I woke up from a good night sleep feeling content and well rested for the first time in weeks. It had been humid lately, but last night was cool and breezy, perfect sleeping weather. Throughout the night I could hear the river, an occasional train horn and the leaves of the trees rustling in the breeze. In the morning I opened my eyes to find myself in my bed, in my bedroom, yet I knew I was parked in a new place. I peeked out of my window to see that although I was in the shade under a think canopy of trees, in the distance it was a gorgeous sunny morning. I made an excellent cup of coffee in my French press and took it and my camera outside to explore.
It’s my plan to photograph each place I stay and this was an easy place to make look good. The Minnesota River is fifty feet down a path right in back of my bus. There is a huge sand bar with people fishing. The river bends and in the near distance connecting the towering trees of the bank of Nicollet County to the towering trees of Lesuer County is a massive old steel girder highway bridge. I took some pictures and headed back up the path to the bus. I hiked all over the park taking snap shots and relearning the lay of the land. I remembered fishing there is a child and causing trouble there as a teenager. I was flooded with memories. It’s seems horrific now, but I remember catching small sunfish, then we’d pop one of their eyes out with a buck knife, put them back in the water and watch them swim in circles. I remember skateboarding there as a teenager and later cruising in our cars. Everything’s changed, yet it is exactly the same.
I found the RV sewer dumping station. There was no water fill station, but the dumping station had a garden hose that was cut at one end for rinsing. I check to see if I could unscrew it at the nozzle and it unscrewed easily like people often did it. I figured I could put my hose on it and fill my tank from there. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to, or even if the water was potable, but even though it was an old pump handle it must be city water. I opened the pump handle and the water that flowed seemed very clean…it must be city water. I went back to the bus and got it ready for the short trip to the dumping station. It was a quiet Sunday morning, I figured it was a good time to do it. The dump and fill went well. I was happy to have a full tank of hopefully fresh water. As I pulled back into the camping area I realized that I was already in what I considered to be the best spot. It had the path to the sand bar and a fairly decent yard. The spots on the end seemed to be close to parking lots, boat landings, or just too public. Besides I had made it one night without paying and being in the middle was rather inconspicuous. I wondered if I could get another free night. I mean it’s Sunday, who’s gonna’ come down here and check? It’s just a city park. When I got parked and hooked up I poured myself a glass of water. It looked crystal clear. I took one sip and it tasted fine. I’ll see if I get sick from that first. I set it on the counter to settle to observe later, but was already content that it was clean city water.
Hungry from my morning romp I decided on 2 eggs over easy and a big slice of watermelon, a little protein and fruit. When I cracked the eggs into the pan they slid back and to the left. I remembered that I hadn’t yet deployed my leveling jacks. Last I knew one was stuck in the up position and I planned on attempting to fix it today. It was a problem I had successfully dealt with two times in the past. The cool part was that when I ate the eggs my yokes didn’t run all over my plate, they just drifted back and to the left which was nice. I mean you want your eggs to run into toast, or maybe sausage, but not watermelon. True art is never perfectly balanced.
Before I get to the leveling jacks, what’s up with the TV antenna? I slipped the bracket over the metal stub into the hole in the ceiling. It had an arrow on it and as I turned it to line up with the arrow on the ceiling I felt and heard the whole antenna turn off the roof. I gave me an uneasy feeling like the whole thing was breaking off. Then I realized, it’s supposed to rotate you dummy. Then it all made sense. I was able to put the pieces back in place and tighten a simple set screw, it seemed solid. I flipped on the TV, turned the antenna slightly and the picture was perfect. Sweet! The crank is fixed, it rotates and I now have two TV stations, CBS and FOX out of Mankato, Minnesota. I much prefer PBS, The History Channel, or The Food Network, but all I need is that familiar glow in the background to keep me company. Again, I really should be getting used to no TV.
Happy, I fired up my laptop to chat with friends. Breaking news! TV pitch man Billy Mays was found dead. Michael Jackson had suddenly died just days before and I had sent out a text to everyone I knew trying to be the first one to break the news. I guess it’s a side-effect of being on the radio for all those years. I know that if you’re the one to tell someone one of those “you’ll always remember where you were when you heard…” moments that I’d live in their memories forever. Billy Mays was not that big of story, but it was a shocker. I thought it would be fun to send another mass text, like I was the death watch master or something. I figured it’s Sunday afternoon, who’s watching the news, I bet I can get the scoop. Sure enough my phone went nuts with all sorts of responses. Everything from, “who’s that?” to “what are you the grim reaper?” Before I knew it my afternoon had slipped away. I was reassured that my digital relationships were strong and sustaining me. Soon they’d be all I had. I guess the leveling jacks will have to wait. That’s okay I had learned there are benefits from leaning back and to the left. It was time to go to my mom and dad’s for supper.
Before I left I noticed that most of the campground had cleared out, so I searched through the abandoned site’s fire pits for left over fire wood. Most were completely empty. I got a few small, almost completely burnt up logs from one which I figured would at least help start a fire. Besides I had no wood and anything is better than nothing. One fire pit had a huge log sticking out of it that was still smoldering. Jackpot! This thing could burn for awhile. I didn’t really want it pre-lit as I was leaving and wasn’t sure if, or when I’d even have a fire. The end sticking out of the pit was not smoldering, so I grabbed it and dragged it through the sand and gravel avoiding grass, or anything that might start on fire. As I dragged it toward my empty fire pit the smoldering end gouged through the dirt, started to smoke more and started on fire. I dragged the burning log into my fire pit. I wanted to put it out, but didn’t want to completely soak it with water because I eventually wanted to relight it. I put a little water on it and kicked dirt on it. It was mostly out, but still smoking ever so slightly. I figured it was safe in the pit, so I headed to my parents house.
Being home felt good. They had lived there for seventeen years, so it was place I had been often, full of wonderful memories. The last time I was there I was flooded with sad “this is the last time” type of emotions, but now that I’d begun my journey it felt somehow fresh and clean and once again like home, not just a place of memories gone by. Dad and I looked at some maps, reflected on when we drove through the Bear Tooth Pass in Montana in our little Honda when I was a kid. He commented then and reiterated how the RV drivers were coming down the mountain with “white knuckles”. After studying the map I was able to rationalize that the distance and time wasn’t that much more to go that route. All that was left to keep me from doing it was making the crazy decision to take my bus, with my Jeep in tow through the hair-pin curves. It was a decision I’d make later, but I chuckled nervously because I knew ultimately I’d decide go. Mom made meatloaf and baked potatoes. Over the years I had mastered my own meatloaf recipe, but nothing is ever quite as good and comforting as mom’s. I probably hadn’t had it in a decade. It made me feel so at ease and content. I longed for another good night sleep by the river. I drove to the bus, relaxed with a glass of wine and drifted off to sleep with the company of network TV...Wait, shouldn’t I have checked in at the campground? Oh well, if I make it through another night that’s another twenty bucks.
It’s my plan to photograph each place I stay and this was an easy place to make look good. The Minnesota River is fifty feet down a path right in back of my bus. There is a huge sand bar with people fishing. The river bends and in the near distance connecting the towering trees of the bank of Nicollet County to the towering trees of Lesuer County is a massive old steel girder highway bridge. I took some pictures and headed back up the path to the bus. I hiked all over the park taking snap shots and relearning the lay of the land. I remembered fishing there is a child and causing trouble there as a teenager. I was flooded with memories. It’s seems horrific now, but I remember catching small sunfish, then we’d pop one of their eyes out with a buck knife, put them back in the water and watch them swim in circles. I remember skateboarding there as a teenager and later cruising in our cars. Everything’s changed, yet it is exactly the same.
I found the RV sewer dumping station. There was no water fill station, but the dumping station had a garden hose that was cut at one end for rinsing. I check to see if I could unscrew it at the nozzle and it unscrewed easily like people often did it. I figured I could put my hose on it and fill my tank from there. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to, or even if the water was potable, but even though it was an old pump handle it must be city water. I opened the pump handle and the water that flowed seemed very clean…it must be city water. I went back to the bus and got it ready for the short trip to the dumping station. It was a quiet Sunday morning, I figured it was a good time to do it. The dump and fill went well. I was happy to have a full tank of hopefully fresh water. As I pulled back into the camping area I realized that I was already in what I considered to be the best spot. It had the path to the sand bar and a fairly decent yard. The spots on the end seemed to be close to parking lots, boat landings, or just too public. Besides I had made it one night without paying and being in the middle was rather inconspicuous. I wondered if I could get another free night. I mean it’s Sunday, who’s gonna’ come down here and check? It’s just a city park. When I got parked and hooked up I poured myself a glass of water. It looked crystal clear. I took one sip and it tasted fine. I’ll see if I get sick from that first. I set it on the counter to settle to observe later, but was already content that it was clean city water.
Hungry from my morning romp I decided on 2 eggs over easy and a big slice of watermelon, a little protein and fruit. When I cracked the eggs into the pan they slid back and to the left. I remembered that I hadn’t yet deployed my leveling jacks. Last I knew one was stuck in the up position and I planned on attempting to fix it today. It was a problem I had successfully dealt with two times in the past. The cool part was that when I ate the eggs my yokes didn’t run all over my plate, they just drifted back and to the left which was nice. I mean you want your eggs to run into toast, or maybe sausage, but not watermelon. True art is never perfectly balanced.
Before I get to the leveling jacks, what’s up with the TV antenna? I slipped the bracket over the metal stub into the hole in the ceiling. It had an arrow on it and as I turned it to line up with the arrow on the ceiling I felt and heard the whole antenna turn off the roof. I gave me an uneasy feeling like the whole thing was breaking off. Then I realized, it’s supposed to rotate you dummy. Then it all made sense. I was able to put the pieces back in place and tighten a simple set screw, it seemed solid. I flipped on the TV, turned the antenna slightly and the picture was perfect. Sweet! The crank is fixed, it rotates and I now have two TV stations, CBS and FOX out of Mankato, Minnesota. I much prefer PBS, The History Channel, or The Food Network, but all I need is that familiar glow in the background to keep me company. Again, I really should be getting used to no TV.
Happy, I fired up my laptop to chat with friends. Breaking news! TV pitch man Billy Mays was found dead. Michael Jackson had suddenly died just days before and I had sent out a text to everyone I knew trying to be the first one to break the news. I guess it’s a side-effect of being on the radio for all those years. I know that if you’re the one to tell someone one of those “you’ll always remember where you were when you heard…” moments that I’d live in their memories forever. Billy Mays was not that big of story, but it was a shocker. I thought it would be fun to send another mass text, like I was the death watch master or something. I figured it’s Sunday afternoon, who’s watching the news, I bet I can get the scoop. Sure enough my phone went nuts with all sorts of responses. Everything from, “who’s that?” to “what are you the grim reaper?” Before I knew it my afternoon had slipped away. I was reassured that my digital relationships were strong and sustaining me. Soon they’d be all I had. I guess the leveling jacks will have to wait. That’s okay I had learned there are benefits from leaning back and to the left. It was time to go to my mom and dad’s for supper.
Before I left I noticed that most of the campground had cleared out, so I searched through the abandoned site’s fire pits for left over fire wood. Most were completely empty. I got a few small, almost completely burnt up logs from one which I figured would at least help start a fire. Besides I had no wood and anything is better than nothing. One fire pit had a huge log sticking out of it that was still smoldering. Jackpot! This thing could burn for awhile. I didn’t really want it pre-lit as I was leaving and wasn’t sure if, or when I’d even have a fire. The end sticking out of the pit was not smoldering, so I grabbed it and dragged it through the sand and gravel avoiding grass, or anything that might start on fire. As I dragged it toward my empty fire pit the smoldering end gouged through the dirt, started to smoke more and started on fire. I dragged the burning log into my fire pit. I wanted to put it out, but didn’t want to completely soak it with water because I eventually wanted to relight it. I put a little water on it and kicked dirt on it. It was mostly out, but still smoking ever so slightly. I figured it was safe in the pit, so I headed to my parents house.
Being home felt good. They had lived there for seventeen years, so it was place I had been often, full of wonderful memories. The last time I was there I was flooded with sad “this is the last time” type of emotions, but now that I’d begun my journey it felt somehow fresh and clean and once again like home, not just a place of memories gone by. Dad and I looked at some maps, reflected on when we drove through the Bear Tooth Pass in Montana in our little Honda when I was a kid. He commented then and reiterated how the RV drivers were coming down the mountain with “white knuckles”. After studying the map I was able to rationalize that the distance and time wasn’t that much more to go that route. All that was left to keep me from doing it was making the crazy decision to take my bus, with my Jeep in tow through the hair-pin curves. It was a decision I’d make later, but I chuckled nervously because I knew ultimately I’d decide go. Mom made meatloaf and baked potatoes. Over the years I had mastered my own meatloaf recipe, but nothing is ever quite as good and comforting as mom’s. I probably hadn’t had it in a decade. It made me feel so at ease and content. I longed for another good night sleep by the river. I drove to the bus, relaxed with a glass of wine and drifted off to sleep with the company of network TV...Wait, shouldn’t I have checked in at the campground? Oh well, if I make it through another night that’s another twenty bucks.
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