RV Travel – Page 2 – Veness Travel Media

And Then She Licked My Face

(RIP Ruthie the Rescue, 2008-2024)

Now that we’re home again, we can finally pay a fitting farewell to our canine companion of the past 10 years. Here are Simon’s words…

I’ve never been lost for words before. You know, spoken, articulated words said out loud, to people. But that’s not it. I can still talk about many things, the important and the mundane. But not about our dog, and the grief it has generated having had to ask the vet to euthanize her.

OK, those are the words I can’t say. I cannot, under any circumstances, in the days and weeks following the act of taking another creature’s life, try to articulate anything about our Ruthie that doesn’t end in tears. And tissues. Lots of tissues. And eyes that feel like they’re full of sand and ash. And a heart that feels like it has a lead weight inside.

“It’s just a dog,” some might say and, in many ways, they are right. It is, or was, just a common or garden household pet. There are hundreds of them in the streets around us, every day, everywhere.

But it was a living, breathing, reactive pet who had been part of our household for nearly 10 years, claimed from a dog rescue center in 2015 and a permanent fixture with Susan and myself ever since.

At 4am on May 26 we had to end that life, that lovely canine companion, in the face of a growing distress that seemed to be escalating quickly and inexorably with no effective cure or palliative measure at hand. The vet agreed with us, but it was still our essential decision, our fateful, conscious act to end a life that had become a tale of torment. It was our call.

But that’s not the issue. Our Ruthie was 15 or 16 – no-one could be really sure; she had been a stray, and the vet’s best guess, from looking at X-rays that showed a fair bit of arthritic build-up, was that she was around six or seven when we adopted her – and that’s a pretty decent age for a labrador, a breed that is often ‘elderly’ by 10 and straight up old by 12. She had already beaten the odds and survived to an age where humans would be gasping for breath.

And that was the issue. She was gasping for breath, not constantly but regularly, and often at night, when everything sounds and feels worse amid the darkness that closes in and amplifies all your fears and concerns. It was a condition called laryngeal paralysis, something quite common in labradors, especially at such an advanced age. We knew it and had been aware of it for at least a year; Susan thinks a bit longer than that.

Either way, it had become a daily reality in recent months, not always obvious but a serious background issue to a dog that was still always up and about, ready for the next adventure, the next place to sniff. And oh, she loved to sniff. She lived to sniff. She spent much of her days sniffing anything and everything that didn’t move, and some that did. She would have been the ideal sniffer dog for the authorities, a regular bloodhound in labrador clothing.

*She could always find something to sniff!*

She especially seemed to thrive on our travels, both in and around Florida and further afield on trips to Michigan and North Carolina. One of the reasons we decided to take off on our “A Year On The Road” RV escapade in the first place was so we could take Ruthie on the biggest adventure of her life, a chance to really sniff the open road and the vast array of olfactory delights to be had along the way.

In the multi-year planning of the trip, we weren’t sure she would even make it to the start line. Her vet was happy enough for us to take her, but we would need to see other vets along the way, keep her essential medications and vaccinations up to date, and seek out urgent medical advance if she showed major signs of distress.

She did, on two occasions, but both were related to upset stomachs, probably related to too many sniffs in transient dog parks where another dog had probably left trace contamination. On both occasions, she bounced back immediately with the aid of antibiotics, and she was soon ready for the next location, the next new set of sniffs.

But the laryngeal condition was still there, a background menace that occasionally flared into open distress in the form of a coughing fit or heavy panting. One vet described it as “like trying to breath through a straw.” But labs are tough old birds of a furry feather; they are masters at disguising their symptoms and hiding the underlying distress. And Ruthie rarely let her symptomatic guard down. She was a total trooper. To my eye, she had a few moments of concern but then bounced back to her normal nose-dependent best, an elderly example of her breed, sure, but still largely a fully functioning one.

OK, we’d had to compromise. Ruthie was no longer able to undergo any real workout, no more scenic walks and hikes. “Do not exercise this dog,” was the stern warning from her vet back in Orlando, so we had invested in a doggie cart from Petsmart, an $80 adjunct to outdoor adventuring without the strain. We could pull her along, get our own level of exercise, and still stop for plenty of sniffs along the way. On the beaches of Texas and the state park trails of Louisiana and Alabama, she got to admire the scenery while putting in zero effort. Reluctantly, of course, because no dog truly wants to travel without their paws on the ground, but orders were definitely orders, and exercise was strictly off the daily menu.

However, as the final few months of our extended road trip ticked away, Ruthie had trouble sleeping through the night. She developed moments of incontinence, which instigated the indignity of having to wear a doggy diaper when inside the RV, while her ability to shed great clumps of fur – her enduring canine super-power – seemed to increase. Her age was finally showing, but still she soldiered on, unwilling to sit things out when we reached a new campground and she could at least take her nose on new investigations of the immediate surroundings.

By the last week of our epic 12-month voyage around the country, we had reached the grand finale of a stay in Disney’s Fort Wilderness campground, a fitting exclamation point on our year-long adventure as well as a quiet celebratory moment in a 20-year journey for Susan and I in our Disney/Orlando writing career together. Ruthie met an armadillo and two extra-large chipmunks while also trundling around the extensive grounds in her wagon. Everything came together in one glorious Florida sunset.

Sadly, that sunset was also for Ruthie. Within a week of being home, the laryngeal paralysis was staking an ever-larger claim on our dog. The breathing issue was now flaring up significantly several times a day. Worse, the nerves in her back legs were inducing clear and distressing physical discomfort. The lack of any real exercise had caused her muscles to atrophy to the point where her hips were clearly visible through her fur. We took her to see her regular vet, who prescribed a strong pain-killer but also furnished us with a slightly chilling prognosis. The medication would help, she explained, but we were definitely on a final count-down. It might be two weeks, it might be as much as a year, but we needed to be alert to a point of no return.

As it turned out, she had two weeks.

After the long haul around the U.S., we had to take another long journey almost immediately up to Michigan on family business, something we had postponed in order to take our RV on the road but which was now a pressing concern. We packed a (small) bag and set off for the two-day journey, stopping off in Knoxville, Tennessee, overnight and completing the drive on a late Wednesday afternoon. To our relief, Ruthie slept most of the way, then was awake to some serious front-yard sniffing on reaching our destination. Equilibrium restored, we thought.

Thursday night told us otherwise. Awake and fussing to go out at 3am, Ruthie relieved herself but then struggled to get back to sleep, turning around in her bed multiple times in clear discomfort, and not the usual I’m-not-quite-sure-how-to-get-comfortable routine that most dogs do from time to time. This was the nerve problem writ large and unmistakable, a cry for help I still didn’t fully recognize. Susan was more alert to the issue but, with all the work we had to do on the house, Friday passed without either of us thinking another vet visit would probably be wise.

Friday night was worse. Again she needed to go out in the early hours, but the nerve issue wouldn’t abate for more than an hour, her back left leg twitching in involuntary spasms.

We, or I should say, I, still didn’t read the signs properly. It was the Memorial Day holiday weekend and there was more work to do. We could wait until Tuesday and go and see the vet then, avoiding the ‘emergency’ fees and, perhaps, getting stronger medication that would ease the nerve problem.

At 3am on Sunday that lack of foresight was shown up for the folly it was. Our dog was awake and in unmistakable distress bordering on agony. Even her labrador sensibilities of not showing any pain were wiped away in a clear message. Her twitching and breathing issues were at a head. Even though she couldn’t speak, the look in her eyes said everything. Help me, she articulated. Please help me.

It was a look that ripped at the shreds of our hearts, an urgent message of misery we could no longer ignore. We needed to find a vet, emergency hours or not, and it had to be now. I could curse myself later, but now I had to initiate a solution, the one I had ignored for much of the past week. Susan was readily in agreement.

Thankfully – and I do give thanks for this one piece of cold comfort – the attendant small animal clinic of Michigan State University was only 10 minutes away and fully staffed for just such a situation. We were in the car and on the way within a matter of moments (forgetting even to remove my retainer in a rush for the car keys).

Within five minutes we were checked in and awaiting the duty vet’s consultation, our Ruthie showing few signs of her immediate discomfort but agitated all the same (she hates the vet’s and can recognize one straight away). We knew what we had to say to the vet, but it’s the message that all dog owners fear to deliver. Should we or shouldn’t we? Are we reading the signs right? Do we ask the vet to take her life? Do we make The Decision?

The vet was calm and understanding personified. More medications might help, she said, but the fact the previous pain meds hadn’t worked was a clear sign that we had probably passed the point of no return. If that’s what we saw and thought, she would support our decision. We would euthanize.

Now comes the point where it’s hard even to type, let alone talk about it. I had gone through this routine with another dog, some 30 years previous, and it had been a terrible moment, a heart-crushing resolution. This was worse. Much worse. Were we, truly, correct in what we were seeing? Most of the symptoms Ruthie had been displaying had flickered off. There was no clear sign of what we had witnessed just half an hour earlier. Were we sure?

The vet then gave us the one, vital, piece of the puzzle we had been lacking. The laryngeal paralysis was primarily a nerve condition, she explained, and it affected both her breathing and her spine/hip issues, which accounted for the uncontrolled twitching and muscular spasms which made it look like she was trying to run away from her own body. This was the symptom that most alarmed us and which had brought us to the emergency moment.

And then there was The Look. The one that said ‘Help me’ in no uncertain terms. In this final, fateful moment, we had to decide that ‘help’ meant ending her life, not prolonging it. That level of distress was desperately real and desperately unavoidable. The Decision had to be acted upon.

While Susan and I were led to a “comfort” room where we could be with our pet for her final moments, Ruthie was led away to be prepped for the process. There, on a soft blanket printed with cuddly pandas, we communed with our pet. Petting and patting, stroking and soothing, we said our silent goodbye.

And then she licked my face.

Ruthie never licked us. That had never been part of her – many – charms. She could be affectionate in her own way, a kind of stand-offish sociability that never broke out into open affability. We called her The Moody Intellectual for this notable demeanor, a character trait we had grown to love and admire, and which, somehow, perfectly suited our relationship; a partnership in exploration and adventure.

Now she was indisputably saying goodbye with a gesture of pure love and affection that totally melted my heart and remains my abiding memory of a household pet that totally crossed the line from “just a dog” to a genuine family member, a being of real humanity. In the finality of her life, she simply laid down between us and let the life force leave her body, finally at peace with the awful condition that brought us to this terrible fate.

And that’s why I can’t even start to form the words about it without dissolving into more tears and inarticulate sobs – deep, racking sobs – that are my only defense against that terrible decision to take another creature’s life, whatever the evidence to justify it.

Fortunately, we have many, many friends and family members who have rallied around at our distress with an outpouring of love and understanding.

To them, I say a heartfelt ‘Thank you’, along with this (long) message of explanation why I can’t just talk about it. From The Look to The Lick, I was fortunate to have known our Ruthie, but that feeling of having a hole torn in my heart will be a long time in passing.

Texas Beach Bliss

We’ve already highlighted how Texas really surprised us with the quality – and extent – of its beaches, and we thought it was worth underlining that element of our Year On The Road travels with another snapshot video. This is Whitecap Beach, Corpus Christi, heading towards Padre Island National Seashore (in our previous video). This is where we discovered an unexpected opportunity to go beach driving. So we did…

Whitecap Beach is a gorgeous stretch of 1.5-mile white-sand coastline, sandwiched between Mustang Island and Padre Island; very popular with the locals but easy to find – and drive on

All in all, Texas boasts around 370 miles of beach delights (that’s about 40 miles longer than the distance from London to Edinburgh for our UK friends and followers!), and we thoroughly enjoyed practically every mile of it. The City of Corpus Christi was also a very pleasant discovery, and there was even more in store as we continued our north-easterly route along the coast.

*The Corpus Christi downtown skyline – just like Florida!*

Catch Our RV Journey on YouTube!

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.

*Javelinas! Jevelinas! Finally, we get to see Javelinas!*

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

*The stunning Natural Bridge Caverns just north of San Antonio featured in a recent snapshot video*

A Year On The Road – The Final Maps

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 first 7 months saw us take in by far the biggest ‘chunk’ of our year-long route, including side-trips into Colorado and Southern California by car, as well as parts of Northern Arizona* *and New Mexico*

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).

*The final five months took us from the heart of New Mexico down to the far south-western corner of Texas, then right around the Gulf of Mexico via Galveston, New Orleans, Biloxi and Gulf Shores*

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.

*Finally back in Florida, we spent a quiet week in a beautiful little RV campground in Milton in the Panhandle before turning south for the last leg of the year-long trip*

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…!

What We Learned During Our Twelfth Month On The Road

Today marks one full year (plus two days) since we locked the door to our house in Florida for a year-long adventure in an RV. Here’s what we learned during the past month:

Humidity = sweat, and when you’re covered in sweat for three days because you don’t have sewer hookups so you can’t dump a gray tank full of shower water, air conditioning cannot penetrate the sweaty build-up. When you do have full hookups again and you take a shower, that layer of pure, unadulterated evil is wiped away, and you are once again kissed by the cooling breath of your sweet, sweet A/C. This is what bliss is made of.

But you’re in Florida now, so that feeling doesn’t last long.

At 50 weeks into a 52-week trip, Simon JUST discovered his laptop has a built-in editing program. All those videos he’s done that could use editing, but our expensive editing program is back on his computer at home? They could have been glorious viewing comparable to the stuff of Spielberg and Scorsese.

To be fair, he’s only had the laptop for a few months, but still.

We prefer not to be camped near unhappy tiny-humans who wile away their entire three-day vacation screaming things like, “I don’t WANT the sand washed off my feet!” and “I don’t WANT to go inside now!” Usually,we love kids. Adore them, even. We have discovered, however, we always love 55+ campgrounds where the only whines are spelled “wine,” and it’s a pleasure to hear your neighbors suggest you join them for some.

When you hit I-75, an interstate you know so well you could drive it blind, tears will flow. When you remember your final four days of this grand, exciting, confounding, eye-opening adventure will be spent at Walt Disney World’s Fort Wilderness Campground, happiness will be restored.

We’ve learned we could happily live in the mountains if not for the snow. We could happily live in the desert if not for the sand storms. We would be thrilled to live along the Gulf coast if not for the hurricanes. There is so much we love about each state we’ve visited, but always there is “one thing” that doesn’t make them a strong contender for a move away from Florida. Florida has that “one thing” (two really; horrible humidity and…well…politics) that makes us want to move. Everything else – literally everything else – makes us want to stay. And we didn’t know that before this month, and this trip.

It’s true. Home is where the heart is. Over the course of a year, we came to feel that Fati is our home, and everywhere we have visited now holds a special place in our hearts. Connection, appreciation of differences, and a deeper understanding of yourself; these are the priceless gift of travel. We will treasure these lessons forever.

Thank you for making this journey with us!

A Year On The Road in The Independent, Pt 7

Regular blog readers will know our grand year-long RV adventure is being serialized in the UK’s Independent newspaper, and the latest instalment is now online.

It covers the northern part of our Arizona travels, and you can find it on this link:

https://www.independent.co.uk/travel/north-america/usa/great-american-road-trip-arizona-b2533875.html

Let’s Do A Little FAQ

We’ve had several questions from readers about our trip, this lifestyle, and more, so we’ve put together a little FAQ, in case you’ve been wondering.

I love Ruthie! What’s her story?
We wanted to bring an older rescue dog into our family to give him or her the best final years possible, and Houndhaven had just the right girl for us. It was taking some time for her to get adopted, partly because, according to a Houndhaven volunteer, she “didn’t show well,” (she’s was not overly affectionate to people she didn’t know, at least to start with) but she fit into our family right from the start.

She went through a period of extreme illness shortly after we got her, and during the process of trying to figure out what was going on, the specialist vet told us she appeared to be between the ages of seven and nine, which puts her between 16 and 18 now (we’re pretty sure she’s 16; there’s no way she’s 18). She’s 60% a sweetheart, 30% moody intellectual, 10% diva, and she makes us laugh a lot. Mostly.

Why are you doing a year on the road in an RV?
We’re at an age where, if we don’t see this wonderful country now, we’re not likely to ever see it. We’ve done most of Europe, we’ve been to Africa and South America, and while Asia and other locations are on our list, now was the time for the U.S.

We’ve also spent a lot of time on “other people’s schedule” for our work and in our personal lives, so this was a chance to decide where we wanted to go, when, and for how long.

How can you stand being together all the time in such a small space?
We’re used to it, and we thrive on it. We’re one of those couples who loves being together, and we feel “half-alive” when we’re apart. We have our moments, but they’re rare, and they’re moments. Not only do we love each other, we’re also best friends. It’s a pretty good combination.

How did you come up with those ridiculous names for your vehicles?
It’s a gift! Well, maybe not a gift, but the names did just come to us. Our RV got her name before we bought her, when we were talking about names other RVers have given their rigs, and Susan mentioned a couple and their young son who are doing 15 years traveling around the world in a small jeep they named Dauntless (check them out on YouTube under Hourless Life. They’re incredible!). Simon said, “Let’s call ours Indefatigable.” Susan said, “Yes! And we can call her Fati for short! Hahahahaha!” Perfection, isn’t it?

Nippy got her name when our next-door neighbors in Florida were telling us how much they liked their Ford Fiesta. They named theirs Zippy, and when we bought ours (because our Mazda can’t be flat-towed, and that was important to us), we named her Nippy in their honor. The comedic value of that moniker has been priceless (at least for us; we think we’re hilarious).

How do you choose where you’re going?
We had a “blue sky” itinerary when we started, the result of about four years of research. It covered most of the major highlights west of Florida and Michigan, such as National Parks, scenic spots, oddities, and fabulous cities. Part of our goal was to see how people really live across the country, and part was just to immerse in the areas we were traveling, to see what made them special.
We knew our blue-sky itinerary would change at some point, and when it did, we dropped Oregon and Washington and re-considered how we’d visit California. We referenced the original itinerary document, and re-worked that itinerary to keep the rest of the highlights we didn’t want to miss.

We also agreed at the start of this journey that, if either of us doesn’t want to do something, we won’t do it, no excuses or arguments needed. There is no pressure on either of us to be uncomfortable. Simon was happy to do Going-To-The-Sun Road on his own, and Susan was happy to let him do it alone. We skipped a place Susan really wanted to see because Simon wasn’t comfortable with the gravel road in Nippy. We did Chief Joseph Scenic Byway as a compromise for Simon’s desire to do Beartooth Highway and Susan’s desire not to do it. So far, we’ve found ways to work it out.

What’s it like to drive that big RV?
Simon says: It’s a challenging proposition, especially towing a car. We felt it was essential to take RV driving lessons right after we bought Fati, even though it’s not strictly necessary. You have to maintain 100% concentration at all times, but the view you get from the cab driving through the sites we’re seeing is just superlative. It’s not the most maneuverable vehicle you’ll ever drive, but, on the highway, it drives really well, and you just need to be aware not to get yourself into any places you can’t get out of, gas stations being the biggest case in point. If you aren’t positive about the route out, don’t go in.

What’s it like being a passenger in that big RV?
Susan says: Honestly? It can be magnificent and it can be terrifying. As the passenger, I have no steering wheel, no brakes, and zero control. My job is to be the co-pilot, and there are certainly times when those co-pilot eyes have been extremely useful. I keep constant watch on the GPS info and warnings, on the tire pressure monitoring system, and on Nippy, who I can see on our rear-view camera, and I report them to Simon. That leaves him free to concentrate solely on the road. We both watch the road conditions, such as rises, descents, and camber, like hawks. Simon has the final say in where he’s comfortable driving and turning around, and I have a say on the smaller things, like “Slow the hell down,” and “Keep her between the lines!” But, ultimately, how the rig is driven is totally his call.

How do you do the basics, like laundry, getting prescriptions, and getting your mail?
Laundry is relatively easy. We have a washer/dryer combo in the rig, and for heavy things like rugs and Ruthie’s bedding, we use campground laundry facilities.
Our prescriptions are through Walgreens, so we call our refills in at the closest one to our location. It’s proven difficult at times, since it has to be done quite a while in advance, and sometimes the refill order doesn’t get confirmed by the doctor until after we’ve left an area, or, in the most recent example, the pharmacist was “overwhelmed” and couldn’t “review it” (whatever the hell that means) even though he’d already filled it, it was just cholesterol medication, and all they had to do was hand it to us. We left town before he could be bothered to “review it.” It then took two weeks to be in a place long enough to call it in to another Walgreens and have a chance of getting it filled.
Ruthie’s medications are even more difficult. Sometimes it takes weeks to find a vet or a pet store that will honor her vet’s refill prescriptions. Thank goodness we discovered Costco pharmacy carries some pet meds!
Young Son deals with all our mail, but there are mail services full-time RVers use, too. We just didn’t need to go that route.

What is this “Wallydocking” you speak of?
It’s when you “boondock” (park your RV overnight on wherever land you can find that’s legal to park on), but in a Walmart parking lot. Entertainment value? Priceless!

Why are some of the photos in your blogs so wonky?
If we knew, we’d fix them! We do know the photos are formatted differently by WordPress, depending on whether you reach the blog from a link on Facebook, or have the blog delivered directly to your email (by being a subscriber, which we highly recommend), or by going directly to our website. We can only apologize!

Your trip is almost over. Are you going to keep going?
Yes! We’re both ready for a break, but we love this kind of travel so much, we’re going to find a way to keep doing it. But for a few months at a time rather than a full year!

Have a question for us? Leave it in the Comments and we’ll do our best to give you an answer!

The Month 11 Travel Map

As keen-eyed blog readers will know, we have just hit the 11 month mark in our grand “A Year On The Road” RV trek across the US. After Louisiana, we arrived in coastal Mississippi, our 23rd state in this epic voyage.

*The story so far – 11 months on the road (NB: The pin-points are not our only stopping points – there are more than 60 of those so far!)*

Since our last monthly update, we have covered another 181 miles – a totally sedate travel distance at this stage of our journey (especially when we covered more than 2,200 in the first month!).

In the last month we have moved from Baton Rouge, Louisiana, to Biloxi, Mississippi, and our traveling has been a lot more focused on the areas close by, rather than trying to cover vast distances quickly. Even including the last two months, we have only gone a total of 672 miles in our trusty Winnebago, Indefatigable (or Fati for short).

*The last two full months of our journey, from Port Aransas in Texas all the way along the Gulf Coast to Biloxi via Louisiana*

Mind you, we have still covered some territory in our trusty tow car, Nippy, putting an additional 2,534 miles on our little Ford Fiesta (and 3,991 in the past two months), which shows that we’ve completely changed the balance of our touring – going shorter distances in Fati but doing more exploration in Nippy.

Now, with just a month left of our travels (but still more than 550 miles from home), it definitely feels like the end of our grand adventure is firmly in sight, which is very hard to contemplate after such a prolonged – and intense – period of traveling.

In total, we have come 9,225 miles in Fati since leaving home, and another 24,604 in Nippy, for a grand total of 33,829 around this amazing country. Eat your heart out, Hardest Geezer!

A Year On The Road – Month 6 in The Independent

The latest instalment of our exclusive series for The Independent newspaper in the UK is now online, highlighting our travels through Nevada and Southern California, including the Mojave National Preserve, Valley of Fire State Park, and Greater Palm Springs.

This section of our Year On The road adventure took us deep into desert territory – both the Mojave Desert of much of Nevada and the Sonoran Desert that runs from Mexico up into Arizona, including part of SoCal.

*Our view of the Hoover Dam from our travels around Las vegas*

We spent much of the month in Nevada, either from our base in North Las Vegas (the fab Hitchin’ Post RV park) or further south in Laughlin, where Don Laughlin’s Riverside Resort & RV Park provided the perfect base to explore along Route 66 and down into California, where Joshua Tree National Park was another highlight.

There were scenic wonders aplenty, and a chance to see why both one of the Star Trek movies and Arnold Schwarzenegger’s Total Recall were filmed here and, for as bright as it shines, we honestly felt the scenery around Las Vegas actually glittered brighter than the city itself.

Read all about it here: https://www.independent.co.uk/travel/north-america/usa/great-american-road-trip-nevada-southern-california-b2503940.html

We also want to offer our sincere thanks to both Travel Nevada and Greater Palm Springs for their help in ensuring we saw the best of their areas, as there was a LOT to see!

A Year On The Road – The 9-Month Map

Somehow we’ve reached the three-quarter mark of our grand RV adventure, and we’re looking at another month of travel that completes nine full months on the roads of America.

The full scope of our 9-month journey to date, starting from our Florida base, then heading north and west, taking a loop from Yellowstone National Park (G) to Glacier National Park (H), then down through Montana and Wyoming (I) before heading west again to Twin Falls, Idaho (K) and south through Utah and Nevada. We’ve then headed east and south through Arizona, New Mexico and Texas

January was very much a “rest” month, in which we were largely in one place, down in the southwest of Texas, but we got back under way again at the beginning of February, turning north and east to skirt along the Gulf Coast of the Lone Star State, a part of Texas we’d heard a lot about but had never visited before.

Setting out from Donna, close to the Mexican border, we drove due east to beautiful South Padre Island, part of the barrier island system along the coast that is laced with wide, open beaches. Here, we were lucky enough to find accommodation at the KOA Journey close to the long stretch of SPI Beach.

*The long-distance view of Month 9, down in the southwest corner of Texas*

From there, we back-tracked slightly and then headed north for more coastal experiences, first at a tiny but lovely spot on Baffin Bay called Riviera (and the wonderfully natural Seawind RV Resort, part of the Kaufer Hubert Memorial Park), then it was on to the busy port city of Corpus Christi, where we were lucky enough to stay at the Colonia Del Rey RV Park, ideally situated between the beaches and the city itself.

Finally, the last week has brought us to another idyllic spot on the epic Texas seashore, Pioneer Beach RV Resort, where we are only a few hundred yards from the unbroken 18-mile stretch of gorgeous beach hideaway.

*The close-up view of Month 9, showing our route from Donna to South Padre Island and then north to Corpus Christi and Port Aransas, truly a lovely part of the state*

It is a total of 294 miles, which is barely a day’s drive under normal circumstances, but we’re looking to stay out of the way of all the winter weather immediately to the north and explore an area we’ve never been to before, hence the slow pace and the chance to really savor the journey at this stage.

That compares with 928 miles in Month 8, and takes us to a grand total of 8,536 miles since we left home.

However, we have managed an additional 945 miles in the past month in our little Ford Fiesta, Nippy, exploring the state parks, small towns and wonderful open countryside of this part of the world. Our extra mileage in the car is now at 20,653, and the grand total of miles covered in both Fati and Nippy has reached a whopping 29,189 across the USA, or enough to fly back and forth from Orlando to London almost four times!

We still have at least another 1,500 miles before we get back to our Florida base, and another three states to visit, but we can safely say at this stage that our grand RV adventure has definitely lived up to our expectations, and more besides!