It’s a Small World

I’m looking at the bleak landscape of Wyoming through the enormous front window of a Winnebago Brave. Occasional snowflakes splatter across my vision and we sway madly back and forth in the buffeting wind. The silverware clatters and I hear a bored, off key tune floating from the dinette. Exactly what am I doing in a RV with four other humans? Apparently it’s a symptom of Covid. If you cannot go across the oceans to escape your comfort zone, you must come up with a way to do it close to home. We are decidedly not RV people. We are all about personal space, freedom, and very little luggage. Tents are great, sleeping under the stars even better. Although I will admit that snow and sleeping under the stars do not go together at all in my mind.

It’s been a niggling dream for a while, this RV America trip. For almost a year we’ve had a “old RV” search saved on Ebay. This fall a “perfect” one came up in Rapid City so we snapped it up! A 1991 Winnebago Brave with gorgeous dusty lavender seats and virtually no problems. Batteries are brand new and stuff (Clear throat here).

After a hectic, three week renovation that totally didn’t need to be done, we’re finally ready to take the old girl on a test run. Destination, Bighorns of Wyoming.

We left yesterday late afternoon and managed to make it to Wall, SD and one of the top 5 boondocking spots in the USA. It’s pretty majestic, located right on the edge of the Badlands drop off. Of course we selected a rather off level spot to park, and the Winnnie was seriously listing to port. The guys spent the best part of an hour trying to correct that with various jacks and airbags, but nothing seemed overly effective. Eventually they struck on the brilliant idea of driving up on blocks of wood. That’s pretty funny to do when you have major drop offs on three sides of you, and your brakes don’t exactly believe in the “Slow obedience is No obedience” mantra. But, with nervous chattering from the drivers seat and shouts of encouragement from outside, we finally conquered the tilt. Forrest thinks the camper is disgusting to sleep in so he hiked over to a copse of trees to sleep in his hammock.

FYI: Onan generators do not run if the gas tank is less than a third full and allegedly new batteries don’t necessarily work. We may have had an RV, but we certainly had no modern conveniences. There’s a dozen switch combinations to try to get power, but no luck with any of them. After another hour of fiddling, which didn’t end in success, we all went to sleep.

All it took to get us in full working condition was a Lowes, Northern Pipe, Walmart, and Flying J, followed by a random city park for a sewer dump and water fill. This RVing business is not for wimps, or the inflexible.

Later….

And now we’re curled up under our blankets deep in the Bighorn National Forest. There’s a dusting of snow on the ground, but the stream next to our camper is still bubbling. Zach and I took a long, dark walk down a trail/road after supper and reveled in the quiet beauty. Well, until we came upon some abandoned cabins that strongly reminded me of the abandoned cabin in the spooky book I’m reading out loud. Then I sorta had to concentrate on not thinking too much. Zach may or may not have been feeling the same way, but he suddenly wondered what the noise was when a bird struck up a racket in a nearby tree. It did sound weird, but we concluded it was a really cold bird. At least, it sounded like it was trying to sing but it’s beak was chattering.

Our supper didn’t burn… score one for mom, who has possibly figured out the temperamental oven. Our house batteries are working, and the generator is happy. We’re tucked into a small campground in a little canyon. Life is pretty good.