Not Our Best Day

Our 100th day as fulltimers just wasn’t our best.

In the same spirit of full disclosure that we chronicled the ups and downs of our preparations for fulltiming, we feel compelled to share the story of this day that tested our mettle as fulltimers.

We awoke to complete silence for the first time in a long time. The rain that plagued Arkansas had come to an end. What a great day to travel! We were up and out early, hitting the road at 9:00 a.m. sharp. Just as we leaving we noticed the fabric valance over our dinette was wet. We chalked it up to several consecutive days of heavy rain and went on our way. (Stay tuned, dear readers, for the rest of this story.)

The first half of our 260-mile travel day was perfect. Then, we hit Louisiana.

We had prepared two possible routes for today. The first was the most direct, but included a 60 or so mile stretch of two-lane highway in Louisiana. The second route added some 30 miles, was all four-lane and bypassed the the Pelican State. When we reached the fork in the road, things were looking good, so we opted for the most direct route. Some 20 miles after passing the point of no return, we crossed into Louisiana. Immediately, the road went to shit. Shoulders disappeared. Potholes multiplied before us like rabbits. Flood waters lapped at the shoulderless roadway. Oh yeah, and it got balmy. We slowed our speed down to something that minimized the teeth shattering and made it easier to keep it between the lines and out of the flood waters. After 90 minutes of bouncing along, we finally reached I-20. And, yes, it got worse.

When we crossed the roaring Mississippi River at historic Vicksburg, we were delighted that our pass off of this poor excuse for an interstate was Exit #2. From there we glided south to just north of Port Gibson, where we took a seven-mile turnoff down a narrow two-lane, low hanging tree branch lined road to our lovely campground located just one half-mile from the mighty river. When we stepped out of the coach we were instantly soaked by the 99.99% humidity combined with the 80 degree temps. This was “balmy” on steroids!

After a warm but muggy welcome from the campground staff, we commenced with the task of unhooking the Jeep and selecting our campsite. We were advised that if we wanted to have any chance at cell service, we should setup in the “upper” campground. Eager to put our shiny new aircard to work in this wifi-less park, we decided to take the high road. Paul set about separating the squirrel from the moose and quickly discovered the locking bolts on the tow bar wouldn’t budge. This five-minute procedure became a frustrating half hour. With brute force he got them unlocked, then eventually freed. Imagine wrestling with a tow bar in a sauna after a long, bouncy travel day! Our energy and moods were plummeting.

We climbed the steep road to the upper campground to choose our site. With no cable at this place, our goal was to select the most satellite-friendly site in this tree-lined loop. We picked one, backed through mud to get situated on the pad, plugged in and couldn’t find a satellite. So, we unplugged and pulled into our second choice. We couldn’t find a satellite here, either. But, by now we were soaked with sweat and AC was becoming a higher priority than TV. So, we commenced with our setup.

With our setup complete, we turned our attention back to the wet valance we had noticed this morning. A few rainy stops ago, we noticed a small trickle of water above one of our bedroom windows. But, the source of this new leak had us stumped. An initial check in the cabinet above the window revealed no water. I started taking dishes out of the cabinet and was surprised to find one dish filled with water! The leak appeared to come from part of the mechanism in the Big Ass Slide. With two parts like this on the slide, we made a beeline to the offending part’s twin inside the bedroom closet and discovered a spot where water had obviously poured down the back wall...and been absorbed by my clothes. Within minutes we had dishes piled on the table and my clothes spread out in the bathroom. Minor annoyances had been piling up all day, but this one nearly sent me over the edge.

With the dishes dry and put away, damp clothes hanging in the shower, and a big cocktail in hand, we settled in to relax, unwind and connect with the outside world. With one teeny-tiny bar on our iphones, we had a few successful attempts at sending arrival emails and posts, but quickly came to the realization that we have no dependable cell service here.

Welcome to Mississippi!

Exhausted, grumpy and regretting that I had ever chosen this remote rainforest campground in this godforsaken part of the world, I hopped in the shower right after dinner, put on my jammies and readied myself for a much needed night’s rest. I successfully logged on to Facebook, checked in on a few of our fulltiming buddies and got a powerful lesson in perspective. I read of the ordeal Pam and Randy Warner have had over the last 24 hours. After an engine breakdown yesterday, they spent last night in a Walmart parking lot and had their motorhome towed off today for diagnosis and repair. Sitting here in the comfort of our slightly leaky rolling home, having safely arrived after a tiring travel day, I realized we really don’t have any problems. All we had was one bad day. And, all things considered, I guess it was really that bad.

One bad day out of 100. I think I can handle that. After all, it’s just one percent. And, as the saying goes, even a bad day of fulltiming is better than a day of work.

Amen to that!