sounds familiar

Been an awesome few days since my last post.

Our stops at Gettysburg, Washington D.C., and colonial Williamsburg were all successful – even if in varying degrees. In order, I’d say we enjoyed Williamsburg foremost, with D.C. second and Gettysburg bringing up the rear.

Our time at Gettysburg wasn’t exactly what I’d had in mind, but was still enjoyable. We spent the visit entirely in the visitor center / museum, and didn’t have enough time to do any of the self-guided driving tour of the actual battlefield sites. I was a little bummed, but then again when sandwiched between driving the RV and driving the RV, driving the RV isn’t exactly how I want to spend my “off” days. I sort of wish I’d done more research on the battlefield, I’d have known that it’s not really “centralized” at all and you have to drive around to see the various monuments and such. I could’ve then maybe chosen another site, Antietam perhaps, where we could have spent more time outside the car and still been able to see things close-up. That’s not to say that the museum at Gettysburg wasn’t cool; it really was – but adult-cool, not so kid-cool. Keaton, however, was able to earn her third National Park Service “junior ranger” certificate & badge there – so she walked away more than happy.

We had an entire day in D.C., which, as a good friend told me, isn’t a drop in the bucket to how much time you could spend touring that amazing city. What’s more, the heat on our chosen day was pretty much unberable by noon. We started out with a walking-tour map I’d printed from the web and got about half an hour into things before it became readily apparent that the kids (and the adults, I suppose) would surely die if we tried to complete the whole self-guided route that day. So we hopped on a “jump-on, jump-off” tour bus and rode around that way. Even still, the heat made it hard to stay long enough in any one place and therefore hard to gain the right appreciation for each spot we stopped at. Keaton and Cohen were both troopers, but in the end we only lasted about five hours before catching the train back to my aunt and uncle’s place.

Depsite the heat wave, we did get to see most of what I’d wanted to – even if it was more a series of photo-ops instead of the sort of “soak-it-in” kind of thing I had in mind. And we got to spend some time with my aunt, uncle, and cousin – all of whom I’d not seen in years and were met for the first time by our kids. I think Keaton enjoyed her time at their place, tucked away in a gorgeous wooded area of Virginia, more than she did our hot-coal-walk in the nation’s capital. And that’s OK with me; I want her to have a good time on the trip and it’s not for me to determine how that happens. I’d be lying anyway if I said that I didn’t think of their nice cool house once or twice atop the Lincoln Memorial myself.

Williamsburg, you might not know, wasn’t even a planned stop on our route. But after rolling into the sweltering southern east coast June weather we decided it might be a good idea to forgo the intended driving tour of the Blue Ridge Parkway (where the days would be spent winding along at 30MPH getting in-and-out of the vehicle and the nights would be hookup-less and therefore deprived of air conditioning unless we ran the generator) and instead head to Williamsburg (where we’d have full electric hookup and could run the AC to our hearts’ content). The re-route was a big success. We were able to stay cool and spend an entire day bumming around the 17th century streets. I think I enjoyed it as much as Keaton did, as it spoke to my inner caveman/pioneer.

I also had my first major “uh-oh” of the RV lifestyle as we readied to leave the Williamsburg campground. As usual I had planned to dump the black and grey tanks before departing. This is surely the worst job of RVing. It’s smelly, nasty, and no fun at all. There is almost zero chance you will not get liquid waste on your hands as you do it. No, there is… there’s zero chance. After this task you are befouled. Anyway, as much as I don’t like it I’ve become proficient at it. So you might imagine my horror when I’d attached the hose to the site’s sewer line and to the RV, pulled the black water tank release valve, watched the hose get thick with “stuff,” and then realized nothing else was happening.

I shut off the valves immediately; the entire length of the hose was filled, heavy and bulging, but not draining at all into the sewer. I couldn’t pull it without its contents spilling all over the campsite, and I couldn’t seem to will the drainpipe to start working either. In the end it took two campground employees about an hour to clear a pile of mud and rocks (very, very nasty mud and rocks) from the sewer’s trap elbow before I could drain the hose (and tanks). How did we three get the hose out to work on the clogged drain? Yeah we just yanked it out and minimized the spillage as much as possible. The whole ordeal involved a breaker bar, a fishtape, a ShopVac, a hose with an angioplasty-style balloon and high-pressure nozzle, and copious amounts of disgusting. Yuck.

You can check out some highlights of all the aforementioned (well, aside from the sewer incident, which, in retrospect, would’ve made good film) in Keaton’s latest video, which will be posted here as soon as I wing enough bits and bytes through the air from this moving RV to YouTube central.

Until later!

It’s a Friday night, although I had to check the calendar to know. Not knowing what day it is can be a blissful form of ignorance, know it?

Tonight we were supposed to be in a state park in Ohio about forty miles from here. “Here” is where we are; a KOA off I80/I90 east of Toledo. I was tired, and those next thirty miles were not “progress miles,” as I’ve come to call them. What that means, internet friends, is that they were thirty (times two) “diversion miles,” as I’ve come to call them. Sure it’d be nice to stay in a state park near the lake, but this KOA is right here and it’s the same exact price and I don’t have to take an hour hit to our arrival at the ultimate goal: Niagara Falls tomorrow. So this is one case where my pre-planning didn’t pay-off, since we had to take a late-cancellation fee for the state park no-show. I can deal with that. At this point those nickel-and-dime kind of costs seem like a $3,000 carpet upgrade when you’re buying a half-million dollar house; and seem to pale in order of magnitude.

This place is packed tonight; maybe holdover campers from the holiday weekend. Sharaun and Keaton are down doing laundry and I stayed back to get Cohen down for the evening. We drove in around 6pm and I promptly ordered a pizza to our “slip” (again, seafaring lingo seems approppo considering the purpose of this little strip of gravel in which we’re berthed). Yeah we’re those RVers… rolling up past suppertime in a dang rented RV and ordering a pizza to the door. We know how to rough-it, brothers and sisters; we’ve surely had our time in the wilderness. I’m now listening to some live Clapton (the year escapes me, I think mid-70s), drinking a beer purchased from a Super Wal Mart somewhere in Iowa, and writing to keep from falling asleep. The stupid time changed again on us today, losing an hour and putting is in the Eastern zone. At least we’re camped up in this timezone for the next couple weeks.

Hit some pretty bad traffic on I80 around Toledo today. No, scratch that, the interstate sucked from Chicago to Toledo. Funny that the two crappiest stretches of road I’ve driven have been the two toll-roads; there were some “free” roads in South Dakota that put this $8 pothole-ribbon to shame. Somewhere today I was in five lanes of traffic zipping along with tractor-trailers hemming me in on all sides, front and behind. It wasn’t as stressful as you might imagine; I’ve grown very accustomed to the girth of the rig and feel like I handle it pretty well. I do think it requires more dedicated concentration or something, however, making one more “tired” post-drive. Or that could be my imagination.

I gassed-up (and topped off the propane) at some place in Ohio today where the owner of the joint took care of us personally. In fact, I struck up a conversation with the guy, who’d owned and run his little filling and service station since 1973. His son now helps him out. I asked if he’d always had a repair shop and he said yes, that he was made to repair cars for a living and has never regretted the day he didn’t turn his store into a “quickmart” instead of an old-style gas & repair shop. He told me about when BP bought out Amoco in that area and they re-branded the place, but his name-emblazoned coveralls still displayed the Amoco logo on his left breast. We talked about our trip across the country and back, and he offered to drop our postcards into his outgoing mail rather than direct us to the post office in town. I’m serious people… this was something I found uniquely “American,” for whatever reason.

The guy declined my offered tip for the trouble (he had to fill the LP tank from the wrong side, and for the postcards, y’know), telling me instead to “get something nice” for my daughter on our trip instead. All in all I maybe talked to him for twenty minutes but I walked away betting he’d shed the shirt from his back if I’d rolled-up with none of my own, and that he’d do the same for any customer, really. Funny, but those kind of experiences are all “road trip” to me. Yes, of course Mt. Rushmore and Yellowstone and visiting family and friends are road-tripping too… but that kind of Chevy truck commercial “heartland” Marlboro American vibe too contributes.

OK I’m tired. I don’t think I can even upload an image to accompany this post on the crappy KOA wireless, so you get text-only.

Goodnight.

It’s Thursday morning and we’re in Starved Rock State Park in the fine state of Illinois.

The park is beautiful. It rose up surprisingly from the flat fertile land around I80, or rather was cut from it by the Illinois river. Our campsite is decidedly wooded, abosultely thick with quaking aspen and black oak (OK so you got me – learning how to identify tree types is one of those “I should know how to do this” things for me). I picked this place for the simple reason that it was a State Park near the interstate and got lucky. I also scheduled a “zero day” here; a day of no-driving, exploring, napping, and did I mention no driving? The plan is to spend our free-day doing some nice light hiking around the river canyons and bluff areas. Currently, however, the family-except-for-me has decided to go back to sleep and catch some extra Zs on the day. This is fine with me, actually; it’s what these days are for.

In fact it may be needed for Cohen. Poor little guy, for the past two days he’s been running and off-and-on fever of around 100°. Sharaun and I have both attributed this to teething, as he’s got the telltale runny nose and ear-pulling to boot. He’s also got no other cold symptoms, no cough no congestion no anything. Just yesterday, though, he didn’t seem to want to take his afternoon nap and he became pretty irritable.  This morning he woke up early with tears and then wanted to go back down almost right after breakfast.  Like I said, this is more than OK with me… I’m enjoying the solitude and quiet time to write and do nothing, but, man, I hope little-guy isn’t getting sick.

Sharaun, again, reassures me – if Cohen does appear to be sick we just stop by a walk-in clinic in whatever state we might be in that day and get him checked out.  We’re in America, after all, where the healthcare system is internationally lauded, right?  But yes she’s right; even a little sickness wouldn’t do much to stop this rig from rolling right along (unless, of course, the lord-captain and commander were to come down with a case of the breakbone or some other such malady… this vessel would surely founder absent his stern but fair leadership).  So this extra early nap is gravy in my mind.  Let the boy sleep and regain some stamina points; with luck he’ll be up for the bike riding and easy-hiking we have in mind for later today.

Well, as long as these clouds clear, of course.  I mean, it wouldn’t be a day-off on our trip if the forecast didn’t call for cloudy skies and scattered thunderstorms.  Yesterday: sunny; tomorrow: sunny; today: rain.  It’s fitting, I suppose.  I still believe the clouds will lift and we’ll have some nice weather to checkout the surroundings.

Until later then.  Peace out.

Writing from a Sunday night in Black Hills of South Dakota.  Our motor coach is nestled comfy amongst pine needles and grass in the Black Hills of South Dakota, near Hill City.

Today was the first time on this trip I’ve caught myself becoming discouraged and maybe a bit homesick.  We had planned to tour the Crazy Horse Memorial and Mt. Rushmore, both in the Black Hills.  Of course, the stupid rain which has been dogging us the entire trip parked it self above us and paced us right along at our 75MPH clip from Wyoming into Sioux country.  There hasn’t been a day yet on this trip where we haven’t been wet; rain and snow and even some hail in Yellowstone – we’ve seen every flavor of the precipitation part of the water cycle.  As we crested the foothills and got into mountain-carving land the rain became a fine mist and the visibility in general dropped off to maybe a mile.

Crazy Horse was only a blurry sketch of what it should’ve been, shrouded by gray and cloud and watery from the distance.  We spent most of our time inside at the museum and welcome center.  It was there that the weather momentarily bested me.  Staring at the people milling around, all of us I’m sure praying that we’d move from one window to the next and find the clouds somehow miraculously parted and the skies blue and inviting, a malaise washed over me.  “A wasted day,” I thought; “Stupid rain; when is it going to let up?,” I challenged no one.  I should’ve taken a cue from the family – Keaton was enjoying the museum exhibits and taking pictures of her own, Cohen was being the same amazingly well-behaved baby he always is, and Sharaun, no doubt having picked up on my mood, was reassuring and encouraging.  Family’s always got your back, y’know?

Since Crazy Horse was (maybe only to me) largely a bust, we decided that conditions for Mt. Rushmore would be no better and we might as well push that until tomorrow morning in hopes of clearer conditions.  The forecast says it won’t happen, but who knows.  In fact, looking at forecasts for the next few cities we’re in I see rain, rain and more rain.  I’m not sure we’ll escape it.  When am I going to cook these tasty burgers or juicy ribeyes for my family?  See… this is what came over me all at once at Crazy Horse – and it’s pointless.  Sharaun, ever my muse and lighthouse, helped me to see that once we got to camp.  A gorgeous wooded area in the middle of the Custer National Forest, I’m happier now just for her pointing out the obvious: rain and snow and hail and all – this trip is downright amazing.

She’s right.  As she is most of the time when it comes to stuff like this.  I am having such an awesome time.  I spent an hour just tonight rolling around on the bed with Cohen; rain ain’t got nothing on that.  And so with my family to remind me that the best laid plans of mice and men of go awry, and with so much other good times to make up for something not the postcard-perfect vision I had in my head – I’m set.  So don’t worry for me, and don’t let me bring you down.  I’ll be the guy with the smile behind the wheel of the advert-clad 30ft rented RV barreling through the rain and snow and hail on his way to God knows where.

Until later, take care from the road!

When I saw the snow falling around 6pm last night I guessed we might have issues.

When I woke up at 2am, then 3am, then again at 4:30am, each time hearing the soft pit-pat of snow hitting the RV roof above us – I was pretty certain we’d have issues.

We were scheduled to leave Yellowstone yesterday morning from the “east entrance.”  I’d planned four days in the park; the first two nights “dry camping” at different spots and the last two nights at the only place within park boundaries that has full hookups.  The sites were chosen for the different “sides” of the park they’d let us see and explore, and the double-night stay before departure was closest to the eastern exit I’d planned us to use on our way to Mt. Rushmore.

For the most part the plan worked well.  We traversed every not-closed-because-of-snow road in the park, and stopped at all the touristy hot-spots along the way.  We did almost 200mi of driving just within the park.  The only hitch was the weather. I’d expected and planned for some snow.  Maybe some hold-over snow from colder weeks prior, I mean… it’s almost June, right?  But I hadn’t planned for the almost 6″ of fresh powder we got the night before last while snug in our furnace-heated RV.

The east exit I’d banked on using was closed.  “Plan B,” made hastily that same morning, was the northeast exit, but there was a rockslide that same night which closed it off from the southern part of the park.  “Plan C,” then, was the only viable alternative – leaving via the northernmost exit through Gardiner, Montana and then back into Wyoming via Interstate 90.  In a worst-case scenario, this detour would’ve thrown us several hours off our route and would’ve ruined the arrival time at our intended campsite in the Bighorn National Forest.

It just so happens, though, that I’d got a call a week prior saying that Bighorn National Forest campground was closed (due to snow, perhaps a sigul of sorts in hindsight) and they’d refunded my money.  Rather than booking another site I’d chosen to be spontaneous and plan something “on the road” instead.  And, since we had no reservation that night anyway – the unplanned re-route through Montana went by without any problem at all.  We ended up staying at a great little place in Sheridan, Wyoming – a sunny little mom-and-pop RV park where everyone was friendly and there was no rain or snow.  As soon as we pulled into our “slip” (I have no idea what they’re called, the marine terminology seemed appropriate) I was relaxed.  I pulled off the jeans and long-johns and layered shirts and switched to shorts, a t-shirt, and flip-flops.

Plans schmans.

Lastly, Since Keaton’s videos have been covering the journey quite nicely, let’s talk some more about the “grown-up” aspects of the trip (and no, I don’t mean the, “If this RV’s rockin’…” kinda grown-up aspects…).  I’m talking, rather, about the stuff that goes through my mind as I’m thinking about what I’d write about the day-to-day of “RV stuff.”  Maybe about driving?

So far I’ve been the sole driver.  This isn’t some chauvenistic, alpha-male thing; Sharaun could’ve driven at any time.  It’s just that I took the first few days to attune myself to the way the vehicle handled on the road, learning the lines and lane-alignment and particulars of the steering, etc.  Meaning I wanted to drive those days, wanted to take some time and learn the vehicle.  After that we were in Yellowstone and it was raining and snowing and the roads were twisty and turny and had steep dropoffs and no shoulders and all other manner of “oh my word are we going to make it?!” sort of mental barriers.  So, I handled the driving then too – just because I’d already figured it out.  I do anticipate that – as we move out of Yellowstone in the next day or so and head of toward Mt. Rushmore, Badlands, and the greater northeast – Sharaun will get her time behind the wheel as well.  After a day under her belt she’ll be as “accomplished” as I and we’ll have a true husband-and-wife team at the wheel.

I think Keaton’s next video will come after the Badlands/Rushmore/Crazy Horse/Devil’s Tower day… so in a day or two.  In the meantime, I’ll post if the mood strikes.

And with that, goodnight from Wyoming.

Letting Keaton do the posting today; too much work to write and create videos.

Check it out over here @ her blog.