It’s been a great summer! As a member of the Workamper program, I’m currently assigned at a campground in Northern California. Having previously traveled with my RV up the west coast, I’m familiar with the summer weather, which runs in the low 50’s at night and mid 60’s during the day.
Campground DockEvening ViewWalkway in the TreesThe Local Beach around the Bend
My feet are upon a path that leads me along as though it were cleared just for me.
Periodically I ask myself “What will I take with me?” Another question is “What will I leave behind?”
Next month my time here comes to an end. These last days here I’ve got to look through my pantry, art supplies, junk drawers, and the bed of my truck for items I no longer need. It seems easier to ignore surplus items than to make a decision to throw them away. Living in a camper forces me to do that process before moving on. My truck and camper can only hold so much weight and its up to me to uphold that so my travels are safe.
My assignment for the upcoming months is in Arizona. I’m so pleased to have found the position, because winter Workamper assignments in warm locations get grabbed up pretty quickly.
I feel so blessed to have the upcoming position. It’s a rare one, because it’ll be full time. I’ll be provided with a campsite, free of charge, and I’ll also have hourly pay. Better yet, if I’m a good fit for the job, it will be a long term position. A job of my very own. Well, let’s see how it goes. Not only do I have to like the job, but it has to like me.
Sophia and Home
Every day my side-kick, Sophia, reminds me that no matter where we live, when we’re together, we’re home. She’s manages to turn a little camper into a cozy home.
If relationships are important to you, then you realize the importance of keeping them healthy. Otherwise, what’s the point? You’re not much different than a hermit or you’re so narcissistic that you expect everyone else to keep them healthy. Not your job, right?
Wrong.
PHASE 1 – LOVE
Take marriage, for example. For some reason, falling in love is like…”a rush”. Finding someone who thinks you’re awesome is a boost to your ego and makes you feel like you are indeed lovable. You’re not a weirdo who has no redeeming qualities. Someone loves you. That boosts your self-worth. Hopefully everyone else in the relationship agrees.
PHASE 2 – MARRIAGE
Now you’re married to that person who thinks you’re Prince or Princess Charming. You’re together a lot more and there’s some positioning and learning that happens. You both might have had little, insignificant things about you that you never shared or divulged. It’s all good, right?
Being together all the time or at least around your work day causes those little insignificant things to come into the light. You’re in love though, so you smile and shrug and love goes on.
People enter into relationships with partners without really being sure who they are themselves. We figure we know enough, since there’s some history there, right? We like to sleep. We enjoy eating three times a day. Our bodies, when we’re kind of young, are excellent and so we don’t need to be concerned about that lasting forever. Well, that’s how we think. Young people feel immortal and like time is of no consequence. It stretches so far out in front of us that we can’t see the end of it and that’s good enough. I, personally, am not saying it’s good enough. I’m saying it because we have this subconscious opinion that it is.
PHASE 1 1/2 – WAIT – WHO AM I?
Knowing yourself is a sliding scale of course. It’s different for each of us. There are factors like how long we wait to enter into a relationship, how much time have we spent just with ourselves, how you were raised, etc. I’ve watched lots of videos about people who are mountain climbers, cyclists, marathon runners, world travelers, book lovers, on-line gamers, and all sorts of things where the person is passionate about whatever it is, and they are comfortable with feeling that way. They expect it to last a very long time. Yes, even the on-line gaming. Hey, if you love doing something and you know you do, you want to keep going. Well, you get the point, don’t you. Knowing yourself is like being in a relationship with yourself and that’s kind of what I’m getting at. You must be in a good relationship with yourself first, before anyone else.
PHASE 3 – KIDS
After you’re married for a while, life sets in. That honeymoon phase dissipates and there are probably more bills to pay than when you were single. The number of bills usually increase from there.
Children come on the scene and a new sort of honeymoon phase begins, except its being crazy in love with these amazing little beings that are the result of the love between you and your partner. Those little beings start school and get into soccer, ballet, scouts, gymnastics, and probably more and probably different things all the time. Puberty arrives for them and they get a little crotchety and their expectations are higher for themselves and their freedom than you’re able to go along with, in all good conscience most likely. Small things get blown out of proportion and seem bigger than they probably are.
PHASE 4 – AND SO IT GOES…LIFE
We heard our parents talk about it, but we always believe it’ll be better for us. Marriage will be forever. Children will be amazing beings forever and they’ll be happy acquiescing to our expectations for them their entire lives.
NOW! RV LIFE
PHASE 1 – FULL TIME RV LIFE – A RELATIONSHIP, TOO
Really, it is. Stay with me for a few minutes and then see if you agree or disagree.
Whether you’re an expert on YOU or just a novice, you think you know what you want and what you are. Perhaps you see a movie or a video about people who live in RVs. It looks exciting and fun and smart. It’s minimalist living and so you’re not as tied to things and the purchasing and maintaining of it all. Not having all that stuff to take care of frees up a lot of time. Going over every rise or around every corner will take your breath away. What’s better than that?
PHASE 2 – THE DECISION AND THE SEARCH
After maybe a day, a week, a month, or years you decide to make the leap. You’ve done some homework and researched it all. Time to just do it.
Finding, falling in love with, and purchasing that RV is like falling in love with a person and getting married. It’s a two way falling in love. You love that RV and it loves you and is going to change your life. It’ll last forever, too, right?
The beginning of RV life happens somewhere just after you’ve finally sold, donated, or discarded all your possessions. Well, perhaps not all were reallocated. You probably read that it’s a good idea to put some stuff in a storage shed or bin or cubicle somewhere for a year. That gives you time to find out if you did the right thing and it’s worth continuing. If it isn’t, you have your stuff back there somewhere and you have a plan B. If it is the life for you, then you can empty the shed and move on.
All sorts of people embark on full time RV life, whether you’re independently wealthy, retired, a digital nomad, or just plain nomad. Single people, married people, grey haired folks, and young folks might hit the road in some sort of RV.
PHASE 2 – RV LIKE COURTSHIP
The big day has arrived. You post on all your social media accounts that the day is here and you’re heading out. Day One. It’s an amazing day and sort of like a wedding. It probably cost a bit to reach this big day. Maybe a lot of people told you they were jealous and wish they could do it. They’re so excited and happy for you. Some say they could never do that. They couldn’t leave behind family and friends and jobs. A few will question your sanity. You are not deterred. You’ve never been more certain about anything. CHARGE!
PHASE 3 – LIKE A HONEYMOON
There she is, following me…my RV!
You’re behind the wheel of something, be it the RV itself or the thing that pulls it. At last it’s the honeymoon phase. Wonderful things are sure to happen, and everything will be perfect and all expectations will be met and even exceeded.
PHASE 4 – MARRIAGE
Somewhere ahead of you, along the road or on a campsite somewhere in the country, real life happens. Perhaps you have a partner with you. Maybe you have a whole family. Some shuffling about has occurred as everyone found the amount of space they could handle and needed. Clothes have to be thinned out to make room for everyone else’s clothes, too. If you have a pet, they need some space. Nerves calm a bit when they realize that they will indeed still get to eat meals every day. Chores are distributed. Joy is confirmed when fun is had here and there. No one has jumped out of the boat, desperate to return to their stuff.
PHASE 5 – LIFE!
Dishes still must be done. There is no dishwasher probably. Groceries are purchased just like old times. Beds are made. Floors are swept or vacuumed. Showers are taken. Life is happening, mixed in with a walk along the rim of the Grand Canyon, rides in an amusement park, s’mores and hot dogs made over a campfire. You’re making your way. Maybe there are still tears and disappointment or arguments about invaded space, but it’s all worked out and smoothed over.
There are days when you wonder at yourself. What were you thinking when you decided to do this? It’s more expensive than you thought it would be. Your house or apartment didn’t get flat tires or have things fall out of the engine compartment. You didn’t have to lubricate the slide-out on your house. Most assuredly you didn’t have to empty black and grey tanks every few days.
PHASE 6 – HANG IN THERE!
However, you round another corner, and your breath is taken away. You encounter other people like yourself and, after a great evening around a campfire talking and laughing with them, you remember just why you did all this. You figure out that if you buy something for the RV, something has to go. You make concessions and the RV loves you for it.
PHASE 6 – THE PAY-OFF
One day you fly out to visit family for the holidays. You sleep in the guest room and eat, graciously, whatever they cook for you. The bed isn’t what you need, or the room is too hot or cold. The whole thing is mixed in with good stuff. Maybe you begin to wonder if, after being in a house or apartment again without grey and black tanks and without the sound of rain on a thin roof, will you be able to go back to RV life. Again, you wonder. Hm. What have I done?
Time to go back to the campground where your RV has been waiting for your return. You step inside the door and realize that you are home. This small space with its give and take has come to feel like home.
You can be in the midst of a crowd and yet still be alone.
I’ve struggled with the writing of this post. Perhaps I’m over thinking it. But maybe its very important to me, so I’m searching for the right words to relay the story. Or maybe I’m just more visual and words elude me. Don’t know.
My travel trailer travels. Its meant to go places and its like a gigantic suitcase. Everything I need is inside. In fact, everything I own is in my RV and my truck. This is my way of being a homeowner. A very tiny home owner. Not me…tiny. The home.
There can be hundreds of campsites and cabins at a campground. Some places are for people who leave their RV there all the time. Camp whenever. Some are people who have a temporary job in the area and this is home for the duration of the job. Others are here for a vacation or weekend getaway. Then there are a those who are just passing through.
One moment the place can be nearly empty (well, not completely – I’m here).
EmptyFull
Okay. What I’m trying to get at is the fact that I, like all the others here, am in an RV of some sort. Mine is a travel trailer. I pull it with a medium large truck. The color of my truck doesn’t match my RV. I’m not on vacation, but sometimes I do vacation-like things. The RVs that come and park beside me for a night or two are usually occupied by at least two people and are just passing through, on their way somewhere else. They’re like a small collective. In the evening they sit outside their “rig” in camp chairs, chatting quietly, thinking, or taking in the view. They spend a lot of time away from the campground sight-seeing, shopping, or visiting friends in the area. Sometimes I do those things, too. Often I make the mistake of thinking that I can do the sightseeing next time I’m in the area. That’s something I want to work on.
My Library
My Office
My Kitchen
My RV life is all the time and mostly its an ordinary life, but in a smaller space. I still have a few books, art supplies, favorite cups and mugs, a summer wardrobe, a winter wardrobe, and a variety of cat toys. There is only one compartment that can be accessed from outside. Its pretty full, but well organized. I have a few tools, a bin of sewer hoses, a couple of water hoses, and some power adapter for converting power from 30 to 15 or 50 to 30. Right now the heated hose, for winter, is stowed in there. I’m using the summer hose and the small ten foot extension hose. I parked six feet too far from the water outlet for my main hose to reach.
Another thing I need to work on is the fact that most of my time is spent inside. I don’t usually go swimming or participate in activities like bingo or hayrides. When I get cabin fever, I jump in my truck and go to town. When I’m in my RV, I watch shows on TV (streaming), play a game on my computer (Minecraft or Guildwars 2), cook or bake, read, write in my journal, write a post for my blog, work on an art project, and sleep. My favorite meal of the day is breakfast. I might only be eating a bowl of cereal and drinking a cup of coffee, but I can make that last until lunch time. I might have to warm up my cup of coffee five times before I finished my cereal. I just enjoy the leisure of that time. No rush. The smell of the coffee brewing is a bit nice, too.
When I’m in a campground, I’m sort of one of the crowd, but I don’t think being alone in a crowd has to be a bad thing. For a long time I wanted to fit in, but that wasn’t the answer either. I march to the beat of my own drum.
In the years that I have full time RV’d, I’ve been following many who do the same. I learn from their “lessons learned” and “tips” videos and I rejoice in reading about their wonderful adventures. However, I’ve never seen one where they talk about what I’m about to talk about.
Things happen. Things break. Sometimes its a small thing. A piece of trim might come lose due to a bump in the highway. The exterior trim on the outside of my slide-out started to come off. I used long command strips to hold it on until I could get it to a service location. One day as I was walking my dog around the front of the RV and something fell to the pavement with a crash. The latch mechanism on the hood to the engine compartment had come off. At first I thought it was part of the engine and I panicked. What to do! What to do!
I’ve had people tell me that they could never RV at all, much less full time, because of things breaking. I ask you. What things go perfectly all the time? Can you live in a house and never have something break? Little things and big things. How about your car? Life is just like that. Things happen. Are you of the mind that you’d rather never have a pet, because it might get sick? Might die someday? So you deny yourself the unbelievably huge joy and companionship of a pet?
Full time RVing has been the greatest part of my life. I’ve lived a life of blessings, miracles, adventures, and have experienced a great deal of kindness from others. Not just while RVing, but sprinkled all through my life. However, RVing had a few extra bonuses. Vistas along the drive that absolutely took my breath away.
Crater Lake, Oregon
Unexpected new friends in places I’d never have looked twice at previously. Moments of quiet. Not only quiet from the world, but from the anxiety and worry within me. My friend Tracy would probably call them front porch moments. Many days brought me time to relax and do whatever I wanted. Time seemed to be as it was in my childhood when days were endless.
Imagine seeing a vista like Crater Lake and turning to your traveling companion to say, “Would you look at that? WOW!” I travel alone, but am able to share those amazing experiences with people like yourself.
I wouldn’t trade my experiences for any amount of money. I enjoyed it so much, I’m back at it again. Living in a travel trailer. Is it worth it? Absolutely! How else would I have gotten to experience the world’s largest box of chocolates?
The last house I owned was a log home; large with a wonderful studio, where I spent a good portion of my day. In that room, I edited film, did photography, read, painted, taught art, hosted Bible Study groups, framed finished art projects, watched movies, and spent a lot of time entertaining friends and family. The cabin was also a bed and breakfast. Many of the guests gravitated to my studio, where I often invited them join me at the long table and handed them some paper and colored pencils or art pens. “Lets do art”, I’d say. The room was comfortable and occupants immediately felt at ease. While learning some little art task, they would tell me about their dreams in life. I loved being there. I loved the people who visited. I was comforted by the place.
Now I’m a grey nomad. I didn’t decide to do that on a whim, although, once the decision was made, it was put into action quickly. A lot of thought, over many months, went into my decision. Thought and research. I talked about all that in previous posts.
When you get a good idea, it just sort of refuses to leave. Especially if it’s a great idea.
Here I am now, two and a half months into my adventure; my idea turned into a little home for myself.
Right now I, my little home, and Sophia are visiting friends in Ohio. This is our first trek and I admit I was a wee bit anxious at first. Okay. Maybe for the entire drive. Would I be able to find a gas station I’d fit into with my rig? How long would it take? Did I miss a turn, because it felt like nothing was familiar? Oh, look. I recognize that. No missed turn. Would I be able to back into the driveway at my destination, in the dark? But here, at last, we are.
Sophia
I’ll spend a week here, heading back to Pennsylvania Saturday. From then until early November, life will become a comfortable routine of campground life. I have a summer job in the office at the Yogi Bear’s Jellystone Campground in Quarryville, Pennsylvania. Yogi is a large, busy place with lots of amenities and guests. At one time or another every single guest passes through the office. The RV is parked at another campground nearby. Both locations are nestled in the woods, surrounded by Amish farms and roadways are shared with horse drawn carriages.
The comforts of RV life? I’m comforted by this small environment. My art/computer desk faces a large window that looks out on summer scenes serenaded by a plethora of birds. My art table itself is a comfort to me. It’s made from a table I bought from a second hand shop. The legs were discarded when it was put in here, but it fits perfectly.
Lately I feel ready to change the way I do art. In this limited space its more practical to work on small projects, using perhaps colored pencils, pastels, and watercolor. What I’ll do with the little projects, I have no idea. Art has been my voice, a way of communicating my heart to the world around me. The message has changed and it isn’t clear what new messages I’d want to paint. The bigger question – do I have anything to say that anyone would want to hear?
In the meantime, here I am. Cooking meals for myself in my little corner kitchen.
Spending time in my corner art studio
and gazing out the window at whatever scene is there at the moment
Comfort is a process; a niche to find and settle into. The sentimental, comforting things I keep must be settled on, keeping in mind the weight they add vs the joy they bring.
In the kitchen my mom’s recipe box sits next to the a favorite basket, on the counter by the window.
My rolling cart of favorite things
My library
My photo gallery
So there you have it. No matter where you live, you can be comforted by the little things in life.
I Made Pudding…reposted from my old website “Travels With Einstein”
I’ve been a nomad for the past three years; a grey nomad. Traveling the country in a travel trailer and then a motorhome. It was a glorious time and it was shared by Einstein, my Golden Retriever. The words that follow are from my travel blog. I’m not a nomad right now, but who knows. I have wanderlust and it remains to be seen whether or not I can be content with life on firm foundation.
Do not go gentle into that good night
Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right, Because their words had forked no lightning they Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height, Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray. Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
By Dylan Thomas
Keeping in touch through social media
I read on Facebook about the special moments my children are experiencing with their children…memories they are living right now and that they will cherish always. As I read I remember my own times like that. There were achievements, performances, events where I witnessed them coming into their own, shaping themselves, living in the moment. I guess I long to have that all back…but it is gone and done. If I had lived just a generation earlier, I would be retired from a job, collecting a small pension, and sitting on the front porch waiting for something…I don’t know what. Life would belong to the young.
But I made pudding today..
I’ve asked no one to take this journey with me. In fact, I’ve intentionally needed to take it alone. I have needed quiet time to sit and reflect on what came before and what might come after. I want to think about how all the things I’ve done and experienced fit into what’s left of my time on the earth. When I drive along in the RV, miles of road before me, I want to see that road with my own eyes and feelings and impressions.
Whether I am able to muster up the courage to speak to a stranger, ask questions, ask advise, find out how their own path has gone out here on the road or behind the cash register or that counter…I want it to be because I wanted it. Right now I don’t want to consider anyone else’s opinion. I want to fit it all together by myself. When I come to an intersection, even if I had a plan at the start of the day, I want the freedom to change my mind and go left instead of right.
I’m ever mindful of the lessening of days in my life. Little aches and pains niggle at my mind and body, never letting me forget. This is my time and I’m letting it fall upon me quietly or loudly.
So today, on this Tuesday, I made pudding…because I wanted to.
