-Inigo Montoya
The climate reverted from winter to fall and it was time. We decided on a Friday overnight for our first trial trip. But I soon found that Texas State Park campgrounds are all booked on Fridays, all Fridays. My park of choice--Lake Tawakoni State Park--had every Friday booked from then until December.
We thought about switching to a Sunday night, but there was rain in that forecast. Finally, about three days before Voyage-Day, I checked the reservation system again and found an opening had popped out.
So that was it. We were going to fire up the Mammoth Monstrosity and roll down the highway. Back it up into a campsite, shoot out the slides, and open the awning. (We didn't need the awning--it was November and the weak sunshine at sixty degrees felt good on our heads. But we had an awning and were determined to use it.)
According to Google Maps, our destination was only about an hour away. The problem with Google Maps is that it shows you the fastest way to get to a place--by car. Cars go from zero to sixty in ten seconds; they spin merrily around curves; they don't take up the entire space between center line and white line; and they typically have half of the overhead clearance requirement of an RV. My car's height is about five feet. Mammoth the RV: ten, maybe or ten feet six inches. Need to check.
What RV'ers need is an app that tells the best way to get there by RV. Or if not that, then by semi-tractor trailer.
(I later discovered there are such apps; still working on picking the best one)
Anyway, we made it--despite Google's optimistic interpretation of route finding. There were a couple of times when I found myself all tensed up, expecting to feel the right-side tires hitting a hole and the whole creature flipping over on its side. There were quite a few places where we had to snake side-to-side to search out the highest spots of the overhanging branches. And there were several occasions where I manually overrode Google maps--it kept trying to take us across shortcuts to get onto a faster highway--the faster highways wouldn't have been an issue, but the prospect of shortcuts on single-lane roads scared me spookless.
See, we're not at home anymore:
The campground appeared as promised and we were soon checking into site 53 with water and a 30/50 amp electric hookup. It was a very nice park with very nice campsites--we were right on the lake's edge. All that blocked us from a sublime view of the water was trees and a concrete pallet belonging to the neighbor's campsite. They were nice neighbors and all they did was hang a hammock above the pallet and quietly snooze away the afternoon, but we didn't feel comfortable staring right past them in order to get the best view. We politely faced our chairs to the other side.
Out goes the awning:
What? Camping--with television? Are we total idiots or what?
Idiots. I'm not saying we turned on the television and watched it until nightfall, but after dark we did sneak in an episode of CSI Miami or some sort of cop show that Ed tends to watch. This was after building a fire and doing the requisite sitting around the campfire watching the flames dance. Dreaming the fire as Colin Fletcher says.
Our little dog Zack was confined to cage rest after surgery for a back problem that caused him to lose the use of his hind legs. We didn't know if he'd walk again, but at that point he was on so many drugs I wasn't sure if he even knew where he was or who we were. But so long as he could hear our voices and smell our bodies, he seemed content to be carried around in his little cage.
Mammoth the RV performed magnificently--until bedtime. Somehow we'd neglected to realize that the furnace didn't work. When we turned it on and set the thermostat, it came on and blew warm air for a few minutes, then stopped. It acted exactly as a heater would if its sensor was placed directly in front of its heat outlets. But we didn't realize there was a problem, and went to bed assuming it was working despite the little chill in the air. And we went to sleep assuming we'd be fine in the night. We assumed, as you can guess, wrong.
Both of us woke up intermittently, freezing. Since I have hot flashes and am accustomed to intermittent spells of covers off/covers on, I didn't immediately realize what the problem was. I thought it was just me. I could have put on a jacket or grabbed one of the decorative comforters off the sofa. Not until sunlight sneaked in the windows did I wake fully enough to realize I was freezing.
Later we discovered that if you put the fan on FAN and not on AUTO, it blew heat constantly and warmed up the place from a chilly 50 degrees to a toasty 65. But by then it was time to depart and we didn't waste time to enjoy it.
Ed took the first shower in the new RV. I washed the first--and second--load of dishes in the new sink. Also I got to use the stove first although Ed had to coax me in how to start the gas burners. (Press in while clicking the sparker, then hold it in for a few seconds after it lights)
Dirty dishes:
It was a good trip despite the chill. We learned a few tips, which may or may not be helpful to share:
1. Floor space goes at a premium and should be fully respected. At home, you might take off your clothes, shoes, or coat and chuck them on the floor until needed next morning. If you do that in an RV, you'll find yourself tripping over them in the dark. I think that's the reason the previous owner had installed hooks on almost every surface in the bedroom and bathroom.
2. No matter how carefully you get into and out of bed, sooner or later you're going to whack your funny bone on something. There's about two inches of space between my pillow and the cabinet beside the bed. I've never been in the habit of tucking my arms close to my sides when getting in and out of bed, but I'm going to have to learn.
3. Izzy (our big dog) does not like sleeping in a cage. I promised to leave her loose in future and she promised not to shed on the carpet.
4. I'd have to be pretty desperate to go potty while the RV is moving. Hope that day never comes.
No comments:
Post a Comment