastic people. In our six months of travel, we had yet to be next to someone who was genuinely rude. It was bound to happen sooner or later and in this case, we had a front row seat.