So, you haven’t blogged lately, what's up with that?

Well, let’s see if I can sum it all up…

We made it to San Carlos!
And without incident. Gotta love that. I pull into our boat slip without a scratch. Yay me!

We get the truck out of storage.
Runs great, but smells funny as soon as the air conditioning starts up. After a couple days with no dissipation, Brian investigates. A mouse had made a snug little nest in both the engine and cabin air filters. Awww… NOT cute. Judging from pee & pellet quantities, he’d moved in permanently. Ah, mouse urine, the new car fragrance. Nice. Our furry antagonist also chewed all the surrounding insulation stuffing to bits…tastes like cotton candy maybe? At least he left the electrical wires alone. Fortunately, AutoZone had the replacement filters and we were breathing free in no time.

12 days putting the boat away.
Wash. Wash. Wash. Remove this. Store that. Hard work. Hot sun. Ho hum.  See last year’s post for a detailed blow by blow. It was just like that.  Again.

Haul out day.
Motoring the boat over to the launch ramp, I thought I was gliding in just fine. It didn’t feeeel like I was going fast. Turns out, I misjudged. When docking, a boat’s side should kiss the quay, no more than a polite peck; air-kisses are best. Today, Indigo’s port belly collided with the dock in a lengthy, firm, 1950’s movie smooch, complete with sound effects. Ewwww. Gross. And right in front of everyone. So embarrassing. My mistake led to a nice 2ft long, white scratch. Argg. Expletives ensue. Poor me. 

BUT…That afternoon with the boat on land, I buff out my scratch. Took an hour of elbow grease; but no one will be the wiser. Whew. Don’t tell anyone.

Driving
With the boat put away for another season, we drove and drove and drove. Up to Tucson, veered left to California for a few days, then back across the country through 7 states. Driving is Dull.

Atlanta
3 weeks in Atlanta. Put truck away. Prep van for touring: added 2 solar panels, new solar controller, fixed a stubborn leak in the roof. Fixing stuff is boring. Get to the good part.

Northeast Georgia
4 days with Brian’s dad & wife and their friends camping in northeast GA. Middle of freakin’ nowhere. The campground is an hour away from the nearest town. Not due to proximity, but because one can only drive 10mph… for 7-MILES down a snaking, rutted, gravel road. Lacking 4-wheel-drive, I thought we were going to get stuck in the wilderness for days. But we made it. Primitive sites = no water or electric. But steps away from a babbling brook & fairytale forest, with hardly anyone around, a warm fire, good company and lots of beer. Relaxing. Now we’re getting somewhere.

Eastern Tennessee
Next, we spent 3 weeks and 2500 miles traveling Eastern Tennessee. OK, now you’re talkin’.
Wait, 2500 miles? Is that a typo? No. No it’s not.

From Ducktown in the southeast corner, west to Lynchburg in the south central area, then back east through small villages across the Cumberland Plateau, to the heights of the Smoky Mountains, as far north as Johnson City, back down to Knoxville, and as far west as Gallatin (Nashville outskirts). Our final map looked like a squashed Z. We basically tacked back and forth through TN.  Countless quiet country roads, multiple mountain ascents, oodles of S-curves, minimal highway-time. Here are some highlights…
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• Four days in Chattanooga. Loved this town. We visited the Tennessee Aquarium (best thing we did), Raccoon Mountain Caverns (a low-key, non-touristy cave), Rock City (cool ‘cause I love natural rock formations) & Ruby Falls (go early morning before the insufferable crowds, otherwise don’t go). 
• Factory tour of the Jack Daniel’s Distillery in Lynchburg. Fun tour guides. Well worth it. 5 stars out of 4000 reviews on Trip Advisor can’t be wrong.  
• Explored Falls Mill in Belvidere, a working grist mill with waterwheel and museum filled with antique machinery.  
• Sat IN a waterfall. How cool is that? Inside Fall Creek Falls State Park is Cane Creek Cascades where one can climb all over the rocks and slosh about in sparkling, ankle deep water. So fun! We hiked and viewed more waterfalls at Rock Island Park further north for a total of 9 waterfalls in 3 weeks.
• Camped high in the pristine Smoky Mountains for 4 nights. Lots of mountain driving and hiking.
• Spent a day in touristy, but cute Gatlinburg sipping too many free whiskey shots at Ole Smoky and Sugarland Distilleries…mini-golfed to sober up. Breezed straight through adjacent Pigeon Forge, the ugliest town in TN and possibly biggest tourist trap of all time.
• Visited Davy Crockett’s Birthplace near Greeneville.
• Toured the tiny Cumberland Homestead Museum in Crossville.
• Went for a quiet kayak on Watts Bar Lake.
• Lunched at an amazing restaurant in Gallatin called “Chocolate Covered Strawberry” (‘cause every meal includes them).
• Stopped by Mammoth Cave in Kentucky on our way up north.

Funny story #1 - The Great Escape
On a whim, we stopped at a large park alongside the Ocoee River. Lots of folks hiking, biking, picnicking, sitting in lawn chairs, watching the water. I aimed for the waterline and began climbing around on boulders, as usual. The water level was so low and calm; I could have boulder-hopped all the way across. And I was about ready to try it. Suddenly, the water at my feet started to churn. And rise. Rapidly. What the heck? As I moved toward the bank, a loud horn shrieked incessantly. It took a second for that warning noise to register…

Crap! The damn dam is being let loose! And the dam horn was delayed! I got the heck out of there. That water flow amplified from babbling brook to whitewater wipeout in 30 seconds. SO glad I did NOT attempt a cross-creek boulder-hop. I cannot imagine standing in the center of that idyllic, lazy brook and seeing a wall of whitewater barreling downslope right at me.  Heart attack!

Pretty soon, hordes of whitewater rafters & kayakers begin flying down the newly swollen river. Come to find out, we stumbled upon the Ocoee Whitewater Center - home of the 1996 Olympic whitewater kayaking slalom course. Who knew? Rafting companies proliferate ‘round these parts, ready to take you for a ride… whenever the damn dam cuts loose. Hmmm. Sounds like fun! Maybe next time.

Funny Story #2 – Doppelganger!
So we’re at the Jack Daniel’s Distillery, milling around the gift shop, waiting for our tour. I spot Brian holding a bottle of Jack, contemplating. So I sidle on up behind him, lay my hand on his shoulder and inquire: “Whatcha got there?” He replies without missing a beat: “I’m buying myself a birthday present.” Now, it’s WAYYY past Brian’s birthday. Not to mention, his voice is not right. And in that same second I look up and realize it is NOT Brian. It is Brian’s doppelganger! O.M.G. How embarrassing!

Fortunately, after my flustered apology, the guy brushed off my blunder without a care and resumed buying his present. I snuck a photo just to prove I wasn’t crazy. He wore practically the same red plaid shirt, shorts, ballcap, hair and build. Blame it on the whiskey. Wait, that was BEFORE the tasting!

25 Days and 14 Campgrounds
Over those 3 weeks, we stayed at 14 different campgrounds, a mix of private & State & National Parks. Usually 1-2 nights only. We camped in wilderness forest surrounded by trees, and also enjoyed on-water sites on Douglas Lake, Tim’s Ford Lake, Tellico Lake, Watt’s Bar Lake, the Cumberland River and Toccoa River. Tennessee State Park Campgrounds are all very nice, with level concrete pads & good bathhouses. Some even have internet! Many are on beautiful bodies of water with miles of shoreline. While we only visited Fall Creek Falls State Park for a day because their campground was booked, I’d recommend it above all others for the hiking & waterfall excursions.

Why so much time? And why so much criss-crossing?
Well, we are scouting towns…semi-looking for property, somewhere Brian can build his dream-pole-barn-workshop… eventually, not right this second, but maybe in a few years, when we’re tired of living on the boat and desperately yearn for a real bathroom with running water. We don’t yet know where that perfect location is, but Tennessee is high on our list due to low taxes and central proximity to family, specifically the eastern area for its beautiful topography and mild climate. We’ve never explored TN, always driving straight through on the 75 to Florida or Georgia. So we thought we’d take our time and check it out. We especially liked Chattanooga, Lynchburg, Greeneville, Johnson City, Rogersville and the area near Fall Creek Falls up high on the Cumberland Plateau sort of in the middle of nowhere. Eh…We’ll see.

Michigan
After our Twisty Tennessee Tour we slacked for two months in Michigan visiting my parents, Brian’s parents, our siblings, nieces and nephews. But we never really rested…

Our 8-week Michigan stint included: 10 (count ‘em, ten!) doctor’s visits between the two of us, 2 funerals, 1 awesome Disney-themed-adult-costume-birthday party, a family reunion, a Fowlerville Dawn Patrol Breakfast (local airport fly-in) and a trip to Uncle John’s Cider Mill for cider donuts. Brian sewed some stuff for the boat: 6 fender covers and a new dinghy cover. We spent one fun-filled week with Brian’s sister & family visiting from Wisconsin. We did 3 trips to Grand Haven to visit Grandpa before he passed, and two after. I spent two weeks sorting through old photos to produce a monster 124-slide, 13 minute PowerPoint for his memorial. Subsequent visits to Grand Haven/Muskegon involved the memorial and reconnecting with my Minnesota aunt, uncle & cousins. Busy, busy, busy.

During those couple months we camped 3 days in the Irish Hills of Michigan with my parents, 2 in Grand Haven, 3 in Muskegon. We fixed more leaks in the van, changed out some failing lights due to said leaks and completed a Winnebago recall. Oh, and don’t forget 3 days in Algonac, celebrating 22 crazy, unpredictable and adventure-filled years of marriage. Yee haw!

On Oct 8th we, headed back down to Atlanta by way of Huntsville (visited the Air & Space museum) and Ft. Payne Alabama. Why? Never been there. And I got to see two more waterfalls.

Official Stats:
Overall, we camped in the van for 39 nights, the rest with family. Stayed in 21 different campgrounds. 1 GA, 13 TN, 4 MI, 1 IN, 1 KY, & 2 AL.

Georgia…#2
Back in Atlanta now, we are working on the van, prepping it for storage. Brian made and installed shelves for the bathroom hanging closet to maximize storage. We had a leak under the fridge, pulled up the vinyl floor, cleaned and aired it out. We fixed yet another window leak. F-in’ leaks. So we bit the bullet and purchased a fabric car cover. Hopefully, it will remain dry all winter, cross your fingers.  Despite the leaks, we LOVE our “V-Ger” van. We still believe it was the best option, considering the amount of traveling we tend to do, moving every other day.

Meanwhile, Brian has been helping his Dad with the woodworking business…making wooden kids’ puzzles & savings banks, cutting boards & keepsake boxes for sale at local craft shows. 

It’s good for him… getting in some father-son time, yelling at his dad. Just kidding, Brian has to yell at him because he can’t hear worth crap. So every day for 8 hours, this is what I overhear in the workshop downstairs: the loud drone of sawing & sanding…mixed in with shouting out directions & questions, two or three times each. It’s like living a real-life Progressive Insurance motorcycle commercial…
”We did get an early start, took the kids to soccer practice.” 
"You want me to jump that cactus? Alright.”
“That lady’s awesome!”  
“ I don’t see a possum.”

On the Road Again
The 2nd week of November, we’ll drive cross-country to Tucson once again, hit my favorite Trader Joe’s store and head back to Mexico for another season of fun and adventure!

100 years ago this planet witnessed the birth of the greatest man on earth. My grandfather.

1917
Joe was the son of Polish immigrants, born in Chicago, the year America entered WWI. At the age of 3, his mother died. His father could not care for 6 children alone and sent Joe to an orphanage. After two years, his father remarried and Joe returned. The reunited family moved north to a farm in Grand Haven, Michigan.

Harsh Reality
At the age of 15, Joe’s father died…and his step-mother moved back to Chicago. The kids were forced to quit school and fend for themselves. So he and one brother got a job with a local family, the Thomas’s, who owned a small lumber operation.

Through three years of sweltering summers and frigid Michigan winters, he helped clear 140 acres of timber. 10 hours a day, 6 days a week. (As a teenager!) Payment was room & board, plus $2.00 a week. Next, Joe worked construction, putting up buildings and laying in gravel roads. After living and working with the Thomas’s for years, they became Joe’s new family. At 19, he began dating the boss’s daughter.

Sweethearts
Joe and his childhood sweetheart, Ollie, married in 1938 and successfully raised two boys throughout the course of WWII. He owned a bakery route then bought the Thomas family general store. In 1942, he began working for Continental Motors Company (now known as Teledyne) in Muskegon. During the war, Joe worked seven days a week, feverishly churning out engine cylinders for wartime vehicles and aircraft. Meanwhile, Olive managed the store and the children and obtained her real estate license. After the war, they bought a Christmas tree farm and flipped houses, toiling non-stop at these outside endeavors after-hours, on weekends and foregoing vacations.

The Golden Years
After 32 years of dedication at Continental Motors, Joe retired. In 1979, they moved to Florida but returned to Michigan & Minnesota each summer for extensive visits. For decades. I grew up during these Golden Years, as they traveled via motorhome around the country, living the “snowbird” lifestyle; I wanted to be just like them. Funny how life works out.

Dynamo Do-ers
“Daylight in the Swamps!” I can hear Grandpa cheerily bellowing his wake-up call. Before 60, hard work was the norm. After 60, playing hard became the new normal. Each day brimmed with activity, up at the crack of dawn… go, go, going.

Golf was a given. Grandpa played 9 holes of par-3 golf darn near every day. And up until his 90’s, he WALKED the course. At 96, he won the senior tournament at his retirement community course. In his lifetime, he achieved a whopping 5 holes-in-one. FIVE!

Aside from golf, Grandpa loved fishing, often arising before dawn, out on the water for hours. In their Florida senior community, Grandma & Grandpa swam in the pool by day and played cards with a passion at night. They were shuffleboard champions, square-dancing experts. Their daily calendar overflowed with meetings, classes, tournaments and potlucks. 

Superman
In professional interviews, when asked who I most admired in life, “My Grandpa” was the answer. It was not a cheeseball reply; it was the truth. He was Superman. Not just to me, but to his entire family and the many others who had the gift of knowing him. His easy-going demeanor was such that everyone loved being around him. Inexplicably, we also hated to disappoint him. A man of few words (Grandma was the social butterfly), he was quick to laugh and rare to reprimand. His presence exuded a warm kindness and reassuring calm. Think… Grandpa in The Princess Bride movie. Born to be a doting grandfather, his positive influence on us all goes beyond words.

A Fighter
In youth, he was a fighter…figuratively and literally. Grandpa fought his way through the Great Depression via the back-breaking labor of a lumberjack, making him tough as nails. Consequently, he boxed for a stint in the Golden Gloves. I imagine he relished the competition aspect, but personality-wise, he was more of a fight-squasher than instigator. Think…Roy Rogers. So when friends went out at night, they asked him to go too… no one would mess with them if Wood Choppin’ Joe was around. Judging from early 1940’s photos, his tree-trunk physique and thousand-yard stare probably quelled many a barroom brawl.

A Penny-Pincher
With merely an 8th grade education, my grandfather rose from humble beginnings through hard work, honesty, dependability… and extreme frugality. He wore his favorite red cardigan sweater for probably 40 years; a grey Member’s Only jacket from the 80’s; threadbare, shake-your-head-plaid golf pants circa the Parcheta Dynasty. Success followed, allowing them to spend their Golden Years on family, friends and experiences… not stuff.

Show White & Prince Charming
My grandparents were like Disney characters - perfect in our eyes. They loved each other, like nothing else. Married 67 years, I never heard a raised voice in anger. If Grandma got frustrated, she’d huff and say “Oh, Joe.” Grandpa would emit a gruff “Harumph”. That was the extent of their fight. They never complained. They were always content. Snow White and her unassuming, unruffleable Prince Charming. Bluebirds sang on their shoulders; deer followed them around like pets. Angels on earth.

Perseverance is Key
But life wasn’t always rosy. He lived through two World Wars, the Great Depression, more war, hard times and prosperity. 18 Presidents came and went. He suffered through skin cancer, vision problems, diabetes-related foot pain & numbness, a broken hip and unbearable digestion complications. His beloved passed away of a pervasive stomach tumor 12 years ago. And yet he persevered. Maybe with abundant sadness, but with just as much pluck. “By golly.”

Fond Memories
When they weren’t out seeing the world, come June, Grandma & Grandpa would venture north to Michigan to get out of the Florida heat. For our family, the anticipation of their arrival date was akin to waiting for Christmas or the last day of school. That monstrous motorhome pulling in our driveway transformed us perfectly proper kids into screaming sirens. “They’re here! They’re here!”

After resting at our house for a couple weeks, they’d move two hours away to a favorite campground in Grand Haven where they could reconnect with local long-time friends and relatives. Our frequent visits there involved a flurry of activity… swimming in Lake Michigan, fishing and boating in the local bayous, walking the boardwalk to the lighthouse, attending the Coast Guard Festival, and viewing Grand Haven’s renowned musical fountain light show. After a busy day, we’d sit around the campfire, roasting hot dogs and marshmallows and playing cards for hours. In addition, we always arranged a camping trip together each summer somewhere else in Northern Michigan or the Upper Peninsula. These extended summertime visits, along with Christmas road-trips to Florida every few years, created idyllic childhood memories.

My recollections are scrapbook snippets. I wish I could remember stories and one-liners… it’s more like a movie screen flipping from one scene to the next:

• Playing cards for hours at our dining room table. Euchre, Continental Rum, Hand & Foot. Grandpa and I were partners more often than not. Extremely competitive, he’d correct my strategy in his easygoing, slightly Yooper accent, but never once got flustered if I made a mistake.
• Trips to the pool at their Florida house. Their 55 and older subdivision required an adult escort for all visitors under age 35. It became a running family joke… “I’m 35 now, Grandpa… a real adult! Old enough to go to the pool by myself!”
• Swimming. Always swimming. Pools, lakes, ocean. Grandma in her white swim cap adorned with plastic flowers performing her side stroke; Grandpa floating effortlessly, eyes closed, brown body soaking up the sun. I swear he could simultaneously sleep and swim.
• Wading in the Atlantic Ocean, scouring the sand for cool shells. My seashell-hoarding syndrome was Grandma’s fault.
• Riding in the overhead compartment of their motor home while Grandpa drove. Performing acrobatics on the internal roll bar in the back seat of the Suburban. Before seat belt laws.
• Receiving postcards as they traveled, gifts of a straw doll from the Bahamas, a sombrero from Mexico. Their travel bug became my own.
• Fruit-picking excursions: blueberries in Grand Haven, strawberries in Fowlerville and cherries in Ludington.
• Camping all over Michigan: favorites were Burt Lake, Gogebic, Porcupine Mountain & Ludington.
• Grandpa teaching me how to golf… in vain. I did NOT acquire THAT trait.  “Straighten your arm.” “Swing through.” I tried to wear sandals once; he refused to allow such an appalling faux pas. “You can’t wear sandals golfing!”
• We played our last golf game together at age 97. Though he could no longer achieve his normal distance, that ball still flew straight as an arrow. After that summer, failing balance and diminished strength robbed him of his favorite pastime.
• After a hospital stint in his 90’s, I flew out for a quick visit. He wasn’t too happy about it. He could take care of himself and didn’t need anyone making sure he was OK. Anyway, I spanked him at 2-player Hand and Foot one afternoon, gaining three joker books in the 1st round, a rare, high-scoring occurrence. Then I won the 2nd round resulting in a complete and utter massacre. Supremely annoyed at my colossal score, he refused to continue. But I begged and he relented. Ordinarily, our card-playing competitiveness dictates ‘no quarter’. But for some reason that day, seeing him so disheartened flipped a switch. I could have gone out that final round and won by a landslide. But I let him win. And I never let on.

The Battle for Independence
Fiercely stubborn, Grandpa lived on his own in Florida until just a couple years ago, hell bent on not giving up his independence. It was an excruciating process, coming to the conclusion that he needed help. (I told my dad to remember this battle of wills when I’m the one who has to convince him.) Fortunately, an apartment opened up at an assisted living facility in Muskegon, Michigan. Right next door to his brother…who also happened to be his best friend. What a blessing. With inside help and family nearby, everyone felt better.

Feb. 2017 – The Big 100
In February, we celebrated his 100th birthday. A joyous occasion with family flying in from all over. He initially protested, not wanting to cause a fuss on his behalf; but when the time came, he was all smiles. What a joy to see him so happy, surrounded by friends and family, honoring this accomplishment, this wonderful life. My Uncle asked Grandpa how he managed to live so long. What is the secret? Without missing a beat, he bluntly stated: ”Hard work.”

August 2017
At my next visit in August, Grandpa had just moved to the adjacent nursing home the week prior, independence totally eliminated. He probably should have done it months ago, but no one could tell that man what to do. He eeked out an autonomous life for as long as he could bear.

Now, afraid of falling, the cane he clung to for support has been grudgingly exchanged for a sturdier wheeled-walker. He is interrupted by orderlies every couple hours. Too fatigued to fix his own food and too many pills to track, others now monitor his food, his medicines, his every move.

Sitting in his lounge chair, Grandpa’s bald head droops forward onto a skeletal chest. Exhaustion ebbs from his gaunt visage. It takes an enormous amount of effort just to stand. His body has been failing for the last year. An unfixable ulcer. Everything that goes in comes out, uncontrolled. Who wants to operate on a 100 year old man? The truth is…no one.  “You don’t know what it’s like”, he grumbles to my mom and I one day. I have no answer.

My grandfather does not complain. Not from work, not from pain, not from heartache. Pessimism is a side of him I had never before seen. Now, this very proud man has been reduced to requiring nurses clean his fluid malfunctions. It clearly makes him uncomfortable. Physically, of course… but most of all, I think, mentally. He is self-conscious. Indignity is worse than pain.

Frustrated with his failing strength and debilitating digestion, gloom pervades the room. “All I do is move from the chair to the couch to the bathroom and back again. This isn’t a life.” Certainly not HIS kind of life.

In our conversation, it’s evident he can see the finish line. “Ah, but I have no regrets.” He answers himself matter-of-factly, briefly regaining that essence of perseverance so deeply ingrained. No Grandpa, you should have no regrets.

A week later…
Brian and I, my brother and his wife drive over for a visit. We convince him to play cards… Hand and Foot. Since we were little, playing cards when Grandpa & Grandma were around was a daily activity. And we LOVED it. So to be able to do this with him was a miracle. After thousands of hours over the years, he could play this game in his sleep…and today he practically did. He was merely going through the motions, by rote memory, speaking very little. But he & Andy still won. After an hour, he was exhausted. I fear this will be the last time. But I shake it off. Each time I left him I’d wondered that… and yet he persevered.

After his nap, we just sat and visited. “Remember Grandpa, how we used to go camping at Ludington State Park? And Burt Lake?” He chuckles, eyes brightening. “Oh yeah, all those trips were great! Oh, the fish we caught!”  We talked about the first house he built as a young man, digging the basement himself… with a shovel…using re-purposed cement blocks for walls... hand-scraping plaster off every one. How his wicked step-mother made him sleep out in the barn when her grandchildren visited for the summer. He recalled his daily childhood chore of tending their 5 cows, swimming and lazing on the banks of the Grand River while they grazed. He talked about working as a foreman 7 days a week, 12 hours a day, churning out engine cylinders… without CAD programs. I thought about recording our impromptu interview; but I couldn’t make myself do it. Somehow, it felt an invasion of privacy. I told myself, “Maybe next time…”.

Hospice
A week later, the dreaded word pops up: Hospice. My Uncle prepares for a visit, so we all plan on coming over on Sunday, Sept 10th.
Sept 3rd.  My parents drive over to visit for the day. He wants to go to Pizza Hut, a good sign.
Sept 4th.  He weakens drastically, everything snowballs downhill. His brother urges him to sign hospice papers, but he initially refuses. Not until his two sons arrive. He finally relents.
Sept 5th.  My mom & dad return; my Uncle & Aunt arrive early from out-of-state.

Sept 5th
That same day, it’s two days into our impromptu 22nd anniversary camping trip. We’re at Algonac State Park, steps away from the St. Clair River which adjoins Lake Huron and Lake St. Clair before emptying into Lake Erie. People visit this park primarily to watch the freighters. Campsites are just a road width away from the water where dozens of freighters march down this narrow superhighway daily. Campers sit outside in lawn chairs facing the river, waiting for the behemoths; everyone has a camera.

Facing the river, we can sit on our bunks and watch them pass by through our front windshield. Each time we’d see movement out of our periphery we’d look up to stare. The parade is mesmerizing.

10pm
Mom calls after a hectic day. Hospice has taken over but Grandpa is content now that both his sons had arrived. Too weak to walk, he is bed-ridden. Mom asked the nurse her gut feeling. 1-2 days. No one was prepared for that blunt answer. My brother and I agree to leave early tomorrow to drive across the state. But I can’t sleep. I’m up playing Canasta on my tablet ‘til midnight. I keep losing.

A Freighter Farewell
Sometime after midnight, I hear a low, steady rumble and look up. Outside the small confines of our van, a near full moon shines on windowpane water. The red bow light of a large freighter enters my view through the windshield. I close my tablet and watch, like every other time these past two days. But something about this one was special.

A hulking shadow appears, ghosting down the channel, slow and steady. Its string of pinprick lights glide through the darkness, hovering single file far above the moonlit velvet roiling beneath. After a mesmerizing moment, the aft superstructure emerges into view like an illuminated goliath. An angelic crown of yellow halogen lights pierces down into the dark void.

As I watch the great ship pass, it seems a living, breathing entity. The personification of everything my Grandfather was: A weathered ship run by hard work and perseverance. A vessel of constant kinetic energy. A silent nomad, imparting smiles at each port. A tower of strength. A dependable engine. A no-nonsense, steely exterior. A container of treasured cargo, his heart of gold. An angel in disguise.

And as tears flowed uncontrollably down my cheek, I whispered to myself...

“There he goes…”

Resolute. Unwavering. Persevering.
Moving along an arrow-straight path. On course to a new port.
To be with Grandma once again.

One hour later, my grandfather passed away.

Epilogue
Grandpa persevered just long enough to see his two sons together again, a blessing. While we were a day too late, my last visit was as it should be: playing cards with my brother and talking about the good old days.

Writing this post took forever, heartbreaking every time I started in again. But it was something I felt inordinately compelled to do...my own paper eulogy to honor his memory, since I could not bear to speak them aloud at his memorial.  

And my final farewell via freighter? No poetic license taken…I truly did say those words and felt his subtle presence in that moment saying goodbye. Active imagination? Maybe. Don’t care. It is something I’ll never forget.
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Thanks for stopping by on your way home, Grandpa. 

Where can you walk amongst wenches & wizards, lords & ladies, pirates & peasants? Engage in a real-life Dungeons & Dragons atmosphere? The Michigan Renaissance Festival! It’s like a tiny Disneyland for lovers of the medieval age and fantasy characters of all kinds.

The Michigan Renaissance Festival in Holly, Michigan is a non-stop visual extravaganza…a head-swiveling, eye-popping, show-stopping, people-pageant. Since its beginnings circa 1979, the Festival has grown to over 250,000 visitors each year. This 17-acre renaissance replica village is replete with craftsman shops, imitation castles, crowded pubs, entertainment stages and a gargantuan number of gussied-up villagers. On a rainy weekend like today, it feels even more Renaissancy as we tip-toed around the muddy “town” streets, aiming for strewn straw, just as fair maidens did back in the day. Who amongst you wilt gallantly lay down thy cape for me to walk across that puddle... Anyone? Anyone? Nay.

Themed Weekends
From August to the first weekend in October, the festivities are sustained for 7 consecutive weekends. Themes accompany each weekend ranging from “Highland Fling” (with Scottish Games, pipers and legions of kilt-wearers)…to “Royal Pet and AleFest” (drink and be merry alongside your furry friend…preferably costumed in 16th century doggy-duds). The day we attended was “Wonders of the World” weekend, noted for its Steampunk Invasion cocktail party and costume contest reflecting gadgetry, gears and goggles of the futuristic Victorian era fantasy genre.

So, what’s so cool about this RenFest? Well…

The Shopping:
For the Renaissance enthusiast, it’s a dream. Where else can you find this kind of stuff all in one place: custom fitted elf ears (yup, not kidding); Renaissance costumes (kilts, capes, hoop skirts & poufy shirts-like Seinfeld’s “Puffy Shirt” episode); unique potions (herbal extracts); fairy gardens; swashbuckling gear (swords and staffs, pirate outfits and armor.) But you can find unique Christmas gifts too: local honey, artisan teas, carved wooden & stone beer steins, interesting incense holders, handmade leather goods, rare stones and crystals. Got one of those hard-to-buy-for persons on your list? RenFest can help. Who doesn’t want a poufy shirt for Christmas?

The Entertainment:
Of course, you got your requisite jousting tournaments and your medieval castle dinners. In addition, 17 themed stages showcase a variety of performances: lilting and mournful Gaelic music, rock bag-pipers (so cool!), raunchy comedians, peculiar feats of strength (like balancing a wooden bench on your nose – hmmm, reminds me of Mexico) or feats of folly (like flame-throwing). Filtered throughout, you got your Taro card readers, palm readers, metalwork demonstrators, young maidens dancing around the maypole, roving musicians and bawdy bards. There’s even a daily Royal procession where us commoners can get a glimpse of the Queen and her court, along with hundreds of other costumed villagers flaunting their duds.

The Costumes:
Attendees are encouraged to dress up in their finest fantasy frocks. This is actually the best part, because at least half of attendees are in costume, and most are incredibly dressed to the nines. Wizards in flowing robes, buxom wenches in tight corsets (breast reduction?... no, breath-reduction), dainty winged faeries, elves with those custom fitted ears, fancy schmancy noblemen, Friar Tucks, flower-haired fair maidens, armor-bedazzled knights of the realm, sword-sporting Musketeers, cutlass-bearing buccaneers, badly singing bards, wandering minstrels, kilted Scottish knaves, drunken Irishmen…you name it…they all gather together in this spot to have fun being someone else for a day. Think Game of Thrones meets Lord of the Rings. (Where’s my John Snow?)

Some outfits seem a little incongruous…like fat belly-dancers (nobody wants to see that) or Deadpool (I mean, this isn’t ComiCon); others just downright don’t make sense. I saw one disaster of a homemade red butterfly/bee costume; and another guy was only half-dressed wearing a kilt, tennis shoes and plain red t-shirt…total costume slacker. But for the most part, these folks go ALL OUT. And to go all out ain’t cheap. A lace-up bodice alone can go for $200, a red riding hood cape $120, wooden staff $80-$120…it all depends on how authentic you want to look.

While I loved some of the over-the-top costumes, one wraithlike princess in ghost-white makeup with black haunting eyes and a flowing white dress caught my eye as she mysteriously stalked about town…really eerie and movie-worthy. My second fav was Gandolf. Now, you’d think everyone would want to be Gandolf, but I only saw one. Because this guy IS Gandolf… with his stately presence, deliberate stride and thousand yard stare. Anyone who tried to top THIS Gandolf impersonation would fail miserably (and probably be struck down by lightning… or orcs).

The Food:
Come for the costumes and people-watching, but stay for the food. Get here early to try a Scotch Egg for breakfast – a hard-boiled egg coated in sausage and breading then deep fried. OMG this is the best thing ever. Of course there are donuts and cider, soup in a bread bowl, hot spiced walnuts, chocolate covered bacon (‘cause bacon and chocolate solve world crises), and of course, giant smoked turkey legs. Because where else can you get a smoked turkey leg? Plus, there’s beer tasting and mead tasting and wine tasting, all three of which promote general happiness and well-being.

Those Frikin’ Pickle People:
Our first encounter inside the castle walls was with The Pickle Man. Hawking obscenely large pickles on a stick, The Pickle Man managed to bleat out the word “pickle” in such a booming voice, enunciating the PICK so sharply, it scared the bejesus out of me every time. “Piiiiiickle!... PICKle!”  These pickle vendors have their wiles, often making naughty or snarky references to unsuspecting passersby. “Those elf ears are UUUGLY”.

At the other end of the festival, The Pickle Woman lies in wait. She must have overheard one of us saying the name Josh in conversation while passing by. Not skipping a beat, PickleWoman shouted out “Hey Josh!” and hugged him like they were best friends, subsequently proceeding to place a pickle into the hands of his wife. “She wants a pickle, Josh!” OK, you pulled a fast one, very funny… “What, she took it!” He good-naturedly pays for the pickle. Funny gag, right? I take a picture of the incident and in doing so PickleWoman turns and says “Hey, look at your mom!!” Mom? WTF???!!! My eyes go wide and my face turns beet red, mad as hell. Seriously? She sees my horrified face and backpedals: “What, people have kids young these days.” Yeah, I would have been 16. It’s just one more reminder I am getting old. I even put on makeup today and everything!  Ugh…depressing. PickleWoman, NO MORE pickles from you!

An Entertaining Day of Escapism, then Back to the Real World:
Aside from The Pickle Incident, escaping the distressed world we live in for an imaginary realm, even for just one day was a nice reprieve (never mind that life was much worse back in medieval times!) But it is time to get back to the real world. We are headed down to the boat right now to survey the fallout of Hurricane Newton in San Carlos, Mexico and to start getting Indigo shipshape for a 3rd season of cruising!

The Sunrise Side
After we split up from my parents, Brian and I drove back through Mackinaw City, crossing to the Lake Huron side of the mitten. The “Sunrise” side. You see, Lake Michigan, being on the western shore, gets the sunsets… and all the money. Those who live on Lake Huron (on the eastern shore) see the sunrises over the lake. In other words: Sunsets + sand = tourism; Sunrise + trees = normal. But that’s kind of WHY it’s cool here on the sunrise side. It’s frozen in time. The towns are more home-towny, a little run down but still plugging away; the trees are a little more scrabbly, the beaches more wild & rocky, the shoreline marshy in many areas (bad for swimming, great for kayaking); driving down the back roads you see… just… a lot of trees, and not many homes and zero traffic. You get the feeling this is how it was up here 100 years ago. You FEEL really far away from EVERYTHING.

Ocqueoc Falls
We spent the night at the 14-site, state forest campground next to Ocqueoc Falls (Ok-we-ok), the only waterfall in lower Michigan. This spot is in the middle of pretty much nowhere, miles from any town. So we were surprised to find a full parking lot, with an overwhelming number of families picnicking and swimming in the river. A series of shallow falls with a rocky, walkable river is begging to be frolicked in by kids and adults alike. We spotted locals lounging in lawn chairs set directly in the shallow pools. A great way to cool off in the summer heat!

Alpena
We spent a rainy day just messing about in the big town of Alpena (pop. over 10k, the largest town in the area). We watched a movie at the local theater, went to the brand new Meijer store (woohoo!), sampled a local coffeehouse, perused a musty antique store and had ice cream at Culver’s. Alpena is mainly an industrial town: cement is big business here, as is limestone (one of the largest quarries in the world). So we were surprised to find a college, a thriving downtown and a busy business district - pretty much everything you need is right here. Plus, Alpena is set on Thunder Bay, its marshy wetlands threaded with acres of water trails, ideal for kayaking. Except it’s raining. Maybe next time.

Thunder Bay Marine Sanctuary
Our drizzly day was a perfect time to visit the Thunder Bay Marine Sanctuary in Alpena. NOAA and the State of Michigan jointly operate this unique sanctuary whose purview combines salvage and display of local marine artifacts in a museum, as well as in-water preservation of the amazing number of shipwrecks in Thunder Bay.

Also known as “Shipwreck Alley”, this 4300-sq-mile area of Lake Huron, now an underwater preserve, was a standard route for freighters and sailing ships plying the Great Lakes. Over 200 ships have foundered in this bay, notorious for severe storms and rocky shoals, many of which are lying in such shallow waters as to be accessible by kayakers, divers and snorkelers. The museum offers glass-bottom-boat tours of several shipwrecks close to shore. This would have been a cool side trip, but the boats weren’t operating that day - too yucky outside. You don’t want your shipwreck tour to become a shipwreck itself!

Museum
The museum displays hundreds of interesting artifacts. My favorite were the ships logs detailing things like watch changes, ship speeds, storm conditions, one even had a cross-section sketch of the freighter hold and its contents: trade goods like iron ore, fish, copper, bricks. We learned about typical maritime shipping lanes through the Erie Canal into the Great Lakes; Brian operated a digital, simulated underwater rover; we read about the various types of schooners and brigs up to modern day freighters and why they foundered… storms, groundings, engine fires, ice, fog, even head on collisions with other boats. Back then, it was not uncommon for shipping barons to force the sail of boats into November, the notoriously worst weather month of the year here, to get one last shipment in before the lakes are overwhelmed with ice. Lives lost unnecessarily as a result.

That Damn Erie Canal
On a lighter note, the least desirable thing about this museum is their music. In one section, the repeated playing of old Erie Canal song, known as “Low Bridge” covered by (I think) Bruce Springsteen, was… (I’ll try to be nice here) excessive. OK, I wanted to pull my hair out. This very short song was repeated over the overly loud speakers, again and again and again… back-to-back. Maybe they don’t WANT you to stay in this section and read everything because I could barely concentrate due to Bruce’s broken record. I couldn’t get that damn song out of my head for DAYS after we left:
I've got an old mule and her name is Sal, Fifteen miles on the Erie Canal
She's a good old worker and a good old pal, Fifteen miles on the Erie Canal…
Low bridge, everybody down
Low bridge cause we're coming to a town…
And now YOU have it in YOUR head.  J You can hate me later.

To be honest, part of my irritation was attributed to a set of very obnoxious grandparents guiding their obviously uncaring grandchild through our same section. Grandma loudly proclaimed her interest at each display trying in vain to entice the kid, “Oooh Johnny, look at this cool ship replica”. Then she would read the text to him. At full volume. ‘Cause Johnny wasn’t right next to her looking at the ship;  Johnny was running all over the tight corridor, completely distracted and not listening anyway. Seriously Grandma? Anyway, except for Grandma (hopefully she’s not a regular) and Bruce (unfortunately, he IS), for those interested in maritime history, this museum is a must-see.

Oscoda
The Au Sable River runs nearly 140 miles across the upper portion of Michigan’s Lower Peninsula, dispersing into Lake Huron at the small town of Oscoda. Due to its sandy bottom and easily navigable waters, the Au Sable is an ideal canoeing and kayaking river. In fact, we’d just missed the yearly Au Sable River Canoe Marathon. Running 120 miles of this river, pro canoeists paddle throughout the night and into the following day. Sounds fun!

River Running
We decided on a half-day canoe trip from Oscoda Canoe Rental, gliding along this beautiful river under threat of thunderstorm which thankfully never transpired. The current was just strong enough to do most of the work - we really only needed to steer. The first half of our 4-hour trip meandered slowly through the undeveloped Manistee National Forest. No houses, no people…just us and the clear, clean water and the wild woods. Perfect. Then we got to the second half.

Drunken Tubers
As we rounded a corner, we heard people (ugh) and knew it must be OUR halfway point because suddenly dozens of tubers and canoers and kayakers were putting in their floatation devices for their 2-hour tour. From here on out it was summer mayhem as we were accompanied by drunken tubers and shrieking teens. One troupe of giggling, teenage cheerleaders traveling in over 20 canoes stopped at a sandy beach to swim and splash and squeal, performing cheerleading flips & playing chicken on each other shoulders in the water. Ummm, yeah, it was quite the spectacle.

​Another group’s member was drunkenly singing that “Hole in the Bottom of the Sea” song. You know the one: “Theeeeere's aaaaaa….wart on the frog, on the bump on the log, in the hole at the bottom of the seaaaaaa.” Mr. Opera was actually pretty funny the first few verses…singing with a deep vibrato, conducting crazily with his arms, trying unsuccessfully to coax his drunk friends into joining him. Eventually, after WAY too many verses, well, it just wasn’t funny anymore. Come on buddy, move along…

Lumberman’s Monument
Just 20 miles west of Oscoda, is an interesting memorial to the under-appreciated Lumberjack. Michigan led the lumber industry in the late 1800’s. And the wide Au Sable River was used as a watery highway to float millions of pine logs to Lake Huron for processing and ship transport. This Federal park honors the men who plied this river, cutting trees, shaving branches, rolling them from a clifftop down into the water, poling them down river, breaking up log jams and delivering the product to sawmills. Educational signs in the park describe the grueling work and living conditions. I talked about trees earlier…upper Michigan has no shortage of trees. Now. But what I didn’t know… most of those trees are new, 60-90 years old. The harvest of millions of pine trees, fires and flooding devastated the tree population in the late 1800’s. But during the Depression, the CCC (Civilian Conservation Corps) made a gargantuan effort to replenish the forest, planting over a HALF A BILLION pine trees!

Tawas City
This time we stayed at Tawas State Park. With one calmer, bayside beach in Tawas Bay and a second, wider beach on Lake Huron, plus another lighthouse on site protecting the peninsula, this was a busy, yet pleasant campground. The beaches are sandy here, as opposed to rockier farther north. So sandy in fact, the Tawas Point lighthouse had to be replaced due to shifting peninsula sands, closing the original off from Lake Huron an entire mile from shore in less than 30 years, rendering it useless.

After a delicious breakfast at the Whitetail Café, a local diner in downtown East Tawas, we walked out to the marina. Of course. I think we’ve walked the marinas of darn near every town along the entire northern coast. Ludington, Manistee, Leland, Northport, Suttons Bay, Charlevoix, Petoskey, Cheboygan, Rogers City and now Tawas. Are we weird or what?

Pinconning. Cheese. Please.
Next we stopped in Pinconning for cheese. Duh. Pinconning is a town AND a type of cheese. These are several cheeseries here, so when you go through Pinconning, it’s a like a requirement to buy Pinconning cheese, or you get fined, or something. I don’t know, but that’s what I told Brian and he seemed to buy it. Or maybe he wasn’t listening. Either way, I win. Cheese for me.

Also in Pinconning is the Northwoods Wholesale Outlet. Basically, this is like going to Bass Pro Shop… except it’s bargain-basement-time. Housed in a cluttered warehouse, this place has great discount prices for camping, boating, hiking, fishing and hunting gear. It’s so big, we strolled around for over an hour and didn’t go down every aisle. From kayaks to deer blinds to fishing gear to cheap jeans to RV accessories to grilling tools, this bargain outdoorsman extravaganza has it all.

Bay City
We really got our money’s worth out of that $11 Michigan State Park sticker. Bay City State Park is the 14th Michigan State Park that we have either stayed at or visited (lunched, hiked or just drove through to check it out) in the last 3 weeks. Whew. Bay City State Park is an overlooked campground situated on Lake Huron and only a few miles from the city. We did not make a reservation. So when we arrived, I asked for the list of open sites so we could go in and take our pick. She handed me a list of over 100 open sites! Really? It’s prime camping season and all the other State Campgrounds are nearly full, if not fully full. What’s the deal here? The sites are big, flat, not too buggy, and the bathrooms were the cleanest we’d ever seen! Close to town, yet still secluded, it was within walking distance from the beach and hiking trails with the most wildlife I’d seen all summer. Go here.

USS Edson
One of the few things to do in Bay City is visit the USS Edson, a Vietnam-era Naval destroyer. Launched in 1958, it is one of only a few Navy ships named after a U.S. Marine. Can I have a Woot! Woot! The cool thing about this 418ft-long, 45ft-beamed, 22ft-drafted destroyer is that the depths are open for inspection. We rooted around in the bowels of the boat for 2 hours, traipsing on metal catwalks, poking around the steam turbines, torpedo bays, crews quarters and top secret comms room so old school they had typewriters! On deck, we saw the big gun turrets, mess hall, captain’s quarters, the darkened electronics room and control bridge. After our visit, we talked with the guy responsible for this floating treasure. Working long hours, he keeps this museum open & coordinates volunteers to upkeep the ever-deteriorating ship, relentlessly attacked by the elements. If you get a chance, please go support this piece of history.

The End of the Road
From here, we ended our trip as we began, by visiting family members. Another ½ hour south is Saginaw, where we stayed with my relatives. We had a very nice evening reconnecting and seeing some of the sights in nearby Midland. At this point, we’d been travelling for 3 weeks were pretty much tired. While we were extremely happy with our van, V-Ger, and its voyaging capabilities, we looked forward to vegging out. Our job for the next week was to babysit my niece-cats. Yep, that’s right, we were charged with housesitting (but mainly cat-sitting) for my brother and his wife while they went on vacation. Excited to pretend we lived in a real house by ourselves… with reliable internet (and Playstation for Brian)… for a whole week? You betcha!

Altogether now... “O-key-fen-o-key”. Who doesn’t like to pronounce this word?

I always thought the Okefenokee Swamp was in Florida. I mean, Florida and swamp just go together… like shrimp and grits… or bacon and everything. Nope, that’s the Okeechobee, the Okefenokee Swamp is in southern Georgia, about as southern as you can get. Just 10 miles from the Florida border is Stephen C Foster State Park, smack dab in the middle of endless swampland considered as the headwaters of the Suwanee River. (Not to be confused with another Stephen Foster State Park in northern Florida).

Our first summer excursion in our van, “V-Ger”, was destined for this remote corner of Georgia, 700 square miles of wilderness wetlands wonder. With about 66 campsites, this small Georgia State park was packed. But according to the rangers, it’s typically empty all summer except for holiday weekends. Why so overlooked?

One hour to civilization
If you are looking for seclusion, look no further. An hour off highway 75 and the nearest grocery store, this park is on the way to nowhere. The nearest gas station is STILL 18 miles away. So prepare to be self-contained for the duration, lest you drive 2 hours just to find more hot dogs for that campfire. Nothing but swampland and trees and more swampland for miles and miles around. Internet? Forget it. Cell phone? Spotty to non-existent.

Lock-Down
This is the first time we’ve experienced a campground locking their gates at night. No in or out traffic after 10pm. And if you stay here, you should know…10pm means 10:00pm. How do we know? Dad and Terry raced to make the deadline and unfortunately missed it by literally 1 minute. The heavily fortified, automatic gate is 7 miles from the actual campground… no way in, no way out. Stuck sleeping in a truck on the side of an endless country road until dawn in the middle of nowhere with spotty cell phone service? Not happy campers! But they were not the first, nor will they be the last to set up camp outside those gates.

Bugs… GIANT Bugs
Bugs rule this land. Horse flies half the size of my hand, swarms of deer flies, invisible chiggers galore and… spiders. While boating, I put my paddle on a tree to keep from hitting it with the boat and startled a giant spider. I shrieked, of course, and suspiciously eyed all the other trees within arm’s reach as threatening and arachnid-infested. I overheard our camper neighbor as he described waking up to a ticking sound and, shining a flashlight onto the tree outside his tent, saw a huge spider crawling, its legs producing that hair-raising tick-tick-tick. Yeah, it was that big.  Ewwww. (Glad I wasn’t in a tent.) Our walk down the boardwalk nature trail was riddled with spiders menacingly hanging in the trees just beyond the rail perimeter – thank you to the brave rangers for clearing this pathway.

The bathhouse exterior was not immune to strange crawly things and moths and…what… there’s two walking sticks having “relations”, seriously, I’m not kidding. My only consolation was the dragonflies, which I am not afraid of… they were everywhere. Fortunately, no snakes. I wouldn’t have believed it - swamps usually equal snakes. Right? I mean, that’s like a rule or something. There used to be tons, according to a ranger, but they all moved away when people encroached. What people?

Chomping Chiggers
Despite several years living in the southeast and many extensive visits, we’d never been catastrophically bothered by chiggers. Unaware of this menace, we carelessly sported flipflops for two days before our feet, ankles and shins started to itch like crazy, riddled with pinhead-sized red welts. Chiggers do not embed themselves into their host (as commonly thought) but insert enzymes that destroy and harden skin into a feeding tube, hence the welt. And the ITCHING… I wanted to rip my feet off. Since we were a long way from nowhere, we put up with it for a night. Camping trip complete, we drove ‘til we found a Walmart and purchased a variety of itch treatments with not much luck.

Brian’s Floridian cousins, who are quite used to putting up with these vicious critters, diagnosed our maddening malady and suggested puppy flea shampoo (less medicated). So I spread it (undiluted) on our feet, waited 5-10 minutes and rinsed off (a couple times per day for several days). The medicated shampoo soothes and seems to soak into the sores, drying up the skin and, I guess, the enzyme. I don’t care how it worked, but it did. I could feel the medication tingling so it’s probably not a good idea to leave on very long or apply to children. Thank goodness after a couple treatments, the itch began to subside and we could sleep again. But the remnant, ghost itch didn’t quit for about two weeks. Ahhh… I love the outdoors/I hate the outdoors.

But don’t let spiders and chiggers stop you from coming here and enjoying this cool park. (Just wear tennis shoes and socks at all times.) I can put up with the bugs for a couple days to witness the beauty.

Swamp Skiffing in Water World
For our afternoon excursion, we rented an aluminum skiff. Some areas, like our campground, form higher ground consisting of hardwood trees and solid land… but for the most part, the water and swampland just go on forever. 120 miles of water trails branch out before us, actually marked by street signs, lest you get lost. It’s a perfect for paddling canoes or slowly motoring a small run-about down these lonesome canals in search of nature.

FairyLand
Surrounded by the peaceful hum of cicadas and a fresh “green” smell of moist earth and dewdrops, we entered another world. The tranquil water ahead showed a mirror image of majestic cypress trees… their giant, tented roots clinging to the water’s edge… their branches sprouting legions of grey-green Spanish moss that, when backed by sunlight, appeared as an angelic, glowing cloud. Locked in by lush green lily pads, guarded by gators, our watery path became narrower and narrower, quieter and quieter. We were literally in the middle of nowhere - a fairyland, with little gnomes hiding behind trees, water faeries basking atop white lilies, tinkerbells flitting amongst the moss-laden branches.

FireSwamp
Tall cypress eventually closed in high above, blocking all sunlight. My fairy wonderland faded into the forbidding FireSwamp. I felt just a liiittle toooo far away from civilization (the thought of our old, cranky motor quitting 4 miles away in the middle of a maze of channels was disconcerting), a liiittle toooo dense (not to mention spidery) and a touch creepy (with that backwoods “Deliverance” sort of feeling). These waterways are frequented by good ‘ole boys in plaid shirts and denim overalls, none too thrilled ‘bout us visitors gaming in on their good fishing holes. (Stereotypical? I personally witnessed multiple overalls.)

So we turned around and headed back into the dazzling sunlight, back to the fairyland. Glad the ranger reminded us to take our paddles, just in case of engine breakdown. Well, we needed them. The engine didn’t do so well in shallow water, cutting out several times. Plus, due to tidal outflow the current became a little stiffer. No real option for a nice slow puttering, the motor either went fast or really fast. Sliding around on the water, we had to pole ourselves out away from the close banks to keep from hitting trees (and scaring spiders) several times.

Outdoor Activities
Visitors love this place for its solitude and various outdoor activities: fishing, wildlife sightings, photography, birding, or for the enjoyment of being out on the calm waters. You can be ON the water. Just make sure not to go IN the water. Why? MOST people come here to see the alligators.

Alligator Alley
Gators thankfully did not favor lounging around in the enclosed and shaded tributaries but were visible in force along the main channel. Every so often we’d see one sticking his head out of the water, only his snout and eyes visible. Watching. Waiting. It was eerie. Yet cool. When we’d get close they’d slide below the surface without so much as a whisper. Don’t bother trying to glimpse them underwater, the silt level is too heavy. I’m probably better off NOT being able to see into the depths; there are 14,000 in this swamp alone. If we were eaten by a gator, would anyone know? Doubt it.

Birder Heaven
This park is paradise for birders. On our travels down the waterway we noted cranes and egrets and owls perched along the shoreline. One massive tree was filled to the brim with hundreds of roosting white egrets, appearing as a Christmas Tree decorated in bits of white marshmallow fluff. Pondering those that roost near the waters’ edge, we’ve awarded them a class yearbook moniker “most likely to get gator-snatched”. Alligators can, according to the wise “internet”, jump up to 6 feet in the air and run 35 mph (in short bursts)!

Night Gator Viewing
It seems that even when we travel on land we can’t refrain from gravitating towards the water. It’s a sickness. So for our final excursion, we booked passage on a sunset/night boat tour with another 12 or so of our camper neighbors and a park ranger tour guide. Gliding out into the solemn waters for a second time, we witnessed a spectacular sunset. But the best part was after sunset. It’s feeding time!

It seems as if all the alligators come out to play at dusk - they were everywhere. While not uncomfortably close to our shallow tour boat, there were probably 3 times as many as during mid-day when you’d see one here and another there. Now we typically saw 5 and 6 at a time within a stone’s throw, cruising to and fro, dipping their nose up for a peek at us and back down again. But those are the ones we could immediately see; how many more are hiding in the shadows or under the boat? What’s that number again? 14,000? Let’s just say I did not imagine a decent chance of survival had anyone fallen off that boat – in fact, I got the feeling they were just patiently waiting for someone to trip.

Red-Eyed Dragons
As the sun winked away, our little boat became enveloped in shadow. Silence all around, but for our touristy whispers. “Ha. Over there…to your left. Another one…up ahead. Oohh, that one was close.” We searched for the slippery beasts via flashlight. The goal was to spot a glowing red eye contrasting to blackness of night. It was not hard. Multiple fiery gemstones glared back from the water’s surface. Ancient dragon’s eyes…unblinking, unafraid, ever-watchful….prepared to pounce whenever dinner presented itself.

Stuck in the Muck
As our tour boat headed into the narrow channel on our return back home, the outboard motor got stuck in the muck. A mildly nervous chatty twitter arose from our little boat. Instantly, no shortage of volunteers became available to help pole our way forward until we found deeper water. No one wanted to be out there in an inoperable skiff… in the pitch black… in 3 foot deep water… only 2 feet from shore… in the company of soooooooo many alligators!
~ ~ ~ ~ ~

A side note if you wish to camp here (and you should, despite the spiders – yes, I said that out loud): This park does not allow pets. Why? Do the math. And… maybe… extend that same reasoning with tiny children. Just saying. And by the way, I wouldn’t take a kayak out there in the swamp. Kayaks are tippier than canoes. Like I said – your sole goal is to remain OUT of the water!

Excited to be back messing about in his dad’s woodworking shop, Brian spent several weeks completing some pretty awesome and quite useful custom modifications before we set off for the great outdoors in our Winnebago Travato …

• New Bump Stops (Sumo Springs)

The first fix-it item to take place - new Sumo Spring bump stops. Yes, the original ones were OK, but these new ones raised the back end another inch. A mere inch? Who cares? Well, our generator is positioned at the lowest point under the vehicle and only 6” off the ground. That’s a little too close for comfort. In fact, I once backed Brian into a parking spot and forgot that said low generator was behind the wheel base. That expensive generator juuuuuuust baaaarely whisked the top of the curb. After that near disaster, I am more vigilant. But having that extra inch has been really helpful for clearing higher curbs or road debris or small children (just kidding).

• Battery monitor

One major reason we bought the Travato is its similar setup to a cruising boat. A solar panel on the roof allows us to boondock in remote areas without attaching to power for a day or two at a time. But doing so requires constant vigilance of power usage. The refrigerator runs exclusively off of the coach 12 volt batteries and is the largest battery draw. Our existing battery monitor is almost useless, blinking when full and in trickle charge mode, otherwise notating the voltage as it depletes which is the least accurate method of measuring. Worse, when the sun is charging the batteries, the current gauge only shows the solar panel output voltage, not the actual battery voltage.  So unless we cover up the panel or wait until dark we really have no idea what state of charge the batteries are at. Useless. As a rule, batteries should never be depleted below 50% charge; and if you want to keep your expensive battery bank healthy and lasting longer, an 80% minimum is best practice. (Brian gets jittery when it gets below 80.) So in order to view the more accurate ‘percentage’ method, Brian installed a Balmar Smart Gauge. (We have two friends with the exact same gauge on their boats.)
 
The entire installation took only one day (once we got all the parts) but most of that time was spent dinking around with the batteries. Each battery sits on a tiltable “shelf”, tucked up into the chassis and impossible to access without tipping at a really dicey angle. Brian raised the van on wood blocks (in order to crawl under the low clearance) and then used a motorcycle jack to keep the battery shelf from sliding out of its slot, hurtling this hazardous 75 pound hunk onto the pavement (or someone’s head). I got the job of making sure the jack didn’t roll away. Yeah, that means I also had to be under the elevated van – good times.
 
After drilling the necessary wire access hole in the bottom of the van and cutting an opening in the wall of the bed for the gauge, Brian ran electrical wires from the battery post into the interior. Our new meter works as expected and is reasonably precise, within a couple points plus or minus. As on the boat, Brian is once again content, now possessing this immediate information. Picture Mr. Burns from the Simpsons – a giddy “amp accountant” reveling in his “bank status” and dictating whether or not I can “afford” to watch an episode of Downton Abby. Loan… DENIED!

• Bedside tables

One major feature lacking in our Winnebago Travato K is a dining table. We could eat from the captain’s chairs but we love lounging on our couch-beds. Aside from perching plates precariously on our laps, there’s no suitable place to rest a floppy paper plate or a drink. We didn’t like the idea of a cumbersome shared tabletop sprouting up from the floor between the already narrow walkway, even if it was removable. So we decided on two mini tray-tables.

Our TV-tables are made of three types of solid wood (sapelle, cocobola, bubinga) and finished with a clear gloss. Brian fabricated brackets from aluminum bar stock, using the existing window trim screws to avoid drilling any new holes in the van metal. Each table has two screws protruding from the back that slide and lock into these brackets. And there’s a single support leg that rotates down into a routed space for flat storage vertically under the bed using Velcro. Plenty strong for a drink and a plate of food, they only take a minute to set up or take down. For us, it’s the perfect solution. Now we can eat dinner while lounging on our respective beds watching Downton Abby (but only when we have sufficient amp credits or plugged into electricity!) Our ‘tiny house’ living room is complete.
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• Spicerack/backsplash

My original 1-1/2” backsplash is about as inadequate as using a garden hose for a parking curb. It doesn’t block water from splashing or food from falling into the inaccessible black hole in back of my tiny kitchen cabinetry. I’d read a Facebook post about a grape accidentally dropping into that abyss with the owner having to remove the fridge to get it out before it rotted. Yuck. But worse, the thought of what happens when you don’t see it fall? So Brian made me a beautiful 4-1/2” backsplash with a built in spice rack out of the same wood as the tables, sapelle. I insisted it be made removable so I could clean up liquid spills, lest it seep into/underneath the wood. So he crafted toggle clamps on the back side that loosen with a quick turn of the screw instead of drilling into the Corian. It works beautifully: my spices are easy-to-access and organized and the piece looks as though the van was born with it.

• Windshield shades

We purchased and installed retractable front windshield shades from Eclipse Sunshades. The ones that came with the van are cumbersome to put up each night and take up tons of room in the overhead compartment. We found and copied this solution from the Winnebago Travato Facebook page, an extremely helpful tool filled with owner ideas for van modifications. These install vertically along the far left and right windshield edges and stay in place while driving. We don’t even notice any peripheral vision blocking. Closing them is a snap, just Velcro shut in the middle. While they are not blackout shades, they block the sun when parked for a few hours sightseeing and when stopped for the night they provide sufficient shielding from onlookers with no background shadowing visible. The ease of use and added storage space was worth the $50. They are so convenient, we have already discussed our future despair and solution when, inevitably, we damage one from too much use. Yup, buy another set!  

• Shower curtain

The shower curtain that comes with the van uses snaps that fasten around the upper portion of the bathroom. Lame. We figured it would be annoying to put up and down every time. So Brian installed a bendable slide utilizing about 30 spring grips that attach to the curtain top. Now we can slide the curtain in a U-shape around the shower basin and rope it off when done, leaving the curtain in place at all times. It IS a much better solution, but not as necessary so far since we have been staying at State Parks with shower facilities or relatives houses. We plan on using it much more next summer when we head out west boondocking in isolated wilderness.

• Sewer hose holder/”bumper step”

Brian really wanted to upgrade to a Rhino sewer hose as the one that came with the Winnebago was (pardon the pun) crappy. It wasn’t long enough. It’s rather thin and chintzy. There’s no 90-degree bend at the end allowing proper fit into the sewer hole without stepping on the end to keep it in place (I don’t want my shoe anywhere near that sewer hole.) But the most important thing…there’s no “pee-viewing window”. While watching your pee+ stream from the tank into the sewer seems a bit (OK a lot) gross, consider the alternative…
 
Just today, we witnessed what we recognized as inevitable with the windowless hose: camper thinks sewage is done streaming, camper unhooks hose prematurely from trailer, camper eyes go wide as he sees his shit-stream is NOT done flowing and actually is still flowing quite profusely, stuff splashes everywhere (on the ground, the trailer, the camper), camper swears loudly, camper fumbles to reattach, camper (grumbling) resolves to buy a better hose. Who hasn’t done this to one degree or another! It only took us one use of the crappy hose to agree this was a priority. After watching that spectacle, we our looked at each other and smirked. WHO wants a crappy crapper hose? Not us.
 
But storing the additional 90-degree attachments and the longer 15ft hose was problematic. Brian researched and found the adjustable Sanitube storage tube to hold everything in a sealed container. But he could find no good way to attach it under our van. We really didn't want to store it IN the van (gross) and didn't desire the added length, weight and cost of a Stowaway trailer hitch storage box. So Brian came up with this idea of a “bumper” of sorts, fabricating a 5ft wide bracket made from 1” square steel tubing that attaches the Sanitube to the trailer hitch. As an added feature he welded a step on top to protect the tube, making it easier when getting in and out the back door. He painted the whole thing black to match the tube and added non-slip tape to the step (‘cause he thinks of everything). The whole contraption sticks out only 7 inches from the bumper. After having used it many times now, we are very pleased with our new gadget; it makes an icky job much less so. Plus, we will never be THAT guy.

 
V-Ger
Amid Brian’s month-long van modification session and the beginnings of my TransUnion death debacle (see last post), we squabbled over what to rename the van. Alas, Brian didn’t like the name Winndigo. Too hard to say. What?!  I thought it was cool, whatever. Brian liked Silver Bullet (no way, too much like the Budweiser slogan… wait, I think that IS the slogan). I wanted to name it KYLE: Kickass Yuppie Liveaboard Expediter or TIMMY: Travato Inspires More Miscellaneous Yondering. But Brian didn’t like my Southpark references. Sigh.
 
What about V-Ger? From the first Star Trek movie “The Motion Picture” (1979 and yes, the worst one) in which the newly self-aware NASA Voyager 6 satellite assumes its name is “V-Ger”, rather than Voyager, because moon dust covered up the “oya” portion of its name on the ships’ hull.  Not such a smart satellite. Yeah, we just spoiled the surprise ending if you haven’t gotten around to watch the 40 year old movie yet. Anyway, we feel it’s fitting:

• our silver van looks a little sleek and space-shippy;
• it’s intended purpose is for us to voyage where we haven’t gone before;
• while self-aware satellites (or vans) usually are NOT a good thing, self-aware humans ARE… and so we shall strive, in honor of Spock;
• and finally, if you don’t get a little dirt on your space vehicle, you haven’t really explored!

We bought the van on a Monday. Coincidentally, we were actually going “camping” with my parents on Friday. When I say camping, that means they camp in the trailer and we visit all day at the campground “pseudo-camping”, then stay in a hotel at night. Now we were going to be camping right next door.

Brian will be the first to tell me this is not REAL camping. And I agree. As kids, my family camped A LOT, first in tents, then in a pop-up. The pop-up, comparatively, was a luxury with its heater and sink. But this van is like a 5-star resort. Not only is there a heater, but we actually have air-conditioning, a refrigerator and a bathroom for gosh sakes.

I’m not sleeping on paper-thin foam or a ½” thick, leaky air mattress; I don’t need to worry about raccoons rummaging around our tent and eating all the oatmeal cookies; We’re not heating up rocks and wrapping them in newspaper to keep our sleeping bags warm; I don’t have to put up with fabric walls that rain on me at the slightest touch; I can actually sleep at night unafraid of a bear clawing through the thin cloth. And we don’t actually NEED to cook hot dogs and marshmallows over the fire since we have a stove… but we did. ‘Cause that’s what you do when you go camping.

Walk-Through
But before we get to the camping, we need to pick up the van. There were a couple minor items we noticed on Monday that needed fixing. The rear door latch was missing, the bathroom door was broken, plus they needed to detail it, etc. So, 2 days to prep should work out. Our walk-through was scheduled at 9am Thursday. Turns out the van had more issues than the dealer want to deal with, so they brought another identical van over from a sister company, one that had not been in an RV show. But it hadn’t been prepped; they’d just received it the night before.

Mechanic Madhouse
So when we arrived, ten mechanics were crawling all over our van, furiously prepping. Adding water, propane, gas, washing, vacuuming, charging, etc. We finalized financials instead, while they completed their checklist. 3 hours later, they were ready. Our service rep went through each and every system with us, thoroughly. No stone was unturned, no question unanswered. He was great. What we assumed would take about an hour took another 3 hours! But we didn’t care, we were floored that they took so much time and attention to detail.

We learned the new van’s TV had an annoying line though the screen, plus the cab floor carpet & front blackout shades were missing. We had them touch up a scratch and repatriate carpet, shades and the good TV from the other van.

Yeti Swag
Our salesman noticed us sitting in the lobby waiting for the rest of the walk-through items to be fixed. He felt bad we were still there at 3:30pm. “What do you need for the van? Anything specific?” I had been eyeing his stainless steel Yeti mug he claimed would hold ice for 2 straight days. Hmmm, that would be awesome for my Starbucks iced tea habit and Brian’s coffee. We got two gigantic ones-perfect for a trenti-sized iced tea. A $90 value. Oh, and 3 folding chairs.

A Disturbance in the Force
At 4pm, finally, we drive off in our new van to a nearby Dick’s Sporting Goods to look for sleeping bags. Almost immediately, we (Brian) hears a noise. Brian HATES unnatural noises. Detests them. He hears things I never do and gets so irritated when I don’t know what he is talking about. Whether on the boat or in our truck, they drive him crazy…I mean CRAZY. He will go to ALL manner of lengths to stop them…occasionally so disturbed as to climb on other people’s vacant boats to tie off a wayward, clanging halyard. (Now, you just don’t go climbing aboard OPB willy nilly, it must be a dire emergency. Either the boat is in danger, ooooor that loud, tink, tink, tinking line is severely damaging the mast… now that deserves a climb-aboard.)

“You hear that?” “What?” (I don’t.) “That noise.” “What noise?” We wait for it again. “THAT!” “Oh, yeah, I hear it.” (I actually DO hear it, I’m not trying to placate him…this time.) “What is it?” “Dunno.” The noise is a metallic, rolling sound. Like a ball bearing or a socket. I get up while Brian is driving to source the annoyance. I open cabinets; they are completely empty. It stops when we turn left, rolls again when we turn right. We switch spots.  I start driving donuts in the mall parking lot.

Some loose object is rolling around in the 2 inch dead space below the overhead cabinet base and above the recessed lighting panel where the wiring is located. Of course, there is no way to get in there, no access panel. So, the VERY first day we own it, within the first 5 miles, we now need to fix something. Oh goody. Brian’s first van project. But he’ll just have to ignore it until we can get to Atlanta to use his dad’s tools.

Headed to The Hoffmaster
The next morning we drive Winndigo to P.J. Hoffmaster State Park in Muskegon, along the wind-swept shores of Lake Michigan. (The entire time, that THING is rolling around. Brian is ecstatic.) We navigate the complex call-in system of after-hours campground check-ins. Luckily, my dad is an expert and had already scoped out our spots.

Let me just say this right now…Thank God we had a heater. Had we built the van we would not have installed a heater, at least not initially. We’re supposed to go camping in summer weather, not freezing temps. For our initiation night in the van it was 28 degrees! 28! But the Truma heater was the bomb. We kept toasty warm all night long.

Despite the cold, our 2-night camping experience was a success. The beds are super-comfy, far superior to usual camper mattresses. The fridge holds pizza leftovers perfectly. And the stove worked great for making coffee in our new $6 teapot. Then someone asked, “Why didn’t you just use the microwave?” Our brows wrinkle, lips pursed. Huh. Didn’t even occur to us. We ALWAYS make coffee using a teapot on the boat. Microwaves are foreign objects. We forgot we even had it! Score!

Overnighting at CB
A week after our first camping test, we traveled our final leg to Atlanta, staying overnight at a Cracker Barrel in Kentucky. Who knew that many Cracker Barrels, Walmarts, casinos and other places allow RVs to stay overnight… for free!  While a bit strange the first time, our stay was uneventful; the parking lot was quiet with about 4 other RVs spending the night. Our blackout curtains work great. The next morning, we got up, had breakfast at CB and headed out early. Easy. $120 saved on hotel. Let’s see, we have to do how many more nights before we make up the cost of the van? Mmm… let’s not go there.

Project#1: Extracting the Annoyance
At Brian’s dad’s house, we finally do the first project: find that rolly thingy. Brian uses a powerful magnet to determine its metallic-ness and how far he can move it. Not far, there appears to be structural baffles inside the dead space. He drills a 3” hole inside the cabinet, just barely missing nicking a bunch of wires. Out comes a beat-up driver bit extension. Thanks, Winnebago. You could have at least given us a new one for our troubles. He screws a blank light-switch faceplate over the hole.

Project#2: Leaky Roof
Two days before our flight back to San Carlos, we discovered a roof leak. Van project #2 within the first two weeks….mmm…not a great sign. We are extremely lucky it had rained for 3 days straight and we noticed the leak before we took off and left it there for 6 months. This should be covered by warranty, but when we call the Atlanta Camping World for service, they say they’ll call us back…and then don’t until several hours later. By then, Brian had already gone to an RV dealer to get roof caulk…no time to loose. He gooped the crap out of the AC unit, we hopped on our flight the next morning and hoped for the best. It hasn’t leaked yet!

All in all, we are satisfied with our purchase and are looking forward to really using the Hell out of it next summer. Most of all, we can escape the torrid humidity of San Carlos, see some sights and visit people along the way.

Too much research
We spent hundreds and hundreds of hours researching RVs this summer (whiling away our time in the air-conditioned boat). A class B van was our best option. We will not be staying put in a campground for a week at a time, so we don’t need a 40-ft house with 50 pull-outs. We’ve got too many people and places to see, so we think we’ll be on the go all the time. A van is easy to drive, can park in a normal parking spot, is relatively “under the radar” as far as appearance and gets superb gas mileage compared to all other RVs (we averaged 17 mpg on our first 1000 miles).

We wanted to be self-sufficient so we could “boondock” or go unplugged for several days at a time. This means we’d need solar panels on top and a battery bank…similar to boat living. Road Treks and Pleasure Way vans were too expensive (even used), some layouts were unlivable, and we’d still have to add lots of money to make it “boondockable”.

The new Travato
Winnebago just started making the Travato a couple years ago. While cheaper than the others due to economies of scale and some lower-quality materials, enticingly, it included 100 watts of solar and a 12v fridge. But it was still too expensive; and used ones, since they are new to the market, are on short supply and hardly discounted. In July, we stopped by a Phoenix dealer before our flight just for kicks and were laughed at after we told them what we were willing to pay.

Build an RV?
So we then determined we could build an RV out of a new van cheaper than we could buy one. You’re joking right? Nope. And more people do it than one might think. Just Google “van conversion” or “camper van”. We decided on the Ford Transit van, mainly for its rear-wheel drive and V6 Ecoboost engine which is supposedly a real powerhouse.

Diesel was out completely. We met a guy here in San Carlos who was in the process of building out a Mercedes Sprinter diesel. He had to carry extra diesel jugs in his van because Mexico does not sell the ultra-low-sulfur fuel that the new Mercedes vans require. Not only can you not buy the proper diesel in Mexico, but it is illegal to transport fuel across the border. When he was eventually caught with the jugs he had to explain to the Mexican border agent “What am I to do, you don’t sell the right fuel here?” He let him go, but what happens the next time he gets a stickler agent? So for that reason AND the fact that many people have had expensive to fix problems with the Mercedes, diesel is not an option, despite its slightly better mileage.

We’d planned on purchasing said van next year and building it out in about 2-3 months. We would eliminate some major luxury items like an air-conditioner, water heater, generator and built in heater. But while Brian is adept at all the necessary electrical, woodworking, appliance installation, etc., the intimidating factor was time. How much time is this REALLY going to take? And it could become a monthly money drain until it was finished.

At the dealer
When we were in Michigan, Brian’s step-father asked if we wanted to go to an RV dealer. We thought, sure, why not? We’ll show him the various van models so he can picture what we are going to build and we can scrounge for ideas. We inspected the Travato again and liked it even more the 2nd time around. Our salesman was super nice, low-pressure and when he finally got around to asking us if we wanted to talk further, we were skeptical.

Low-balling
“You don’t want to hear my price”, I said. It was a low-ball price. We weren’t committed, just throwing it out there. We said it, but he didn’t laugh. Hmmm. He brought out his manager, as they always do…. “We can’t go that low.” He writes down a number significantly higher, well out of our comfort range. “What do you need your payment to be?” I hate that game. We only want to deal in hard numbers. No, I want to pay X, including tax, title and license.

Now I’m paraphrasing here: “Hmmm, OK since we certainly can’t do your low, low number, knowing you need to go up some from that, give me your next best low number. At that point, we will have to call the store owners to see if they are willing to stoop to your price. The good news is, winter is coming and they are looking to get rid of vehicles since we drive many of them down to Florida to sell. They may very well take it.”

We went back home and thought hard for 2 days on our “next low price” and whether we should do it at all. Crunch time. Make a decision.

Man, it sure would be nice to have it already all finished.  Just walk away with the completed vehicle? No van-buying hassles, no components research on a hundred items, no wiring, insulating, woodworking, plumbing, installing of sink, stove, fridge, toilet, shower, water tanks, batteries, solar panels, no thousands of Home Depot runs… no headaches. Wouldn’t it be nice to just have it already done? Isn’t that worth the several thousand dollars over our budget? Well, when you put it THAT way…

We returned on Monday and gave him our revised (still low) price. Done deal.  On Oct 12th, we officially became snowbirds.

I know what you’re thinking…

What????!!!! You bought an RV!!!!???? You’re quitting cruising? After only one year? Aha! I KNEW it.
No way, Jose. Look, can’t I have my cake and eat it too? We have lots of reasons to do this and have been agonizing over it all summer. Here’s why…

Originally, we had wanted to keep Indigo in Puerto Vallarta next hurricane season. Word is PV NEVER gets hit by a hurricane. Well, guess what just happened. Hurricane Patricia. That’s what. Now, it didn’t sustain major damage due to the protection of surrounding mountains, but still.

Staying in PV will almost triple our insurance cost… add to that major anxiety living in a hurricane zone, hoping we won’t get schwacked. Since we’re still new at this cruising thing, we’ve decided to play it safe and head back up to San Carlos next summer. Again.

But if the boat has to be in San Carlos… we aren’t. It’s just too damn hot. And boring. No way, no how. We will put it on the hard and get the heck out of dodge. Like 99% of the rest of the cruisers.
So the new plan is 6 months of the year in an RV, the other 6 months on the boat. This coincides with hurricane season (May into November)…as well as Mexico’s 6-month visa limit. I blame our friends on Cuba Libre for instigating… I mean inspiring… this madness; we didn’t even know this was a thing until we started talking to them. But now we’ve learned it is nothing new, as hundreds if not thousands of cruising Americans and Canadians follow the same migration pattern, whether to their houses or an RV, each summer.

We don’t plan on leaving Mexico (on our boat) anytime soon. There’s just too much to explore. Yet it takes a lot of time, money and effort to get back to the States. So once we make that trek, we’d kind of like to just stay for a few months at a time.

There are two driving forces behind doing this RV thing…

1. We'll be visiting lots of people.
We both have friends and relatives scattered all across the country. Some we haven’t seen in years, some we only had a mere hour to visit the last time we were together. We spent so much of the last two decades working that any spare vacation at home with family was too short or non-existent. Our quest to go cruising had been an all-consuming goal and it still is... But the farther away we get from our personal connections back home, the more we realize we need to keep those ties strong. Plus now we actually HAVE the time to reconnect. We’ll do this ‘snowbird’ thing for 2-3 years, at least as long as we want to keep our boat in Mexico, and then decide what to do from there.

2. Find a place to live.
We have no idea where we want to live, ultimately, AB (after boat). Another dilemma. Eventually, we want to buy property so Brian can build himself a gigantic pole barn woodworking/welding shop and me a tiny house. We’d like to explore various towns for living potential in Wyoming, Alabama, South Carolina, Florida, Michigan, Tennessee, Georgia, (not Alaska)…see the problem? I can imagine the hotel and restaurant bills compiling already. Not to mention I still haven’t seen the Grand Canyon, Yosemite, Yellowstone or the Black Hills, etc. Brian keeps threatening to make us through-hike the entire Appalachian Trail. Now we can do it in an RV. That’s sooo more my style!