Flight of 5

Sorry Ontario, you get no love this trip.

We solved the problem of where to stay for the next 8 days or so.  I believe I’ve mentioned this already, but this is something we’ve not yet entirely gotten the hang of, as we’re not thinking in terms of weekends / weekdays, and aren’t yet comfortable rolling into an unfamiliar area with a “I’m sure we’ll find something” mindset.  We’re hoping that this will be the last time I’ll need to spend 6 days straight (plus commute) gone.  It shouldn’t have happened this time, but I made a bit of a mistake with my trip bidding, and with August being high season for airline flying as well, there’s not a lot of wiggle room for trading out of trips, dropping trips, and the like.  The up side is that I was able to manage 20 hours or so back in Annapolis to check on the house, run a few errands, and collect wayward mail.  The considerable down side is that, with Tacco (and consequently me) not entirely comfortable marshaling the Davista/Toad beast down the highway, we needed to have a place, somewhere near an airport, where she and the kids could hang out productively for a week while I’m gone.  And airports are in short supply in the U.P.  As are campgrounds during high season with a week of availability.

This all sounds somewhat inconsequential as I type and read it, but quite a bit of time and mental energy was expended trying to work this out, and we’re still not certain we have a good solution.  The plan was to stay a night at Brimley State Park on Lake Superior on the Eastern U.P., then drive across to Van Riper State Park semi-near Marquette, where Tacco/kiddos will homestead for a week.  We know nothing about Van Riper, and are a little concerned by the fact that it had so many vacancies when everything else was booked solid.  We’re not even sure there will be cell phone coverage.  At any rate, though, that’s the plan, and we’ve resolved to resolve these types of issues further ahead of time in the future.  Nothing like resolving to resolve — sort of like having a discussion about what we need to discuss…

Michigan continued to delight, scenery-wise.  The drive up Grand Traverse Bay was stunning, with several towns we would’ve liked to stop in and explore awhile.  The picture above is, of course, the Mackinac Bridge (only one “ack” sound in that), which is quite long and spans the strait between Lakes Michigan and Huron.

There was a noticeable difference in landscape between the lower and upper peninsulas.  The upper was much more heavily forested (mostly evergreens) and has a distinct “remote” feel.  We didn’t see too much of it as we headed straight north to Brimley.

Not a bad spot at all.  Dipped our toes in Lake Superior, did our first real campfire / s’mores evolution, and got a great sleep.

One observation, before signing off.  There has, to this point, not been a night when we didn’t fall into bed, shortly after the kids, completely exhausted.  And the perceived “to do” list hasn’t shrunk to the extent I had imagined.  I don’t know how this is possible.  One of the things I was looking forward to during this year was having the time available vs things I need to get done ratio swing radically to the other side.  Time after the kids are in bed to sit outside and write, read, talk, etc.  That hasn’t happened.  This is not a bad thing, in fact the flopping into bed after a full day feels extremely satisfying.  But I’m intrigued by this idea that no matter how much or how little I need (or feel like I need) to get done, I allow it to fill up my free time.  Either we’re just not in the swing of this lifestyle yet and we’re still in the process of reinventing the wheel, or it’s a deeper issue of time management and mindset in general.  I’m looking forward to tackling this.

Things look so much better today.  Called the mechanic first thing and he said he’ll have the clutch replaced by the end of the day.  Weather’s gorgeous.  We’re able to stay at the Holly Rec Area, just need to change sites, which is fine because we have to dump/fill the tanks anyway.  After a few more whiffodils to get our car back and get the rental car returned to the airport, we can head north.

Keeper taught Firebolt to whittle in my absence, and I just had to include those pictures up above, because she whittled… a… hm…  what is that exactly?  I feel like I’ve seen something like that in Washington, or maybe Amsterdam.  Anyway, she looks proud, or at least coy.

And this was great, we’ve tried to make pre-breakfast family exercise of a part of our routine, and it turns out Holly Rec has some decent single-track, so Keeper and I grabbed our bikes and hit the trails.  First time this trip, and maybe only the 3rd or so time I’ve gotten to do that with him.  Hard to explain how much my heart swelled when he was gushing about how much he was enjoying riding through the woods.  “Yes, exactly!!”  That’s certainly something I miss about Anacortes (where we used to live in WA), having trails like that so accessible.  Good, easily accessible mountain biking will be a pre-req for our next house.

We also were able to hit the “inflatable park” out in the lake before departure.  TC and Firebolt opted to watch us from the shoreline, but Keeper, Woodsprite, and I had a blast.

I do want to say this about southern Michigan and the Detroit area.  We really enjoyed it.  I have to be honest and say I didn’t really expect that.  The people we met, every one of them, were genuinely kind and helpful.  This stood out.  No fewer than a dozen people stopped to offer help to Tacco and the kiddos when they were stranded at the side of the road.  The police checked on us 4-5 times and offered anything they could.  The mechanic did a fantastic job, and went above and beyond to get the car running again in a day so that we could get rolling.  And on top of that everywhere we’ve been has been borderline gorgeous.  Lakes and forest everywhere, mild weather (other than the occasional thunderstorm), and lots of flowers and wildlife.  There’s even a solid beer geek scene!  I hear the scenery is even better up north; we’re ready to go!

Dawn Patrol to Michigan, iPhone navigation notwithstanding, presented a different set of challenges for those who didn’t immediately fly out to Boston to start a work trip.  The whole departure evolution has been a bit surreal – we’re actually doing this trip after years of talking smack about it.  !!!  Maybe the hypnagogic aspect was compounded by the few hours of sleep I managed in the days prior to our actual departure.  Flight had a quick turnaround in the Detroit area (no kidding, 30 minutes to check into the campsite, disconnect and ready the TOAD to drive, back Davista in, level, and plug her into the site’s power supply (but, alas, no fresh water), before changing clothes, confirming suitcase contents, and getting all five members of our flight team into the car to go to the airport).  We managed to accomplish the whole checklist to get set up at the Holly Recreation Area State Park, a lovely spot to break in the solo adventure, and get Flight to DTW for an on-time departure.

A professional pilot of 26 (?!) years, Flight has jumped into Davista’s manual with both feet and crawled all over (and under) our new landcraft becoming well versed in all her operating systems, upping his game in fixing each piece of gear that breaks while in transit.  I have not, um, made that educational process a priority – I was busy making face care products and duvet covers – and was woefully unprepared to assume command of Davista, even while she was docked at the pier.

I had a momentary surge of panic as we pulled away from the Delta curb.  Maybe it was the lingering suggestion Flight made before we left Holly.  Upon noticing our fresh water tank was only 1/3 full, he offered: “You can just pull around the loop and connect to the fresh water source a few campsites back to fill the tank.  Keeper can show you how to do it.”  Um, no.  I think the first time I take Davista for a spin, especially one that involves picking our way through a camp site, and top anything off (how many tanks do we even have?!), I probably shouldn’t be supervised by only our 11 year old, as exceptional as he is.

My solution was to buy gallon jugs of drinking water on our way back (totally at peace with that…).  Bandaid applied to that problem…  The next item of business was getting the outdoor kitchen set up.  We have a pretty sweet set-up outside, necessitated by the lack of ventilation near the inside galley stove (don’t need my everything (wardrobe, towels, linens, furniture, etc.) to reek of bacon).  We have a small prep table and a gas drill that is tapped directly into the propane line (one of the first modifications to Davista Flight made – brilliant!).  I vaguely remembered Flight’s instructions to plug the stove in and held my breath as I lit it for the first time.  WOO HOO – and at least I was able to feed our kids.

We spent our days exploring Holly and even ventured into the greater Detroit area to explore and visit with friends.  We were getting into a groove and I was eager to share my growing comfort level with this crazy notion we’d jumped into, until our TOAD acted up as we were on our way to collect Flight from a late night arrival at DTW.  You can check that experience out here…

I’ve decided I’m OK with the dawn patrol.  Up at dark, campground shower with no one else around, kids rousted and then allowed to go right back to sleep, and a few hours of driving before anyone’s on the road to get in our way.

One little tidbit we hadn’t considered until late last night was that you can’t just check into a campground at 9AM.  Not unlike a hotel, there’s a check in and check out time.  Oops.  So we tried to rent our campsite (which very fortunately for us was not occupied) for last night, but the online system wouldn’t let us.  A bit disconcerting to get on the road knowing we’d have to do a very quick turnaround at the campground but not knowing for sure we’d be able to park there.  Fortunately an 8AM phone call to the campground rewarded us with a very nice worker (ranger?) who said it would be no problem to set up in our site early and they wouldn’t even charge us.

Here’s what I’m not OK with — multiple roundabouts in a residential area when I’m lugging 50′ of clumsy vehicle.  I made the considerable mistake of using Waze to get us up to the State Park once we got into the Detroit area.  While I’m sure it’s an excellent app, it’s perfectly happy driving you down any old residential street if it thinks it might save you a minute or two.  Frustratingly though (and this is a pet peeve of GPS driving/map apps in general), it doesn’t show you an overview of your route, just the next 500′ or so.  So you get a “hey, if you turn left here, I can save you 15 minutes!” which of course you assent to, then the next thing you know you’re getting rudely gestured at (rightfully so) and scraping the top of the motorhome on low hanging trees as you try to avoid people attempting to get in their cars to go to work.  Even more infuriating was watching the ETA click steadily right back up to beyond where it was before our turn off the interstate.  And don’t even get me started on roundabouts.  I’m a fan of them as long as I’m in a car and I’m among other drivers who know how they work (pro tip: you have to yield to the drivers in the circle.  You do not have to stop.)  But in the motorhome where every sharp turn sends things on shelves skittering to undesired places and you have to think about your turn radius with the towed car and the fact that your tail end swings outward due to how far forward the rear wheels are… it’s a special kind of hell.  Anyway, rant off.  We made it unscathed.  Here’s the route:

The park / campground is nice.  Woodsy, lakes, trails.  There’s even an “inflatable park” in one of the lakes that I’m hoping the kids will get a chance to play on.

As for now I’m off to work.  I did nearly get removed from a flight today, however, which is a first for me.  Generally commuting is easy no matter which airline I fly on, but today I managed to get the surly gate agent we all dread.  She was quite short with me and some other commuting crew from her own airline, but that was fine.  The situation deteriorated when she decided I didn’t have time to ask for a ride from the captain, who was in the lav right behind the cockpit at the time, and ordered me to my seat.  Things escalated when I explained that protocol and courtesy dictated that I do, in fact, need to check in with the captain and she vigorously disagreed.  The flight attendant was horrified by this and attempted to intercede on my behalf, but that only upset the gate agent further, prompting her to hiss “I’m 30 seconds from kicking you off this plane!” as I walked back to my seat after checking in quickly with the captain.  Crisis averted though, I’m on my way to Portland, and my family is tucked safely into the campsite in the Michigan woods north of 8 Mile.

First of all, the KOA!  I have to admit, there have been several times in my life when I thought “why would I ever stay in a KOA?”  Call it camp snobbery or something, but my assumption was that if I couldn’t be backpacking, I’d want to be as far from an “organized campground” as possible.  That even if the campground were well-appointed, I’d want it to look like it was primitive.  I’m now re-thinking that.

It was actually pretty cool, and served our purposes well.  They’re clearly used to folks like us rolling in with their homes on wheels and rolling right back out, and they ensured we were up and running with everything we needed within 10 minutes.  The location left a bit to be desired.  It was hard not to flash back to My Cousin Vinny after the freight train rolled through in the wee hours.  “She’s s’posed to come through ten after 4!…”  Some day I’ll have to figure out why all the horn honking on those things, and whether they do that for their entire route or only when they pass sleeping people.

I was also surprised to see how many people seem to spend months at a time at KOAs, or at least at this one.  Some of the setups people were sporting implied very long term stays (actual porches built from lumber, satellite dishes dug into the ground and wired, etc).  I tend to see the KOA more as a fine solution to the temporary problem of “where do I sleep tonight?”

Cedar Point.  Another very cool place within very specific parameters.  It sits on a peninsula (used to be an island) that juts out into Lake Erie, and is basically a mega amusement park and resort with an emphasis on roller coasters.  There are 16, and just about all of them would qualify as the flagship ride at any other park.  I think we lucked out with the weather again.  It was low 80s, perfectly clear, and low humidity.  Cedar Point strikes me as the kind of place where you get a lot of summer thunderstorms and rarely dry off.  Not so today.

Amusement parks tend to be a mixed bag for us these days, given the kids’ ages.  Inevitably we (parents) need to split up due to the girls wanting to ride different rides than Keeper (and us).  Lots of texting and checking phone battery life. “where are you right now?”  “getting on in 5” “I’m down to 16%” “meet you in front of that fried Oreo shop”  I’m struck once again by how impossible the task of herding any sized group must have been just a few years ago, before we could tell each other exactly where we were moment by moment.  Also, and I’m a bit ashamed to admit this, but my career choice notwithstanding, there are lots and lots of rides that make me feel like crap.  Even roller coasters.  Too much twisting & inverting?  I need an hour to let my head settle.  Head banging back and forth?  Sore for half the day.  Anything that swings?  Fuggedaboudit, I’m scrambled and done.

But, again, the roller coasters there are spectacular, and there was plenty for the kids to do.  Firebolt and Woodsprite were even able to up their coaster game a bit too.  Firebolt has been uncharacteristically tentative in the thrill ride department.  The last time she rode a roller coaster (at Universal in Florida), she calmly told us thereafter that “I didn’t enjoy that.  It made my heart scream.”  Fair enough, and I love your choice of words!  We did manage to find a semi-thrill ride we could all ride, that was new to me.  Basically it simulated a half-pipe and had about 40 of us in one big car that was allowed to spin freely as it rocked back and forth along the half pipe.  It was sportier than it looked from the ground.  The kids all loved it; I was about 2 minutes from puking.

I think the best ride is pictured up above, behind Keeper doing his I’m-not-the-least-bit-nervous face.  It’s called Top Thrill Dragster, and shoots you via linear induction to 125 mph, then up and over that huge vertical hill.  I guess on occasion it doesn’t quite make it over the top and comes back down in reverse.  Unfortunately we made it over the first time.  Quick ride, but intense the entire time.  I could’ve done it all day.  Keeper got to do it twice in a row due to the “parent swap” option they offer you, which, if you’re a parent of young kids and don’t know about this, by all means check it out. When I pointed out to him that a cat shot on an aircraft carrier gets you to almost twice that speed in the same distance, he responded “sure Dad, but you’re not open air and not nearly as close to the ground, so the sensation of speed isn’t the same.”  Very good point!

Another highlight was the Millennium Force, which was easily the smoothest coaster I’ve ever ridden, with nearly constant G force (from zero to ?) and a good bit of speed.  After Tacco got off she said that it was fantastic, but she was pretty sure she had greyed out at least once. (!)

Overall it was a good, if busy, day.  I think we’re all still finding our stride and trying to catch up to all the change.  It’s moving fast, and it’s taxing to stay a few steps ahead so that we’re not just reacting to everything.  There’s been no relaxing yet.  The next few days may be challenging, as I’ll be commuting to work for the first time from the road and flying for a couple days.  I’m not thrilled about leaving them behind, but it’s something we’ll all clearly need to get used to.  Working out the logistics was daunting, as we’re planning to stay at a State Rec Area in Michigan about an hour north of the Detroit airport and my flight leaves at noon, so we need to break camp here in Ohio, drive up to the campsite there, set up very quickly, and pile everyone back into the car to drive back down to DTW and drop me off.  That means dawn patrol, at least for me.  I’m hoping I can get everyone right back to sleep once we get on the road.

Departure Day looks a little different from my (TACCO’s) perspective. It was a day of frenetic activity from which it took three days (past Detroit) to spool down. In some ways our impending departure was not unlike waiting to give birth.   Our three monkeys each made their respective appearances late (Keeper was 8 days late), later (Firebolt was 11 days late) and ridiculous (WoodSprite was 12 days tardy to the party). It felt as though I was not ready to enter into each new phase until I set aside some time to honor the transitional process at hand, to acknowledge what chapter was coming to an end and welcome the new one unfolding.

About two weeks prior to our departure, I was speaking with a dear friend as to whether we should even go on this adventure as the house hadn’t yet sold. I expressed my frustration with not being able to wholly commit to the trip because we weren’t free of our ties to Maryland. She patiently listened to me reiterate what we hoped to do this year and also consider what was keeping us here, namely that we hadn’t sold our house, we have family in the area that we love, and that Keeper had been accepted into the STEM Magnet Program by lottery, which is a fantastic opportunity, and one that he was pretty excited about. She then asked me if I had made it a point to cut ties with the house. Wait, what? I hadn’t thought of that.

On the next morning that our kids were all at summer camp and Flight was away on a trip, I carved out some time to honor the current transitional process. Especially over the summer, solo time in our house is a rare thing. I went into my treatment space, got down on my knees and started to pray. I gave thanks for the house that we’d lived and thrived in for the past nearly four years, and acknowledged that we are ready to move on. I also asked for some discernment about whether we should forego our plans entirely, or only go out to the Grand Tetons to witness the solar eclipse and beat feet back to Maryland in time for our kids to start the new school year, or start this adventure regardless of our house selling, or something else I hadn’t even considered.

Within two hours I got a call from the local STEM Magnet Program Manager to let us know that Keeper was not actually enrolled in the program, but was #142 on the waitlist. And, as there are only 100 seats available, the likelihood he would be offered a seat in the program for this upcoming year was close to zero. ??!?! I had called the middle school earlier in the week expressing concern as to whether or not we were on the appropriate email distribution list because we hadn’t heard anything about the STEM Program. The lovely woman who answered my call assured me she’d have the program director get back to me soonest.

Earlier this in the year, Flight had been tracking what he thought was Keeper’s lottery number and watched this set of digits move from number 7 or 8 on the waitlist to having solidly secured a seat in the program. In an uncharacteristic episode of momentary dyslexia, Flight had transposed two of the digits and had tracked someone else’s 6^th grader’s progress. Keeper’s actual lottery number started near #170 on the waitlist and had moved up to #142. The key entering argument for sticking around in Maryland and potentially postponing our adventure for another three years had been Keeper’s acceptance into the STEM Program. Without that tie, even with the house still ours and being around the corner form our cousins, we felt a little freer to wheel about. We being I as Flight was about to land in Florida and had no idea what had transpired in the wake of my prayer.

Needless to say a flurry of texts ensued upon his landing and we were able to briefly discuss “What next?!” Flight was not due home until late that evening, Keeper not until the next day, and I still had to collect WoodSprite and Firebolt from their respective camp experiences that afternoon. We were fortunate enough to spend the evening visiting with some new friends (whom I seem to have known forever) new to our recent neck of the woods. But between now and then I had a brief moment to process this game-changing piece of info and realized, “it’s go time.” It was Friday, 21 July, and, a brief look at the calendar indicated we had a narrow window of opportunity to depart.

Things that have been languishing on the to do list now had 9 days to get done. Or not, meaning those items would wait until Flight and I returned to pack out the house when it sells. The action of saying thank you and good-bye to our house allowed me to mentally and emotionally transition our home to Davista. While flight was doing some heavy lifting to get our massive landcraft operational (check out his work here…), I had some detail work to do to assume residence within. A gaggle of our cousins came over for some pool time and pizza and I was heckled for cutting out fabric on the pool deck. The duvet covers that I had planned to make for the girls weren’t yet finished started and I was determined to knock them out before we left. I finished sewing them the day before we left – it was really important to me that the girls could make their bunks their own.  Flight had already helped Keeper make his space his own.

In logging countless hours of research over the last six months (much of which while sucked into Pinterest…), I had read many full-time RVers emphasize the importance of bringing hobbies with you on the road. Because I left that task to the end, maybe because moving my creative work space made our departure real, I had to comb through the Michael’s-like warehouse in our basement thick with palettes for my various hobbies and determine what was both compact enough and critical for my sanity during our deployment. Jewelry-making, knitting, sewing, skin-care products, scrapbooking, card-making, book-making, not to mention building a traveling apothecary (not including the Varsity and JV First Aid Kits – those had already been built) and acupuncture clinic.

At one point Flight came down into the basement after midnight to see me surrounded by knitting needles and yarn from no less than 12 different projects in various states of completion, a traveling sewing kit half-assembled, and paper crafts littering my desk. Sometimes my creative process is confusing to Flight, sometimes perplexing, but he usually gives me a wide berth so long as he can shut the door and contain the chaos. He didn’t know what to make of my sitting in this advanced state of “not the way we want to leave the house when we depart in ten hours.” I assured him this was just my process and all will be good to go by the time we pull away. And with that assurance (?), he went to bed.

In the following hours, I managed to build a sewing kit (the kids will each learn to sew by hand by the end of our travels – I left my sewing machine in our museum), pack my knitting needles and yarn for a few projects (the kids will each learn to knit as well), pack my acupuncture needles and herbs, collect enough paper and envelopes for making cards on the go, and sew two sets of decorative pillow cases for Davista’s living room/galley/dining room/movie theater space. Although there was no sleeping for me until at least Pennsylvania, I needed some last minute quiet time alone in my creative space to express my gratitude by knocking out a few more projects, and to identify the scaffolding for the year’s creative outlets.

Flight woke up to an inspection ready basement, with the rest of the house almost back to museum state. The morning was dedicated to frenetic cleaning, spreading some of our Cascadian Mountain Dogs’ ashes in the backyard where they romped the last of their days, and gathering and shuttling last minute items to Davista. While we departed Davidsonville without a can opener (fortunately we have a Swiss Army Knife and can open cans old school until we get a new one), Keeper’s flip flops (he’s been wearing a pair of mine for shower shoes), Firebolt’s glasses (“It’s okay, Mom, I don’t really need them.” !!!), and plenty of things we have yet to discover, we’re settling into a new way of living and enjoying our time together. Or will, after I get some sleep.

Perfect weather, after some ugly days.  House not sold, though the original plan stipulated a sold house as a requirement.  Two divergent (and poorly communicated) ideas about how our last day in Maryland would look, scheduling-wise, leading to some frustration at 1AM the evening prior, or I guess I should say the morning of.  There has to be either some foreshadowing or some greater truth in there, but I haven’t made the effort to dig deeper and probably won’t.  Because ultimately we took the first step, which I’ve got to think is the biggest, and we pulled it off!

[Note:  we’re not using our actual names on this site.  See the “Who Are We” page or click here for explanation of callsigns.]

Backing up slightly and with the benefit of a little hindsight, I can see that there was simply no way we were going to feel prepared.  For months I’d blabbered about how we had so incredibly much to do and we had to get on it now now now, but that now seems naive at best, somewhere south of annoying at worst.  Though I’m sure we could have executed more efficiently on several levels, it was always going to come down to that last week.  Later and later nights sorting / discarding / donating / fretting / fixing / packing throughout the week, with Davista parked in our driveway (much to our HOA’s chagrin I’m sure), culminating in a no-kidding all-nighter by Tacco the night before leaving.  After a going-away party and the attendant clean-up no less.  It really was a herculean effort — I loaded food and “stuff” into the fridge and various RV compartments until I was incoherent, and then fell into bed, likely fully clothed.  I knew it was time when I tried to have a conversation with TC about our progress but found myself unable to form words.  But, and here’s the herculean part, I remember waking at some point while it was still dark — call it 4:30AM — and hearing a whirring noise from downstairs.  I found out the next day that it was TC on the sewing machine, making new duvet covers for the kids and pillows for the couch.  Spontaneous last minute project.  And they’re fantastic; they really add a sorely needed touch of home.  Wow.

7AM stretched to 10AM, which stretched to 1PM.  There really is a lot of “last minute” when you’re packing your life into a small space, possibly for good, and attempting to leave your house in a state in which it can be shown to potential buyers.  Yet in retrospect that part went as well as it possibly could have.  The hot & sticky sun and the hot & sticky rain finally relented and we enjoyed a 78 degree un-humid morning during which we were able to sign one of the studs in our basement for posterity, spread some of the ashes of our Cascadian Mountain Dogs in the yard in which they spent so much time playing, and enjoy a last picnic lunch by the pool.

And then we headed out.  The picture on the top of the blog is from the moment we hooked up the car to the back, I gasped in temporary horror at the beast of a rig we were about to lumber around the country, and we left our Maryland house in the newly installed back-up camera (no real rear view mirrors on this thing).

Our first destination was Cedar Point, in Sandusky, OH.  Not so much because we were dying to ride the roller coasters there, as that it’s generally in the direction we wanted to go and seemed about the right distance to travel.  But the coasters were kind of a bonus.  Though I’m nowhere near as much of a fan as I was when I was young, I’ve passed some of that bug on to Keeper, and I still get a kick out of a well-designed thrill ride.  TC saved me, about a half second prior to an ill-advised mouse click, from booking disgustingly expensive lodging right at the park (no RV sites available, so I figured we’d just park it and stay in a “cabin.”  Bad idea jeans.), and we opted for the far more reasonable Sandusky KOA instead.  KOA!  This will be a first for all of us.  Interested to peek behind that particular curtain, particularly since we’ll likely be spending quite a bit of time behind it for the next year.

Here’s our route:

Ignore that max speed.  That would be against the law.  Plus I’m pretty sure we didn’t get up to 2614′ in the Appalachians.  Silly app.

I’m trying out a few different iPhone apps to track our progress, so these maps will undoubtedly vary in appearance.

The best I can describe the driving is that there’s a learning curve.  For the first two hours or so, driving took every bit of my attention, so much so that I couldn’t even really engage in conversation.  In aviation we talk a lot about “Situational Awareness” or “SA” for short.  It’s essentially a catch all term for having an instant-by-instant understanding of where you are, what’s around you, what the potential hazards are, your “energy state” (much more complex in an aircraft than an RV, but essentially how fast you’re going with a consideration of how fast you might want to be going a moment from now), the status of your equipment, a host of “what ifs,” etc etc.  That’s what driving this thing feels like — starting all over with driving SA, and needing much more of it than I was used to.  You can’t stop, turn, or change lanes quickly, you take up about 50′ of road front-to-back and all but about 2′ of the lane side to side, and the inputs you’re getting from the mirrors and cameras aren’t familiar.  Plus reverse is impossible without disconnecting the car you’re towing, so there’s some foresight required there as well.  Anyone who has driven a full-sized truck would probably yawn at this, but it’s new to me, and far more challenging than towing a boat.  I’m continually surprised by how much the entire thing flexes and yaws and buckles with every turn or gust of wind or bump in the road; I’d imagined motorhomes to have a much more solid feel to them.  We learned early on (i.e. well before today) that we needed child safety latches for the drawers to keep them from flying open and sending all our plates, pots, and pans flying across the floor during left turns.  All that said, after a few hours the driving felt pretty comfortable.

I found myself amazed that all this equipment is working together, as advertised.  Learning the motorhome systems was one thing, but two months ago the idea of buying a car we could tow, installing all the requisite aftermarket gear on it, and actually getting it and all our “stuff” on the road was completely overwhelming.  I had to break the task into tiny, achievable sub-parts to keep from throwing my hands up.  But here I was barreling down the road looking, via the camera I’d installed, at the car with the 2 bikes on top and the new base plate bolted to the frame and attached to the RV via the two telescoping bars and the wiring harness I’d wired, and sure enough, when I pressed the brake, the little light I’d installed in the dash came on, telling me that the cylinder and control box I’d bolted to the floor of the Outback and tied into its braking system was, indeed, pulling on the cable that I’d attached to the brake pedal and actuating the Outback’s brakes for me.  Amazed, but it also feels like a mini-victory.  This kind of thing was never in my skill set, so slogging through putting it all together, understanding how it works, and watching it actually function is far more satisfying to me than maybe it ought to be.  Perhaps you’re accusing me of risking a hurt shoulder while patting myself on the back, and I won’t argue with that.  In this case I highly recommend it though.

The route was pretty, but not mind-blowing.  I think we were all wrapped up in fairly heavy introspection/processing.  Still are.  And with that, I’ll sign off, other than to say that the KOA is….. interesting.  And I promise most posts won’t be this long.  Unless they are.