We want to live on a lake. That is why we started this convoluted, continual camping trip! This deranged desire has caused us to do some fairly idiotic things, like selling a perfectly wonderful home and moving into a truck. We’ve been vagabonds for nine months. There have been countless sacrifices made to obtain this dream. Above all, I miss being in regular, close proximity to my family. I also, wholeheartedly, miss my washer and dryer. I never thought I would find myself yearning for major appliances, but I want my Whirlpool!!!!

I digress. Despite mourning my Maytag, we are still lusting after the lakefront life. So, we have been practicing, planting ourselves on some rather remarkable RV sites in Arkansas, Tennessee and Kentucky.

Pocahontas is also the type of small town that still has a pay phone, and a number of charming shoppes, including one that bears the name of our Gypsy Girl.

After leaving Pocahontas, we walked through the Davidsonville Historic Park. Davidsonville, which was on the frontier in the early 1800’s, was founded by some businessmen who hoped to find wealth in land speculation. It was Arkansas’ 1st county seat, but its existence was short lived, lasting only from 1815 until 1830. Transportation in and out was difficult, and the Black River could not be contained, causing ceaseless flooding conditions.

We trekked onward to Tennessee, where we found a fabulous site at Natchez Trace State Park. This ten-acre park has 208 campsites, cabins, a lodge, and an Inn and Conference Center. There are over 23 miles of hiking trails and it is home to FOUR lakes. If it were not for the complete lack of cell service, this may have been my favorite campsite of all times. No cell service is a deal-breaker. I got a quick “ring” one night, and recognized it was the ringtone for my son. I, being an anxious (meaning nervous wreck) mom & grandma, jumped out of bed in my pajamas. I drove the truck several miles, sans license, until I had enough Verizon signal to make a call. It turns out that my son merely butt-dialed me. Sigh.

While in the Jackson, Tennessee area, we ventured to Parker’s Crossroads, a Civil War battlefield on which infamous Confederate, General Nathan B. Forrest, utilized some unorthodox strategies to thwart a Union attack and to evade capture.

On December 10, 2021, a six-mile wide tornado passed through Natchez Trace State Park. It caused heavy damage to roughly 1,400 acres of forest land. The land is still being cleared of this debris.

At Lake Nolin, near Leitchfield, Kentucky, we again found ourselves in a lovely lakeside sight. We did have to make a supply run, but have still found time to enjoy some floating around and a Scrabble Game or two. It is also noteworthy that Gypsy, who is not yet 1-1/2 years old, has now peed in 33 states.

Due to the unprecedented flooding in Eastern Kentucky, we have had to re-route a portion of our trip. Our hearts go out to all families that have been impacted by this relentless deluge.

On to West Virginia and Virginia, and finally back home for a brief stint.

Stay tuned.

“Love your family. Spend time, be kind & serve one another. Make no room for regrets. Tomorrow is not promised & today is short.”

Unknown

Nothing is better than when family members are true friends. Time spent together is precious and there never seems to be enough of it. Thankfully, our traveling lifestyle enables us to visit more frequently and make memories that will last a lifetime.

A few short hours after arriving in Arkansas, we grilled some burgers, threw on our swimsuits, packed a beverage cooler, and headed out to Beaver Lake for an evening of boating. My brother-in-law, an excellent captain, made this excursion possible. The ambient air was warm and muggy but the clear, calm lake water was cooling and restorative.

Gypsy had been on a kayak when she was 3-months-old, and had been on a small rowboat, with an outboard motor, when she was 5-months-old, but had never been on a powerboat. We weren’t certain that she would readily adapt. Initially, she balked at the idea of boarding. We had to lift her into the boat as she continued to protest with sad eyes and flailing paws. Yet, once we began to move, her anxiety dissipated. Her ears were happily flapping in the breeze as we sped towards a swimming hole. It would be an understatement to say that we worried unnecessarily. It turns out that we have a dog that was born to dive, a pooch that loves to paddle.

We celebrated my birthday with an 8-mile hike at War Eagle Canyon, which is along Beaver Lake in Rogers, AR. The valley views were spectacular. The gorge offered lots of elevation change and glimpses of colorful rock formations. I happily trudged along knowing I had to burn a few calories, as we had plans for Mexican food and Margaritas later in the day.

There was some much needed rain that pelted the area, so not all of our activities revolved around the great outdoors. We tried our hands at Top Golf, which turned out to be a whole lot of fun! You grab a club, say a quick prayer, and aim for a target that is situated in the driving range. Please note that I was in first place during the practice round. That situation rapidly changed when the real game began!

Our overly generous hosts took us to Bentonville (home of Walmart) to witness the tremendous growth of the community, and to visit some of the trendy, new structures. We toured The Momentary, which once was a Kraft cheese plant, and is now both an Art Gallery and Music Venue. The top floor currently looks out over tower cranes and construction, but will soon provide a panorama of a vibrant, expansive neighborhood.

After a Saturday morning yoga class, a nice walk in the woods, and a visit to the Ozark Beer Company, we settled down to listen to some real jazz at the Downtown Rogers concert venue. I’m not sure when it was that we last packed so much stuff, or so many calories, into such a short time frame. What a whirlwind!

Gypsy did manage to chew a yoga mat to bits when we left her for a short time. Thankfully my brother-in-law has a high tolerance for mischievous mutts. Other than that unfortunate incident, it was an ideal time spent with loved ones.

Time to move on. We will have to re-route our journey back east, as the horrific flooding in Kentucky has impacted our original itinerary. Off to Lake Charles, near Jonesboro…

Stay tuned…

“It ain’t the heat, it’s the humility.”

Yogi Berra

After leaving the refreshing Rockies, we headed South to Trinidad Lake in Southeastern Colorado. We descended into desert-like conditions. It was hot. I don’t mean warm, I mean fires-of-hell hot. I’m a fan of summer. I don’t easily wilt, even in the dog days, but I confess, the relentless warmth was outrageously oppressive. We had several days of 100+ temperature readings with nary a raindrop in sight.

If we intended to hike, we had to get going in the early morning, which we did, because, despite the cauldron we were in, the scenery was spectacular. Trinidad Lake State Park covers a large area, providing canyon hikes and lakeside activities. It has a true Southwestern flair, feeling a bit more like New Mexico than Colorado.

Then, on to Elkhart, Kansas where the blast furnace ambiance continued. We found ourselves in yet, another RV parking lot; this time, behind the town car wash. Yeah, we keep it classy.

Fortunately, the paved patch of ground that we were parked on was close to the Cimarron National Grasslands. We jumped in the truck to take a self-guided tour. It turns out that self guided was misguided. We managed to find ourselves hopelessly lost somewhere in between the Wildlife Viewing Area and Prairie Dog Town. We retraced our steps, turned around a few times, headed down a dirt road, and had to put the truck into four-wheel-drive to plow through the sandy mess that we managed to get ourselves into. We did find artesian wells, and oil wells, but never quite made it to the scenic overlook or the Santa Fe trail.

“Oklahoma, where the wind comes sweepin’ down the plain

And the wavin’ wheat can sure smell sweet…”

…You’re doin’ fine, Oklahoma!

Oklahoma O.K.”

Richard Rodgers and Oscar Hammerstein II

After departing Kansas, we drove through a whole lot of Oklahoma. There is seemingly endless, brown, thirsty-looking acreage in the Sooner State. I’m not sure how we lucked into a campsite along the Great Salt Flats, that included a water view, and rugged hills. This part of Oklahoma, which is surprisingly scenic, was covered by ocean during prehistoric times, thus the high salinity in the area.

Pretty? Yes, but it was still hotter than a forest fire outside, with temperatures in the 108F range. At least we could wade in the water. Granted, the water was slightly short of scalding, but it was cooler than the sun-saturated sand. Focus on the positive.

My brother-in-law loved Colorado. He liked to hike and bike and enjoy the splendor of the majestic, Rocky Mountains. Sadly, the time allotted to him for indulgence in these passions was far too limited. He spent the last decade of his life battling various malignancies, to which he eventually succumbed. He endured multiple surgeries, tedious treatments and hospitalizations. He was a fighter. He loved life and grappled with death until the very end.

When it became clear that he would be leaving this world, he asked my sister to conduct his memorial celebration at Lower Cataract Lake in the White River National Forest. Upon entering the shoreline area, after a brief hike, it became abundantly clear why he chose this spot as his final resting place. It was pristine and peaceful, perhaps a piece of heaven on earth.

It’s always hard to say goodbye. This celebration, however, did not feel like a funereal farewell. Under a cerulean sky, his family and friends told tales, shed a few tears, chuckled a time or two and honored their loved one. When he was released into the clear, sparkling waters you could feel an air of emancipation, a spiritual awakening.

Family and friends are everything when faced with grief and sorrow. It was clear that we were all there to offer support and diversion. We laughed together, cried together and turned a solemn occasion into a celebration of life.

“Rejoice with your family in the beautiful land of life!”

Albert Einstein

Wildflowers were everywhere, reminding us of the “beautiful land of life”. We hiked together, dined together, and even managed to brave the Alpine Slide at the Peak 8 Fun Park together. Whatever the activity, we were surrounded by magnificence, but the real beauty was found in the genuine affection we have for one another.

“Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing.

    And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb.

    And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance.”

Kahlil Gibran

Big Bertha behaved for the Breckenridge leg of the journey. Let’s see what type of trouble she can dream up for the slow trek back east.

Stay tuned…

Our RV, Big Bertha has not been big at all, lately. In fact, she has been far too slender. If you have been following the saga, you know that her slide has been hopelessly stuck in the retracted position. Numerous attempts, and plenty of money, have gone in to troubleshooting the problem, but to no avail. The exceedingly cramped conditions were making us claustrophobic, and after 1,600 miles and six stops, we were also feeling defeated and a bit crotchety. We were beginning to think that the electrical issue was unsolvable.

I want to take a minute to give a shout out to my high school classmate, Colleen and her husband Joe. They are the proud owners of JMS motors (jmsmotors.com). They are well versed in repair, service and restoration, and were so willing to help with the troubleshooting. I owe them a debt of gratitude.

When the slide was opened, after weeks of being shut, the RV interior looked big enough to roller skate in. Just add a disco ball.

We can extend the bed and open the refrigerator. Life is good.

Funny, the living room is no longer a narrow, little hallway… but the campsite in Limon, Colorado is a tad too tight! You can’t have it all.

Despite the small sites, the stop in Limon has been a very positive one. The locals have been helpful and incredibly friendly. The town boasts a fascinating heritage museum, a charming railroad-themed recreation area, and a Gypsy-approved dog park.

Breckenridge Bound.

Stay tuned…

The first thing you notice about Independence, Missouri is the tremendous numbers of steeples, pointed skyward. There are plenty of historic churches of all denominations scattered about the historic downtown. Joseph Smith led Mormon missionaries to Independence and declared this frontier town to be Zion, the City of God. it seemed like a good place to pray for an RV repair. Divine intervention was fast becoming our only recourse since we had been unsuccessful at finding a human solution to the RV’s electrical woes.

Independence is undoubtedly, best known as the home of Harry S. Truman, 33rd president of the United States. He was notorious for authorizing the use of the atomic bomb against Hiroshima and Nagasaki during World War II. “Give ’em hell, Harry” became popular sentiment during Truman’s 1948 campaign for reelection. I wanted to find a meaningful quote from the former president for this blog but, instead, found this completely unrelated, but totally amusing citation:

Never kick a fresh turd on a hot day.

Harry S. Truman

Next stop, Sundown RV park in Salina, Kansas. It was a parking lot with water and electricity. The sounds of I-70 lulled us off to sleep and our nightlight was the Phillips 66 gas station across the street. It was only one night. Good thing. Even Gypsy was not sure how to react.

Salina, however, is a clean, beautiful city with a vibrant art scene. The sidewalks are wide and walkable. Shops and restaurants are plentiful. Each block boasts an amusing sculpture. The entertaining urban hike almost made up for the unusual lodging.

When we pulled into Lake Scott State Park in Western Kansas, I was excited about the picturesque lake and cowboy-like topography. I was smiling and eager to explore UNTIL I saw my husband’s face. I was pretty sure someone had died. He had a look of utter despair as he pointed to the slide-cover, which sometime during our very windy drive, had begun to unravel. He was not happy. I, on the other hand, was thinking, “Just cut it off. We don’t have an operational slide, so who needs a slide cover?” It would have been unwise to voice that opinion at the time, so, instead, we climbed on the roof and attempted to rewind the fabric. Nope. It was too complicated without dismantling the whole mess. We do not have the patience, the know-how, nor the tools. Instead, we did our best to secure it with Gorilla Tape. That’s right, our slide cover is being suspended by tape. What are the odds we will make it to Colorado without that thing billowing in the breeze like an RV parachute?

It’s over 100F, and because our luck just keeps getting worse, beautiful lake Scott cannot be used for recreational activities because of a toxic algae bloom. No cooling off for us. But, we are troopers. We arose at sun-up for an early morning hike around the lake. It was absolutely stunning.

We have no other option but to move forward. A diamond is merely a lump of coal that did well under pressure….

Tomorrow we meet Byron the RV Repair Guy in Limon, CO. I hope he doesn’t run away screaming after he meets Big, Broken Bertha…

Stay tuned

With slide out and jacks down, we thought we were hopelessly stuck in Woodbine, Maryland. We had enlisted the help of the RV manufacturer, and an onsite service tech. Neither were able to fix the power source problem that was plaguing Big, Bad Bertha. Through some divine intervention, my husband hit a reconfigure button on his app, and we had a 10-second window in which the battery showed a charge. We slammed the slide shut, lifted the jacks, and headed west, knowing that our headaches were hitching a ride with us. We were already seriously behind on our scheduled trip. We had to skip our stops at Ohiopyle in Western Pennsylvania, and John Bryan State Park near Columbus Ohio. We motored straight through to Mc Cormick’s Creek State Park near Bloomington, Indiana. It was a 10-hour, white-knuckle trek but we were back on schedule.

Without a functioning slide out, our motorhome has extremely narrow hallways, and a king-sized bed that cannot be extended. Being petite is finally a plus. If I were much bulkier, I would have to spray myself with Pam in order to slide down the hallway. You can barely open the refrigerator but I can squeeze my arms in enough to get most food items out. The fruit drawer, however, is impossible to open. I lie in bed at night, just imagining the stuff growing in there, most assuredly matter that should be on a petri dish.

My husband sleeps on the bunk over the cab. Gypsy and I slumber sideways on the jackknifed bed. It’s not ideal, but it works. Desperate people do curious things.

“When you’re at the end of your rope, tie a knot and hold on.”

Theodore Roosevelt

We are determined to keep moving forward, so we are, literally, back in the saddle again! We were able to cast away our woes long enough to enjoy a trail ride. “My” lead horse, Moe, which has to be short for molasses, was seasoned and SLOW. My husband’s steed was an enormous draft horse that plodded along behind “Slow Moe”, never trying to take the lead in spite of the lethargic pace.

We also managed a hike to Wolf Cave. Gypsy found a few photo ops along the way before we returned to the reality of our dilemma.

We contacted the manufacturer of the defective RV computer. After multiple, troubleshooting phone calls, we were advised that in order to fix the issue, we would need a new control panel. They agreed to send one via overnight service to our next stop, at Babler State Park near St. Louis. The package was there when we arrived. With a renewed sense of optimism, my husband prepared to install the new component. I, wisely, put the leash on my favorite, four-legged friend and set out to take a LONG walk. It’s better that way. We have a way of getting underfoot, second guessing my husband’s approach to things, and making him crazy.

The Cardinal’s home stadium is a great place to catch a game. I am so grateful for the diversions. It’s helping to keep us semi-sane.

Now, believe it or not, we are off to Independence, MO, where we intend to close on our new home construction. Truth is stranger than fiction. We will be meeting a notary at a Pizza Hut so that we can get moving on the Lake Anna house.

Stay tuned…

So, here I sit in my IM-mobile home. A house on wheels should roll, right? Not today. Not tomorrow. Not for the foreseeable future. We need either a miracle or an operational motherboard, both of which seem to be in really short supply.

Saturday began with a quick trip to the grocery store in preparation for a long haul to Colorado. Provisions were packed away, the “stuff” inside the RV was secured for travel, the tanks were dumped, and the site was cleared. We were smiling, singing Willie Nelson’s On The Road Again, and ready for take off. Until we cranked the engine. It started right up, but the RV computer was not receiving the signal. Therefore, we could not close the slide out. Nor could we lift the leveling jacks. We were not going anywhere.

The only bright note is that if we must be left in the lurch, at least we are near friends, family (with a beautiful pool) and Frank the RV guy.

You can’t make this crap up.

Stay tuned.

“If music be the food of love, play on.”

William Shakespeare

Who doesn’t love late Spring? It is a time for recitals, graduations, baseball tournaments, pool openings, long, warm days and outdoor entertainment. It is my favorite time of the year. Let’s face it, RV existence is a seriously claustrophobic experience, but our living space seems to expand exponentially as the days lengthen and the temperatures rise. My house may be small, but the size of my backyard is roughly 1.9 billion acres.

Music mesmerizes the soul. It is an international language that we can all understand and appreciate. It makes us want to dance, and to sing. Some are blessed with the ability to speak the prose of melody and the poetry of harmonics. Our grandchildren continue to delight and amaze us with their musical gifts. They are skilled and dedicated to their art. My heart swells with pride when I watch them perform.

We also recently enjoyed an evening at Black Ankle Vineyard, being entertained by a good friend and talented guitarist.

I have always been a bit of a baseball freak. In my youth, I memorized stats, standings and rosters. I can explain what constitutes a balk. I know the infield fly rule, and I can keep a score book with the best of them. I’ve been to countless games, including Spring Training games, and have been to several MLB fields. My boys were both little league all-stars, and my younger son pitched in college. My grandkids are both ball players. We have spent a good amount of time watching their games this Spring. My granddaughter, who is only 9-years-old, is holding her own against 13-year-old girls who are twice her size. (Note photo below. She is the little, pink, 3rd baseman and the player on 3rd is NOT a coach!) She has pitched a few shut-out innings and swings the bat with authority in spite of her size disadvantage. My grandson’s team just won their division championship. Athletic and Artistic; who could ask for more?

Fifth grade graduation was another major milestone. These kids faced so many obstacles during their elementary school years. Undeterred by Covid-19 and a masked-up education, these 5th graders excelled academically. I applaud their perseverance. These young people were the Beta-test, guinea pigs for virtual learning. They made the adjustment with aplomb, and are ready to make their mark in middle school. Should I mention that my grandson was at the top of his class, or have I done entirely too much boasting already?

I am glad that we have been stationary, in a close-to-the-kids campground so that we could participate in these monumental occasions. It has also given us the opportunity to explore the rural area around our site, to take a trip to DC to tour the National Cathedral, and to spend an amazing few days with friends at the Bedford Springs Resort. There is such majesty that surrounds us, be it natural or man made. Stop each day, with an attitude of gratitude, and reflect on the beauty of our world.

Time marches on and we will not be moored at this location for much longer. It is time to prepare for our next move. Westward, Ho!

Stay tuned.

Our journey has taken us to campgrounds near our old hometown for an extended stay. Our house-on-wheels is not rolling around much, which, due to the price of diesel, is a fortunate coincidence. Strangely, idling in this environment, the RV feels almost like home. Almost is the operative word. I miss the comfort of real walls and a basement when springtime, severe storms fire up. I have determined that there are three thunderstorm categories while residing in a truck: 1.) find a friend or family member with a basement, 2.) run to the concrete bathhouse and cover your head, 3.) open a bottle of wine, take a sip, watch the leaves and branches blow by while praying a HAIL MARY or two.

In spite of a stormy spring, I am relishing every day as I open each corresponding door on my ADVENTure calendar. Time passes swiftly when family is nearby, friends are within reach, and familiar haunts are accessible.

A quick trip to my hometown filled me with feelings of nostalgia and gratitude. Much has changed and much remains as it was in my youth. There is such comfort in reliving the recognizable. I regret that there was insufficient time to see a few other lifelong friends. The brevity of my visit was the only downside, but I plan to get back there just as soon as I can line up a few visits with some cherished chums.

If you love life, don’t waste time, for time is what life is made up of.

Bruce Lee

We are not wasting time! We have found time for color runs, water parks, Ga-Ga ball, tie-dye shirts, S’mores, and Yogi Bear abductions.

We have spent time at Camden Yards, watching the Orioles beat the Yankees on a warm, sunny afternoon. The win was wonderful but time spent with our son and daughter-in-law was the real prize.

We have cheered on our little leaguers, spent lots of time at the gym, and have taken the time to join good friends for a weekend of frivolity at the beach. No wasting time. Each day is a chance to embrace the unexpected.

Gypsy, at the ripe, old age of 15-months, is still filled with puppy silliness. Sometimes she is a white dog, sometimes she is a blue dog, but left to her own devices, she would prefer to be completely covered in mud. She is beginning to show show signs of maturity, which is sort of bittersweet. We will miss her baby-animal antics, but will enjoy the calm that comes with her advance into adulthood.

Hard to believe that summer is on the horizon. In a few short weeks this caravan will be rolling down the road again…

Welcome each day with a sense of wonder. Stay tuned….