Fossors Inc.

Six miles due north of Thurmond Grocery is a fork in the narrow road that signifies the official location of Devotion, North Carolina.  The Road to Devotion—which sounds like a great blues song—begins near Highway 21, where it resembles most other local thoroughfares.  Four miles down this passage the road departs from traditional tar and gravel, and narrows into a washboard gravel road that ascends into the densely treed countryside.  Most “come-here’s” would notice this dramatic change in the byway and retreat by means of the route that brought them to this impermanent destination.  Being textbook “come-here’s”, we executed a “180” at the nearest single-wide and headed back towards Thurmond Grocery.  It was on our return passage that we encountered a site that stoked our curiosity. 

The opportunity to snap (if that’s the sound digital cameras make) a photo of a cemetery bearing my surname was certainly something that I couldn’t pass up; however, as we walked the grounds, the site became volumes more interesting.

First is the term “Graveyard.”  This designation has long been replaced by less chilling terminology, such as “cemetery” and “memorial gardens.” In some instances the term “cemetery” is replaced by even less death-oriented titles; like “Heaven’s Gates,” “Serene Valley,” and other images of a peaceful afterlife.  The usage of the term “Graveyard” was gruesomely hip.

Another interesting characteristic was that some of the “gravestones” were literally that—stones.  Not the highly polished and artistic memorials that we see in traditional cemeteries; but rather varying sizes of (what appears to be) flagstone driven into the earth.  There are about 100 markers arranged in a very orderly fashion, and although there only been two internments in the last 50-years, the entire plot was meticulously maintained.  The Northwest corner proudly displayed an American flag on a stationary flagpole. 

The most interesting (and confusing) aspect for myself was the term “Incorporated” below the graveyard name.  I’ve seen that term thousands of times—mostly on welcome signs as I’ve passed through remote towns that would barely warrant a dot on a map.  I was completely confused as to why  a private  graveyard would apply for legal incorporation.  To satisfy my curiosity, I turned to my most trusted site for legal advise: Wikipedia.

According to the Wikipedia cyber-Barristers, there are seven legal benefits to filing for incorporation.  Those benefits—as well as a little obligatory kibitz—are outlined below:

1. Protection of personal assets (i.e. safeguarding personal assets against claims of creditors and lawsuits).  Not entirely sure that the condition of any personal assets at this point are of any value.  Additionally, I’m inclined to believe that certain Statute of Limitation laws will provide protection for the residing souls.
2. (Ease of) Transferable ownership.  To maintain this graveyard, there will certainly need to be continuity of upkeep; however, I don’t see a clear connection between ownership and maintenance.  With regards to cemetery ownership as a business, I keep hearing Bill’s (Michael Keaton) quote in the 1982 film Night Shift: “Hey, Chuck (Henry Winkler)...this is what you bought? A cemetery? [Ha! Ha! Ha!] Chuck, you know what? This might not be a bad idea...people gotta die, right? Why can't they just die for us? We just sit back and rake it in.  Chuck and Bill's Cemetery!!! [Bill looks around for a moment] Hey Chuck, this one's full!!!"
3. Retirement funds and qualified retirements plans, such as a 401(k), may be established more easily.  Does not seem applicable until someone figures out how to "take it with 'em."
4. Taxation: In the U.S., corporations are taxed at a lower rate than individuals are; and can own shares and receive tax-free corporate dividends.  Even if there were dividends (and I’m unclear of the source of revenue in this case), I’m inclined to quote The Beatles: “Now my advice for those who die; Declare the pennies on your eyes.  Cos I'm the taxman, yeah, I'm the taxman.”  ‘Nuff said.
5. Raising funds through sale of stock.  Just the thought of buying graveyard stock gives a whole new meaning to “Black Friday.”
6. Durability: A corporation is capable of continuing indefinitely. It’s existence is not affected by the death of shareholders, directors, or officers of the corporation.  Not only is the existence not affected by the death of shareholders, directors, or officers of the corporation…it’s dependent upon it!
7. Credit rating: Regardless of an owner's personal credit scores, a corporation can acquire its own credit rating, and build a separate credit history by applying for and using corporate credit.  “Whoever is generous to the poor lends to the Lord, and he will repay him for his deed” (Proverbs 19:17).  Apparently there is a system of loans and credit in the after-life; but no mention of heavenly favoritism of incorporations.

Of course no story about an incorporated graveyard on a lonesome mountain road in rural North Carolina would be complete without a redbone coonhound reference. 

This fine specimen of Appalachian porch pooch greeted us upon our arrival, and (when I bent down to pet her) made sure she stuck her tongue in my eyes, ears, and mouth.  I never did get a formal name, but after her forward behavior I nicknamed her Bathsheba.  She made her rounds as resident curator, and spent her days living the dream…guarding the boneyard.

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Stone Mountain State Park (NC)

 

A short stroll from the original Elk Spur Primitive Baptist Church (constituted December 1873)—and from where the existing Elk Spur Baptist Church (erected 1900)—lies the entrance to Stone Mountain State Park (NC).  This expansive park was established in 1969, and sits adjacent to the community of  Roaring Gap—named for the sound the wind makes as it rolls through the mountains and valleys. 

The centerpiece of this 14,000+ acre park is the granite monadnock that rises more than 60-stories above the surrounding deciduous canopy, providing challenging (read: dangerous) rock-climbing activities.  The parks boasts 16+ miles of hiking trails that connect a pair of waterfalls and a restored mid-19^th century mountain homestead.  The park is meticulously maintained with the assistance of full-time volunteers—such as “Wild Bill” Watkins (The Citadel, Class of ’77) and his canine sidekick “Clementine.” 

The roaring wind drove us to keep our awning safely stowed in the “travel” position, as the swirling down-drafts raced  down the multiple mountain troughs, where they intersected at the campground.  With this wind came the second round of the polar vortex that moved across the region.  More cold-weather preparation was underway, as we added an additional electric heater, and duct-taped the external refrigeration access panel.  

Of all the unusual items that we tote around with us, one that is oddly utilitarian are a couple of pieces of lumber.  These two 2”x10”x6’  pressure-treated timbers were cut to length with tapered ends, and painted with a bright-yellow strip at the midline.  We had toted these for hundreds of miles without needing them, but due to the unlevel (left to right) grade of the RV pad, we found it necessary to stack these planks and elevate one side and level the RV (see prior blog entry regarding the importance of leveling the RV).

Stone Mountains Falls trail is an easy-to-moderate hike that starts at the upper falls, then proceeds to the middle and lower falls.  The upper falls are the tallest at over 200’, and the base pool is accessible by means expansive wooden stairway system that has been erected adjacent to the falls.  

The middle and lower falls follow a more primitive—yet clearly defined—trail that follows the Rhododendron lined Big Sandy Creek and is an easy hike.

The park was popular during the weekend, with locals heading to the hills to get away from the rigors of daily life.  Once parked, the naturalist zealots quickly set-up their “glamping “ accessories; complete with satellite TV, turkey fryers, and flags of allegiance to their most favorite NASCAR drivers.  There was a definitive contrast between the suburbia-flavored campground and the adjacent unspoiled wilderness.

If there are any downsides to this park, it is the access to the outside world.  First, there is zero cell phone service.  This can be a blessing or a curse depending upon your need for cell phone service.  Second, there is zero antenna TV reception.  Again, this can be a blessing or a curse, depending upon your perspective.  Considering the abnormal weather patterns that were partly guiding our plans, it was more of a curse.  Lastly, the entry/exit gates were closed and locked at 7pm.  Previous campgrounds had a “closing time” for their gates, but they were either 1) much later; or 2) they provided an automatic gate with pass-code to enter/exit after-hours.  At this park, we were essentially on lock-down.   Reminded me of a few special times on Okinawa where undesirable actions by a few military personnel resulted in everyone being on an over-restrictive curfew.  Regardless, we had no problem making it back to camp prior to the gate closing; but this came at the expense of us limiting our local excursions…but not that much.

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Boydton (VA) Redux

We found ourselves only 16-miles east of our first stop in a holding pattern, awaiting the first wave of early winter weather to pass through the Blue Ridge.  North Bend Campground is another US Army Corp of Engineer project that sits adjacent to a massive dam that helps maintain this expansive lake.

We caught a lucky break in finding this site, as many of these campgrounds close for the season on November 1^st.  This particular campground keeps roughly 25 sites open throughout the winter season.  We drove our rig through the somewhat tight trail and backed it onto a gravel pad that had a respectable downward grade, and many trees lining the narrow driveway.  I didn’t travel as many miles positioning the RV as I did at Rudd’s Creek, but I was twice as nervous…as the room to maneuver was t-i-g-h-t, and the trees refused to yield. 

After the initial set-up, I thought it would be nice to have a campfire.  Our camp neighbors at Rudd’s had donated their unused firewood to us, and I seized the opportunity to add more ambiance to the evening. Prior to leaving our base camp in Gloucester, my father donated his axe to the expedition.  He had spent time ensuring it was razor honed, and ensured me it would cut through anything that it should fall upon…including my hand.  Within the first hour of set-up, Kristy was using her paramedic skillz of days-gone-by to close-up an axe wound.  After placing a few steri-strips and some bandaging , she sent me on my way to resume my ambiance-building project.

 About a hundred feet behind our campsite was a really nice white-sandy beach that led to areas of the campground that were closed for the season.  This gave us a nice walking path to take the hounds on their scheduled walks…and unscheduled swims.  I’m sure there’s a time where a wet dog while traveling is an absolute joy.  I have yet to find one of those times. 

At the entrance to the campground loop is a small cemetery with a sign stating “Mays Chapel,” which was a Baptist chapel named after a 9-year old girl—May Land—who died in 1894 and was buried at this location.  The cemetery is small, with roughly 20 tombstones scattered throughout.  

One interesting observation is that there are about a dozen grave-sized depressions scattered about, with no markings.  We were unsure if this was the result of the bodies be exhumed and buried at other cemeteries; or if this was the result of settling after the wooden coffins rotted.  At first I wondered why someone would put a cemetery in such a remote lake-side location; but then I realized that this was once a peaceful hilltop, overlooking a forested valley…until the 1950’s when the valley became a lake.

The weather turned cold.  The absolute temperature was only about  30F, but the humidity stayed in the 80-100% range; and the wind blew a steady 20 mph with gusts to 30 mph.  Hard to imagine, but it was too cold to sit next to a campfire.  The knees were hot to the touch, but the back was going numb.  We headed inside to the comforts of the propane-fuelled heater.  The RV heater worked well during the  colder weather, but the wind convection caused us to burn through our tanks at a rapid pace.

You may not consider getting propane tanks filled as being an exercise in your transition from the military to civilian life, but this simple task showed me that I needed work on my day-to-day expectations, as well as finding my non-military rhythm.   

I arrived at a roadside metal building that was adorned with cigarette, beer, and lottery signs covering the pealing paint.  To the side was a large propane tank that appeared to be operational—which was encouraging to me considering the very rural setting.  After passing the fishing tackle, ammo, and disproportionately large jerky display, I asked the oldest staff member how I could go about getting my propane tank filled.   What followed was nothing short of a mini-seminar on human emotions and cultural priorities.  

Her first reaction was one of pain, with her face contorting as though someone had shot a stream of cold air into an exposed tooth nerve.  That was followed by the hissing sounds as she laboriously drew in air across her narrowly pursed mouth—teeth barely showing, but still showing.  Then the oration  phase began, as she painstakingly explained the current situation at this market of rural commerce.

“Uh….uh…<more hissing>…you see, the guy who does that…<more hissing>…well…you see, he’s not here right now…and <more hissing> uh…I don’t know when he’ll be back…you see…’cause he’s…uh…deer season just started you see…and…uh…he’s out hunting.”

I told her I completely understood, told her to wish him luck in “bagging his buck,” bought a Pepsi product (as this store sold NO Coke products) and walked pass the disproportionately large jerky display as I headed out the door.

I arrived back at the camp—propaneless—to find Kristy watching the weather forecast and searching for our next bed-down site.  I found someone the next day who would fill my tanks—probably one of those "tree-hugger" types who refuse to participate in the Bambi-kill-a-thon.  A break in the cold weather was coming soon, and we remained determined to get into higher elevations.   We hitched-up and headed west on US 58, then took a hard left at Danville, Virginia; a hard right a Greensboro, North Carolina; an headed into the North Carolina hills.

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Boydton (VA)

At 11:45 AM on the last Saturday in October, our much anticipated journey was underway.  A little over three hours later, we checked-in at our first stop—Rudd’s Creek Campground in Boydton, Virginia.  This densely tree-laden recreational plot is a partial by-product of the US Army Corp of Engineers creation of the 50,000 acre John H. Kerr Reservoir.  After traveling 170-miles , I added another ten in a metronomic exercise of pulling forward and backing up—trying to get the RV perfectly positioned on the narrow campsite pad. 

Once leveled, with water and electric hooked-up, the realization took hold that our future dreams had arrived.  We sat there, enjoying the moment.  The towering oaks and maples providing a pastel canopy above us; the crows gossiping loudly from their lofty domain; the earthy smell of the fallen damp leaves composting back towards the roots that once fed them; and the drays of squirrels as they leap from the crunchy fallen leaves and seemingly dismiss the laws of gravity as they move amongst the timbers with effortless precision. 

We were in a trance of sensory overload, reaching that most excellent relaxation point, when…

…SSSCCCHHHWWWWAAACCCKKKK!!!!!

From out of nowhere came this unnatural, crackenly-harsh sound—like someone shot a jaw-breaker with a sling-shot against the roof of our slide  With the abrupt and rude end to our tranquil state, we quickly tried to diagnose the sound.  Hail?  Kids with sling-shots & jaw-breakers?  Then it happened again; but this time the it hit on the rubber roof…and bounced all the way down the RV.  Then another one, with the same pattern.  I thought to myself, “Those damn squirrels are playing craps on my roof!”  It was at that moment that I stepped to the door to see if I could spot what had hit the roof with such force.  I looked around, but saw nothing except a bunch of leaves and acorns littering the campsite.  <DOH!>

"Today's mighty oak is yesterday's nut that held its ground."  - David Icke

Even though many years had passed since we set camp trail-side on the Appalachian Trail, we immediately resumed our foraging habits—collecting fallen limbs for our campfire, and stumbling upon a bounty of black walnuts in a secluded grove.  It was at this location that we were able to witness the birth of one of these prodigious trees, which live to be 130-years. 

A short drive from Rudd’s Creek is the historic town of Boydton, Virginia.  Although this small (524 acres), sparsely populated (427) town would make an excellent living stage for Back To The Future XII, it also boasts some historic interests.  The most popular is The Boyd Tavern, an 18^th Century structure that exudes the classic colonial era architectural lines.

“In the middle of the road, you see the darndest things.” – The Pretenders; Middle of the Road

Another notable site in Boydton is the site of the Boydton Plank Road.  Although the original road has been long gone, a replicated static display sits on the edge of town with an authentic wagon from that period.  The original road was constructed using wooden planks 8-feet long, 1-foot wide, and 4-inches thick.  This road—totaling 73-miles (380,000+ planks)—connected the agrarian tobacco & wheat communities with the urban shipping markets.  In 1853 it was considered a superior roadway—free of potholes and ruts—and it would not be until the 1930’s when a hard-surface road would be built to rival its reliability. 

Although these two historic displays are interesting and impressive, the most impressive fact about Boydton cannot be found in Boydton.   During the course of American military history, millions have served; however, only a miniscule percent earned the distinction of “Buffalo Soldier.”  Similarly, The Congressional Medal of Honor—being an exceedingly rare award—has only been presented 3,468 times.  On June 11, 1850, Sergeant Henry Johnson was born in Boydton.  He holds the distinction of being only 1 of 18 individuals who were both Buffalo Soldier and Congressional Medal of Honor recipient.  Unfortunately there are no schools, libraries, or statues in Boydton honoring Sergeant Johnson.  On cool October night just outside Boydton, sitting next to a campfire reminiscent of those that use to burn on the open plains, a toast was raised in honor of an exceptional American soldier.

After taking-in the local culture and nature, we cast our eyes further westward—the Blue Ridge Mountains.  As we made our plans to increase our elevation, forecasts of freezing temperatures and snow began to cloud the equation.  To further complicate things, Rudd’s Creek would be closing for the season in a few days.  We decided to take a chance and delay our trek towards the hills—just to see how the weather would play out.  By chance an older camper told us about another Corp of Engineer campground that—although advertized it closes 1 November—keep one small loop open year-round.  This campground was only 16-miles away.  It was a good “Plan B” should the weather not cooperate.  November 1 arrived.  The weather report from the mountains was not favorable.  “Plan B” was promoted to “Plan A”, and we chartered a short course for North Fork Campground.

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Mods, Maintenance, & Mentations of Meandering

Our summer base camp was on my family’s homestead, which made the last preparation phase much easier.  We had access to a variety of tools that we would never consider taking on-the-road with us, and we also had a solid delivery address for any mail-order sundries that we felt necessary for the trip. After 4-months, hundreds of hours of research, and traveling 2,500+ miles, we rolled into our summer base camp to begin the final preparation of our excursion.

In addition to the RV itself, The Patterson’s included all of the RV-specific accessories—as well as copious amounts of interior niceties—in the sale price.  We were in a good position, as we now only had the task of determining what would be upgraded or go into storage. 

“It is a bad plan that admits of no modification.”  - Publilius Syrus

One of the first changes was the television.  The RV was equipped with two televisions—one in the living area and a smaller one in the bedroom.  Both of these sets were a bit dated, and had a combined weight of roughly 100 lbs.  We had mostly lived without TV while in Japan (anyone who has survived the AFN experience can understand why), so we weren’t focused on the “entertainment center” aspect of having a TV as much as we were cognizant that we might want to watch an occasional movie and catch the local news.  With this in mind, the “main” TV was replaced with our iMac, and the bedroom TV was upgraded to a 19” flat-panel LCD (which set us back a Benjamin).   Since an iMac does not possess native TV/cable capabilities, we added an El Gato Homerun (Mac-compatible) TV tuner.  Now we would be able to use our computer as a TV monitor, as well as a computer.

THE critical component to our rig was upgraded communication.  After exploring all the various methods to stay in touch with the world, (i.e. satellite receivers, wi-fi boosters, etc.) we opted to utilize cellular data via Verizon Jetpack 4G LTE.  To add some “UMPH!” to our data access, we incorporated a Wilson Electronics Sleek 4G cellular booster—expecting to be near the margins of civilization at times.  Lastly, we configured our Mac Mini (using the bedroom TV as a monitor) to create a secured network encompassing our RV.  This allows us to bring in the cellular data through one egress point, then broadcast a secure wi-fi signal for roughly 100’ of the RV. 

Other mentionable upgrades were the addition of an portable/lightweight gas grill (so we don’t heat up the rig cooking); a compact vacuum (as the leaves & dog hair will bury us if we don’t stay on top of them); a rice cooker (still missing Okinawa); a table-top roaster (as a secondary oven that runs off electricity versus propane); and a funky little ladder that can also be utilized as a scaffold.

Our most costly infrastructure upgrade focused on power production and usage.  One of our objectives during the trip is to do some “boondocking” on public lands.  With this in mind, we purchased a pair of Honda 2000 generators (with parallel connectivity capability) as our “off-the-grid” power source.  Boondocking also requires the use of your “house batteries”, so power conservation is a key strategy in projecting how long you can operate without “shore power.”  With that in mind, we replaced nearly all of the interior “traditional” light bulbs with LED technology.  To our surprise, the lights not only consumed a fraction of the energy, but also burned noticeably brighter. 

We culminated the modifications by placing a horseshoe above the door for luck…as we have done in every place we’ve lived for the past 20-years.

"My mom said the only reason men are alive is for lawn care and vehicle maintenance."   – Tim Allen

As meticulous as The Patterson’s were in maintaining the RV, every piece of equipment requires constant care—especially in areas of heavy usage.  We took advantage of our parked location and performed thorough maintenance, top to bottom. 

Lubrication of gears and slides was an important item.  These slides weigh hundreds of pounds, and the gearing is exposed to various types of road debris & chemical run-off.  If these slides won’t go out, you live in a narrow broom closet.  If they won’t go in, you can’t move.  The other important gears are incorporated into the front “landing gear.”  If you can’t move your landing gear, you can’t level your rig.  If you can’t level your rig, you can’t move your slides in or out (see aforementioned issues with slides not being able to move).

Our transient home will likely endure worse weather than the average stick-frame home over the next year.  When the temps are high and the sun is hot, the roadways will create a micro-climate that will be much hotter than houses surrounded by lawns.  Should be travel during the rain, our home will endure 60 MPH winds and driving rain for several hours at a time.  Not many traditional homes will face this environment as often.  Since we will be intentionally encountering climatic extremes, we paid special attention to ensuring exterior seals were intact.  During this process, hundreds of feet of re-caulking was performed with marine-grade caulk; the entire roof was washed and a special rubber-roof sealant was applied (as well as specialized roof caulking applied); and the entire 900+ sq ft exterior was wash/waxed.  This fastidious task forced us to examine every square inch—hundreds of bolts & screws—to ensure our rig was able to endure the stressors of a year of road travel…but it also gave us confidence in our equipment.

Alice: "Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?"
Cheshire Cat: "That depends a good deal on where you want to get to."
Alice: "I don't much care where.”
Cheshire Cat: "Then it doesn't matter which way you go.”

Throughout this entire process, we discussed all the places we’d like to go.  Nested in these conversations was the big question, “Which location will be first?” It was now mid-October, and we were much more delayed in our departure than our original timeline parameters of August/September.  

An initial idea was to make our first stop at Loft Mountain (near Waynesboro, VA), as this was where we developed our mutual love for hiking and camping while we were dating.  After a short escape to Loft Mountain in the summer, we realized that it had become a really popular destination, and the quiet serenity we once endured was not commonplace. This location was also fleeting, as the camping season was nearing it’s end and most of the National Park campgrounds were closing within a few weeks.

Another idea was to head back to New England.  We enjoyed the scenery and culture, and we’d always wanted to visit Acadia National Park.  The fall leaves were in full bloom, and the weather (at least at this moment) was tolerable.  Acadia was certainly on “the list,” but it was not what we considered to be a one-day drive…other stops along the way would need to be planned. 

This planning introduced enough questions to fill a fish-bone diagram (blue marlin sized) and send chills up Steven Covey’s spine.  Although our unanswered questions were numerous, these four drove our decision process.

Questions:

1. Which direction should we head?
2. How many miles/hours should we travel per leg?
3. How much time should we spend at each location?
4. What type of facilities should we stay at? (Private or State/Federal)

Answers:

1. Being situated next to the Chesapeake Bay, we could rule out “East.”  Regardless of our direction, we would first travel though Richmond (VA) en route to anywhere. 
2. After the “sea-trials,” we found that (at least for now) we were comfortable traveling up to 4-hours per leg.  We could go further, but that would come at the expense of 1) being road-weary upon arrival; and 2) possibly setting-up camp in evening light. 
3. This was NOT a cannonball run, and it was NOT a race around the country.  It was OUR chance to see all the things we’ve always wanted to see.  For that reason we decided that we should spend at least a few days (3-4 minimum) at each location so that we 1) could take in all the local/regional culture; and 2) wouldn’t feel like rock-star roadies—always breaking-down and putting-up equipment on an aggressive tour pace.
4. Although we really enjoyed the KOA/private campgrounds, we have always been more at home walking through nature trails and sitting in spacious meadows—free from the civilized icons of miniature golf courses and video game rooms (although I still love a good game of pinball).

 The answer to our core questions—as well as (mostly) ruling-out Loft Mountain and the rapidly approaching winter season—made plotting our course easier.  We’d travel to Richmond, and from there it’s North (I-95)/Northwest (I-64) or South (I-95)/South-Southwest (I-85).  With each leg of our trip moving us slower than we normally traveled, coupled with the added bed-down time at each location; we calculated that we’d find ourselves still in Maine as late as Thanksgiving.  Not confident of our winter camping skillz, we leaned towards a southern route. 

After plotting a southern route, limiting our travel to a 4-hour radius and giving preference to State/Federal campgrounds, we had a very manageable list to choose from.  We made reservations and did what we’d done for the past 30+ years: said goodbye to our family & friends, and charted a path to territory we’d never experienced.

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"Sea Trials"

It took us two days to get from Virginia to buy the RV, so it was going to take us a few days to get back to our home base.  When we left the Patterson Farm in Durham, the sum of our RV experience was 1-hour of over-the-road towing, and 3-days of living (at the Patterson’s) in an RV.  Labeling us as novices would be the kindest of descriptors.  Understanding that we’d need to prepare for at least one overnight, we decided to use the trip back as our version of “Sea Trials”—trials that would give us an initial idea as to how much we needed to learn. 

“…there are unknown unknowns—the one’s we don’t know we don’t know.”  - Donald Rumsfeld

Determined NOT to drag our newest purchase through NYC, we headed West on I-85.  I was learning the “feel” of the additional 34’ attached to the lengthy truck; and Kristy was earning her chops as navigator.  Unlike to trip northward, all decisions now had increased risks.  Taking an arbitrary exit ramp could put you on a road that is has low overhangs; or worse yet…no place to turn around and get back on the interstate.  Our lack of experience in foreseeing these types of pitfalls consumed the forefront of our thoughts.

While holding a steady course westward amongst the experienced “semi drivers,” Kristy was actively looking for a place for us to bed-down for the night.  She called out a name that was very familiar to me; but not one I ever expected to hear again: Scranton. 

Tucked away in the hills between the townships of Scranton & Wilks-Barre is a small get-away called Francis Slocum State Park.  With our internet connection coming in and out of consciousness, we managed to secure one of the few remaining RV sites in this park…a pull-through.

[Important side note]  While in Durham, Bill Patterson “highly recommended” that I seek out “pull through” RV sites, as they do not require any backing skills.  At this point in my RV towing portfolio, I had successfully backed an RV…once.  With a decades of experienced direction…which I no longer had access to.

A funny thing happened on the way to Francis Slocum State Park…we took a wrong turn.  I have always been a firm believer that “every road leads somewhere.”  I now must add an errata, which changes that belief to “every road leads somewhere, but you may not be able to drag an RV down it.”  After taking a wrong turn, I calmly (which is a complete lie) turned to my navigator and said in my best Captain Kirk voice, “I need you to get me out of here.”  Being the cool & calm navigator that she is, she pulled up Google Maps on the iPad and proceeded to find a corrective route…while I continued to give my best Wrongway Feldman impersonation (minus the 64 bottles of scotch). 

It’s amazing what you don’t notice until you’re in a tight spot.  One seldom glances at the gas gauge until it is resting far left.  One may never check the gauge of a fire extinguisher until holding said extinguisher in front of a fire that threatens to consume important stuff.  So it is with Google Maps.  One never realized that—although the “road” looks like it is an acceptable route to a desired destination—the adjacent obstacles (i.e. cars parked on the street, light poles affixed where the corner curb meets the asphalt, overhead banners announcing the coming kielbasa festival) are easily overlooked from the hybrid-aerial view.  In the end, no light-poles, side-view mirrors, or pedestrians were injured in the expansion of my towing portfolio.

We arrived at Francis Slocum State Park, wound our way to our reserved pull-through slot and set chocks.  Being anxious to try out our new rig, we opted to stay for a few nights to immerse ourselves in this new lifestyle.  

Although we were certified rookies, we quickly learned a few lessons:

• Most State/Federal parks prohibit alcoholic beverages; however, pouring them into red Solo cups nullifies any alcohol and makes consumption completely legal.
• If the RV pad site is listed as being able to accommodate 38-feet, it could mean that you and 18 friends can stand barefoot within the borders.
• No matter how far North you travel, you will find a trailer with a Confederate flag flying from the front.
• People will always try to help you position/set-up your rig…even if they’ve never done it themselves.
• No mater what campground you visit, the unattended kids will always congregate in front of your site.
• Never—EVER—take a hangover to a dump station (details in future post).

After a few days, we continued our journey back to Virginia, but needed to find another interim lily pad en route.   Taking the advice of our only RV mentors (Bill & Jane), we landed at a KOA campground outside of Staunton, Virginia.  After setting-up, we realized why the price was higher than the government parks.  Electric, water, sewer, CABLE, trash pick-up, swimming pool, and a game room with an original Ms Pac-Man machine.   It was nice to have a more spacious lay-out, and even nicer to actually relax for the first time in over a week.  We put our “Sea Trials” on hold for a few days and just enjoyed the Shenandoah climate.  We knew we still had work to do before we hit the road for good, but this lake-side spot provided a timely breather.

After a few days we pulled chocks and headed down I-64, arriving at our base camp in Gloucester, Virginia.   The big pieces of the puzzle were in place.  Now just a small amount of polishing and it would be time to get underway.

wWw

In Pursuit of The “Dream House” Part II

With a clear vision of what brands/models of RVs we wanted, the hunt was on.  Similar to the used truck hunt described in earlier blogs, we scoured the internet ads for a used RV that met our parameters.  Although we’d not yet begun our extended road-trip, we were calling ourselves “Full-Timers” and making our preparations as such.  It would be dishonest to suggest that we were not anxious & nervous about finding our RV.  The search for the tow vehicle was long, with continual disappointments.  This fact was not comforting considering that the number of Dodge Rams produced FAR EXCEEDED the limited number of specific brands/models of RVs we were searching for.

“Where there is no vision, the people perish.” - Proverbs 29:18

Most mornings began with…of course…coffee…then hours of faithful searching for our RV.  A sought-after brand was advertised within 50-miles of us, but after closer inspection we found the RV to be lacking…everywhere.  Weeks went by without much promise, then one morning Kristy bounded into the kitchen (she’d been surfing in bed again) and simply stated, “We need to go to Connecticut.”  Five days after my official retirement date, we quickly threw together stuff we needed for an impromptu road trip and headed to New England.

This trip was also the inaugural long-journey for our recently purchased truck.  We’d traveled local, but now we began to get an idea as to what it would feel like to be riding in the truck for several consecutive hours.  After many hours and miles, we stopped at Casa La Quinta near the Delaware/Pennsylvania line.  The heavy-duty stiff suspension gave us an exceedingly F-I-R-M ride, and we were ready for a good night’s rest.  The next day was another day of miles Northward.  After putting a couple hundred miles on the RAM, I was beginning to get the “road feel” for driving this larger vehicle.  Early afternoon on day-2 I took my final driving exam: navigating a 21-foot long/8.5-foot wide vehicle through New York City.  

Final Exam Grades:

• Staying in lane: B+
• Deciphering hand gestures: C-
• Driving like a New Yorker: F

Day-2 ended at the La Quinta B&B in New Britain, Connecticut.  We were tired, but we were also anxious to see what tomorrow held.

On Day-3 we drove to Durham CT to meet the owners and inspect the RV.  Durham is the stereotypical image of rural Connecticut, with rolling hills and dated building that weep of history.  We arrived at the home of Bill & Jane Patterson, who welcomed us in as if we were family.  The RV was parked down the hill behind their home, and was in “habitation” (versus “storage”) mode.  We spend the morning looking in every crack & crevice; and asking all the predictable questions that emerge when purchasing a used vehicle from a private seller.   Although we verbalized that we needed to “think about” if we were going to buy this RV, we knew within the first 15-minutes that this was The One.  We shortly relayed our intention on purchasing the RV, which sounded the beginning of a administrative process of monetary transfers and titling.  

The funds transfer took a few days, and the titling could not be completed until the title was signed-over to us…which could not happen until the funds transfer occurred.  Although they owed us nothing as the sellers, The Patterson’s offered to have us stay on their property in Our new purchase during this administrivia pursuit.  Not only did this time give us a chance to gain a little experience in an area that was completely foreign to us, but they spent hours each day giving us instruction and helpful tips on living in an RV.  This mini-RV boot camp was nothing short of a blessing, and an “accessory” that you couldn’t get though your typical RV dealership.  Our RV workshop culminated in Bill accompanying me on a “check ride” through the narrow New England roads.  This was an invaluable experience and massive confidence-booster, as Bill had served as a semi-truck driver instructor for years before his retirement.  With the final turns of a screw, firmly securing the temporary tags to the back of our RV…we were ready to hit the road.  We bid farewell to our new friends, and planned a route back to Virginia that did not involve The Big Apple.

The hum of the Cummings engine; the weight of the RV softening the overly-firm ride of the truck; The Boys with their heads hanging out the back windows…tongues flapping in the wind; and me sitting next to my Soul Mate as we headed towards our future.  It finally felt like our dreams were coming true.  It all felt right.

wWw

In Pursuit of The “Dream House” Part I

During my Active Duty years, I would tell people that I worked to finance my vacations.  SO, if they wanted to motivate or reward me, a gift certificate didn’t mean much, but some free days off?  Sign me up!  It was during some of those vacations that this idea or dream we are about to embark upon took shape.  We first began talking about touring the country in an RV during our mid 20s…it really has been a dream for a very long time.

We have camped and hiked most of our adult lives.  Our last camping trip before moving to Okinawa, where the  ‘stars were like the diamonds in the night of West Texas’… inspired us.  We took all our backpacking gear and tents with us to a small, densely populated sub-tropical island in the South China Sea.  I know, on paper it sounds ridiculous, but in your head...a much different picture.  Alas…the jungle is no place to camp, and the beaches that allowed camping not only had certain seasons and fees, but most didn’t allow quad-peds.  SO…our gear sat untouched while we dreamed our dreams.

We did a little bit of research before our departure from Okinawa and began to squirrel money away to finance the “dream house.”  Once we began looking online, the choices were simply overwhelming.  If you’ve ever been deployed, you may be able to appreciate when back in “the land of multiple choices,” a simple Walmart trip can quickly become overwhelming.  Well, this also holds true for a small island…as well as an uneducated recreational vehicle purchaser!

Some of the best times in my life have involved blisters on my feet, bruises on my hips from a heavy pack, and rings of salt on the brim of my hat.  Under the stars…oh how I love to fall asleep to the symphony of nature while looking up at a sparkling, starry-filled sky.  So I was convinced for our extended trip around the country that a pop-up or hybrid style trailer was our answer.  We could bring in the sides if it was raining or too cold, but also feel like we were in a tent and zip open to look at the stars at night.  Heck, brand new trailers like this were not only in our budget, but came-in under budget!  When I floated this idea to Wes he reminded me of the times camping in pop-ups and waking up with wet pillows from the wicking rain, or drips of condensation hitting us between the eyes.  In researching a remedy for this, I found that this was such a common issue that there are special covers designed to go over your canvas sides to “help prevent” the wicking situation.  In the end, it was clear that the pop-ups and hybrids would have some water issues…even if limited; so they were off the list.

Ok…what about a motorhome, travel trailer, or “5th-wheel?” Motorhomes were never on the table after we saw one on the side of the road near Marathon Texas many years ago en route to Big Bend National Park.  Now those poor people were out of a place to sleep and a vehicle.  Not to mention being at the mercy of whatever the guy up the road charged to fix the problem.   With travel trailers or “Fivers” remaining on the list, Wes recommended light-weight so we didn’t have to sink half a fortune in a big ol’ pickup truck.  He was working on researching the hauler and gave me weight parameters.  Once I had those and a budget, the searching began.

Now, initially space for the two of us seems like an easy equation…but add in a couple of Golden Retrievers that weigh near 150 lbs total, and space becomes important.  Especially since we have traveled with The Boys in the past and some small hotel rooms required them to be on the bed in order to walk around the room.  No one was happy in those cramped quarters.  Travel trailers have come a long way with multiple slides and home-like amenities…but the blogs all said the sway with winds and semi-trucks passing was challenging, if not dangerous.  SO, another window narrowed down to fifth wheels.  My Aunt Judy had a fifth wheel many years ago and they can be compact for travel and spacious when in use.  They had traveled in Motorhomes, travel trailers, and fifth wheels, and I recall her saying how much easier the fifth wheel was to maneuver.  Finally—a basket of choices my mind could handle!

I began sending e-mails to dealerships stateside based on what we could see online and thought we liked.  While in Okinawa, using our smallish apartment for comparison, we measured out what kind of space requirements we thought we would need.  I had read that in order to be able to get into any park in the country, your RV needed to be under or at 30 feet.  Seemed reasonable…until we learned that before the ‘07 crash, RVing had a huge resurgence and manufacturers were meeting demand with monster fifth wheels.  It seemed no one made anything under 32 feet.  In fact, if you wanted to “full time” they almost all were 36-40 feet with multiple slides.  This means not lightweight and not cheap!  I never knew you could spend as much for a fifth wheel as a new home…lots to learn.

Once back stateside, the touring of RVs began to gain some speed.  As we both reached out to people we knew who had owned fifth wheels, based on their experiences, it seemed that our local choices, were the “Kia’s of fifth wheels.”  Damn! What now? Consumer Reports didn’t rate RVs.  Thank goodness for the internet as countless hours spent on blogs revealed an answer.  Consensus online was purchasing the one and only ratings database was money well-spent to help weed out the poorly made RVs on the market.  SO, we took the “old-timers” advice and bought the database.

WOW!!!  I mean WOW!!!  Eyes wide open now!  It seems that just like classifications for vehicles as in “family-friendly” or “off-road,” RVs also have a classification system.   Recreational Vehicles are classified according to usage and conditions as in ‘”weekenders”, “snow-birds”, “full timers”, and off-road adventuring.   Since we anticipated being on the road less than a year, snow birding and full timing rated vehicles with ratings no lower than 80% for value, safety, and reliability were our criteria.  Suddenly the window of thousands of choices was limited to about 20.  Ok, I can handle this!

 Now that I was armed with a more manageable list, sticker shock set in.  The choices were well outside of our initial budget and I began to realize that due to inexperience, we based our budget on pretty and not functional.   The book that came with the database titled,  “How to buy and inspect an RV,” taught me that sometimes in the RV world- not always- but sometimes- you get what you pay for.   SO I stopped looking at price tags and began to search in earnest for a “dream house.”  The few remaining RV manufacturers out there that survived the “great recession,” made the search even easier.  While there are a few “Full time” and “snow bird”  RV manufacturers that make 30 ft long fifth wheels, they didn’t make many.  SO, we compromised on shooting for a used, 32 ft. long “fiver” that met our criteria and the list is now down to only 5 or 6 manufacturers.  Whew!  I know…a lot  of writing (and months of our lives) to finally come to a decision.

And now that we have made a decision and come to some conclusions, it’s time for something (sort of) completely different.  We decided to rent an A-frame trailer from a local base and go camping for a week or so.  Not only to get away to the mountains, but also to look for a used truck, and see if maybe, just maybe we can live in something smaller.   It was quite a trip!

- klw