Midwest Gypsy

Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well-preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside in a cloud of smoke, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming, “WOW! What a ride!!” – Hunter S. Thompson

October 27, 2020

Our time in Virginia is quickly winding down and we’ll be pulling out of the campground at Sherando Lake this coming Friday. Eleven weeks have gone by fast, and volunteering here has been one of most rewarding experiences Dave and I have ever had. With mountains on both sides—the Appalachians to the west and the Blue Ridge Mountains to the east—the location could not have been more heavenly. The scenery—particularly the fall foliage—has been stunning, and the views from the overlooks along the Blue Ridge Parkway have been spectacular. Seeing Virginia in the rear view mirror is not something I’m looking forward to, but if all the fallen leaves are any indication, winter is right around the corner and that’s our cue to head south.

Our departure has come at the right time, because we’ve had an infestation of Asian lady beetles for nearly two weeks. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned about living in the woods, it’s that there’s never just a few pests…there’s always a massive amount, whether they be chiggers, or mice, or beetles.

We’ve killed hundreds and hundreds of these things. At first we thought they were ladybugs, which was a clever disguise—until we learned that they bite! Then I discovered I was allergic, evidenced by splotchy, red welts that itched like crazy. Being attracted to light-colored things, the obnoxious little buggers swarmed all over the RV and then made their way inside through any opening they could, like the seals around our slides. They were everywhere: on the windows, on the ceiling, on the dashboard, on the walls…one night I was awakened out of a deep sleep when one got in my ear!! And to make matters worse, they urinate something that smells absolutely obnoxious when gathered up. Ugh.

In an effort to keep them from coming inside, Dave sprayed insecticide all over Felix and we brought in the slides like we do when we travel. That makes our living area very limited and extremely tight, but it has effectively cut down their numbers, so it’s been worth stumbling over one another and the dogs to get from one place to another.

When we first knew we’d be coming this way, I dreamed of driving all 500 miles of the Blue Ridge Parkway. The more I researched it though, I realized we could not do it in Felix. Besides being 2-lane all the way, driving this large of a rig up and down the steep inclines, around the sharp curves, and through the tunnels would be a 10 on the pucker factor.

Instead, I assumed we’d make reservations for a couple of campgrounds along the way south, unload the car, and explore that way. But, between being the busiest time of the year (because of fall foliage) and the fact that camper sales went through the roof as a result of Covid and there are campers galore, finding campgrounds with availability has been impossible. It’s on to Plan B—which hasn’t been figured out yet.

Other than driving Felix from Hopkinsville to Bowling Green when we first got her a couple of years ago, I haven’t driven since. I’ve felt intimidated, especially when we’re towing the car trailer and the overall length is 60’. It occurred to me that I have become much too comfortable being the navigator and leaving the driving to Dave; it was about time that I get over my fear. So, I made the decision to drive, not all the time, but sometimes. After all, I once had a CDL, so there had a time I had been capable of driving a big rig.

I reviewed information about the controls in the owners manual, watched a few YouTube videos, and felt my confidence returning. We had made appointment for last Friday to take Felix to Staunton (30 miles away) to have new valve stems put on the inside dually tires, and I decided that was as good a time as any to practice.

It was slow-going through the winding roads here in the campground and somewhat nerve-wracking on the narrow, 2-lane shoulder-less road leading to a nearby town where I turned it over to Dave, but we made it without incident. I felt good and, in retrospect, probably should’ve continued the whole way to Staunton. Next time I will.

Afterwards Dave commented that he was surprised that I wanted to drive through the campground. It’s almost three miles from our campsite through the park to the main road, and the park road is extremely narrow with several tight curves. I guess that’s how I had to prove to myself that I could do it. It reminded me of when I took a sewing class and decided that my very first project would be a pleated skirt, made with plaid material. I guess I figured that if that turned out alright, I could sew anything. 🤪 Though not 100% foolproof, the attitude of “what the worst that could happen?” has been the springboard to a number of adventures I probably wouldn’t have had otherwise, and I wouldn’t change a thing.

Life is certainly interesting. So, even though we don’t know where we’re going, I’ll keep you posted on where we end up. Until then, be well and keep smiling…and remember to wash your hands! 😷

September 3, 2020

It’s been almost four weeks since Dave and I arrived in Virginia and began workamping at Sherando Lake Recreational Area, located in the George Washington National Forest. We JUST got internet yesterday, so now I can resume writing. I had to put my blogging on hold when I discovered that I wasn’t able to ‘save’ as I went along and experienced losing everything I’d written. That only had to happen once for me to learn that lesson.

Not being connected to the outside world was very frustrating to say the least, but after a couple of weeks I finally accepted the fact that we are in the middle of a forest and that’s just the way it was. Not having the ability to readily get online, make a phone, or watch TV was my motivation to get back into reading, and the Kindle my daughter and grandkids recently gave me for my birthday was my lifeline to sanity. Most of the books I read are murder mysteries, mostly involving one spouse doing away with the other, and Dave voiced his concern on more than one occasion. I don’t know why. 🤷🏻‍♀️

Here at Sherando Lake we are two of approximately a dozen volunteers who do most everything it takes to keep things running smoothly, from checking in campers, to maintaining the campsites and bathhouses, to picking up litter, to cutting grass and splitting firewood. Last night we had a potluck dinner and got to meet all the other volunteers and it’s a motley group of volunteers indeed: mostly couples, a few singles, experienced RVers, some newbies, all retired. We’re right where we belong.

Because of Covid-19, Sherando Lake is only partially open to the public and camping is allowed in just two of the four areas (which a lot of people are not happy about.) Our job is to support the camp hosts in Loops A and C by doing their job a couple of days a week so that they can have some time off. Specifically, we clean bathrooms and when a campsite is vacated, we get it ready for the next batch of campers by emptying the fire ring of ashes, picking up any litter, and raking smooth the gravel in a Zen-like manner, back and forth and back and forth over the whole site so that the rake-lines leave a very serene imprint. If I was a camper, I would be impressed. It definitely appeals to my OCD.

Initially, I wasn’t excited to learn that our job would be cleaning bathrooms, but I quickly found out that my negative attitude was unfounded. Having had a mother whose mantra was “Cleanliness is next to godliness,” I certainly didn’t think I was above cleaning, but I did pre-judge the job as “being disgusting.” In reality, it really isn’t. Because the bathrooms are thoroughly cleaned daily, they’re easy to maintain and it really helps that the campers themselves keep them that way for the most part.

What really helps keep us motivated is that the campers truly appreciate the work the volunteers do. We are graciously thanked often, as in every day, and that really goes a long way. One young mom even told us, somewhat embarrassingly, that her 8-year-old son— who normally resists having to use public restrooms—excitedly commented after using the one here, “Mama! The bathroom here is cleaner than the one at home!”

In exchange for volunteering 20 hours a week, we have a good-size campsite, complete with picnic table, fire ring, and all utilities (electric, water and sewer). While all the other volunteers’ campsites are either in the same area as the campers or in “Volunteer Village,’ our spot is relatively secluded, nestled in the group camping area, which isn’t open to the public. It couldn’t be more perfect: it’s quiet and peaceful, and we have more than enough room for our “stuff” (the grill, the smoker, lawn chairs, Dave’s scooter, my bicycle etc.) There’s even a parking area nearby for the car trailer. Another perk is that we are welcome to use the laundry facility for free, which includes a extra large-capacity washer, perfect for blankets, comforters, and throw rugs. I found that very exciting!

We have our mail sent to a post office about 12 miles away in care of ‘General Delivery’, which is how we got it when we lived on a boat more than 40 years ago. We were surprised and very relieved that the post office still offers this service, and that’s a good thing. Otherwise, I don’t know how Dave could continue supporting Amazon.

Weather-wise, it’s been delightful. Temperatures at night are generally in the low 60’s and daytime highs are in the high 70’s. Our hummingbird feeder is seeing a lot of activity, but I wonder when their migration south will begin, given that the leaves on the trees are already changing color. It rains more than we expected.

Our time here is going to fly by fast, as time always does, so we’re hoping to take in as much of the local area as possible before we leave November 1st. Shenandoah National Park, the Blue Ridge Parkway and Skyline Drive are just minutes away, and we feel very blessed to be here, especially at this time of year. Several history-rich cities are within an hour’s drive—Lexington, Charlottesville, and Staunton—as well as several Civil War battlefields. There’s almost too much to see and do on our days off.

That’s about it for now. I’m sure there’ll be more adventures to write about in the weeks ahead, so I’ll be sure to keep you posted. Thanks for accompanying us vicariously on our journey…we love having you along! Be healthy, stay well, and remember to wash your hands. 😷

Love, Maria 😊

August 9, 2020

After a month-long hiatus in western Kentucky that gave us the opportunity to see family and friends, as well as for Dave to take care of a few RV-related honey-do’s, we hit the road this morning, bound for our workamping job in Virginia. It’s near the northern tip of the Blue Ridge Mountains, not far from the cities of Staunton and Waynesboro. Neither of us have ever been, so to say we’re excited is putting it mildly.

My good friend Carol, who lives in Virginia, has bragged for years about the beauty of the Blue Ridge Mountains, so when I spotted an ad for workamping positions available not far from where she lives, I submitted our application right away. The campground we’re assigned to, Sherando Lake Recreation Area, is managed by the U.S. Forest Service, so our experience at Land Between the Lakes last year was a plus, as was a personal recommendation from our boss at Hilman Ferry campground. Except for the fact that they won’t be strenuous, I have no idea what our duties will be once we get there. In exchange, we’ll be given a free campsite. It’s a win-win.

We try to limit the miles traveled in a day to 200, though we could do nearly twice that if we had to. Our average speed is 50 mph, so going 200 miles equates to about four hours driving time. We generally like to leave by 9 a.m. and be at our destination by 1:00 in the afternoon, leaving plenty of time to explore.

Our first stop on this trip was a Harvest Host: DelMonaco Winery in Baxter, Tennessee, about an hour east of Nashville. Not all Harvest Hosts can accommodate our big rig, but this one could and the reviews regarding parking ensured ease of getting in and more importantly, getting out.

We are parked in a large, fairly level gravel parking lot adjacent to the main building. Along Felix’s port side is a convenient, well-maintained grassy area that’s perfect for walking the pups. We have plenty of room to extend our slides, and we’re far enough away from the tasting room/restaurant/event center that running our generator doesn’t disturb anyone. The location is close to the highway, but far enough away that it’s safe and secure. That’s important because the pups get me up before sunrise for their early morning walk.

While walking around outside shortly after our arrival, two friendly ladies who were apparently connected somehow with the restaurant engaged me in polite conversation. I soon learned that one was the owner and the other, her mom. Ashley and Teresa were delightful to talk with and conversation flowed easily. The winery has been here for a dozen years, they said, but Toast, the restaurant, just opened when Covid-19 hit. Already though, I read the online reviews and they were glowing. Dave and I had already planned to eat there, so I told them we’d be up shortly.

They greeted us warmly when we got there and Teresa seated us outside on the patio overlooking the concord vineyard. Since it was Sangria Sunday, Dave decided to try one. We both love seafood and each ordered the Gulf Coast Omelette, filled with shrimp and scallops and a decadent crab and crawfish sauce. That’s the deal with staying at a Harvest Hosts: free overnight stay in exchange for patronizing the host. We ate like kings for less than the cost of a campground site. And we supported a small business. Another win-win.

Tomorrow our destination is a Passport America campground in Bristol, Tennessee. The stem on one of our rear tires needs attention, so we’re thinking that there ought to be a plethora of tire shops in the same city as the Bristol Motor Speedway, and hopefully one of them can do the job. Not knowing what to expect at any given destination is part and parcel of RVing and though it might make some people uncomfortable, we’ve been lucky meeting the right people at the right time. It certainly adds lagniappe to the journey!

We anticipate being at our destination on Wednesday and so I’ll keep you posted on our whereabouts like I have since we left Bandera, Texas. That was 1,259 miles ago! Until then, be well, stay safe, and remember to wash your hands!😷 Love, Maria

June 26, 2020

All week long I was looking forward to Thursday because there was a better than 50/50 chance we’d hear some good news about retrieving our RV, which is in Dallas getting worked on. Still.

This is Week 4 in Smalltown, Arkansas, and I have been ready to leave for about four weeks. I was trying very hard to keep my expectations at bay, and if anyone voiced anything remotely hopeful about Felix being ready to roll today, I’d answer, “I’m from Missouri, so ‘Show Me.’”

It’s been 25 days since we delivered the rig to NIRVC (National Indoor RV Center) for routine maintenance and a couple of repair issues. We had an appointment, so what’s taking so long? I suspect it’s that they sold 50 Class A motorhomes in May—a store record—and I imagine it is a whole lot more profitable for them to prep 50 $400,000 units for delivery than to piddle around with our older rig. But I could be wrong.

Nevertheless, it’s not ready to go today, so we’re not driving to Dallas. Dave was told to call back this afternoon because “they were getting close to being done.” Again, Show Me.

Well, that news was disappointing, but it wasn’t entirely unexpected. Resigned to remaining here for who-knows-how-much longer, I passed the time by watching TV for a little bit and then went outside and FaceTimed with my granddaughter, Maeby, something we do a few times a week. She is a ray of sunshine and talking with her always lifts my spirits.

When I came back inside the house, Dave’s face said it all. There was some bad news to tell me. He had just learned that a friend of ours had died that morning from the coronavirus.

I couldn’t believe it! For some reason, I’d just been thinking about Hugh and Mary Jane earlier this week for some reason. I didn’t know why; maybe it’s because she had posted on Facebook a couple of weeks ago that they just celebrated their 6th wedding anniversary. There was a photo of them on their wedding day, she looking radiant in her wedding gown and he sporting a big, white cowboy hat, looking every bit the handsome Southern gentleman he was. They were happily retired and were just enjoying life together. Who could have ever predicted that just a couple weeks later he’d be gone?

We originally met them last March when were making our way back to Kentucky from Texas. They are also RVers and part of a network of hosts who generously offer overnight space at their property at no cost to RV travelers passing through. We stayed a couple of days at their little slice of heaven, nestled amongst the pine trees in southern Mississippi. Hugh and MJ could not have been more hospitable. You think I have a big smile? Hugh’s made mine seem small.

And then last summer, we had a serendipitous reunion at the campground where Dave and I worked. They had driven over to the Land Between the Lakes from the RV park in Eddyville that they were staying at to check out Hillman Ferry, having no idea whatsoever that that was where we were. I remember how happy it made me to see Hugh and MJ again—they were the nicest people. We had short but very sweet visit, and then they went on their way.

It angers me that the Covid-19 guidelines have all been discarded by many as though life has returned back to normal when statistics clearly prove otherwise. The war against the invisible enemy is far from over. I’m sad that it took my friend’s life when he had so much living left to do, and the thought of his grief-stricken wife breaks my heart. I’m grateful to a certain friend who called this morning to check on me. She asked me to tell her about what kind of person Hugh was, and after I told her she said, “Well, I guess God needed another angel.” Those words of comfort were exactly what I needed to hear.

There’s so much that isn’t making sense these days. Not just in my little world, but everywhere, it seems. I feel like I can’t do much more than pray, which I’m doing more and more. And I’m not even religious. But it’s the only thing I can think of to do when there’s nothing else I can do.

I’ll be sure to keep you posted on Felix. Until next time…Peace and Hugs. -Maria

May 17, 2020

If it weren’t for the fact that I’m not even sure of what day it is anymore, it would be hard to comprehend that this is the beginning of the 10th week of the new normal. Thank goodness we deliver Meals on Wheels every Wednesday; that gives me a reference point. Otherwise, everyday would be like Groundhog Day.

We haven’t left Bandera yet, but at least we moved the motorhome to a different spot within the RV park, and even that was kind of exciting since it hadn’t moved since November. Relocating to a space with some shade was an idea we’d been kicking around ever since the temps have been consistently in the 80’s and sometimes 90’s; but as is so often the case, it took an unfortunate event to prod us into action. Our neighbor’s dog bit me.

I’ve never been bitter by a dog, and it was a frightening experience! It was our neighbor’s, an aggressive canine that always went ballistic at the sight of another dog. When she was chained up outside, she’d clothesline herself lunging after any dog being walked past. Her name was Hunter, but I referred to her as Cujo.

On the day of the incident, I was puttering outside on the RV. It was now May, the virus’ curve had been flattened, and I was hopeful that we’d finally be leaving Texas any day. On that particular day I had removed our tire covers, cleaned them and was in the process of applying a protectant to the tires. My back was turned to our neighbor’s RV when I heard their door open. Cujo bounded out and in a heartbeat was planted right next to me.

Ever since I was a child, we’ve had pups as pets. I’m a dog-lover and generally unafraid of them, but 40-pound Cujo was different. There within reach, her eyes were fixed on me, and her rigid, muscular body was was extremely daunting. I looked at her and murmured “Hey, Hunter,” trying to sound friendly and composed. Inside though, I was dying; this dog was capable of eating me alive. Maybe she sensed that I was terrified, because before I knew what was happening, she bit my calf.

What Cujo’s owner was doing while this was transpiring I don’t know, but he had yet to come over and retrieve his animal. In a stern but subdued voice I appealed, “Please come and get your dog.” When he finally did and the coast was clear, I quickly retreated into the safety of our RV and filled in Dave on all the action he’d missed.

We reported the incident to the office, and the manager wanted to know if I wanted to have the marshall come down and press charges. It wasn’t serious enough to warrant that, I thought, but the dog’s owners needed to be aware that they need to keep their dog under control, so they were issued a warning that if it happens again, they’d have to vacate the RV park.

Since we’d committed to being here through the end of May, and it was only the 8th, we took that as our sign to move. Our new spot doesn’t have as much space nor the expansive view as the other, but we have plenty of shade and good neighbors, so the trade-off was worth it.

Bandera’s businesses have opened up and by the looks of Main Street, you’d never know there was a pandemic. Few people wear masks, and the city park just next door is packed on Saturdays and Sundays. Last weekend the city charged $5 a head admittance and netted $7,000. That’s a lot of people.

We haven’t eaten inside a restaurant since early March, but we have been supporting our local restaurants regularly by ordering take-out. One of our favorites is veteran-owned JM Artisan Bakery. The owner is retired Navy, and served as part of the Presidential Food Service Security at the White House, cooking for Presidents Clinton and Bush. To say that his delicacies are amazing is an understatement. His bread is so good, in fact, that one day last month, two older ladies actually fought over the last loaf. Another worker tried breaking them apart when one of the women fell on him, breaking his foot. The bread is that good!

We plan to leave Bandera May 31st so that we can be in Dallas for a June 2nd appointment for routine maintenance. Where we go after that is uncertain, though we hope to end up somewhere in western Kentucky so that we can spend time with our daughter and grandkids.

This experience has made me hesitant to make any concrete plans, having had to cancel four reservations already. I’m actually getting used to uncertainty, and am even looking to the future as an adventure. It’s a good thing I think of myself as a gypsy, because where we’ll end up is anyone’s guess.

Until next time, be safe. Stay well. And wash your hands!

Maria☺️