I pull in to the state park, overtired and lonely, more interested in getting some cheap hook ups and a private parking spot than viewing the nearby series of waterfalls.
It is an unusually cold and wet day and the park is empty. As I pull up to my site, the damp fire pit, empty picnic table, and barren tent platform only make me feel more lonely, almost desperately so. Instead of appreciating the trees framing my camp, I view the giant pair on either side of my back in site with intimidation and anxiety. No one is around to solicit for help, so I park my Mini in the middle of the road, get out, and assess the situation.
If I am going to RV solo, then I need to be able to do this on my own.
Back into the driver’s seat. Two feet in reverse. Park. Walk around RV. Assess.
Back into the driver’s seat. Two more feet in reverse . Park. Walk around RV. Assess.
Back into the driver’s seat. Two more feet in reverse…
In a painstakingly slow process, one to two feet at a time, I successfully navigate into my spot.
Squeezed into the narrow drive, I realize I am extremely unlevel, so go through a second exercise of backing over an ever-increasing stack of orange lego-levelers. (I ended up needing almost all of them on the front driver’s side.)
Finally successfully parked, I feel hungry, cold, lonely, and want to cry.
Television. I need escapist, junk television
I turn on the DirectTV satellite and it spins and spins and spins. I can’t get a signal.
Giving up, I turn off the TV, make some chicken noodle soup and pick up a book, Tales of a Female Nomad. The story of a 47 year old wife, mother (of adult children), anthropologist, and children’s book writer, Rita Golden Gelman gives away all of her possessions and travels around the world solo, intimately experiencing foreign cultures as she travels with young backpackers and lives full time with marginalized indigenous families. She is one tough lady and I feel foolish that I felt like crying because I couldn’t get my motorhome level.
I open all of my windows, smell the campfires of unseen campers, hear the evening insects and birds and start to relax. This is peaceful.
I realize that being hungry, tired, and cold skews my perspective.
I love this.
Soothed by the natural sounds coming from outside, I go to bed with all the windows open. Asleep by nine, I was up early with hot coffee outside on a lovely cool morning.
It was magical!
25 Comments
Hi, Jennifer, I’m thinking about single RVing and your experiences inspire me. The fact you can feel so down and lost and then see yourself through it is a great confidence builder and I need some of that. Keep on trucking–I mean Rving.
Glenda
HI Jennifer … mornings like that is exactly what it’s all about. I’m happy that you saw it and recognized it for what it is and that you’re getting to the good part of what this is all about.
a true “seeing the forrest AND the trees” perspective!
three cheers for Jennifer!!!
It will get easier. Change is scary and hard (seeming) at first, but always gets easier. Don’t forget to breathe…
It’s a different rhythm out there, isn’t it? We spent the past three months going to bed and getting up with the sun. I love the mornings, too. Going without television was an adjustment for me as well. Bird identification books and a pair of binoculars were a welcome replacement! Good luck!
“In a painstakingly slow process, one to two feet at a time, I successfully navigate into my spot.”
This is one of those things in which there is no substitute for practice. Pretty soon you will be whipping into the spot, stopping just short of where you want to be, eyeballing the slope and picking the right number of blocks, mounting them, and settling in, all in minutes. Give it a little time.
“Television. I need escapist, junk television”
No you don’t. You have other options now. Though in truth, one of the most culturally subversive remarks I ever heard was on “junk television”. It was on the old Mary Tyler Moore show. Sue Ann Nivens (Betty White) meets the pompous anchorman Ted Baxter for the first time. “Perhaps you’ve seen me on TV,” he says. “O no,” she replies. “I don’t have a TV. I have a fireplace.”
“This is peaceful.”
There y’go. Finding your center. Right there all along.
“It was magical!”
Nothing is quite so surprising as the ordinary seen through fresh eyes. RV eyes.
Bob
Jennifer, your post reflects exactly what most of us have gone through after getting our first RV. Thank you for being vulnerable and open on the “process”. Your feelings are not unique. That you surmount those feelings and deliberately are able to change your perspective is a great sign of growth! Keep it up!
Clarke
Hooray! I call that a successful adventure!
Your tribe awaits you.. see you soon!
One of the cardinal rules of backing up in an RV is GOAL or Get Out and Look. We have huge windows in the back AND a back up camera AND there are two of us. Still, we have made it a rule for the driver to ALWAYS Get Out and Look.
It’s just common sense. If you’re the driver, you get a much better idea of what to do if you’ve seen it for yourself.
As to TV, I LIKE TV, and while we don’t watch it all the time, sometimes it’s just what I want. We’ve found it’s a good idea to carry a few DVDs for the times when that’s what I really want to do. Lots of cheap DVDs available at Best Buy for $3, so the next time you’re in town, you might pick up a few.
You’re doing great.
Kate
http://cholulared.blogspot.com
I too experienced that sense of loneliness at the beginning. Even now years later, the first night out a twinge of that may set in. It’s all about change from what you are used to and it’s normal. After a few days you think nothing of it. And too, there will be good days and not so good days on the road. Take them in stride. In my later years I have found the long marathon driving days induce the feelings you wrote about. Now I do mostly shorter days of less than 100 miles or 3 hours, whichever. This has opened up a whole new world for me by staying at places I would have normally passed up and having more time to get out an explore and hike around these spots. I carry a library of books to read and never turn on the TV. Lastly, you may want to consider a back-up camera installation on the mini. It helps a lot.
Oh, Jennifer, I have so been there. It takes awhile getting used to solo traveling but with each mile down the road it gets easier. I have felt vulnerable, stupid, overwhelmed and panic stricken. But I have also felt *amazing*! Worth every minute of it.
I read Tales of a Female Nomad a few years back and am now writing my own tales, as are you.
Looking forward to meeting you sometime, somewhere.
Susan
Hi Jennifer,
I think your ability to turn your mood around, and appreciate the true magic that exists in the peaceful sounds and beauty of nature, is awesome. That’s what keeps us all hooked on RVing. On a more mundane note, I’ve found that TV reception via satellite is invariably blocked by the presence of tall trees lining up with the orientation of the satellite. Sometimes you can move a few feet in either direction, even after being hooked up, and get it going. If not, what a great trade-off! Thanks for sharing.
Mary Ann
Jennifer –
Wow…thank you for sharing your vulnerability with all of us…it’s so real everything you described. I totally agree with the hungry lonely tired piece. Keep your basics in check and you’ll conquer anything! I’m glad you were able to see the beauty and fall asleep peacefully. I look forward to those days of waking early with a cup of coffee and walking outside with our pups.
Keep sharing – you have an amazing way of making me feel as if I was there with you!
Kari
*smiles* You’re doing great! You’ll see this attitude switch happen more and more quickly as you get used to RVing.
Hi – I’m a new reader and just wanted to say hello. I’m so impressed with your ability to do this alone – can’t wait to hear about the rest of your travels!
Hi!
I found your blog through happyjanssens.com and the NuRV thing in Texas! I spent all day reading through your blog. Wow, what an adventure. I feel like I’m ready to take off to the Arctic Circle too! But I don’t like cold, so I probably won’t! I love the RV you finally choose. I want one!!! Someday I’ll have one.
Have a great time full-time Rving!
Carolyn
REALLY hoping I can totally hog you AND your sister soon. Everyone else has been here almost a week. They’re old news.
Hey Jennifer,
First off, congrats on the new life. You are migrating towards a more fulfilling life, and are in the beginning stages of realization of that.
It’s hard to dump the things we get so used to, but part of the contentment is the solace, and the re-direct to the things that matter.
Peace, tranquility, inner happiness.
Making a living, rather than making a dying.
Seeing the world for what it is, that great beautiful ball of fabulous lakes,rivers, birds, trees and not the stench of the commute each morning.
Its nice to see you starting your journey and as my house is for sale, we should be on the road as well, in a few months.
Take care and see you around the campfire!
Karyn
Hey, here’s an interesting design for living flexible and small. Your sister might like this.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lg9qnWg9kak
Now if it only had wheels and a motor…
Bob
I appreciate your battle with solo travel. That’s all I have to say about that!
Is that a big black bird of some sort on that branch?
We too have had hungry/cold/tired/want to cry moments this last week. Change is difficult… but rolling with it will help us make it through! It was so nice to meet you, and hope to see you again soon!
Totally loved this.
Thanks Bob… that video is very cool and I have thought about a home that transforms. Restaurant racks with wheels etc..I even have several racks on wheels in my RV! Thick carpet keeps them firmly in place. Ok, so maybe not firmly as I know Jennifer will post a recent pic I sent her to call me out on that comment.
JC
H.A.L.T.
Hungry – Angry – Lonely – Tired
I love your blog, Jennifer. It’s so honest and real. I laughed at your “backing up method”. I use to tell people that I had to go all the way to the west coast so I could make a u-turn because I couldn’t back up! I don’t think too many people realized that it didn’t make any sense at all.
I miss being gone, but my best buddy can’t do it. I know it’s confusing, but he’s my Lab and I love him with all my heart, and his health comes first.
I don’t think I was ever “lonely” on the road. When my kids visited I loved seeing them, but I was glad to have my little space back, again. I was glad that I could do what I wanted to or not when I wanted to. I came back earlier than I expected or wanted, but a sixth sense told me I had to. I go back and forth regretting it. Had I not come back, though, I might have lost Jack. He was so happy traveling that I lose sight of that when I get the itch to hitch. Then, reality strikes.
There’s a sense of urgency to my yearnings. AGE. Try to think about how fortunate you are to have so much time to enjoy your “adventure and life style”. I’ve spent almost six years grieving over the loss of my husband and I lost our Lab, Lizzie, last year, and now…our Jack is next unless something unexpected happens to me. I will see that he lives out his life in peace and comfort. It breaks my heart to let him go, but I will not let him suffer. I might have saved myself some tears and desolation had I been on the move, but Lizzie was getting older. When I put her to sleep, I saw the window and a chance to push back against the sadness, and Jack and I set off. My husband loved these dogs and they are a part of him, to me, so where am I going with this. I don’t know. I’m crying.
This piece was Rich’s favorite…I leave it for you to take on your journey through life.
The Station
Tucked away in our subconscious is an idyllic vision. We see ourselves on a long trip that spans the continent. We are traveling by train. Out the windows we drink in the passing scene of cars on nearby highways, of children waving at a crossing, of cattle grazing on a distant hillside, of row and row of corn and wheat, of flatlands and valleys, of mountains and rolling hillsides, of city skylines and village halls.
But uppermost in our minds is the final destination. On a certain day at a certain hour we will pull into the station. Bands will be playing and flags will be waving. Once we get there so many wonderful dreams will come true and pieces of our lives will fit together like a completed jigsaw puzzle. How restless we pace the aisles, damning the minutes for loitering – waiting, waiting, waiting for the station.
“When we reach the station, that will be it!” we cry, “When I’m 18, when I buy a new Mercedes Benz, when I put the last kid through college, when I reach the age of retirement, I shall live happily ever after!”
Sooner or later we must realize there is no station, no one place to arrive at once and for all. The true joy of life is the trip. The station is only a dream. It constantly outdistances us.
“Relish and enjoy every single moment!” is a good motto. It isn’t the burdens of today that drive men mad. It is the regret over yesterday and the fear of tomorrow. Regret and fear are twin thieves who rob us of today.
So, stop pacing the aisles and counting the miles. Instead, climb more mountains, eat more ice cream, go barefoot more often, swim more rivers, watch more sunsets, laugh more, cry less. Life must be lived as we go along. The station will come soon enough.
…unknown
Thank you for letting me “travel” with you.
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