Disclaimer: I completely understand that it doesn’t make a lot of sense to get on a tram that hangs from some cables and makes its way up the side of a mountain (and swings a bit when you pass by one of the supporting towers) if you’re afraid of heights, but here we are, or there I was.
This is the tram I rode up and down the side of Sandia Peak after the New Year. Amazingly, it also carries hundreds of gallons of water to the top of the mountain to support the restaurant / bar – Ten 3 – that sits at the top of the peak.
I can tell you that I felt relieved when we safely reached the end of the ride up, but I was still feeling nervous about the ride back down. I had made a reservation for dinner at Ten 3, and I thought a drink and some food might help assuage my fears a bit. Dinner was delicious; the ribeye steak was about as big as my face, so I happily left with leftovers.
I think the tram driver said we went from 6000 feet above sea level to 10000 feet above sea level. It makes my palms a little sweaty just looking at the pictures…
Safely on the ground again, I would say that it was a worthwhile experience, and I’m glad that I talked myself into it. I don’t think I would do it again.
So, work’s been really busy, which makes it time to find the energy to create and edit a blog. I wish I could remember more about my trip from Kansas to Oklahoma, but I’m afraid a lot of it has just slipped away.
The part of the drive that I remember the most is after Tulsa when I crossed over the Arkansas River. I’m not great with heights, especially bridges, which makes traveling in a 10′ tall, 24′ long RV tricky. Outside of Tulsa, it definitely felt like I was in a river valley, but I didn’t know that I would be crossing the Arkansas River until I was actually crossing it and on a Teams call. It was beautiful, but my palms were also very sweaty. Arthur and Estella were completely unphased.
After we crossed the river, we traveled along a bit of a backroad, not a main highway, which took us down main streets of some small towns. It struck me how much these towns were struggling. In one town, there was road construction that looked like it had been going on for ages because so many of the businesses were shuttered. The atmosphere felt like I was witnessing a town becoming a ghost town – slowly fading into the past, becoming part of some sad “remember when …” story.
To contrast that foreboding, there were hills and roadsides with this beautiful, overturned earth – probably from the road construction – in the richest terra cotta color. Where I come from, the earth is a deep brown, almost black color, which is what I’m used to, so to see this deep crimson juxtaposed against this dying town was striking. I wish I would’ve stopped to take a picture because I know the memory will fade with time.
Darkness Has New Meaning in Unfamiliar Territory
I had made plans to meet another co-worker for dinner on Wednesday night in Oklahoma City. She’d planned to visit some clients, and we were going to meet up after she was done. My original plan was to get to my next Boondockers Welcome (BW) location, get settled in, and grab a Lyft ride to the restaurant, but we were running behind, so we ended up driving and parking at the restaurant. This was new for us, so I shuttered the windows in Estella’s cab and let Arthur know I’d be right back. It was already getting dark, so I knew we’d be setting up after dark at the BW host’s house.
Dinner was fantastic. My co-worker had picked a restaurant on Lake Hefner outside of Oklahoma City, Red Rock Canyon Grill. Of course I had the meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and glazed carrots. It was the comfort food that I needed after crossing that bridge.
After dinner I was able to reflect even more on the relationships that you make with remote co-workers, and even when you feel connected to them, there really is nothing that compares to sharing a meal and just getting to talk. We’d worked together on many different projects, been on calls, socialized at staff meetings, and even participated on the same tug-of-war team, but none of that could compare to having dinner, one-on-one and just sharing and laughing. We learned so much about each other. Just like my dinners in Topeka and in Chicagoland, it was delightful.
Minor Mishaps in Late Arrivals
A reminder of the Mishap Scale >>> (🍫 = minor; 🍫🍫 = ordinary; 🍫🍫🍫 = embarrassing; 🍫🍫🍫🍫 = terrible; 🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫 = not enough chocolate in the RV to recover)
There’s a reason why fellow RVers recommend that you arrive when it’s still light out. I experienced this in Ohio when I was driving from PA. In Ohio, I was tired, but there was no one to witness my fumbling around. Oklahoma was different. By the time we finished dinner, and I drove out to the BW host’s home, I was also tired and ended up having to back into the driveway next to another RV that was overnighting at this location. The BW host was a night owl, so she didn’t mind that I came in later than I had anticipated, but it was unnerving and a bit embarrassing to park and repark before I got comfortably in the spot. 🍫🍫🍫
This was also my first time when another RV was also staying at a BW site. At a campground, there’s usually some distance between you and your neighbor, but this spot was close, and – bless them – they had a tiny dog that did not like that we were parked next to them. Thankfully, the tiny dog didn’t notice that we were there until morning, but he let us know that we were too close. I couldn’t have agreed more, buddy. 🍫
Just a bit further…
By this point in our adventure, we’d traveled about 2000 miles since leaving PA. Arthur and I were both getting a little road weary, but I had anticipated that we’d need shorter days on the road, so our next stop would be a two-night stay outside of Shamrock, Texas. After our tight accommodations in OK, we were looking forward to everything being a bit bigger.
Our plan was to get to my parents’ farm in MN before any significant snow fell, and we did it. Our last leg was about 430 miles.
There’s really nothing like a fall sunset on the farm with the vast fields and the glow of the sky.
There is a sense of relief that washes over you as a new RVer when you land in the place where you know you’re gonna hang your hat for awhile. For us, that is my parents’ farm in southern MN. I started getting that feeling when I hit the border between Wisconsin and Minnesota, crossing that beautiful stretch of I-90 over and next to the Mississippi River. Warm fuzzies all the way to my toes. I told Estella and Arthur that we were getting close; Estella was excited. I think, if Arthur could’ve, he would’ve given me a double middle finger salute.
What to Expect in MN: Late November Edition
It’s really hard to say what it’ll be like in Southern MN. Growing up, we had amazing snow storms and many snow-laden Thanksgivings and Christmases, but as the years went by and the climate did its thing, it’s become more mild – windy but mild. I was expecting a few flurries and cold temps (definitely below freezing), so I left the camper winterized.
One of the benefits of their farm is this giant enclosed pole barn where I parked for a few weeks. And, if your dad is handy, and luckily mine is, you have a convenient place to plug in your 30 amp camper and an enclosed workshop behind it.
The Mishap when Motoring to MN
A reminder of the Mishap Scale >>> (🍫 = minor; 🍫🍫 = ordinary; 🍫🍫🍫 = embarrassing; 🍫🍫🍫🍫 = terrible; 🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫 = not enough chocolate in the RV to recover)
So, it was near the Wisconsin Dells when I looked back and noticed that I lost a drawer. One of the things that I love about this RV model is the bank of storage on the wall across from the kitchen area. I’m not sure when it happened, but the drawer was off one rail completely and hanging off the other. This would’ve been a five-chocolate situation if I wasn’t headed to the farm and my dad’s skills to fix it. 🍫🍫🍫🍫
Disaster. Unmentionables everywhere.
The Schedule
Not only did I grow up in MN, I lived, worked, and played there until I was in my mid-30s, so there’s always a lot of catching up to do when I go back, and I never have enough time. After driving 1700+ miles, the 2.5 hour drive to Minneapolis doesn’t seem that far, so I had a couple trips up there on my schedule. My POD was getting delivered from PA while I was in MN, so I had to meet the movers and get my stuff loaded into a storage unit in Mankato. We also celebrated Thanksgiving and visited with my cousins in Iowa.
I also scheduled some maintenance for the RV, which I’ll share in my next post.
My intention had been to get some solid rest since our first day had been so draining – emotionally and physically. I thought if we left around 8AM, we’d have plenty of time to make it to the Chicagoland area to meet friends for dinner. Arthur had other plans.
At 4am, Arthur determined that he had recovered from the previous day’s trauma enough to wake me with a combination of scratching on the side panel of the RV’s slide out and pouncing on my pillow and face. Message received, King Arthur. I’m not entirely sure what he wanted because he didn’t eat the wet food that I LOVINGLY prepared for him at 4:05AM.
Our stay was pretty uneventful. There was a dog in a camper about 300 yards from us who must’ve sensed that something had changed in The Force and barked non-stop for hours. Maybe that’s why Arthur woke me up? He might’ve been like, “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
So, we did.
I would like to visit this campground again, but perhaps when the weather is warmer and the bathrooms are open. Did I mention that I’ve been dry camping? Since our test trip to Pinchot, I winterized the RV, which includes dumping all the water and pumping a bunch of pink antifreeze through all your hoses (and leaking some on the ground when you open the wrong valve). Basically, this renders the water and water lines unusable until you “de”winterize it.
So, how do you go to the bathroom when the bathrooms are closed?
Excellent question. The first step is planning. Also, I fully recognize that I’ve become much more comfort with discussing waste systems and waste in general, so feel free to skip this part if you’re not quite there yet in your waste journey or you’d rather not know that much about mine.
I bought a collapsible toilet because I don’t have a lot of space for a 5-gallon bucket; the collapsing is key. As you can imagine, you need to put something in the collapsible toilet, so I also bought some Double Doodie waste bags. These are very fancy, but I am cheap, so I’ll blog about the cheaper, acceptable option I found after I was nearing the end of these luxury poop bags.
The next part of the planning was to use a real restroom before getting to the camp site, so you don’t have to use the “tools” as often. I also probably drank less liquid than usual on these travel days – not recommended, but when in Rome…or when you must use a collapsible toilet….
The crystals that come in these luxury poop bags solidifies the waste you “deposit” in them. I do not poo in these bags. I think you can, but I do not. If I have to, I wait. I’m sure this is also bad for me, but I just cannot.
Come back here if you skipped the waste section!! (Yes, I made it yellow on purpose.)
Mishaps to Chicagoland
A reminder of the Mishap Scale >>> (🍫 = minor; 🍫🍫 = ordinary; 🍫🍫🍫 = embarrassing; 🍫🍫🍫🍫 = terrible; 🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫 = not enough chocolate in the RV to recover)
Remember how I said Arthur found a different place to curl up while I drove in my last post? All of this went well until I tried to use the cruise control somewhere in Indiana. Noticing that there was space near the “danger zone”, Arthur proceeded to straddle the accelerator in a way that I could not move him, nor could I actually use the accelerator. I’m grateful that there wasn’t a lot of traffic, that we could pull over to the side of the road, and that Arthur finally listened when I told him that was unacceptable. 🍫🍫🍫🍫
Starting early was fine. It wasn’t fine when we got to our site outside of Chicago. I was exhausted. I tried to take a nap before dinner, but I was unsuccessful. 🍫🍫
My friend and her family having a standing Friday tradition – Sushi at a lovely spot that wasn’t super close to where I was camping. No big deal – let’s try something new. Other than being by the HQ for the Russian mafia and not having a bathroom (theme!), it looked perfectly fine. We ended up going to their regular haunt. 🍫
Not everything is shitty.
See what I did there?
Considering what I’ve experienced thus far, today’s mishaps were pretty minor on the grand scale of things. In fact, this leg of the trip had some really bright moments. The first one happened at a gas station. I don’t remember where I was, but I had just finished doing the dance of “where are the diesel pumps” and was going to go in to use the bathroom when a gal walked by and said, “Are you traveling by yourself?” She was heading to her semi-truck, and since I am a nice Midwestern lady who talks to strangers, I said “Yea. With my cat.” She said, “Good for you.”
She didn’t know me or my cat or my RV. She was driving a much more impressive rig than me – one of those UPS semis with double trailers – but she made me tear up with that. So kind. So unexpected. #ICanDoThis
The next bright spot was where I camped. It was this lovely, small camping site in Cook County – like in a somewhat populated area. I’m used to seeing campgrounds / RV parks outside of town, so this was a pleasant surprise, and their bathrooms were open!! I got a shower. It was glorious. I highly recommend Camp Reinberg, but not so highly that you all camp there, and I can’t get a spot. If the weather had been nicer, I would’ve ventured out on the trails. The sunrise was beautiful, too.
The best part of this second travel day was dinner with a friend and her family. When you work remotely, you’re not always conscious of how much you’re missing when you’re not in an office environment. Because I have so many meetings every day, it’s almost like you’re with these folks. But having dinner with a friend and just enjoying each other’s company was beyond delightful and reminded me of how much I miss being in an office from time to time.
Tomorrow’s a new day and another 400+ miles to go!
It’s Christmas, and I’m in a van with my cat on the adventure of a lifetime, and my gift to the world (or at least to whoever’s tuning in) is a blog about our travels, discoveries, and mishaps along the way.
We started in Pennsylvania with an experimental trip at Gifford Pinchot State Park in early October. I was just getting back from a work trip, so I rushed to get what I thought would be the essentials for us to live, work, and sleep from the RV for a few days. The fall colors were beautiful, and the temperatures were perfect – high 60s to low 40s.
Estella was a champ. She drove great and backed herself right into our relatively level spot – one try! She even got a compliment from our neighbor; he said she looked “sharp”.
Arthur struggled. This was his first drive that didn’t involve a vet appointment, so he was anxious, “vocal”, and a pile of drool. He expressed his unhappiness by peeing in his carrier, a carrier has not continued the journey with us. Once we were parked, and I shut off the engine, he did better.
I did ok. I had watched all the videos, read the Facebook posts from other new campers like me, and I bought almost all the things. Even the best prepared run into things, here’s my list from this trip. I’m using a chocolate bar (🍫) rating scale (🍫 = minor; 🍫🍫 = ordinary; 🍫🍫🍫 = embarrassing; 🍫🍫🍫🍫 = terrible; 🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫 = not enough chocolate in the RV to recover).
Mishaps from Pinchot
I forgot chocolate. I learned very quickly that my coping mechanism for stress is chocolate. 🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫
I didn’t think to bring any of that tape stuff you put on hose threads, so the hoses slowly leaked at the connections the whole time. Wasting water = 😩 🍫🍫
I also didn’t think I’d need a support for my sewer hose, so that it would more easily drain. The resolution to this mishap involved me using whatever I could find to create a slope to empty the grey and black tanks, which was – of course – observed by some other campers slowly walking by and talking loudly about how they liked to see how other campers set-up their rigs. 🍫🍫🍫
Taking Arthur outside the RV. In short, he didn’t like it. I think, because he lived in the woods as a kitten, it was just too scary to be back out there even on a leash and with me. So, we went back inside and didn’t try that again. 🍫
I underestimated how small Arthur could make himself when he got scared. When we left, the carrier smelled like pee, so I didn’t want to put him back in there. I let him just sit by my feet, which was fine until this happened:
Yes. He sat there for all 40 minutes it took us to get home. 🍫🍫
Our Best Story from Pinchot
So, there I was, following the directions from RV Blogger on how to set-up your water at your camp site…. (I wish I had taken a picture, but I was in a slight panic even after it was over.)
Step one: Let the water run out of the spigot to run out any rust or sediment that may have accumulated since the last camper used it. The water spigot was pretty tall; the handle came up to about my shoulder but lifted pretty easily. It had a c-shaped lever to turn the water on. So far, no issues with step one.
After about a minute, I went to shut it off, so I could hook up the pressure reducing valve, hose, filter, etc., but I could not get the handle to go back down. I was hanging from it, and it wouldn’t budge. Water everywhere because the pressure was intensely high. I didn’t have a hammer. I tried to use a strap to give myself more leverage – no movement. I think another minute had elapsed before I remembered I brought a hatchet. I used the flat end to pound the lever back down. 🍫🍫🍫 Crisis averted.
Thankfully, we did the experimental trip. I made some mistakes, but I gained a lot of confidence as well. #ICanDoThis
The Adventures of Ms Haps & Arthur 