Wednesday, November 5
Bridget watches as I bring our comforter outside and drape it over a chair. The air is fresh and clean-smelling at our campsite in Cholla Campground at Lake Roosevelt, Arizona. Every few days I air out the bed covers to keep them fresh. Most of the morning I’m online or puttering around the Best Little Trailer.
In the afternoon Bridget and I board the Perfect Tow Vehicle.
The shower house is a short walk from our campsite. I drive there in order to have a place for Bridget to wait. She’s used to waiting in the PTV. Back at camp, I take my Paperwhite and a drink to the lounger, push back, and read while my hair, which is way overdue for a cut, dries in the warm, dry sunshine.
“Gosh, Bridget, we’d better go over to Krystina’s and Cheri’s before we lose light for the photos.”
As I’m opening up Bridget’s stroller, Jack appears around the side of the PTV.
“Hello! Whatcha’ been up to?” he asks in greeting. Jack has a contagious smile and an easy-going manner to go with it. I smile back.
“Not much, Jack. Come have a seat.” Jack’s a natural story-teller. I’m not going to pass up an opportunity to listen to another one of his stories.
I also know to ask questions of people with more experience than I have.
“Where do you go for groceries around here? Don’t tell me Payson or Globe . . . . “
“Noooo, you don’t have to go that far. There’s a grocery in Tonto Basin,” he replies. “It’s behind a gas station, on the left side as you drive from here.”
“Gee, I drove right past it on the way here and never noticed it.”
We visit a bit and then I explain that I’m expected at two other campsites.
“Wait up a minute and I’ll walk with you to your campsite,” I say as Jack moves to leave.
I put Bridget in her stroller and shut the door to the BLT. I push the stroller onto the campground road. Jack and I walk with the sun in our eyes as it hangs low in the sky. We lapse into a teasing banter before parting at his site.
Krystina appears at the door of her Four Winds Class C motor home.
“Sorry I’m late, Krystina!”
“Wow! You have a beautiful rig!” I park Bridget’s stroller and put her on the ground.
Krystina hasn’t had her RV very long, having purchased it last spring.
“Come on inside and look,” she says. “Bridget can come in, too, as long as she doesn’t jump up on my leather couch.”
Bridget jump up on a couch? Ha! That’ll be the day. Why would Her Most Specialness jump up on anything when she has a handmaiden to lift her?
The interior of Krystina’s rig is very spacious due to a large slide-out that expands the living room.
I notice what looks like a three-quarter bed in the back.
“See my long counter top?” Krystina proudly points out. Previously she told me that the counter top was one of the features that she liked most about the Four Winds.
Note: Due to the low light conditions, I had to monkey around with the photos in Picassa editor before inserting them into this post.
I mention the fading light to Krystina and invite her to join Bridget and me in a visit to Cheri’s campsite.
Cheri gives us a big hello upon our arrival. Of course, Tony the yorkie sprints out to greet Bridget. Tony isn’t very big physically but he’s got one heckuva geared-up motor in that little body of his!
I snap several photos of Tony as he races around the campsite.
In only these few is Tony recognizable as a real dog and not a phantom blur of fur.
Cheri and Krystina introduce themselves to each other because I’m too busy twirling around trying to photograph Tony.
Next I turn to take photos of Cheri’s van.
She has a Ford high-top in excellent condition. Sweet!
Living full-time in a van is, in my opinion, an art form.
You can’t do it well without the self-discipline, as well as the creativity, of an artist.
Obviously Cheri does it well.
“I’ve learned not to keep anything I don’t need,” Cheri remarks. “Keep it simple!”
Cheri, Krystina and I settle around the picnic table.
We talk while watching Tony try to play with Bridget. Bridget looks at the energetic ball of fur with disdain, adding a snarl or two to make sure he gets the message.
We notice Cheri’s flexible solar panel on the ground.
Cheri tells us it’s 130 watts. Hmm . . . . Easy to store. Roll it up and put it away. Van dwellers don’t waste space!
“I didn’t want a solid solar panel because that would mean drilling holes into the roof of my van. That’s fiberglass and driving over bumpy roads would lead to leaks . . . .”
“I know what you mean. I feel the same way,” I agree.
Both Krystina and I drool all over Cheri’s campsite.
“I am so jealous, Cheri. This is a beautiful campsite! When did you say you’re leaving?” I ask, kidding her (or maybe not!).
One can see Roosevelt Lake with the mountains beyond. Most of the sites at Cholla Campground are surrounded by trees and bushes, blocking the view.
“Ooh! Look at THAT!” Krystina exclaims.
The three of us get up from our seats and stand in awe of the artistry before us.
The sun has set; time to return to our homes.
I push a sleepy-eyed Bridget toward our campsite. “This little girl needs to go to bed,” I announce to no one in particular.
Krystina, Cheri, and I . . . . Three different people with three different rigs — a Class C with slide, a high-top van, and a small travel trailer pulled by a van. Our choice of RV reflects who we are and what suits us best while living “on the road.”
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“Tired yet, Tony?”
