Dead RV battery. Ticks on the dogs. Ticks on us. Toothache. Dead car battery. Awning broke. Our 10×10 pop-up gone in the wind.

“Best summer ever!” I told Jody.

Lake George, New York, our seventh campground, was the first time Jody and I felt like we were really on vacation—living in our RV, traveling the Eastern Seaboard.

Maybe it was the unfamiliar Adirondack landscape. The steep hiking. Scrambling over roots and granite, climbing through the forest and then suddenly coming out to a view of Lake George, a ribbon of blue tucked between mountains.

Our travels continued with bike rides through the countryside, up and down valleys. I was a kid again, sailing over the pavement. Nature and being outside filled me. Farmers in the fields. The smell of hay being cut. Leaves beginning to fall.

There were more challenging hikes in the Appalachian Mountains. Swimming beneath waterfalls. Days turned into weeks, weeks into months. I stopped noticing—or caring—what day it was.

Time was marked by moving day and arrival at the next site.

The other stuff—the broken stuff—Jody and I figured out.

New RV battery. Ticks dropped into a jar of alcohol. Tooth pulled. Car battery replaced. Awning added to the RV repair-and-maintenance list. The 10×10 pop-up was simply gone.

115 days.
16 weeks and 3 days.
Almost four months.

I watch seven merganser ducks diving underwater, chasing small fish. They play tag, frolicking, seeming to dance across the water.

“Best summer ever.”