It has been almost a year since I started writing this blog, and like all my other attempts to keep a constant journal, to put my pen to paper on a regular basis, I did not discipline myself. And so I begin again. It is now 2011 and I am on the road again, this time at Lee's Ferry, Arizona, part of Glen Canyon National Recreatino Area. Once again it's me, Preston the ailing and aging Wonder Dog, and Kate our Winnebago and Jake the Subaru Outback.
Last May when I started this blog I thought it would be worth writing about my "life alone." Not alone all the time, of course, but my travels in the little RV are alone except for Preston the Wonder Dog...a great co-pilot and companion. I could not perhaps ask for a better one. He listens intently, reacts appropriately (most of the time...what more could you ask for when you're not sure of the next turn in the road but a loving kiss from the Wonder Dog?), and is always there to share joy and sadness, to fend off outside forces, and to remind me of what is important in life (a warm bed, good food, treats when you've done something special, and a best friend to sleep with when it's really cold or scary).
To travel alone is an exhilerating experience...at the same time there are periods of wishing you could share the adventure with another human, sorry Preston. I am fascinated, however, with the experience of solitude. More later......
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Saturday, May 22, 2010
First Night Out January 2010: Nr Claremore, Oklahoma, the Cherokee Casino Will Rogers Downs AND campgrounds
I knew I didn't have time to drive very far that day because I'd only left Lebanon about 1:30 and winter skies darkness closes in early in January. Kate, Jake in tow, and Preston the Wonder Dog and I found a KOA campground near Claremore, Oklahoma as that gray winter sky closed in. The KOA turned out to be the ice covered parking lot of the Cherokee Casino Will Rogers Downs! In warmer weather it would have been lovely but the iced lot was a bit precarious and as empty as it could be, no horses running on this day. What a contrast though as Kate pulled up at the registration which was inside the lively casino. In the "campground" there were only two other crazy travelers. It was so very cold that I didn't even risk the TV antenna or the slideout, all could wait for the warm southwest. The Winnebago was now home, cozy and warm and, though small, filled with my life, and most important of all Preston my co-pilot, travel companion, and best friend.
January 2010: Leaving Missouri for Tucson
I left Missouri in mid January, in the ice and cold, freezing cold. It is hard now to think that was only four months ago as in many ways it seems years ago, but I can picture it as if it was yesterday. That morning the RV was loaded and Preston the Wonder Dog was anxious. He knew we were going or better put he knew I was going somewhere and just hoped he was not being left behind. As I had packed "Kate" the Winnebago he was happier staying inside the RV than he was returning to the house. He is such a damn smart dog! He knows the RV is mobile and going somewhere with me inside and so wants to anchor himself inside this mobile machine. Anyway, I digress!
It was a bitterly cold and dreary day. While usually better organized this exit scheduled for about 9am dragged on till about 11 am. With Kate packed and raring to go the last task which I dreaded in this icy cold was hooking up the towing equipment to Kate and Jake. Yes, I finally named my motorhome AND my trusty 2001 Subaru Outback. My friend Ann was always distressed that my machines of travel had no names. For you, dear Ann!! The ground on Bear Paw Road was snow covered. I carried and dragged all the necessary pieces of tow cable, heavy steel bars, connecting pins and wires to the back of Kate. Touching metal when it is icy is never fun and, I was, of course, reminded of the famed "The Christmas Story" movie and the kid with his tongue stuck to the flag pole. No, there was absolutely no danger of my placing my tongue or lips on any metal parts! I've done some foolish things in my past. In college, in the McClure Hall kitchen, I once accidentally started an electric mixer with my fingers on the mixers which pulled a couple of flexi-fingers through, ouch! My most famous accident was the summer of '68 while working at Paul and Mayme Burtin's Sand Spring Resort in the Ozarks I somehow managed to open a folding cot and catch my right tit in the joint, cutting a hole in my blouse and leaving the cot dangling from my breast. Really, I did that.
Okay, so you cannot possibly hook and connect all this stuff up with gloves on. But, it got done. I was so ready to leave but that final parting is always sad. I look around over and over again making certain that the list is all checked off, that all the eclectric plug ins are unplugged; just never feeling absolutely certain that I've remembered everything; and somehow at the final extraction feeling a deep loneliness. It is always the same for that moment. Sometimes that moment extends to half an hour or so until I hit the interstate and truly feel the beginning of the journey.
I had a detour when I left in January, a very special one. I wanted to stop in Lebanon, about 25 miles south, and on Interstate 44. Lebanon is where Paul Burtin lives, Paul being my brother-in-law Jim's dad. Paul at ninety years old was finally in failing health and I had to stop and say goodbye. I had promised him I'd drive Kate over sometime for him to see. I knew he wouldn't be able to come outside to see her but thought he might see a glimpse of her even through the haze of his macular degeneration. Paul's oldest child Paula and her husband Billy were there visiting, and his youngest Linda and her husband Joe from next door to Paul would also be there. The Burtins were family and had truly been that ever since we all met back in 1963 when Jim married Margi.
I pulled up into Paul's snow-covered driveway. Linda and Paula suggested that when I was ready to leave that I turn the RV in a short semi-circle to the left, drawing Kate almost parallel to the front windows of Paul's house. They thought Paul might be able to see the Winnebago from there. I stayed for about an hour and then knew it was time and I needed to get back on the road. I said my goodbyes to Paul, knowing that it was probably the last time I would see him, and then I walked out to Kate. I drove in the path intended and looked to my right to see Paul at the window straining to see the RV. I don't know if he was able to see it or not...I hope he did.
It was a bitterly cold and dreary day. While usually better organized this exit scheduled for about 9am dragged on till about 11 am. With Kate packed and raring to go the last task which I dreaded in this icy cold was hooking up the towing equipment to Kate and Jake. Yes, I finally named my motorhome AND my trusty 2001 Subaru Outback. My friend Ann was always distressed that my machines of travel had no names. For you, dear Ann!! The ground on Bear Paw Road was snow covered. I carried and dragged all the necessary pieces of tow cable, heavy steel bars, connecting pins and wires to the back of Kate. Touching metal when it is icy is never fun and, I was, of course, reminded of the famed "The Christmas Story" movie and the kid with his tongue stuck to the flag pole. No, there was absolutely no danger of my placing my tongue or lips on any metal parts! I've done some foolish things in my past. In college, in the McClure Hall kitchen, I once accidentally started an electric mixer with my fingers on the mixers which pulled a couple of flexi-fingers through, ouch! My most famous accident was the summer of '68 while working at Paul and Mayme Burtin's Sand Spring Resort in the Ozarks I somehow managed to open a folding cot and catch my right tit in the joint, cutting a hole in my blouse and leaving the cot dangling from my breast. Really, I did that.
Okay, so you cannot possibly hook and connect all this stuff up with gloves on. But, it got done. I was so ready to leave but that final parting is always sad. I look around over and over again making certain that the list is all checked off, that all the eclectric plug ins are unplugged; just never feeling absolutely certain that I've remembered everything; and somehow at the final extraction feeling a deep loneliness. It is always the same for that moment. Sometimes that moment extends to half an hour or so until I hit the interstate and truly feel the beginning of the journey.
I had a detour when I left in January, a very special one. I wanted to stop in Lebanon, about 25 miles south, and on Interstate 44. Lebanon is where Paul Burtin lives, Paul being my brother-in-law Jim's dad. Paul at ninety years old was finally in failing health and I had to stop and say goodbye. I had promised him I'd drive Kate over sometime for him to see. I knew he wouldn't be able to come outside to see her but thought he might see a glimpse of her even through the haze of his macular degeneration. Paul's oldest child Paula and her husband Billy were there visiting, and his youngest Linda and her husband Joe from next door to Paul would also be there. The Burtins were family and had truly been that ever since we all met back in 1963 when Jim married Margi.
I pulled up into Paul's snow-covered driveway. Linda and Paula suggested that when I was ready to leave that I turn the RV in a short semi-circle to the left, drawing Kate almost parallel to the front windows of Paul's house. They thought Paul might be able to see the Winnebago from there. I stayed for about an hour and then knew it was time and I needed to get back on the road. I said my goodbyes to Paul, knowing that it was probably the last time I would see him, and then I walked out to Kate. I drove in the path intended and looked to my right to see Paul at the window straining to see the RV. I don't know if he was able to see it or not...I hope he did.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)