Category Archives: RV Travel

Our Trip South

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Our ‘before’ leaving Minnesota photo.

“We’re doing this,” we both said. Fist bump.

On September 30, Jody and I backed out of our driveway in our 29 ft. Class A RV. Destination: Zachary Taylor RV Park, Okeechobee Fl., 1,671 miles away. Hurricane Helene had made landfall and Milton was threatening. We were driving towards chaos, towards uncertainty. In 16 days, our 6-month workcamper job started at the RV park.

Would we enjoy living in an RV for six months? Would this lead to full-time RVing? How would Jody and I do living in such close quarters … all the time? Would we enjoy the RV community? Would we be interested in boondocking (camping in a remote location)? Would our two small dogs accept RV life?

Four days after we left home, 215 people were known to have died as the result of Hurricane Helene since it made landfall in Florida. Hurricane Milton would make landfall in 5 days, a possible category 5 hurricane.

Months ago, we made camping reservations at state parks and planned to visit relatives. We limited our travel to 4-5 hours a day and camped for no less than 2 days.

Flexibility and being comfortable with unknowns were our mantras. We continued south, while relatives updated us daily on the weather.

“It’s an adventure. We’re doing this.” Fist bump.

Bennett Springs State Park

Our first destination was Sugar River State Park in Durand, Illinois. We weren’t expecting answers so quickly—darkness, quiet, and remoteness left us feeling vulnerable. 82 campsites with only 3 other campers. Jody and I agreed that boondocking was not for us and we would be happy to return to our sticks and bricks home after six months. Hiking was excellent amongst the woods and prairies where we could let the dogs run off leash. Buddy and Sadie were proving to be good travelers.

It was at our cousin’s home in West Frankfurt, Illinois where we truly felt retired for the first time. Sitting outside next to their pool, visiting for hours, was self-indulgent. Before, our retirement plan seemed to have been volunteering at sporting and music venues to financially contribute to Juan and Crystel’s college education. Heading south brought that to a hard stop. Our paradigm had shifted. This was about us.

Continuing south we camped at Bennett Spring State Park in Lebanon, Missouri. Stocked daily with rainbow trout, the park attracted anglers who lined the shores and stood knee and waist deep in the water casting lures, flies, and spinners. Jody and I remained on land and enjoyed the miles of hiking forests, woodlands, bluffs, sunny glades, and dry stream beds with the dogs.

Gus-Gus. Hattiesburg, MS KOA

War Eagle Creek falls off the top of an Ozark Mountain. The 59-mile flow is never dry, and changes through four seasons. The headwaters form in the hardwoods of the Ozark National Forest and streams through Jody’s sister and brother-in-law’s pastureland before spilling into Beaver Lake, the water supply for Northwest Arkansas cities and towns. Jody, the dogs, and I rode a four-wheeler with her sister driving amongst the grazing bulls, cattle, and calves until we reached a sacred area: bluff shelters on the right that the Native Americans, Osage, Quapaw, and Caddo used for protection against the elements and the creek on the other side. Men, women and children camped here to fish, hunt animals, and collect plant foods. Fire scars remained on the rock shelters from their fires.

Wall Doxey State Park in Mississippi had few campers. A couple was escaping in their camper van from Hurricanes Helene and Milton. Hiding out until it was safe to return to their home in Punto Gorda, Florida. While at the park we were informed that our reservations in Florida– Florida Caverns State Park, Alfia River State Park and Lake Manatee State Park were cancelled due to unsafe conditions. Instead of extending our stay at the state park, we continued south 270 miles to a KOA in Hattiesburg, Mississippi. Inching ever closer to our final destination of Okeechobee, Florida.

At the KOA, Gus-Gus the cat chose me. Gus followed Jody, the dogs and me home after a walk. I took note of his concave belly, told him to wait outside our RV, and got a can of wet dog food. After he ate, I gave him a bowl of dry dog food. Gus joined me in the dog pen, lounging on the dog bed as if he belonged. Buddy and Sadie were accommodating. This may have been because Gus looked like Juan’s cat at home and his name is also Gus-Gus.

Sunset, Perry, Florida KOA

My bond with the cat was making Jody increasingly nervous. She reminded me that there was not space in the RV for a litter box. For the next several days, Gus got to be a cat, laying in the sun, safe, purring when I stroked him, contented that he was being fed and watered. There were several stories making the rounds about Gus. The one I decided to believe was that a lady had brought her cats from her house in Florida, van camped for a few nights – set up a tent and play station for her many cats, and Gus wasn’t ready to return when she was, and she inadvertently left him. It was difficult for me to say goodbye to Gus. I racked my brain for how two people, two dogs, and a cat could survive in a 29 ft. RV and decided that we couldn’t. I said a prayer and left Gus in the care of the living and the spiritual realm.

Zachary Taylor RV Park

There weren’t any cats claiming me in the Perry, Florida KOA, our last stop before Okeechobee. It was the first location that we could see the damage wrought by Helene. Piles of debris were on the roadway. Electrical trucks ferried up and down the highway. The sunset not damaged by the hurricanes was a gorgeous hue of oranges.

Our final l289 miles to Okeechobee were uneventful. Driving into Zachary Taylor RV Park, I honked the horn marking our arrival. I hollered, “The Minnesotans are in the house!”

Let the adventure continue. Fist bump.

Holding the Lantern High

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When I first suggested that the WordSisters should road trip to Michigan in Beth’s still-a-dream motorhome, I didn’t really think it would happen. But now, more than a year later, I pull into the campground five miles from my new home in Michigan to see Beth sunbathing in front of a 28’ Winnebago. With the help of her wife, Jody, they’ve driven 10 hours from Minneapolis to visit me in tiny Byron Center, Michigan. Soon Ellen and Brenda emerge from the rig and I’m near tears. They’re here. They’re really here. The power of a 20+ year friendship is made manifest.

L: Sunbathing, R: Beth & Jody

A lot has happened over the two decades that we’ve known one another (no one can say precisely when we first met). I came to the writing group last (as I remember, but it might have been Brenda). There were other writers in the group then, friends and fellow writers who went their separate ways over time until the four of us remain, bonded by the love of writing, a mutual respect for the craft, and compassion for one another’s lives. We’re no longer just writing group acquaintances, but friends. Through our writing we’ve exposed ourselves to one another in ways we don’t to others. 

A lot has happened, too, since that day in May 2023 when the idea of a road trip first took root. My husband and I emotionally dismantled three decades of living in our Minnesota home to move to a townhome in my home state. Ellen became a grandmother. Brenda’s daughter (who we met when she was an infant) successfully navigated her first year of high school. And Beth and Jody bought a motor home, which now sits before me in all its glory.

During the past year I also read Tom Lake (stay with me here) and had the privilege of seeing Ann Patchett at the Fitzgerald Theater in St. Paul, Minnesota, talk about the book, writing, and life with Kerri Miller for MPR’s Talking Volumes Series. At the end of the night, Miller surprised the audience by bringing Kate DiCamillo on stage. For a group of writers and readers, a surprise visit by the hometown star was, I suspect, the same feeling that music fans had back in the day when Prince used to show up unexpectedly at First Avenue. The crowd roared.

The dedication to Tom Lake reads: “To Kate DiCamillo who held the lantern high.” Patchett explained that while writing the book she and DiCamillo would exchange a short email in the morning and again at night. “She would always say, ‘I’m going down the rabbit hole. Good luck in the orchard today,’ and at the end of the day she would say, ‘It’s time to come out of the orchard. I’m holding the lantern up. Just walk towards the light.’ ” 

I sat in the balcony of the Fitzgerald next to my book club members (another group of wonderful women I’ve known for over 15 years) and fought back tears. All I could think of then were Ellen, Beth, and Brenda standing at the edge of my proverbial orchard for two decades guiding me with their light. It’s who we are and what we do for one another as writers. So, on the last night of our way-too-short visit, we sit in my sunroom, and I give each of them a lantern. I want them to remember me, which I really don’t fear will be an issue. And I want to remind them to always “hold the lantern high.” I’ve bought one for myself as well, to hold for them as they make their way out of Guatemala, or the ER, or a spiritual labyrinth or one of the many places our life journeys will take us. I want them to know that I will always be there for them holding the light.

Jill, Ellen, Beth, Brenda

We Can Do This … the Saying of Yes

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Jody and BethOne month ago, Jody and I flew to Texas for a weeklong RV Fundamentals course. We don’t own an RV. Our goal was to learn the intricacies of RVs and how to maintain a motorhome before buying. Our chance of success would increase, and we’d have much less frustration.

Class A motorhomes look like a large bus, Class B a van, and a Class C has a sleeping area over the cab.

On two occasions we had rented an RV for travel. A 31ft. Class C for a trip to the Grand Canyon and a 30ft. Class C for a trip to Mount Rainier. We learned that we had no idea what the sensors were indicating, where the fuse box was and what to look for if the refrigerator stopped working. We punted. We asked questions of other RVers, found the operator’s manual, and bought a cooler and ice to keep food cold.

After landing in Dallas, we picked up our rented 24ft. Class C. This would be our home for ten days while we attended classes at the National RV Training Academy (NRVTA) in Athens. The program prepares individuals to apply basic technical knowledge and skills to build, test, inspect, repair, service and maintain recreational vehicles, systems, and interior and exterior components. At the end of the week there was an optional RV Service Technician exam.

Back of ClassWe didn’t sign up for the test. We hid in the back of the class.

At first, our goal was to listen to the lectures, and be active in the labs. Absorb the teachings and feel more competent as yet-to-be RV owners.

We were intrigued to learn being an RVer could lead to a business opportunity.

During the week we attended small business developmental training before the technical training started. The Stepping into Business Success course was compelling. Jody and I could see our way to owning a small business. Our new RV could be a work vehicle and become a tax write-off. Graduates of the school were in business as RV Techs, Inspectors, and some had branched off to other specialties such as air conditioners, refrigerators, generators and solar.

We just needed to find our niche.

Where we landed was the deep cleaning of grey and black tanks. Ms. and Ms. Poo if you must.

Jody certificatesAt week’s end, Jody and I received an RV Fundamentals Training certificate. In addition, Jody studied for and passed the RV Service Technician exam and became certified.

Still, we didn’t own an RV. Our intention was to buy one from a private owner or dealership while on vacation in Florida in the coming six weeks. Our retirement snapshot was summer at our home in Minnesota and winter in Florida living in an RV.

During one of our breakout lab sessions, Jody and I mentioned that we were looking to purchase an RV. A classmate had an aunt who lived in Farmersville, Texas selling a 2020 Class A 28ft. Winnebago Intent with less than 10,000 miles. Having spent a week crawling into a corner bed and bruising our elbows and shins from the tight space of a 24ft., owning a much larger RV was very appealing. We had never considered a Class A. I kept returning to the fact that we had previous experience with a 30 and 31ft RV. This was just a different style, and the length was only 28ft!

Jody and I drove 1 ½ hours to Farmersville, met the owners, and test drove the Class A. The owners were delightful. It was a motorhome we could be proud of. We signed a bill of sale. Named her Flo.

Back home in Minnesota Jody and I registered two businesses with the State: tankrefreshrv (grey and black tank maintenance) and dogGo (Jody’s dog walking business).

Class A photoWhile we were on a roll, we researched becoming Workampers. Workampers are people who have chosen a lifestyle that combines work with RV camping. RVers are provided a campsite in exchange for service.

During our vacation in Florida, Jody and I secured part-time positions for the coming winter season at an RV resort as activity directors. We will also oversee our small business on the side.

Jody and I have signed up for additional online training to be poo specialists.

We are no longer saying, “We can do this,” we are saying, “We ARE doing this.”

It’s been one month since our RV Fundamentals class. Following the flow, the saying of yes, brought us to this point. The only thing missing is Flo herself. She’s still in Farmersville, Texas. Mid-March, after our vacation in Florida, we’ll fly to Texas to bring her home.

Can’t wait to get to know her.