Listen, Linda...

 

 

"Necessity is the mother of invention"

 

~ Ancient Proverb ~

 

 

Let me just begin by saying, that after our return from a long trip to the east coast last fall (a story that will definitely be told later), I spent about a month going over things I felt like our motor home needed before our next trip. My wife and I had plans to head south for 3 months starting in January, but some family medical issues prompted a delay of such plans. Still, I replaced all the deep cycle coach batteries, the front tires, the alternator, and various other things I thought would ensure a trouble-free trip south.

 

Now mid March, we were able to etch out a week to go visit friends and relatives in Dallas, Texas, take in the St Pat's parade, and just relax with our beloved Bertha (the motor home) and our two pets. I gave her a once over, we loaded her up with clothes, food, and supplies, and prepared to hit the road.

The first item up for bid was filling and pressurizing the water system after it sat through some brutal cold Nebraska temps in January. Tank filled and flushed, refilled...pump on! Ssssssssss. You know the sound. A fitting was leaking near the outside shower and low point drains. But there was another sound only I could hear.

*Listen: Stay Home*

I had all the parts, so this was an easy fix, indeed. Problem solved. Water pressure restored. On to hooking up the toad, which is also an effortless endeavor. Pulled up to the Blue Ox, strapped Gracie (the jeep) in, and plugged in the lights. Lights on Bertha, not on Gracie. 

*Listen: Stay Home*

Also a seemingly simple fix, I traced the issue to the connections on the tow hookup, cleaned those up, and after blowing a taillight fuse in the motor home, almost getting stuck under the dash (Ok, I did get stuck and have the bruises to prove it), finding it was the very last fuse I checked, and hooking everything back up, we had lights. Let's roll!!

My wife joined me in the navigation seat along with Sugar the dog and Lola the cat, and we eased on out of the driveway and down main street as we sang a happy "On the Road Again" tune! Ahhhh...finally! "What's that clunking sound?" she inquired with nothing but helpfulness in her voice. 

"Oh, that's probably nothing," I replied. "Feels and sounds like something stuck in the brake drum when I push hard on the brakes. I'm sure it's nothing. Just ice or dirt or something from sitting this winter." It'll be fine."

*Listen: Seriously...listen up, idiot. Stay Home!!*

On we pressed through Southeast Nebraska, the clunk only happening when I had to use the air brakes (our rig has an engine brake), made some stops to snack and use the restroom, and basked in the glow of RV travel. Life was grand and we had two full days and some change to get to Dallas! All according to plan! (ish)

*Listen Up: Go Home, dummy.*

By early afternoon we'd made some progress. Just south of Topeka, while cruising easily down the road, we were hit by a harsh westerly wind which resulted in a giant BOOM!! "What the hell was that?" I shrieked at the navigator, because, you know, it's her job to know these things. lol. It didn't take either of us long to realize that the wind had completely ripped the awning and most of its attachments away from the rig. 

"No big deal!" I thought. "I'll just climb up on the roof and remove any loose pieces until we stop for the night and I'll clean it up. Who needs an awning, anyway?" After climbing our rickety-ass attached ladder, and somehow, miraculously not tearing the ladder away from rig whilst also not falling, being blown off, or being run down by traffic to my death, we pressed on. Did I mention we had almost lost a fender skirt and stopped to screw that back on?

*Head Slap: Jesus H, dipstick. Go Home!!*

 

While celebrating the fact we probably needed a new awning anyway (maybe even an electric one!!), it wasn't going to be necessary where we were going, AND the clunk only happened when I pressed the brakes hard, the front part of our rubber roof peeled back and started flappety flap flapping on the vent directly above our heads. Apparently, the explosion part of losing our awning created some issues with our roof. Thunderstorms were in the forecast.

*Now. Will. You. Go. Home?!?!?!*

 

"Closest campsite?" she asked. 

 

"Absolutely," I replied. My adoring wife and navigator already had one picked out only 10 miles down the road. She had chosen an adorable little NRD park that wasn't even officially open with hookups for the season, so the campsites were free! (We have onboard water AND an onboard generator, remember. All that hookup stuff is just for woosies. lol) 

 

 

 

 

We pulled through our lucky site, number 13, and assessed the damages.  I climbed back up our rickety ladder (spoiler alert: I removed that piece of s*** when we finally got home), assessed the roof damage and removed remaining parts of our awning. Our rubber roof was, indeed, pulled back from under the front molding and torn about three feet along a line from front to the air vent. It was bad and I only had some minor leak repair stuff on board. But, I had lots and lots of duct tape, which I applied like a madman in hopes of at least minimizing water damage until we could find an RV place to at least temporarily repair our roof the following day! We had plenty of time! 

 

*Go home, Stupid*

 

The plan was agreed upon, so we took advantage of the gorgeous afternoon sun and took our coon dog for a walk. We were the only people in the park, so I let her stretch her long legs off-leash. I do it all the time. No big deal.

 

 

Our Sugar, who is probably the sweetest animal I've even known, is also not the sharpest knife in the drawer. While Gina and I discussed strategy and took our concentration off our beloved dog, she followed her nose into a drainage culvert. Plenty of room on one end; not so much on the other. Backing out wasn't an option (see above for knife/drawer thing), so off I went to get some tools that would hopefully work to increase the size of the opening. Sugar, rather than panic, waited patiently while Gina comforted her. It only took some large pliers to bend up the edges of the culvert and Sugar was free! Our luck was changing!!

*I have no words for you. Take your dog, your cat, your wife, and your motor home, now held together with duct tape and baling wire...and go home!!!!*

The next morning (no rain overnight) we found a place in Topeka, only 20 miles away, who not only did some RV work, but said they'd get us right in if we came immediately. We pulled up stakes and headed back north to Topeka! There's nothing to this RVing!

*Don't say I didn't tell you.*

Bruce, at Topeka Trailer Repair, Inc. was amazing and I recommend using theses folks any time you might need them. He did, indeed, get us right in, took a look at the roof, assured us he could patch her up well enough to complete our trip, and sent us off to have breakfast at Banjo's. Oh. My. God!! Amazing food and ginormous portions. "Hey Bruce. As long as we're in here, could you pull that left front wheel and see if you can see anything obvious causing a 'clunk'?"

"Sure thing!" he said, and off we went for biscuits and gravy.

*Eat. Hook up your jeep. Go Home.*

As we were settling up our check at Banjo's, Bruce called with the "good news and bad news" that you had to know was coming by now. If you didn't, you clearly haven't been paying attention. "Well, I got your roof patched up with some 300 mph tape that oughta get you down the road, and I found out what was causing your 'clunk.' Your wheel drum is cracked."

 

After a lengthy conversation about the safety of going on down the road to Dallas with the air line to that wheel blocked off, minus the left front brake drum, we relented to letting Bruce order a new one...from Dallas...(yes. Dallas). "It'll be here by noon tomorrow," he said. "In the meantime, you're welcome to back into one of our parking spots here and camp in the parking lot. No charge!" And that is where we spent night number 2, excited by the fact we could still get our brake repaired and be on the road in plenty of time to make the St Pat's parade in Dallas. We slept remarkably well, considering the train, big truck air brakes, tornado warning (we sat through the siren as the tornadoes passed northwest of us), and torrential rains (The roof held, praise jebus).

 

*You just can't fix stubborn stupidity.*

 

 

 

The next morning, we walked the dog, got dressed, drove the jeep up to Banjo's (we are friends now) for breakfast, and anxiously awaited getting back on the road by noon. Except the brake drum didn't show. "It shows to be in inventory, but it ain't on the shelf!" was the explanation by the man in Dallas. "But don't worry," Bruce comforted. "We can have one here from Kentucky by noon tomorrow and they've already promised they have it on the shelf. Have you on the road by noon...tomorrow. Night number 3 spent in the parking lot. I mean, what are you gonna do, right?

 

*If you don't get that drum put on and head for home, I swear to god.....*

 

Gina and I now relented there would be no parade and no visit with friends. We just wouldn't be able to make Dallas in time, and besides, the forecast called for rain and thunderstorms all weekend...on our patched roof. "No way," we decided. "We'll ease back home and camp at some neat spots along the way. It'll be fun." We accepted our plight and did some thrift shopping in Topeka. Fun!!  

Another wonderful breakfast with our friends at Banjo's to say goodbye and a brake drum replaced as promised were the precursors to us heading north and salvaging our trip together. And let me be clear, we had a great trip together. Our marriage is what real partnership is all about.  Gina began navigating where we might camp, and we decided a place in Nebraska we had both wanted to explore would be a great place to spend a couple nights and relax. It was only two hours from Topeka and a mere 35 minutes from home. Perfect.

*Exactly what part of "Go HOME!" don't you understand. GO HOME!!!!*

We made it to within one mile of the entrance to the park where we hoped to stay and the roof came loose. It only took a glance for us to say in unison, "Let's just go home." And we did. Now, we did at least explore the park first, and it was a dump. 35 minutes later we were home and I missed the driveway as I backed in Bertha and left giant ruts in our yard. Of course Gina was back there guiding me in the correct direction. But I ignored that!!

 

RVing is hard. And it's wonderful. I've been saying for months, you better be rich or handy. We're neither, but we still had an amazing time just sharing space together, and with all the signs we got along the way, it occurs to us we were not supposed to be in Dallas. I fully expected there to be news of a mass shooting and Source had saved our lives. Or...Source used us not making Dallas to thwart a catastrophe. We'll never know for sure, but I do know I'll listen better next time. Repairs are already scheduled.

Oh, just one more thing. It IS still winter in Nebraska. I did drain our holding tank, but failed to rewinterize the entire rig because, duh, it's March. It was 4:00 am the night we returned when I woke up and thought I'd check the outside temp. Why? You know why. It was 18 degrees. It's now all been thawed, drained and winterized again. Any leaks from frozen pipes? I'll let you know when it warms up and I pressurize the water system. Time will tell. 

The frozen pipes is on me. 

 

 

Namaste!

Mount Rushmore

 

“It [Mt Rushmore] should be turned into something like the United States Holocaust Museum. The world needs to know what was done to us.”

~Phil Two Eagle ~ 

 

When I was a boy, my father told everyone that would listen about our great-grandmother, the "full-blooded Cherokee Indian." I heard this story over and over again. My dad told this story as absolute truth and I believed him. For most of my life, I took for granted that I was 1/8 Cherokee.

And then, one day, the shoe dropped. While I was visiting Dad in the nursing home, he told me this story for the thousandth time. But he finished it this time with, ".....so the story goes." Whoa.

"Hold on there Dad," I said. "What do you mean, 'So the story goes?'"

He just chuckled and said, "Well, that's what I was always told." In other words, there was no verification, no DNA studies, no peer reviews, no research of any kind...no Critical Race Theory.

So, here's what happened next. I started scanning the final scrolls from 1899. My brother started to dive in to our genealogy. I called my dad's cousin who was at least 90 years old. What I asked her almost killed her with laughter. This is a really, really, REEEEEEALLY long story, but I can sum it up with this quote from my dad's cousin. "Oh honey, she was full-blooded alright. Full-blooded FRENCH!"

My point? My entire life, I listened to what I was told, believed what I was told, and lived with what I was told without ever questioning it one time. And it was wrong...completely wrong. And that brings us to Mount Rushmore. (You knew I'd get there sooner or later).

While this was Gina's first visit to the Black Hills, I had visited several times throughout my life. And lets face it, it just isn't a trip to the Black Hills without a trip to Mount Rushmore. Truth be told, it is an amazing monument and it's difficult to look at it with anything other than wonder at the artistic and sculptural genius. But that isn't the whole story, and just like the false Cherokee story, it took me years to learn the evil truth about Mount Rushmore. It made looking at it, not only less awe-inspiring, but it made me sick to my stomach a bit. Hold on to your white, privileged behind.

Mount Rushmore, the "patriotic" tribute to George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, Theodore Roosevelt, and Abraham Lincoln, was completed in 1941 by a man with alleged ties to the KKK. I don't know if that's true, but we know it's true Washington and Jefferson owned slaves. And although that kind of information is bad enough, it's downright infuriating when you learn the entire truth about our own government.

In the late 1800's Euro-American settlers pushed westward and ignited a war with the indigenous people of the Dakota's. Basically, it was native land to begin with...all of it. All of what is now the Black Hills was native Lakota land and we went to war with them to push them off. Eventually, however, a treaty was signed with the Lakota granting them exclusive use of the Black Hills. (How generous of us to grant them use of land that was theirs to begin with). 

The Black Hills land granted use to the Lakota, included Six Grandfathers Mountain, the formation where Mount Rushmore now resides. This wasn't just some rock formation. Six  Grandfathers Mountain is sacred, holy land to the Lakota. As one historian puts it, "It's the center of the universe of our people." And in 1868, our government told them they could use it. Hunky Dory.

Then in 1877, less than 10 years after a treaty was signed allowing the Lakota to stay on land they owned anyway, gold was discovered in the Black Hills. All bets were off, including treaties. The United States government backed out on their promise, took the land back, and then some years later, proceeded to desecrate the sacred land of the Lakota. THAT, my friends, is the truth about how your government does business.

There is a large push among Lakota/Dakota natives to, once again, return the land to the people from whence it was stolen. Sadly, I have little faith in the generosity of those that could make it happen. And besides, we've already destroyed Six Grandfathers. But the absolute truth you will never hear in history class is, we stole this land from the Lakota. And while I hold no grudge against anyone who visits Mt Rushmore and stands in awe of its wonder, you now know the truth. 

We absolutely, positively took, returned, and then stole this land from the Lakota Sioux. It's time we gave it back...

Once and for all.

 Namaste,

Matt and Gina

Hart Ranch RV Resort - A Review

"People in tents are the soft tacos of the bear world."

~ Unknown ~ 

(But that's hilarious!) 

 https://www.hrresort.org/

 

If you've followed along up to this point, you know what we prefer is off-the-path camping, boondocking, and basically things more remote. But, if you ever grow weary of obsessively checking your various sensor displays for levels of water, gray water, battery level, and poop, a full-hookup resort like Hart Ranch is an amazing oasis. If you tire of saying, "Make sure you shower fast," or "Turn that light off!" Hart Ranch is gold. Details to follow.

When we were "planning" our little excursion to South Dakota and its various attractions, where and how we'd park our big rig once we got to the Black Hills was a topic of discussion. We were bringing our "toad," of course, but even remote camping in this tourist-infested jungle is expensive. Sure there are inexpensive options, but in general, the Black Hills is not an inexpensive place to camp, especially for full hookups.

Enter our lovely neighbor who presented us with a TryUsOutForOnly99DollarsAndAllYouHaveToDoIsListenToOurSalesPitch card. To make a long story even longer, our neighbor has been a member of Hart Ranch for over 20 years and they visit several times each year. As members, they can invite people to try the place out. The trial is 3 nights for $99. The usual per night cost of Hart Ranch, for non-members during peak season, is $100 per night! 

You and I have both been to Time Share places where you stay for 3 nights and listen to a pitch that includes pressure to buy you wouldn't feel while considering entering nuclear launch codes. They're horrible. I hate 'em. And we've all done them. I assumed this would be the same, but we needed a central location for touring the Black Hills and we knew full hookups, by this leg of the trip, would reduce the stress of worrying about the rig and pets while we shook hands with Crazy Horse. I was wrong. Dead wrong. Here's what we loved about Hart Ranch RV Resort, in no particular order.

1. The sales tour took place as soon as we registered and before we even hooked up. It included a full tour of the entire place and was absolutely pressure-free. Their pitch goes like this, "These are your membership options. This is what we have for amenities. This is how much it costs. The place sells itself. Enjoy your stay and let us know if you have any questions."

**Boom! Made me want to buy just because I didn't feel pressured. As a side note, this place used to be run like a Time Share. It's now run by a board of directors made up entirely of resort members.**

2. The facilities are immaculate. The grass is green and lush, there's no trash, the pads are concrete and level, and the views are amazing.

3. They have tons of extra-curricular stuff during peak season, such as free concerts, etc.

4. They have a dog park. Not only does that really help with your pooches getting to stretch their legs (state and national parks require a 6 foot leash), but it's a great social venue. I met and talked to several people while the dogs played at the park. And I asked every single one of them what they thought of being members of Hart Ranch. 100% said they loved it for a 100 different reasons.

5. They have a giant pool and two hot tubs. One for adults only.

6. They have onsite laundry, showers, and restaurant.

7. There are at least two mobile RV techs living on the premises.

8. The security is tight. Maybe too tight. Gate check-in, sometimes gate check-OUT, and someone is always patrolling the grounds. Kids roamed freely throughout the park on bikes, etc. It was like Mayberry only with campers and in color.

9. We were short drives to almost every attraction. Reptile Gardens, Bear Country, Mount Rushmore, Crazy Horse, Custer State Park, Wind Cave National Park, etc were all less than an hour away. In most cases, much closer.

Things we didn't like about Hart Ranch:

1. Nothing

Again, staying at Hart Ranch is pricey if you're a non-member. Assuming you can even get a site, it's $100 plus per night. Members pay $20 per night and reservations are required. Memberships vary from 5-Year to Lifetime and prices for those are $1,000 and up, one-time, then maintenance fees (think HOA fees) paid annually. But if you liked staying there every year for 3 weeks or more, it's worth it. And......AND, you can add RPI which gives you discounts at resorts nation-wide.

We didn't buy. Why? One reason, and one reason only. We aren't ready to spend that much time in one place yet. We have thousands of places around the country we'd like to visit, and we just aren't "StayInOnePlaceForWeeksAtATimeEveryYear" people...yet. But when we are (and everyone gets there eventually because of age, health, or money), we will most definitely consider Hart Ranch. Hell, they even have work/camp arrangements and like everyone else, they are hiring!

Hope this gives you a little insight into this amazing place. Please comment about your experiences. Safe travels and happy camping!

Namaste,

Matt and Gina

St Joseph's Indian School, Chamberlain, SD

 

"A degree is not an education, and the confusion on this point is perhaps the gravest weakness in American thinking about education."

 

~Dolly Parton~ 

 

 

While this trip was certainly about getting out and stretching the legs on the RV and exploring some things we had never seen together as a couple, it was also about exploring historical Native American culture throughout South Dakota and Wyoming, largely Lakota Sioux country. Gina has felt a particular calling to embrace the vast cultural beauty of our nation's First People. And I have to tell you, what we learned (or perhaps unlearned) did not make us feel good. Sometimes, the truth is hard.

 

What we discovered along the way, from Chamberlain, to Mt. Rushmore (WAY more on Mt Rushmore later), to the Crazy Horse memorial, to Devils Tower (referred to by most natives as Bear Lodge), to Fort Robinson State Park was so unlike anything we were taught in school and continue to be indoctrinated with today, it made us ill. And although I had been to many of these places in the past, it was only on this trip I began to see these attractions with an open mind and heart, outside of the historic indoctrination. 

 

If you want to read further about warm and fuzzy tourist attractions, stop here. You won't like what you're about to read. But, if you want some insight as to our experiences from a perspective of Critical Race Theory, or what I prefer to call "Historical Truth," then read on. You might find it enlightening.

 

Let's start with what you can find on nearly any basic Google search. St Joseph's is an American Indian boarding school run by Priests of the Sacred Heart. The school and adjacent museum are located inside the Roman Catholic Diocese of Sioux Falls, but operated independently of the diocese. The school opened in 1927 with 53 "students," and as of 2020, boasted a class of 221 (K-8th).

 

There is a long history, starting in 1898 when the school was born of our federal government as the Chamberlain Indian School, whereby Native American children could receive a "white" education and assimilate to white culture. In other words, since we'd just annihilated the majority of the First People population throughout the Americas, our federal government needed a place to send kids to make itself less "ogre-esk." It eventually became a Catholic school, allegedly modeled after places like Boys Town, and native people were further indoctrinated into, not only while culture, but white religion. And not just any religion...Catholicism.

 

Let me be clear. This is a blog, not a doctoral dissertation, and I'm no expert on history of any kind,  let alone Native American History, but facts are hard to ignore, even at the most basic level. I'm only hitting the highlights. And while I can appreciate the fact our government made a feeble attempt to right an unforgivable wrong, and a church which I loath is continuing to indoctrinate native kids to follow "the correct religion," we learn more and more each day about how things really went versus how they've been made to appear.

From the first time white European settlers reached the shore of what is now the United States of America, despite what the cute pictures of the First Thanksgiving would want you believe, they've been doing their best to eradicate the native population. Whether it be for land, gold, greed or cruelty, white settlers and the US Army killed off about 54 million Native Americans. Read that again. 54 million. (I'm sorry People of Color from other nations. Your abuse was equally horrifying, but today we're talking about First People).

Not only did we basically murder the majority of native people, we likewise almost completely killed off their primary food source...buffalo. And for what? For commerce. To make a buck. To sell hide while the meat rotted and millions upon millions of buffalo were hunted to near extinction from the land. And then...THEN, literally defeated, most First People were forced to live on barren land no one else wanted. Their life and culture were destroyed. Their spirits broken.

But what about these "schools" we now know about. Sure, many native families began to see that, in order to survive in a new world, they would have to encourage their children to learn white ways. My question is this. What was wrong with their own ways? To force an entire population to abandon their culture, their spiritual foundations, and their entire way of life in order to survive in a new land that was stolen from them in the first place, is the ultimate slap in the face. I don't know how to feel anything but ashamed about how a wonderful, peaceful people were obliterated for no reason. 

 

Fast forward 150 years and you can almost feel the defeat from a proud people and see the melding of a proud native people into the lifestyle of abusive white people. And while it's true, there is progress being  made in the uncovering of the truth about what happened then, and reintroducing us to native culture, as well as, encouraging First People to embrace their traditions once again, it feels like too little, too late. Don't forget, we're only recently learning that children reported to have run away from schools like I'm talking about, didn't run away at all. They were murdered for their non-comformity and buried in vast fields. It's sickening. Last I knew, that number was  well over 800 souls.

 

As I mentioned, I'll have more to say about all this as we move across Lakota Land, but a conversation we had with a native Lakota man while at the museum near the school is worth revealing. I asked him how, after all the wrongs that were done to his people, how is it he and all Lakota people live their lives with anything but hate in their hearts? What he said is humbling and I'll paraphrase what I understood.

"We First People believe that everything is cyclical. All things die and even become extinct. We have come to accept that what happened to us then, was just our time." He went on to say that the Lakota and Dakota share a word, and I don't remember what it was. But I do remember the English translation.

"We Are One."

Namaste, 

 

Matt and Gina

 

 

 

 

Monowi ?

 

"There’s a difference between being alone and being lonely."

~ Elsie Eiler ~ 

It's been well over year ago. It started when owning a motor home was only a discussion. After Gina discovered writings of a place called Monowi (pronounced Mono-eye. But don't feel bad. We got it wrong, too), it was a destination place we knew we had to visit. It is nestled in the heart of our own state, after all, and we talked about taking a road trip in the car more times than I can remember.

As it turns out, our first big trip in our new-to-us home on wheels was going to take us right through the Village of Monowi, home to Elsie Eiler. Now, much has been written about Elsie and her little town, tavern, and library (a 5000-book collection her husband, Rudy, owned and housed in a building next to the tavern) since her husband died in 2004. You might even say she's gained national, if not worldly, notoriety. Monowi is the only incorporated town in the entire United States with a population of just 1, down from 2 after Rudy's passing. As our local newspaper editor would say, "It makes good copy."

But, we weren't nearly as interested in the fact the population was 1. We were mostly interested in meeting the person who makes up that "1." It was our lucky day. We cruised through town a little before lunch time and found a little pull-thru (more of a level ditch) where we could park our rig. The tavern was open and Elsie was at work...and we had her all to ourselves for the better part of an hour. To us, it makes little difference what things were reported before our arrival. We got the scoop first-hand.

Elsie Eiler is approaching 90 years old and still operates her tavern 6 days a week and often puts in 12-14 hour days. She struck me as less "warm" than I had imagined her, but despite the fact she tells her story many times a day to total strangers, she began to open up and show us the sweet older lady she clearly is. "I'm just not sure what will happen to this place when I can no longer do it," she reminisced. "I am almost 90, you know."

As we drank in the surroundings and ordered some lunch, Elsie told us bits and pieces of her lifelong story. The menu is pretty basic, and we're told, has been the same for years. A hamburger is $3.50, more if you add extras, and $3.50 is what you pay. It's not "plus tax," and I ain't asking who takes care of that.

If you're in a hurry,  just pass on by. This ain't Burger King and your food is prepped on electric fryers. Elsie moved at a leisurely pace as she prepped our food. It was exactly what we wanted. It gave us time to soak in treasures so many will avoid in their hurried life. There is so much to what she said, but so much more to how she made us feel.

1. Elsie grew up in Monowi and met her husband in Monowi. It's the only place she's ever lived (a single-wide trailer nestled in the trees near the bar) and the only place she's ever cared to live. "I've never wanted to live anywhere else," she smiled.

2. The Monowi Tavern doesn't have a bathroom. It has an outhouse. In fact, most of the tavern doesn't even approach "health code" as we know it today, but it's clean and inviting. In fact, code is part of Elsie's concern regarding passing on the bar when she's finished. Any new owner would be outside her "grandfather clause" and require the building be brought up to modern code. In my opinion, that'll kill it.

3. Elsie is not just the village's only resident. She is the only business owner, curator of the library, Chairman of the Village Board (she IS the village board), Village Clerk, Village Treasurer, and well, everything. 

I've been a village clerk/treasurer, so I have a basic knowledge of what it takes to run her little village. "Well, some years ago, we gave our Highway Allocation Money to the county so they'd maintain our roads. I'm trying to get some of that back," she quipped.  "When it's budget time, I just give the records to our accountant and he takes care of all that." 

There is much a village clerk is responsible for, like liquor licenses, for instance. Elsie signs her own liquor license application and the commission kindly looks the other way. It's been that way for years, and she is the Village Clerk/Treasurer/Mayor/Etc, after all. Hers  is the only property or income tax to be collected and accounted for. She takes care of all of it, all while operating a business 12-14 hours per day.

As we gingerly munched on our delicious burgers and tator tots, Elsie went on about things like her colon cancer, finding help on busy days, the future of the tavern and town, and how "this table right here is usually full of farmers having coffee." It was all magical...surreal even. The day we'd talked about for over a year was here and we were actually visiting with Elsie Eiler.

As we were finishing up, a pair of other travelers entered the bar, seemingly our cue that our magical time was nearing an end. We picked out a couple T-shirts that help pay for Elsie's existence, paid our bill, and grabbed a picture with Elsie. One of the two young ladies who had just entered the bar was gracious enough to take it for us. We said our goodbyes and walked out into the warm noon sunshine.

As I was walking across the little gravel road that runs in front of the tavern and up the hill to destinations unknown, I stopped...and then I cried. Gina, ever the caring wife and partner, put her arm around me and asked, "What's wrong, my love?

"It just occurred to me," I sobbed. "We're never going to see her again."

Take in the little things, my friends. It all goes by much too quickly.

Namaste,

Matt and Gina

Booondocking at Grove Lake

 

 

 

 “Camping: the art of getting closer to nature while getting farther away from the nearest cold beverage, hot shower, and flush toilet.”

 

~ Unknown ~

 

One of the things we love most about our rig is the onboard generator.  Having a generator (ours runs on propane which comes from a 100lb tank secured under our motorhome) is that we can camp or setup virtually anywhere and have basic conveniences at the flip of a switch. The downside? Well, we can have basic conveniences any time we choose.

 

For us, part of how we try being good stewards of our abundance, is looking for camping options that don't cost $30 and up per night. It doesn't take a math wizard to see that 30 per night equates to $900 per month. That's pretty hefty rent and $900 will buy a lot of diesel fuel. We get around that high cost by looking for places to "boondock" or by finding small towns with camping facilities (typically 20 per night or less), and state or national parks with minimal services. 

 

Because we have a generator, we can run our AC when it gets too hot, charge our phones or computers, and keep our RV batteries charged. Is it roughing it? You gotta be kidding me. Of course it isn't roughing it...unless you compare  it to an RV resort with full hook-ups. In that case, it's practically Little House on the Prairie. Our only real requirement is keeping our giant tank of explosive gas full enough to heat our water, light our stove, and power our generator. But propane is relatively cheap, it burns fairly clean, and it lasts a good long time.

 

In summary, we highly recommend the use of an onboard generator. If that's not an option, consider a portable. Consult your owner's manual and get plenty of advice from people in the know so your generator meets all the requirements for watts and volts and amps and all that other electricity speak, of which I know very little. Do keep in mind that not all places you stay will allow the use of generators, and if they do, the hours are restricted. Do you homework. Change the oil and air filters.

 

With that out of the way, let's talk about Grove Lake Wildlife Management Area just north of Royal, Nebraska. We have our grandkids to thank for showing us this little gem. It's home to "Chalk Hill" (it's not chalk at all, but it is most certainly a hill that'll give an old man sore muscles). 

 

Grove Lake is an off-the-beaten-path sort of place and seems to be a favorite of boondockers, tent-campers, and the occasional Amish Buggy or Carriage (which are REALLY cool btw). If you can get past the idea that you're far enough off the grid that no one will likely find you for days if you fall in the water or get murdered, Grove Lake is a wonderful, charming place and the smallish lake looks like something from On Golden Pond. It's beautiful.

 

I can't speak to the fishing. We didn't fish, but many others seemed to enjoy fishing here. I saw no one land the Big One...or the Small One, for that matter. Regardless, we saw several people kayaking, canoeing, and bank fishing, so there must be something in there!

 

As for amenities, Grove Lake has almost none. We saw one permanent outhouse and two boat docks, only one of which where you could launch a small boat (NO WAKES!!!). You can climb Chalk Hill, kayak (bring your own), fish, or just relax, but if you want supplies, Royal is your closest option and there ain't much to choose from. There is a "campground" outside the main entrance that has hookups and there's also a bait shop. We weren't that impressed by either.

 

But if you want a small, quiet, beautiful, albeit only slightly creepy getaway, Grove Lake is amazing. We loved it. Take your generator, but plan ahead for turning your large motor home around. It's a little tight. 

Happy Camping!!

Matt and Gina

 

Make a List......or Not

 

"We live in a abundance."

~Matt and Gina~

 

"We live in abundance" is our mantra. We used to say, "There's always enough." That turned out to be self-limiting. We declare to the universe nearly every day that we have all we need, and then some.

What does that have to do with RV life? I'll tell you. While we live our lives declaring our abundance, we're fully aware that, as of now, we aren't Elon Musk or Bill Gates. Therefore, while declaring our abundance, we're also cognizant of the fact we are to be good stewards of what we have. Our abundance is how we ended up with a motor home. Our stewardship is how we ended up with a 25 year old motor home and a 23 year old Jeep toad.

But, I digress. Preparing to RV comes with a list. It should, anyway. You'll definitely want a basic list of all those things you'll need to live comfortably on the road. Eventually, those items morph their way in to a permanent spot on the rig, thereby reducing those things you have to load and unload for every trip. For us, we're getting that fairly close to a list of perishable foods and clothes. We're still forgetting some stuff (maybe we should make a list), but we're new. We're getting there.

Ok, ok. I'm still digressing. The list that really matters is the list of items that need addressed with a 25 year old motor home to make it ours and make it road-worthy. Let me be clear. You will never...never eliminate all the things that can introduce challenges to your trip, but if you're smart, you'll at least attempt to minimize those possibilities.

So, if you're going to buy a pre-owned RV of any kind from an individual or dealer, it's best you be, at the very least, marginally mechanically inclined. Why? Because dealers and RV techs are backed up for months during peak season and their shop rates start at about $175 per hour on the low end. I'm finding a handful of Facebook groups to be handy for discovering tips about our RV, and YouTube is our best friend.

The drive-train on our RV is solid, so getting down the road isn't an issue. That said, here is a list of things I did to "bring her up to code," so to speak:

1. Replaced missing lenses on running lights.

2. Replaced broken front turn signal assemblies.

3. Greased the chassis and changed oil. This is a big stewardship item. Our Cat Diesel takes about 5 gallons of oil. Not 5 quarts...gallons. If you take your RV somewhere for an oil change, especially a diesel, you'll spend at least $500 and that can easily approach $1,000. I changed ours myself for around $100. It's not unlike changing the oil in your car, but you're going to need a bigger oil pan.

4. Changed the fuel filter. 

5. Changed oil in the generator.

6. Tested and topped off the antifreeze. This is a big one. Do it!

7. Lubricated and adjusted the latch on every outside storage door.

8. Replaced the gas strut shocks on the engine compartment door and most of the outside storage cabinets.

9. Redid all the plumbing for the outside shower and low-point drains.  This was a phenomenal pain in the ass.

10. Replaced the kitchen and bathroom sink faucet. Wasn't needed, but it looks and operates better.

11. Had a Blue Ox towing system installed. (That one was with a technician).

While on the road this last time, the rear AC unit was leaking into our bedroom. Turns out our setup wasn't allowing condensation to drain off the roof as it should, so that was an easy fix. But, while I was investigating that leak, I discovered a place on the roof that needed attention. It wasn't leaking...yet, but it was going to eventually. So, I fixed it.

Look, RV life isn't for the faint of heart. You'll have to slow down, practice some mechanical skills, and expect that there are things that will happen on the road. Just go with the flow. RV's aren't made like your house. Basically, they're crap construction on wheels and many of them were made on Friday or Monday. You can live in your RV, but they aren't built to be lived in with constant use. You will have repairs and things to maintain. That's part of the fun of RV life.

Oh, if you think buying a brand new one will help you avoid all this, you're only partially correct. So far, in our limited travels, we've talked to way more people who have had issues with their new rig. Almost 100% of people we visit with wish they'd bought used so that bugs have been worked out and depreciation has be accrued. Buying new isn't necessarily the answer. And there are those long waits at the dealership, even for warranty work.

There were some things I knew I wanted to address before we even took Bertha on a maiden voyage. But before we took her on a longer trip, we took two weekend excursions to develop two lists and become familiar with our house on wheels. Those lists are:

1. Oh crap, I'd better fix that before next time, and....

2. Oh crap, we should remember to take that next time.

We highly recommend you do the same. It'll save you some grief for a long haul.

I didn't forget about the Jeep. Gracie is also an older, yet  low-mileage, vehicle, so needed some updates. Minor cosmetic stuff, mostly.

Here's our recommendation on owning a motor home. Do it. Buy what you can afford, and you can afford more than you think. Live in abundance. We sold some things to purchase the opportunity to experience life. You can, too!

Namaste,

Matt and Gina