Category Archives: Travel

A gold star sunrise

17 Friday Nov 2017

Posted by in Florida, Photography, Randomness

≈ 4 Comments

sunrise from Merritt Island

Sunrise from Merritt Island

After months of trying, I can rattle off the names of all fifty states now. (4 As, Ws, and Is; 8 Ms and Ns; and I never forget the Ss or the single P any more). At one point, while driving, I was imagining a color-coded map, with the few states I haven’t visited in red, the ones that I’ve only driven through in orange, the ones that I’ve lived in purple, the ones where I’ve spent more than a month in blue. The vast majority of the map would be yellow and green, signifying time spent of more than a night, less than a month.

I think that map, though, needs something like stars, too, for how beautiful a state is, how much I love it. Florida — despite all of its craziness, the news stories that start “only in Florida,” the ways in which it is really weird — would get a gold star, because say what you will about Florida, sunrise here is spectacular.

It feels good to be home.

Maintenance

02 Thursday Nov 2017

Posted by in Personal, Serenity, Vanlife

≈ 6 Comments

me on top of the van

On top of Serenity, all covered with goo…

The day I brought Serenity home from the dealer, it rained. I drove her over to a friend’s house and was showing her off — my brand-new home! — and she was all wet. Inside, not outside. Not a pleasant discovery.

I promptly took her back to the dealer, of course, and asked that they please keep her under a roof until they could fix the leak. Whether rightfully or not, I attribute some of her later problems — the two times the awning died, the demented fan — to that first leak. Water’s not supposed to enter the roof.

The dealer said that they couldn’t replicate the leak, which seemed implausible, given how very much water had come in on that first day, but they decided it was the sealant around the fan and resealed it. A couple times since then, I have suspected water might be coming in, but the amount was small enough that I wasn’t sure. A wet spot on the cushion is always potentially attributable to B chewing on his feet or a careless splash from the sink.

But in West Virginia, there was really no doubt: water was coming in through the air-conditioner. The van’s no longer under warranty, so I wasn’t going to take it back to the dealer. Instead, I ordered some goo, my brother got out the ladder, and I climbed up and coated the area with sealant.

I have no idea whether my repair will actually be successful. The area that is most probable for a leak is hard to see and to get to, because there’s not a lot of room and the awning gets in the way. I didn’t want to put any weight on the awning or set the ladder up in the street which might have offered a better view, so I just squeezed a bunch of goo in there and hoped for the best. But I felt super accomplished when I was done. Woo-hoo, I climbed on the roof and did my own home repair!

Note to self: next time, braid your hair! It was blowing all over the place, which was not exactly convenient.

I also put air in the tires. Not for the first time, of course, but it was the first time it went smoothly. I’ve done it often enough now that I feel pretty competent. I actually remember what the icons mean on the air compressor which is so helpful!

This weekend, I’m hoping I can convince my brother to help me change the oil in the generator. Supposedly it’s an easy job. I’m not sure I will find it so. But if I do, I will feel very accomplished. Changing my own oil = major-league adulting, I think.

Best of October 2017

31 Tuesday Oct 2017

Posted by in Best of, Travel, Vanlife

≈ 6 Comments

My October started in Cochita Lake, New Mexico. It included stays in 14 different places: two driveways, two parking lots and ten campgrounds, most of which were state parks. I traveled from New Mexico to Colorado to Kansas to Nebraska, Iowa, Missouri, Illinois, Kentucky, West Virginia, Maryland, and Pennsylvania, with — if you know your geography well! — a little time in Indiana that didn’t include a stay. I couldn’t tell you how long I was in Indiana because honestly, all the roads run together. The campgrounds, too.

I met some nice people along the way. Fellow Travato owners in a couple of campgrounds; neighbors who invited me to their fire in St. Louis; some helpful southerners with a great dog in Colorado; even a blog reader, her partner, and their adorable baby. (Hi, Kyla!) In general, I think I was more sociable than I often am, which is a good thing.

But — in what is beginning to look like a pattern — my “best of” wasn’t a sunrise or an amazing scenic landscape or even some great activity. It was time spent with family. I think, in fact, that it’s a tie, between a moment and a day. The moment was sitting at my aunt’s kitchen counter, reading my grandmother’s cookbook and laughing at the impossibility of ever recreating some of the recipes. What do you do with a recipe that calls for a package of dates or a five-cent envelope of yeast and includes no details beyond the ingredient list? And the day was yesterday, which included board games with my SIL, niece and nephew; grocery shopping with my brother; a lovely afternoon walk with the dogs and my niece; and a hot shower in a clean bathroom with no sense of hurry.

And some good writing! After a week of no progress on Grace, I finally managed to turn my stuck point into an opportunity, so I’m going to get back to it.

scenic vista at Trinidad Lake

The best view of the month was at Trinidad Lake State Park in Colorado, and probably that was the best hike, too.

Lake of Three Fires State Park image

The prettiest park, though, was Lake of Three Fires State Park, near Bedford, Iowa.

Wet, wet, wet West Virginia

25 Wednesday Oct 2017

Posted by in Travel

≈ 4 Comments

Shortly after I last posted, I decided I was being silly. No, I didn’t love the campground I was in, but it was pouring rain and cold. Unplugging and packing up was going to be miserable. Plus, why drive in a torrential downpour if I didn’t have to? So I wandered up to the camp reception area and asked to stay another night.

Alas, my site was reserved. What? I’d been in a close to empty row, no one on either side of me. And it was a Monday morning! But someone online had decided that site #10 looked great (silly them) and it was indeed reserved. The guy behind the counter offered me another site — there were plenty available — but I figured since I was going to have to pack up anyway, I might as well get a few miles farther along the way.

Mistake #1.

I packed up and discovered for the first time that my waterproof windbreaker is more water-resistant than waterproof. Can’t blame LL Bean for that — it’s a windbreaker, not a raincoat — but by the time I was ready to go, I was soaked. I changed my clothes and left my wet blue jeans, wet fleece, wet windbreaker, and a wet towel, all hanging off the back of the passenger seat. That’s an important detail. If this was a mystery, it would be a clue. 🙂

The first accident I passed was a three car fender bender — car #1 was a little bummed, car #2 was sad, but probably fine, and car #3 — well, or driver #3 — was seriously annoyed as he waved traffic on. And definitely not injured. It was so recent that the emergency vehicles hadn’t arrived yet.

Soon after, I spotted the flashing lights, but headed in the wrong direction. That’s ’cause they weren’t going to accident #1; they were headed to accident #2, an overturned tanker truck, off the road at an exit. Ouch. I’m guessing he didn’t see the exit in time, hit the brakes, and slid right off. Or maybe he had to stop too fast because someone in front of him slammed on their brakes to get off at the exit and then sped merrily on their way.

I decided it was stupid to be driving in rain so heavy when I didn’t have to, so I got off at the next rest stop. Mistake #2? Or, maybe, lucky decision #1. I made myself some lunch, downloaded a book from the library, read for a while, started looking for a place to stay, found a campground about 45 minutes away. I’d been headed toward one that was about three hours away from my starting place but it seemed like a bad idea to keep driving as the rain poured down. The closer campground sounded unusual — it only had three sites — but it was free. And it was close. Close-ish, anyway.

So I got back on the road. In the time between me stopping and starting again, accident #3 had happened just up the road from the rest stop. Probably within two miles. I don’t know how bad the accident was or how many cars were involved, but it was bad enough that the entire highway was closed and everyone was being forced off the closest exit. That might not have been terrible, except people were driving on the shoulder to try to get off faster and it was still raining and visibility was still challenging and… well, put it this way. Not everyone was making good decisions. It was a very unpleasant half hour.

And my 45 minute drive to the campground turned into a much longer drive. Was it a mistake or was it lucky? If I’d kept driving instead of getting off at the rest stop, I might have missed that traffic delay entirely. Or I might have been on the road as the accident was happening. Impossible to know, so I tried to consider myself lucky instead of cursed.

And I kept driving. Accident #4 was within five miles of #3 — I’m going to guess that someone sped up in delight at finally being free of the stop-and-go and then spun right out. One car, off the road, but up on the fence. Ugh. Probably okay, but definitely the kind of the accident that would be embarrassing to explain to the insurance company.

Accident #5, maybe ten miles later, three cars, already off to the side of the road and exchanging information.

At this point, it’s still raining steadily, traffic is reasonably heavy, visibility is still crap, and there are drivers who are going 80MPH and weaving in-and-out of traffic. WTF, West Virginia? Do you not make kids take driver’s ed? Seriously, there were some people who needed to be stopped by the police, ticketed for reckless driving, and forced to listen to a lecture in the rain about why the way they were behaving was a danger to the people around them.

Accident #6… I can’t remember the details. It was on the other side of the road and emergency vehicles were already there, lots of them. And traffic was piled up on that side of the highway for miles. It made me almost relieved to be headed north.

At last, I found the campground. And it was… sketchy. It was three parking sites at the edge of a city park on a river. It bordered a very busy street, with McDonald’s and similar shops right across the way, and there were several cars at the park, with young adults hanging out at the picnic tables. In the rain. On a Monday in the middle of the day. I was dubious. It looked like the kind of place where teenagers come to smoke cigarettes and drink beer. And maybe do worse things. But I also didn’t want to drive anymore. So I parked and I tried to settle in.

It took me about an hour to decide that there was no way I was going to be able to sleep there — too much traffic — and possibly no way that I was going to be willing to walk the dogs there, especially not after dark. So, despite the rain — still pouring down steadily — I started driving again. Mistake #3? Or lucky decision #2? Hard to say, really.

I passed accident #7, three cars stopped, but I think one car that had totally spun out — it was facing the wrong way — and possibly the other two cars just stopped to help, because I didn’t see damage. And then, just as I was about to get back on the highway, I heard on the radio that the highway I was trying to get to had two accidents on it and traffic was going nowhere. The guy on the radio was listing off accidents and road blockages as if… as if it were normal. He was perfectly cheerful about it. No warnings, no suggesting that people should be careful, no advice to stay home if possible. Just “this road closed and that road closed and an injury accident still blocking x highway…”

The on ramp to the highway was totally backed up, stop-and-go, and I just didn’t want to do that again. So I kept going. I thought, oh, there’ll be someplace along this road to stop. Ten miles later, I changed my mind. I got off that highway, found myself a parking lot, and checked the map. It was almost 4, still raining, getting dark, and I was heading in the wrong direction. Ugh. So, so ugh.

I collapsed on the bed in misery.

And the bed was wet.

Drat it, why did I put wet clothes on the bed? How stupid of me… But wait. The wet clothes were hanging up on the back of the passenger seat. Did I move them? Did I first put them on the bed and then move them later? Did a wet dog lie on the bed after I walked them at lunch?

I looked up at the ceiling. Water was dripping off the air-conditioner.

Yep, because it was that kind of a day.

Sometime after total dark, I found myself a Walmart parking lot. I did not go inside and ask permission to stay the night in their parking lot, I just pulled the shades down, and curled up on a non-damp corner of the bed and read my book. I did not work on Grace and I did not feel guilty about not working on Grace.

Yesterday, I found myself a nice campground in Maryland — Rocky Gap State Park — and I am hibernating here. I sort of mean that literally. I barely walked Z this morning; I haven’t started writing again yet — making it now almost four days that I haven’t worked on Grace; I’m out of granola and haven’t baked more; I didn’t even eat lunch and it’s now almost 4:30. But Monday was grueling. My shoulders are sore from the tension and it hurts to tip my head forward. So I’m giving myself a break, and being grateful that none of the nine accidents along my drive on Monday involved me.

And I am really ready to stop driving for a while.

Lost in Illinois

22 Sunday Oct 2017

Posted by in Campground, Travel, Zelda

≈ 5 Comments

Serenity surrounded by trees

I’m losing track of states and places and park names. Fortunately, my photo app had no such problem. It told me that I was currently in Wayne Fitzgerrell State Park in Barren, Illinois. I didn’t believe it: who names a town ‘Barren’? Doesn’t that seem like it’s just asking for people to be depressed about living there? So I double-checked with my phone and my phone thinks that I’m in Benton, Illinois.

So, yes, not only am I losing track of where I am, my phone and my photos app are equally confused. To make matters even more perplexing, if you search for Barren, Illinois in Apple Maps, it shows you Benton, Illinois.

I finally went to wikipedia, which let me know that Benton and Barren are neighboring townships. Barren has a population of 496 and Benton has a population of 8972. I seriously think that Barren should consider changing their name: it just doesn’t sell the place. On the other hand, maybe it’s an accurate description? But I would guess not, because whether I’m currently located in Benton or Barren (and it’s anyone’s guess, really), this is a very pretty area. And at least I’ve figured out that I’m in Illinois.

The reason that I wasn’t so sure is because when I left Missouri, I intended to do laundry, go grocery shopping, and then drive across Illinois and across Indiana and into Kentucky, which was where I wanted to stop for a few days. But I got off to a late start and then everything took longer than I wanted it to and then, most critically, the rest stop on the highway was closed, and B really needed to go. My choice was to drive another hour to the next rest stop with a whimpering dog at my feet, get off the highway and find a reasonable parking lot with a nice verge of grass, or just say the hell with it and find the nearest campground. I went with the latter.

Seriously, though, the campgrounds are beginning to all blend together. One after another, a different day, a different set of trees. Sometimes water, sometimes not. Sometimes starry skies, sometimes cloudy mornings. I’m going to have to start coming up with some distinctive event for each campground or they’re all just going to be a blur in my memory. In this campground, the distinctive event would definitely be Zelda, bolting through the screen door to chase away an entire herd of deer. She stopped before she went into the woods with them, but I scolded her anyway. I’m trying to convince the dogs to pretend that my screen is actually a door, but they’re just not buying it.

And if I ever come back here, I’m definitely going to try to get campsite #79. It’s spectacularly positioned, set off at the end of a cul-de-sac, with no neighbors, and an amazing lake view. The campground has lots of nice spots, though. I picked mine because there was no one else on this cul-de-sac, but before the night was over, every other spot filled up. But there’s tons of space around the sites, so even though it is definitely technically crowded — almost every site is full, at least in the portion of the campground where I have wandered — it doesn’t feel too crowded.

I suspect during the week it will empty out, too. When I wandered around with Z this afternoon, I could see that almost everyone was leaving on the 22nd. It’s probably going to be really nice and very peaceful here on the 23rd. But I won’t be here to see it, because I’m moving on, too, aiming for Kentucky and then West Virginia and then, within the week, PA. It feels like going home, and I’m looking forward to getting there!

Brrr…

10 Tuesday Oct 2017

Posted by in Boring, Campground, Food, Soup, Vanlife

≈ 2 Comments

Zelda and I had the shortest morning walk we’ve had on this trip (except maybe for times when I’ve been sick), because it was seriously cold. The degrees didn’t look bad — 46, I think — but the wind had a chill to it that cut straight through my coat and my scarf. And it was a moving day, so I had to disconnect the water. The hose was stiff and unyielding, and the metal of the connector was so cold that it felt like it was burning my hand when I was unscrewing it. It was nowhere close to freezing, but felt like a definite warning/reminder that my van life is not compatible with a northern winter.

I’ve sort of been figuring that out anyway. It’s been a while since I whined about dirt here, but it’s still my least favorite part of van life. And the combination of cold weather, limited water, and abysmal campground showers means that I’ve spent a lot of time recently feeling Not Clean. I used to fantasize about baths, but now the combination of a hot shower and clean sheets has almost as much appeal. I’m again thinking seriously about joining Planet Fitness and planning my travels around their locations, at least once a week or so. Real showers, plenty of hot water, and (at least sometimes) the ability to overnight park in their lot is probably worth $22/month. Plus exercise! That would be nice, too.

Meanwhile, though, I’m in Nebraska, at Blue Valley Camping Area. It’s basically a parking lot with electric hookups. When I drove in, along a curving dirt road, I thought I might be the only person here, but actually there are three other campers in a fifteen or sixteen site lot. The campground is truly a parking lot — one site lined up next to the next, minimal space between them — but there appears to be a pretty nice park around it. I’ve been sitting in the van, watching the leaves fall from the trees, and considering exploring, but… well, brr… I know it’s cold out there and I’m finding the cold very un-motivating.

Plus, it was one of those long days, in the way that travel days can be. I didn’t make it very far, but I wanted to find a Target, because Target reliably has gluten-free shampoo and I a) left my shampoo behind somewhere, probably Albuquerque and b) had to buy non gluten-free shampoo the last time I bought shampoo, which is generally not the best option for me. So! Target. As best I could tell, the closet Target to my Kansas location was about two hours away, in Kearney, Nebraska. Nebraska hadn’t been on my travel plans, but why not, right?

Then I needed gas. Then the dogs needed to be walked. Then I needed some minimal groceries — fresh salad greens and fruit, basically. Then I needed to find a place to camp. And suddenly, the day is essentially over and I’ve really only traveled a couple hundred miles away from my starting place. It doesn’t feel like an impressive set of achievements.

On the other hand, I’ve got an acorn squash in the instant pot, which I’m planning to turn into soup before the end of the day. I ate scrambled eggs with sautĂ©ed mushrooms, green onions, sweet potato and avocado for breakfast. I’ve washed all the dishes, the van is mostly clean, I tweaked a few lines from a previous chapter of Grace this morning, I wrote morning words, and here I am, writing a blog post.

camper van under a tree

My campsite

And while I dread the moment the dogs need to go out again — it’s cold and dark out there! — my campsite is really quite pretty. It’ll be a nice place to try to write tomorrow.

PS Made the soup, ate the soup, shared the soup with the dogs. And somehow it pleased me greatly that Zelda chose to first lick up all the squash soup before eating the bites of chicken I’d dropped in her bowl. It’s always nice when the audience is appreciative! I liked it, too — for future reference for myself, I used turmeric, ginger, cinnamon and paprika, plus onion, acorn squash, and an apple; chicken broth and the water from pre-cooking the squash; finishing it off with sour cream, honey, and a sprinkle of salt.

Homolovi Ruins State Park

25 Monday Sep 2017

Posted by in Campground, Travel, Vanlife

≈ 2 Comments

sunrise facing west at Homolovi Ruins State Park

Sunrise facing west

This morning’s sunrise was un-photographable facing east. Or rather, the photograph was dull — black ground, then a line of bright yellow and gold, then blue above. It didn’t convey at all how pure and clear and bright the morning was. The above photograph was facing to the west, with the sun directly behind me. At, I believe, 6:09 AM.

At least my phone thinks it was 6:09. Maybe it was and maybe it wasn’t. Arizona is in a very confusing time zone that I think translates to “whatever time we want it to be and probably not the time you think it is.” (They claim it’s Mountain Time without Daylight Savings, but are we saving the daylight when we spring forward or when we fall back? I know I should be able to figure this out but it feels too much like rocket science. Maybe after some more caffeine.)

I wanted to write more about the Grand Canyon yesterday and I just did not feel well enough. I spent most of the day in that state of recovery from stomach misery where I was hungry but not hungry enough to risk eating and then when I finally did risk eating regretted it.

I also have had a sequence of refrigerator screw-ups that make me really sad: first, I accidentally shoved the fridge up to 7, its coldest level. I’ve done that before — it’s easy to do when stuffing the fridge too full — and it’s so annoying. Everything on the top shelf freezes solid, everything in the middle comes close. Sometimes some of the produce survives but not the most delicate things. Cucumbers and salad greens really don’t like being frozen.

But then, just to really screw up my food supply, when following the instructions to get my generator going again, I turned the fridge off. Not a big deal. If I had just remembered to turn it back on again. Gah. I was miserably sick if that counts as a stupidity defense. But everything in the fridge has first frozen and now defrosted. I’m trying to save what can be saved and acknowledge reality on what can’t, but it means my food choices are more limited than usual. Fortunately, I’ve got plenty of rice, which is probably the only thing I ought to be eating right now anyway.

But back to the Grand Canyon! On Friday morning, I went and found propane, and then took the dogs on a scenic drive. It was a beautiful winding road and a beautiful day. I looked at the Grand Canyon and was awed. And then I moved on to the next spot and looked at it again and was… well, a little less awed. And then I moved on to the next spot and looked again and thought, yep, canyon. Big hole in the ground. And then I moved on to the next spot and started looking at the people around me and wondering what their stories were and making up stories for them and glanced at the canyon. Yep, beautiful. By the time I finished the scenic drive, I was over the canyon. It is quite spectacular and you have to admire it, but once you’ve seen it, it’s seen. It was what I expected it to be.

I was feeling sort of sad about that as I returned to the campground. Here is this amazing, incredible spot — truly, one of the wonders of the world — and I’m already jaded about it. I’ve seen it in so many pictures, read about it in books, viewed it on television — there is no mystery. No wonder.

And then, when I was waiting for the ranger so I could check back in (I’d had to move campsites), I saw this squirrel. Weirdest squirrel ever. It was the second time I’d seen it (or its cousin). The first time had been from a distance and I hadn’t even been sure it was a squirrel. I thought maybe it was a tiny skunk. It was black, with a pure white fluffy tail. And from up close, it had the funniest ears. Not quite rabbit ears, not even close to the rabbit ears on some of the jackrabbits I’ve seen out here, but big ears, much too big for a squirrel. What the heck? I couldn’t get a picture of it, because Zelda was with me and the squirrel was not dumb enough to stand still to let Zelda investigate, but I asked the ranger.

Me: “That squirrel with the white tail, is it some kind of genetic fluke? Part albino? Or do you have special squirrels here?”

He didn’t laugh at me, but he did smile. Yep, they have special squirrels. It’s the Kaibab squirrel, found only at the North Rim. (The Wikipedia pictures are not as cute as the real thing: if you’re really interested, try a google image search for much better shots.)

That brought back every bit of the sense of wonder that I had when I first saw the canyon in the morning light. R was animal-obsessed when he was little. We watched vast quantities of Animal Planet, plus Zoboomafoo every day — I actually got a TiVo, one of the first DVRs, because not making it home in time for Zoboomafoo stressed us both out so much. And yet here was an animal that I’d never heard of, never seen, in my own country. In a major tourist destination in my own country. It was so satisfying. It felt magical.

So, Grand Canyon, two thumbs up. Worth the drive.

Homolovi Ruins State Park, also two thumbs up. I haven’t seen the ruins yet, because I have not been up for much in the way of long walks. Z and I headed in that direction this morning, but I cut it short when I started feeling tired. Total walk was a mile and a half, so not nothing, but I’m really not interested in pushing myself. I will, however, have a second chance and maybe a third, because… well, because I’m not interested in pushing myself. This is a nice, peaceful, quiet campground — big sites, reasonable showers, excellent internet signals, electricity — and so my big plan for the day has turned into “drive back to the ranger station and pay for another couple of nights.” The weather has been lovely, daytime temps in the 70s, nighttime temps in the 30s, and at night, the stars go on forever. I know this because both of the dogs seem to be as confused about what time zone they’re in as I am and have decided that 4AM is the appropriate time to go out. I’m not terribly happy about that, but at least it’s meant seeing some beautiful nighttime skies.

Worst day of the past 14 months…

24 Sunday Sep 2017

Posted by in Personal, Randomness, Travel, Vanlife

≈ 9 Comments

Today has been, without a doubt, without even a close contender, the worst day of my journey so far. I’m not sure I even want to write about it, because I don’t feel well enough yet to feel like it’s over. But I’m safely camped at a nice campground, staying here for two nights, plugged into electricity, and it’s only 4PM, so maybe I should just be counting my blessings instead of mourning my misery.

I woke up in the night to stomach pain. Indigestive-type stomach pain. At first it wasn’t so bad, I wondered what I’d eaten. But it got steadily worse and worse until I was tossing and turning and trying to figure out how I could possibly have given myself food poisoning. I was going down the list of every food I’d eaten, trying to think how it could have been contaminated. Was the pesto too old? Did I not wash the radishes well enough? Was the water in my tank — which I don’t drink but did use to wash the vegetables — contaminated somehow?

At various points through my entirely sleepless night, I wondered whether I could be having a heart attack, whether I was dehydrated, whether it was my gall bladder, whether I had a kidney stone, whether I needed an emergency room, whether I should be calling a ranger for help. I checked my own medicine cabinet for something, anything, that would relieve some of the pain and found, unsurprisingly, nothing.

The dogs were, of course, as restless as I was. My squirming around trying to find something like a comfortable position kept them on the move, trying to get back into their own formerly comfortable positions. Eventually B wanted to go out — still dark and temperatures in the 20s. I didn’t even care. I was awake anyway and thought maybe the cold air would help. It didn’t.

Then, of course, Z wanted to go for her walk. Really wanted it. We’d had a terrific walk yesterday and she loved the cold weather. She was bouncy and energetic and all ready for morning to begin. I eventually wound up literally snarling at her, because I was face-down, knees to chest, some sort of modified child’s pose, trying my best to breathe, and she kept sticking her nose under my arms and trying to lick my face. But even the sweetest dog understands a snarl; after that she curled up on the dog bed and watched me attentively, trying to decide what I was doing and if I was ever going to take her for a walk.

Answer: no. I wasn’t sure I had walking in me.

But I did let her out on a tie-out, while I tried to decide what to do. I was pretty sure at that point that I had food poisoning. I didn’t know how I could have food poisoning and it was obvious that I was just going to have to throw away everything in my fridge because I had no idea what had gone bad, but what else could it be? And there’s no cure for food poisoning. You ride it out and stay hydrated. Not fun, but it’d be over eventually. Unfortunately, my reservation at the North Rim was over and the campground was completely full, so I needed to move on. But there were other campgrounds nearby — maybe one of them would have room.

I did one thing at a time. One item put away, one job done, punctuated with sitting on the floor and rocking. It hurt. It really, seriously, fucking hurt. It felt like my intestines were tying themselves in knots. Not to be too graphic, but my system had completely cleaned itself out except for copious amounts of gas. Ridiculous amounts of gas. I could have won a belching contest against a world contender, but it only ever alleviated the pain for a moment or two.

And then I realized — yesterday, my bag of gluten-free crackers had inflated. It was really strange. I had to pop it to open it. And the top popped off my plastic container of balsamic vinegar as if expelled by an invisible force. Gas, in other words.

Could I have altitude sickness? In what is not irony, because it is not funny, I’d worried about R facing altitude sickness when he went to Colorado, but it had never even occurred to me that I might get it. Was the Grand Canyon even high enough to get altitude sickness?

Unfortunately, I had no internet and no cell service to find out. Also unfortunately, my generator refused to start when I’d tried to use it to make coffee the previous day and my computer was totally out of charge. But if my problem was altitude sickness, then finding the nearest campground wasn’t going to be useful: I needed to get to a lower elevation.

I started driving. After an hour, I stopped and took a nap, because yes, the pain eased off some. Not entirely. I feel like someone punched me in the stomach a bunch of times and food is unfortunately still not an option. (I tried. Bad idea.)

And then I kept driving. Because the generator wasn’t working, I didn’t want to stop until I’d found a place with electric hook-ups, so I could charge the computer. And I definitely wanted a place with some decent cell reception so I could look up generator repair & altitude sickness & elevations of my projected destinations. And I also kind of really wanted a pharmacy to get something, anything, that might help me feel better. Plus, I was having a caffeine withdrawal headache, which only added to my misery.

Exhausted, aching, nauseous, I kept driving and driving. Watching the odometer. One mile at a time, that’s all I needed to do. And then another mile. And then another. I kept checking my cell phone as I drove for a Verizon signal that didn’t show up. I hate the No Service message. I get it less often with Verizon than I do with T-Mobile, but it’s still awful.

It was the longest drive through pretty scenery ever.

I wound up driving straight past Flagstaff — at 6900 feet, I could tell from how much it hurt that I wouldn’t be sleeping there. I’m now at Homolovi Ruins State Park and it’s still a little too high. At 4900 feet, it’s exactly where elevation sickness can start. I think I’d probably be better off a few hundred feet lower. But there’s electricity and a cool breeze and hot showers and I was seriously wiped out. I just couldn’t keep driving.

I still feel worried about eating any of my food — maybe this is food poisoning? — but I’m pretty sure from the way my body responded to the hills and valleys during the drive that nope, it’s altitude sickness. It really, really sucks. I thought altitude sickness was a headache, but wikipedia assures me that nausea and “excessive flatulation” can go along with the headache.

And you know, I know I should count my blessings: the worst day of my journey did not include an emergency room, a morgue, the police… it could have been so much worse. But it still sucks and I still feel miserable and I really wish someone would miraculously show up and deliver some soup and painkillers.

On the good news front, though, the Winnebago Travato Facebook Owners and Wannabees Group totally came through for me on the generator. Turns out the generator also suffers from altitude sickness, which is fine, because I am never going near a mountain again. (Probably not true. Probably a situational exaggeration. But I’ve definitely lost all my Colorado enthusiasm for now. Maybe I’ll be taking the southern route back east.) Ten minutes of reading old posts and I found exact instructions for how to get it going again. (Thanks again, Jake!)

I really want to write more about the Grand Canyon, but there is a bee buzzing around the van. Seriously, universe? Seriously? But I am going to go help it find freedom or else mercilessly slay it, ideally without getting stung. And maybe tomorrow I’ll try to write some more.

Sand Hollow State Park, Utah

20 Wednesday Sep 2017

Posted by in Campground, Vanlife

≈ 4 Comments

When I left off, I was driving around, grouchy and frustrated. Also hungry, confused about what time it was, and too damn hot. Both dogs were panting from the heat, even with the AC running as high as it could go. Finding a campground with electric hook-ups felt like a good idea. I’d passed a couple of signs for state parks on my way to Zion and according to the Allstays app, one of them — Sand Hollow State Park — had some sites with electricity. I couldn’t make a same-day reservation and it was already after five, but it was close enough that I figured it was worth a try.

Total, total score.

Campsite picture

The ranger who assigned me my campsite asked if I was okay backing in. Ha. This site is huge and paved and the easiest parking job I think I’ve ever had.

Sand Hollow is a newer park, I think. The sites in the westside campground are spacious. They include water, electric and sewer hook-ups, a shelter, a picnic table, a grill and a fire pit, plus plenty of room, both to park and have loads of stuff or loads of people. Seriously, there’s room around the fire pit for a twenty-person party, easily.

And the view is unbelievable. My site is at the top of a low hill, surrounded by mountains, a lake to one side. At night, the stars are amazing, but there’s also a town in the distance, so a sparkling necklace of house and traffic lights. Darkness here is beautiful. And the sunrise went on forever.

panoramic sunrise

Sunrise at Sand Hollow

Also, it’s been months since I had a water hook-up and it feels incredibly luxurious. I was pouring the requisite two inches of rinsing water into my dishpan yesterday and thought, oh, wait, I can use the sink. I actually laughed at myself because turning on the faucet and watching water come out made me so delighted. Running water! How exciting! But I haven’t had a water hook-up for most of the summer, so I’ve gotten used to using water jugs and being really conservative with my water use. I’m not being wasteful, of course — it’s still a desert, despite the big lake within walking distance — but it was nice to just thoroughly wash the dishes.

It’s also nice to sit still for a couple of days. It’s amazing that I’ve been doing this for over a year and I still haven’t figured out the best travel pattern for me. Maybe that’s because it changes? But I really don’t want to travel multiple days in a row if I don’t have to. Even if the drive is only a couple of hours, it’s tiring.

And no drive is ever only a couple of hours — packing up to move, then setting up at the destination, plus usually errands in the middle — always turns a drive into a day’s adventure. My shortest drive of this current journey was from Fossil Falls to Calico Ghost Town. I knew where I wanted to go in the morning, so wasn’t spending time along the way figuring it out, and the drive was under three hours and yet somehow, at the end of the day, all I felt like I’d accomplished was the move.

I also have to remind myself that I am not on an extended vacation. I read blog posts from fellow RVers who are visiting attractions and restaurants, hiking and kayaking and adventuring, and I feel like I should be doing more, more, more. But that’s not my version of #vanlife and not even the life I want to be living. Today’s adventure — taking a leisurely walk with Zelda around the campground, sitting in the sun while I ate my granola and yogurt, trying to meditate, looking at photos, writing a blog post — this is a good adventure. A really good adventure. If it includes some good words on Grace (yesterday I was seriously and maddeningly stuck, Max would not behave the way I wanted him to, grrr…), then it’s a great adventure.

And a great campground. If I didn’t have Grand Canyon reservations and a yearning to be back in Florida by the holidays, I would wander up to the front office and extend my reservation for a few more days. But tomorrow will be laundry and groceries (including buying new leashes for the dogs because somehow I mysteriously lost them between Calico Ghost Town and here), and then the North Rim.

All the gory details

19 Tuesday Sep 2017

Posted by in Campground, Randomness, Travel, Vanlife

≈ 2 Comments

I woke up yesterday morning and thought, wow, this looks like the scene of a crime. If I mysteriously disappeared, I wonder what the police would think when they investigated? It would have been a perfect location for it, too: the campground at Calico Ghost Town, a little east of Barstow, CA.

Calico cemetery sign

The cemetery would be an excellent spot to discover a dead body. Or rather to have a character discover a dead body. In real life, I’d really rather not stumble across any corpses.

At a busy time, the campground would have been the kind of place I hate: sites close together, basically a parking lot, with minimal outside room between one site and the next. But on a Sunday/Monday in September with no special events at the ghost town, there was plenty of room. I think there were about six campers/tents total in a campground with room to accommodate a couple of hundred. Perfectly comfortable.

And a deserted desert campground next to a ghost town? It’d be an excellent paranormal/horror setting. Or even a mystery/thriller. The town is cute enough that you could even do it as a cozy.

Or course, the real story of my personal crime scene was nothing so interesting (or depressing, I guess, depending on how you look at it.) As pretty much everyone I spend time with discovers, I am prone to bloody noses. Generally, my nose just starts dripping blood, a little gentle trickle. I feel a hint of wet, touch it with a suspicious finger or two, and yep, blood. It’s happened in stores, in restaurants, in friends’ cars, anywhere, everywhere. FYI, if you start dripping blood all over the floor in a public place, otherwise lackadaisical sales clerks will run to get you tissues or paper towels. It’s usually not a big deal — a couple tissues and it quickly stops.

Exception: the night before last. I think it might have been because the air was very, very dry in southern CA, but in the middle of the night, the blood just started gushing. Of course, it was dark and I couldn’t find the tissues and I was camped at a place where the van wasn’t connected to water, so I couldn’t just turn the sink on, and the dogs were underfoot — I wasn’t worried about it in the middle of the night, but in the morning… yeah, it was gross.

It really would have made a good fake crime scene, though. Especially because I also had my vacuum sealer out to store some chicken for later sous vide cooking. Vacuum sealers are great for storing food and really handy for sous vide cooking, but as I learned in Arcata, they’re also an essential tool for major drug dealers. Ha.

But I cleaned it up, of course, then took a shower (with much gratitude at being in a place where I could easily take a shower!) and dumped the trash with its excessive quantity of bloody tissues and paper towels, then headed out. We started with a visit to the ghost town, Calico. I’d arrived the afternoon of the previous day but it had been so hot that I just plugged into the electricity, turned on the AC and waited for it to cool down. A metal box is not a good place to be when the temps are in the 90s. But pets are allowed in the ghost town, so before moving on, we went and wandered around a little. It didn’t feel very ghostly. Mostly because even early on a Monday morning in September, it was filled with tourists — two busloads of them beat me there!

By 10 AM, I was in the van, ready to move. Suzanne and I had mapped out a route to the Grand Canyon back in Arcata. At the time, it sounded fun to take the scenic routes. And I’d thoroughly enjoyed at least some of said scenic routes — 89 around Lake Tahoe was well worth driving. But I was starting to get really tired of spending days behind the wheel. And I was also seriously mourning gas prices. It was over $4/gallon at places in CA as I drove south: in a vehicle that gets about 15-17 mpg, that starts to add up fast.

Plus, it occurred to me as I looked at my GPS, if I gave in and let the GPS take me where it wanted to go, I’d drive through Nevada and Utah, adding two more states to Serenity’s total. That’s a silly reason, I know, but… well, it amuses me. I’m up to 36 states as of yesterday. By the time I make it back to the east coast, I’ll only have 6 left in the continental United States that I haven’t driven though in Serenity: Delaware, Rhode Island, North Dakota, Nebraska, Iowa, and Michigan.

So, in the interest of gas prices, less driving time, and a meaningless checkmark on a list of states, I took 15 up through Las Vegas and across to Utah. In St. George, I started trying to figure out where I should stay. Alas, I fell for some wishful thinking. The Reserve America app, my favorite app for finding cool campgrounds, said that walk-ins might be available at the campground inside Zion National Park. I took a chance that they were right, had an absolutely beautiful drive, but gave up before I even made it to the campground.

The park was packed with people. It was Mt. Rushmore all over again, not quite so kitschy, but definitely an absolutely thriving population of tourist attractions. Nice ones — in a different life, one that included more money, cooler temperatures, and an assurance of dog safety, I would have loved to wander around the town that leads into the park. As it was, I stayed stuck in traffic long enough for all my appreciation of the incredible beauty to turn into grouchy annoyance and tired frustration. Then I made a u-turn and drove back to Hurricane, Utah, trying to figure out a good place to spend the night.

A good place to spend the night when the temperatures were in the high 80s needed to include enough privacy that I could run the generator to keep the dogs cool without feeling guilty about my neighbors or an electric hook-up.

Long story short, I found it. Electricity and more! But I will write about it tomorrow, because somehow it has already become mid-afternoon. Where do the hours go?!