While we were in South Texas, you may remember we got the chance to visit Boca Chica Beach, home of the official Gateway to Mars. Well, official in the mind of Elon Musk, anyway. This is where you’ll find Starbase, which is Musk’s bid to create his own spaceport, capable ultimately of sending people to Mars. Starbase is currently the focus of his Starship heavy-launch project, and it was truly amazing that we were able to stand right next to it and take this video of the set-up…
The journey itself might be over, and our “A Year On The Road” RV adventure is officially in the books, but you can still catch up with all the excitement and intrigue on our YouTube channel, which now has almost 100 snapshot videos of different aspects of the trip in the bag.
From Pictured Rocks National Seashore in Michigan to Yellowstone and the Grand Canyon, plus dozens of fascinating places and experiences in between, this is our chance to wow you with the visuals of this epic RV journey across 23 states.
Our latest contribution is all about those elusive Javelinas in Texas, but you’ll also find recent videos that highlight the vibrant Historic Market Square in San Antonio, Big Bend National Park and a stunning tequila sunset in New Mexico.
Check it all out on this link: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCP5dY0TcznDGkOY8BQUkpQg
Back in Orlando again, it’s time to tot up the final mileage and trace our entire route (in 2 maps) around the US. We reached West Glacier, Montana, at our furthest distance from Orlando at almost 2,700 miles away, albeit we reached there via a distinctly circuitous route that involved fully 12 states!
The “return journey” from there was also far from a straight line, taking in another 10 states before completing what was essentially a giant circle of the Midwest, the North, South West and Southern states. For much of the last 5 months we were close to the Gulf of Mexico before coming back into Florida via Pensacola and the Panhandle area, where we were definitely able to relax a bit (albeit keeping more than one eye on staying out of the way of some seriously stormy weather).
So, with no further ado and a bit of a fanfare – “Ta RA!!!!!” – our final mileage comes to, wait for it…35,186 miles since we left home on May 14, 2023. In our RV, Fati, we traveled a total distance of 9,846 miles, while in our trusty little Ford Fiesta, Nippy, we added a whopping additional 25,840.
Somehow, we’re all still in one piece, albeit Fati has been in for several repairs and 2 full services, while Nippy is heading for a fourth service today and has needed new tires, windshield wipers and two air filters (!). Needless to say, we are immensely proud of our Ford-engined Winnebago RV, as well as our little Fiesta, and they both now deserve a good rest.
Will we have more travels to report anytime soon? The debate is now on at Chez Veness! We DO have a fair bit of work to catch up on first, but there is already talk of an East Coast RV tour, as well as a possible trip out West to the areas we missed this time, namely Washington, Oregon and Northern California, as well as more of Colorado.
So, stay tuned for further travel bulletins, and, if you have liked and enjoyed our blogs, please leave us a comment and be sure to check out our YouTube channel for a series of snapshot videos of the trip on this link: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCP5dY0TcznDGkOY8BQUkpQg
Bye for now…!
Simon’s problem is that he rarely sees the problematic side of anything. Susan’s problem is that she sees the problematic side of most things, but hates to squash Simon’s natural enthusiasm. It gets us into trouble sometimes, and our visit to Cattail Marsh in Beaumont, Texas was one of those times.
It all started so well. A lovely little boardwalk led out to viewings of interesting waterfowl, and we’d become exceptionally good at identifying birds, meaning, we could see them and say, “There’s a bird! There’s another bird!”
But we were up for a longer wander, and there were two gravel paths along the marsh-front to choose from. Our walk began with the following conversation:
Simon: Let’s head over to the far side and see what’s there.
Susan: You know it’s at least an hour to make the full circuit, probably more, right?
Simon: Nah, it’s not an hour.
Susan: Well…okay. It is, but, okay.
One-quarter of the way around, it occurred to Simon it was at least an hour to make the full circuit, probably more, and it wasn’t easy to pull Ruthie in her wagon over the gravely path. What happened next was this:
Simon: Let’s take the short-cut through the middle.
Susan: You know that isn’t a walking path, right?
Simon: Sure it is! See? It’s flat and grassy.
Susan: It isn’t. It’s a maintenance road. But, okay.
Now, those among you who have ever been in a wetland in the South know what’s going to happen next. And sure enough, not quite half-way into it, we were met by a 10-foot-long alligator sunbathing on the bank. Even Ruthie could see the “problematic” situation we were in, so she sat quietly in her wagon as we slowly, non-threateningly walked past the gator, with the wagon between it and us.
Long, “problematic” story made short, after several huge gators, lots of sweat, plenty of bugs, a horrible sewage smell, and more than an hour pulling that damned wagon over gravely ground we stumbled back to the car, where Simon grudgingly admitted we “probably shouldn’t have done that.”
The rest of our time in Beaumont was tame and enjoyable. We had taken the ferry over from Galveston, which in itself is a novel adventure, and were camped out at the wonderful Grand Pines of Texas, with a lovely pond, nature walk, and (unbelievably!) free laundry. Clean and quiet, it was the perfect base for Fati while we toured the area.
There was a big Mural Fest going on, so we headed into downtown Beaumont for a look. Some of the murals had been created previously, but many were being worked on, and it was nice to see how many locals came out to support the artists.
Downtown Beaumont also boasts the World’s Largest Fire Hydrant, and even if we didn’t have a dog with us, that’s something we had to see. Honoring firefighters everywhere, the park includes a memorial to the heroes who lost their lives trying to save others during the horrendous September 11 tragedy.
Another local event we stumbled on was a cowgirl pageant at the Beaumont Botanical Gardens. Girls of all ages could sign up for the pageant, which isn’t based on anything particularly “cowgirly,” and certainly isn’t a typical “beauty contest,” but is meant to build self-confidence and, I think, offers some sort of scholarship to winners.
We also took a day-trip down to Port Arthur, aiming for the McFadden National Wildlife Refuge, which sounds like a big deal, and maybe it is at other, better times of year, but we only saw a small handful of standard-issue birds, and not a whole lot else.
On the way back we detoured off the main road, where massive amounts of construction were going on, having to do with some sort of refinery. Drawn in by the sight of a structure we couldn’t quite work out, we discovered the Sabine Pass Area Artificial Reefs program, where sunken structures were being turned into reefs.
A day or two later, Big Thicket National Preserve offered the chance for a walk in the woods to a genuine cypress slough, with a paved path and boardwalks that would make pulling Ruthie in her wagon quite easy. And it did, for the first few minutes. Once we were committed to the journey, though, the path turned to off-roading.
But we persisted, which was a good thing since it would be the last exercise we’d have for the next few weeks. Unbeknownst to either of us, and after four years of diligently avoiding it, Susan was brewing up a hefty case of Covid. Little did we know her face would really look like this a couple of days from now:
We have never had to pay to enter a city before, so the $2 toll to get into Galveston was a first for us. Passing through the tollway looks straightforward when you’re in a car, but less so in Fati. Is the lane wide enough? Will we hit the top of the toll booth? Is that barrier curb on the right too close? Was taking the coastal road instead of the highway a bad idea? How much does RV paint cost if we get a massive scrape down one side? A million thoughts went through our brains, except for the one that did catch us out.
The issue we hadn’t factored in as we were approaching the tollbooth was that we had to put our two dollar bills under a rock in the booth’s sliding tray. There was no hand to reach up and meet Simon half-way, so this was my view while he tried to get the job done.
In the end, the toll booth attendant (who had done this before) came out of the booth to take our money. And yes, we did fit through that narrow lane without a scratch.
On our way to the campground, we passed massive homes along the Gulf side of the road, and it was obvious there was money in Galveston. Whether it was due to familiarity with the more city-like setting or just the glorious views of the Gulf of Mexico all along our right-hand side, we immediately felt comfortable, and took a real shine to our temporary island home.
Once settled at the lovely Dellanera RV Resort, so close to the water we only had a 30-second walk to the beach, we took advantage of the nice weather and had a stroll. Like Galveston, the RV park felt comfortable right from the start, and we were delighted to have a full week to enjoy its seaside amenities. We could easily understand why “Winter Texans” made Dellanera their season-long stay.
Ruthie now has her own vehicle. She can still take her walks for as long as she’s comfortable, then we drop the tailgate on her wagon and she can cozy down on a blanket and have a ride while we get more exercise. It’s been a boon for us – lots more walking! – and she’s getting used to it, though the movement feels a little bit odd at first.
Galveston is the world’s ninth busiest cruise port, and there were two Carnival ships and one Royal Caribbean ship in port when we took a drive to the downtown area on our first full day.
We also aimed to visit the area’s three wildlife reserves, but that term means something slightly different here to what we’ve come to expect. Here, it’s wetlands along the sides of some road, or, in one case, ponds in the middle of a brand new, upscale housing development, where we saw Roseate Spoonbills, lots of interesting ducks, some Snow Geese, and some sort of goose bird we’d never seen before, which turned out to be Black-bellied Whistling-Ducks. Who knew?
The next day, Royal Caribbean’s mega-ship, Harmony of the Seas, was just heading out of port as we were touring around, so we made a bee-line to Fort San Jacinto Point, where we joined lots of other spectators who were there to wave her off.
The people fishing in the foreground and the giant tankers in the channel in the following photo gives you some idea of how absolutely enormous Harmony is. We’ve sailed on her sister ships, Oasis of the Seas and Allure of the Seas, each during their media previews prior to their maiden voyages. They’re whompin’ great ships, so enormous it feels more like you’re in a shopping mall than on a cruise ship. Harmony is even bigger, with capacity for 7,084 guests and a crew of 2,369.
Our next two days were taken up with work while we waited for delivery of a new motor for our tilt bed. We’re not going to go into this story – at all – other than to say we’d been sleeping with the head of our bed semi-upright for nearly two weeks, and we both felt like we’d been thrown from a high building.
This little high-torque motor is the replacement for the rotten bastard of a motor under our great huge heavy bed frame that decided to stop communicating with the controllers that move the bed up and down. We appreciated the service it had given us, but couldn’t it go for just another 2.5 months? I mean, really!
We expected the motor to take about half an hour to replace, and the mobile tech expected that, too. Again, we’ll say no more than the final result was, the entire bed foundation had to be removed, as did part of the frame. The single set screw that was supposed to be all that held the motor in, wasn’t. Some damned fool put another screw in while the rig was being build, under a metal box that can’t be reached without dismantling much of the frame. It took the poor technician nearly four hours to complete the job.
But we won’t talk about that. Because it’s awful and upsetting and we hated the world while it was going on. We hated the Lippert tech support people even more, when the first one said, “Yes, it’s just one set screw” and the second call resulted in, “I don’t know how you’ll reach the second screw. You’ll have to figure it out.”
But no more. It’s not something we’ll talk about. Because we’re not complainers.
Tonight, it’s “blowing a hooley,” (which is a British saying that sounds dirty but isn’t) and our rig is shaking with every massive gust of wind, but we’re going to be sleeping flat, so life is still worth living.
We don’t yet know what we’ll do with the last of our time in Galveston. We promised each other we’d get a really great steak while we’re here, which is a stupid idea after the expense of our repair but a great idea as a reward for all the heavy lifting we’d done and the massive amount of encouragement we gave our mobile tech when it all went to hell in a handbasket.
Our next port of call was Port Lavaca, nestled along the Gulf Coast’s Lavaca Bay. The area’s history picks up three threads we’ve been writing about: The Spanish holding of territory that later became Texas; Native Americans being driven from their lands (in this case, Comanche who survived a raid in what is now a town to the north, and came to the port area for refuge); and the names people use for bison, which, in Spanish, is La Vaca, even though la vaca actually means “the cow.” But we were mainly there for the scenery.
Most small county parks can’t accommodate big rigs, but Texas is no slouch, and the beautiful Lighthouse Beach RV Resort had no problem with 36-foot Fati. Our site looked out on the bay, and on a wonderful boardwalk over the water that was perfect for our evening strolls as the sun went down and the sky lit up like fire.
Fishing and birding are the big draws here, and it’s easy to slow right down to the point where a glass of wine and the view are all the excitement you need. Want more? Ramp it up with a walk along the pier and meet the fisherpersons, peer over the water through binoculars to see what’s flying and floating around, and marvel at the mad rush of the so-called “Formosa Five Hundred” that takes place along the State Highway 35 causeway during each shift change for Formosa Plastics Corporation, situated directly across Lavaca Bay from our campground, along with Alcoa and DuPont.
Now, those of you who’ve been following us from the beginning will likely have noticed we never drive Fati at night. Like, ever. It simply isn’t done. But circumstances dictated otherwise this time, and we found ourselves heading over the causeway as darkness fell.
Approaching and then passing Formosa, producers of resins and other chemically things, was like driving into the unsettling opening scene of the movie Blade Runner. A true dystopian setting right there in ironically named Port Comfort, minus the flying spacecraft.
The rest of the journey east ambled along dark roads through empty countryside, and ended with an overnight stay at a Walmart right off a busy road, with trains and their blaring whistles barreling past every half hour, all night long.
We were truly exhausted when we reached Oyster Creek the next day, and were somewhat dismayed to see our campground was just on the boundary of miles and miles of refineries.
But it was a peaceful little haven, mainly populated by refinery workers who put in such labor-intensive days that they were all asleep by 8 p.m. Silence reigned, even as the belching discharge from the refineries’ chimneys lit up the sky with fire, this time not of the natural variety.
Everybody knows cars and machinery don’t run on daffodils and the laughter of unicorns. We all know there is a process of refinement. Seeing it in person when you haven’t grown up with it in your home town is both horrifying and fascinating. It’s like looking at a city comprised of the bare bones of enormous building complexes, but with no people, and we were filled with discomfort with the process and admiration for the people who work there.
Like so many things we’ve experienced during this trip, we were pulled in two directions, mentally. Years ago, seeing fish farming in Chilean Patagonia first-hand completely put us off from eating farm-raised fish, ever again. It was a simple decision. But not everything is that straightforward.
We had been told Surfside, a little town right on the water, was worth seeing, so at least that decision was straightforward. Surfside Beach was hit by Hurricane Nicholas in 2021, and many if not most of the homes there are new.
All of them are high up on stilts, creating a hodge-podge neighborhood of houses that look like they were brought in and propped up on stilts wherever the moving truck happened to stop. There is none of the formal layout – or similarity in architecture – of the neighborhoods we’re used to, and we drove around pointing and commenting and being fascinated by the whole thing.
Freeport Channel seems to be the place where locals gather on balmy evenings to do some fishing and to watch the gigantic freighters that harbor there, presumably to fill up with whatever the refineries are pumping out.
Unexpected as it was, Oyster Bay made a good two-day base to decompress before we headed to Galveston, and when we learned the original Buc-ee’s was less than 10 minutes away, we headed over and grabbed a couple of bags of Buc-ee’s Nugg-ees, just because we could. We felt the circle from the beginning of our journey to the not-so-distant end of our adventure starting to close.
If you’ve seen the movie, The Big Year, you know how passionate birders can be about their hobby. We’re casual birders at best, but we do enjoy seeing wildlife we can’t see in Florida. While much of Texas is known for its exceptional birding, it turns out our next destination, Port Aransas, offers some of the best in the state.
We arrived on Fat Tuesday and were delighted to hear there would be a Padre Gras golf cart parade that afternoon, the island’s answer to Mardi Gras. Campers were lining their chairs up along the campground’s main streets, and we joined them.
We were all set for the fun of clapping and cheering as each cart went by, but hadn’t thought about the paraders throwing beads and candy. Ruthie got to wear the beads for a while, then we gave them to our neighbor’s granddaughter. We doled out the six or eight pieces of candy over the following few evenings and called them “dessert.”
A fair bit of our five-day stay was spent wandering around wetlands and reserves with our binoculars. Many of the birds that live here or migrate here for winter are familiar to us; ibis, certain kinds of ducks, herons, egrets, and some cranes, but we were excited to see some new ones, including Roseate Spoonbills and the endangered Whooping Crane.
Florida has plenty of pelicans along its shores, but we don’t see them inland, so they’re still special to us. Here, they have both Brown and White Pelicans.
This little fellow wasn’t reacting to people passing by, and within a short time two women from a rescue center showed up and carefully took him away. We hope he’s feeling much better now!
Gators are always a bit special, but we’re pretty used to seeing them. In this instance, the Leonabelle Turnbull Birding Center’s resident gator, called Boots by the locals, is a great huge whompin’ example of the species, measuring in at 14 feet. He’s a grumpy 50-year-old who chased away his only potential buddy, Stumpy, who was missing a leg. Stumpy got relocated, then relocated again, and is now living in Beaumont, our destination a few weeks from now.
Ship-watching is practically a sport hereabouts, and we joined the locals at Roberts Point Park, where cargo ships enter the channel to pick up oil from the refineries and then head back out to sea to make their deliveries.
There is a pier not far from the park that gives you a view of the ships that’s so close you can almost see the faces of their crew members. It’s also a great spot for fishing, and we watched a man feeding the small fish he caught to a couple of pelicans. His wife told us the pelicans sometimes attack the man, but it never seemed to occur to them that it was the natural result of hand-feeding a wild animal. We sort of hoped some of the bites hurt.
We had planned to take a trip out to San Jose Island (a.k.a. St. Jo’s), a private island whose owner lets people visit the beach, but the weather was turning and the primary draws are fishing and swimming, so we made the round-trip without getting off the little ferry.
Ruthie was not impressed. At ALL. The vibration of the ferry totally unnerved her, and we could hear her thanking all the blessed angels in heaven when her feet were back on terra firma. That dog can pull – hard! – when she wants to go back to the car.
The island is all chopped up in this area, and while there are bridges, it sometimes requires less milage to take the free car ferry from Port Aransas to Aransas Pass, and that would be our route when it was time to move on to Port Lavaca. But first, we wanted to give it a try in Nippy to be sure we knew how to do it in Fati.
We got an up-front view for our crossing, and were astonished at how totally without movement the journey felt. It was only by being able to see the shore that we knew we were moving at all.
Our final two days in the area were so rainy and windy we ended up staying home. Happily, Port Aransas is small, so we felt we got the best out of it that a wet winter could give.
We have encountered countless Spanish, Native American, French, and German business names and locations during our journey, and, after a while, our brains automatically translated them into English, sometimes with humorous results. We were looking forward to visiting Body of Christ – Corpus Christi – an iconic port city along Texas’s Gulf Coast, named for the Roman Catholic Feast Day that was going on when the place was “discovered” by the Spanish in 1519.
We had two major attractions in mind, along with more fabulous Mexican food, and a heaping helping of seafood, at least for Simon.
The city’s personality is defined by its beaches, its fishing, and its bridges, one of which can be seen for miles in every direction. As big as it is, though, an even bigger bridge is taking shape next to it, presumably to accommodate the ever-growing size of ocean-going vessels that make their way into and out of the port.
The skies were a bit grim to start with, but it was still pleasant enough for a walk (and a drive) along the beach. Ruthie was okay with the hard-packed sand, and happily trotted along when we made a trip out to Padre Island National Seashore.
The first attraction we wanted to visit was the huge aircraft carrier parked in Corpus Christi Bay. Ruthie couldn’t be left alone for an hour or more, so Susan waited with her in the car while Simon toured the ship. He’ll take over the blog for this part:
Walking up the ramp to the main deck entrance of the mighty U.S.S. Lexington is like walking back in history, to the turmoil of World War II and the life-or-death struggle in the Pacific theater, where aircraft carriers were the big dogs of most battles and the USA’s fleet helped to carry the day in some of the bloodiest exchanges of the War.
You feel that heritage almost immediately as you enter the gaping Hangar Deck, where the aircraft were stored when not on a mission. Amazingly, up to 60 planes could be stored here, but the area – which covers 40,000 square feet – is now given over to a variety of exhibits, video presentations, a Pearl Harbor memorial, several flight simulators, and a few vintage aircraft.
The Lexington has a long and illustrious history, from her commissioning in 1943 to service with the Seventh Fleet out of San Diego, when it was on call to serve as a major deterrent in places such as Formosa, Laos, and Cuba, before taking up training operations from 1962-1991, when she was decommissioned and eventually moved to Corpus Christi as a permanent museum and tribute to the many men and women who served in the carrier fleet.
All this history is available on a series of self-guided tours, and I did two of them, starting with the Lower Decks tour that takes visitors deep into the bowels of a ship that needed a crew of about 3,000 during the War (and 1,550 in later years). It includes a visit to the engine room, galley, medical and dental facilities and much more, including several memorials to other aircraft carriers and their crews.
The other must-do tour is the Flight Deck, the vast open space that is the carrier’s “airport,” covering two full acres. It is 910 feet long and 460 feet wide and had to be reconfigured for jet aircraft in the 1950s, but is an immense experience that includes more than a dozen different aircraft. You can also visit the captain’s bridge for an excellent overview of the Flight Deck.
There is a LOT to like about the whole experience and it would take you most of the day to take it all in. It remains a formidable figure on the Corpus Christi shoreline and presents an educational history trip through a grim period of the 20th century. The ship was actually hit and badly damaged by a Japanese Kamikaze plane in late 1944, killing 50 crewmen and injuring another 132, and there is a very heartfelt tribute to all the victims, which really brings home the full magnitude of the War’s horrors. Perhaps a bit much for young children, but a valuable lesson for older ones.
(Susan here again) With crummy weather heading in the next day, we drove out to the Texas State Aquarium for some time exploring what’s under Corpus Christi’s coastal waters. Obviously, we know SeaWorld in Orlando very well, with it’s big-scale experience, and this was on a much more intimate scale. Where the Lexington may have been beyond most youngsters, the aquarium is ideal for them and the grownups who love them.
We have a thing for themed environments when it comes to educational experiences, and the aquarium didn’t disappoint.
There was also a dolphin show, but we only arrived in time for the finale.
Our five days in Corpus Christi went by fast. We tried a few recommended restaurants, we spent a lot of time on the Island, and we were glad to have been there during the calm before the storm, when Spring Breakers and then the summer crowds would descend on this wonderful gem of a city.
Texas has two Rivieras. One is the conceptual “Riviera” claimed by towns along the Gulf Coast’s Padre and Mustang Islands, and the other is the actual burg of Riviera, our next destination as we started our eastward bounce along the coast toward Florida.
We chose Riviera purely because of its location, a half-way point on the drive from Donna to Corpus Christi. We’d have three days on the inlet to Baffin Bay, get our minds onto “island time,” and maybe take advantage of the campground’s activities.
All activities were cancelled during our stay because Covid, RSV, and flu were going around the campground, which is not what you want to hear, but one of the benefits of this lifestyle is that most socializing takes place outdoors. Most of the campers were seasonal “Winter Texans,” (like Florida’s “snowbirds,” who come from Northern states and spend the winter in a warmer climate), including our neighbors on both sides (Hi Linda and Erik and Linda!), and we enjoyed several happy chats with them, hearing about their travels and telling them about ours.
We also took advantage of the good (if chilly) weather and took Ruthie for a walk out the pier. Now, anyone who shares a home with a rescue dog probably has moments when they recognize their pup’s former life is showing up. For Ruthie, there seems to be something about being on a pier over salt water that gives her tremendous joy. She was found along Florida’s Gulf Coast, and our Riviera adventure must have felt like home to her. It was lovely to see her scamper and dance like a puppy!
If you’ve been following along on Facebook (SimonSusanVeness), you already know we had fun with “Caption This” for the following photo, and we had a good laugh about the fantastic captions people came up with.
The real story behind it is, when we arrived at the campground we were told the nearest grocery store was a 40-mile round-trip to Kingman (where we’d Wallydocked the night before we arrived in Donna ((Hi Karin and Darren! Hi Gary and Mary!))), or we could drive eight miles to the local Dollar General, which carried basic foodstuffs. We were happy with soup and a short drive, and I only took the photo to remind us that we actually shopped for comestibles at a Dollar store. Simon’s facial expression, though; priceless!
Anyway, our time in Riviera was short, so this blog will be short, too. We strolled the pier just outside the campground, did a little bit of writing, and enjoyed the fabulous view outside our front window, which included sightings of what we were told were Nilgai, the massive, pointy-horned animals that look like big-barreled deer but are really related to antelope.
They were brought to the area by King Ranch as game for the ranch’s hunting expeditions, but, happily, at least some of their descendants are living a free life. We were so thrilled by these unexpected sightings, and when our time in Riveria came to an end, we felt it had been something truly special.
Today marks nine months since we locked the door to our house in Florida and set off for a year-long adventure in an RV. Here’s what we learned during the past month:
Now that we’re in the depths of winter and have survived a bone-chilling Arctic blast, with so much of the country getting hammered with snow, our respect for and appreciation of truckers and farmers is immense. We’ll remember that when the trip is over, and never take the growing and moving of our food for granted again.
You really can wear three pairs of pants at the same time, when you’re cold enough.
Some of the best food comes from places you wouldn’t go into if you didn’t have a recommendation from a person you trust. The dives, where all the attention is on the food and none of it is on the ambiance. We love our five-star dining with wine pairings, but damn, son…authentic BBQ or Mexican food from those grubby joints with lines out the door are heaven on a plate.
Appreciation. When you experience something completely new, that’s WAY out of your comfort zone, or you meet people who are not at all like-minded, taking time to slow your thought process and find a place of appreciation broadens your mind. We all grow up with preconceptions, and putting those preconceptions on hold allows you to fully experience the gifts this lifestyle can give. We don’t have to agree on everything to be able to agree on some things.
Hello, humidity! We forgot what humidity feels like. The dry heat of the deserts was challenging, and we went through a lot of water and moisturizer and Chapstick trying not to dehydrate completely, but now our jeans and our pillowcases are ever so slightly damp, and we’re not sure we like it.
Doggie diapers and tinkle pads are our new reality, as are 3 a.m. potty runs for our Ruthie. Campsites with grass around the rig are a blessing. Having to hike to the dog walk area makes Simon swear under his breath so as not to wake the neighbors. Ruthie sniffing around the dog walk area as if she doesn’t have to go, then pooping in the road, makes him swear out loud. Lovingly, of course.
In our blog, What We Learned During Our Fifth Month On The Road, we wrote the following words about Jacques De Paep, a kind, generous, funny man we met at a campground in Sheridan, Wyoming, who, with his wife and their dog, was at the start of a grand retirement adventure: “We had no idea how much you’ll care about these new friends when they’re facing a sudden challenge. There is something very special about this community. How wonderful it is to have your heart expand this way.” Now, in our ninth month, our hearts are broken. We’ve kept up with Jacques’ health through his loving wife, Louise, and are devastated that his Earthly journey came to an end on February 10. Connections sometimes happen quickly, and our own RV adventure will continue with Jacques – the wild-haired man who was the first one out there to help another camper in need, getting rained on, but with a laugh in his voice and a genuine attitude of caring – firmly in our hearts. We are honored to call him our friend.
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