Anyone who has followed this blog will know that the hardest, the most stressful part of my first year (at least) in the UK was driving.  The Scots don’t believe in straight lines, or wide lanes, so I white-knuckled my way through the Highlands, through the cities, and through the dark in my little Vauxhall Corsa.

Well yesterday I realised I’ve just exchanged one driving hell for another.  The roads here are straight, they are wide, and the speed limits are lower.  So that’s good. But a Class C RV rattles, and the engine strains, and the lines of sight are far less than that of a car, so that can be stressful. But yesterday, as I was heading to Miss Mayhew’s funeral near Windsor, the winds picked up.  Well, fick. 

My RV is a big, flat box.  And the 401 is a big, wide highway, with vast fields on either side.  So holding it steady as the winds pick up is a lot of work.  You feel the wind hitting the right side of the motorhome, pushing it, so you’re pulling slightly right, to keep in your lane.  Then suddenly the wind dies down for just a second, so the force you’ve been using to stay in place pulls you hard toward the shoulder. OMFG.  I could not believe I was right back where I’d been four years ago, white-knuckle driving as I prayed to a god I don’t believe in (there are no atheists in foxholes, or on treacherous car trips, it seems).

So, I made the decision: I hadn’t seen Miss Mayhew in decades, I don’t know who I might have known at the funeral if anyone, and I knew none of her family – this was silly.  Change of plan: get off the highway and back-road it to my next stop in Blenheim.  Whew. Easy-peasy.

(But I am still dreading future high-wind drives.)

I was supposed to head out this morning, going to the Sarnia area to visit a friend, then stay at a lovely farm near Petrolia, then the next day off to Miss Mayhew’s celebration of life.  But my toes (right foot, of course) are in a bad way at the moment, so I’m staying one more night here at Wildwood, and I’ve cancelled with the Harvest Host farm (they were very understanding and wished me a speedy recovery).

Harvest Hosts is a remarkable camping service all across North America.  You join up for an annual fee (~$90CAD), and have access to thousands of farms, distilleries, wineries, apiaries, museums and so on who have offered their property to campers who wish to stay one night in their area. 

Usually these parking spaces don’t have electricity or water (a few might for a fee), and they’re sorta free.  The idea is, you pull in late afternoon to say, a winery.  You park off to one side.  You go into their shop and are expected to spend about $30 for the privilege of using their property for free (seems fair).  They close up shop at 5:00, customers all leave, then staff all leave, and you’re left in a quiet spot where you can relax and enjoy your surroundings.

I have booked several of these on my maiden voyage (one in particular is worthy of its own post – later on that one).

I liked most of my teachers at high school.  There were probably three who have stuck in my head all these years and truly influenced me later in life; and one in particular: Joanne Mayhew.  She taught classics and Latin and it’s thanks to her that I am able to wander knowledgably around museums of antiquity, can figure out words I haven’t necessarily seen before from their Latin roots, write succinct emails and memos, and most importantly, know what the sentence Caecilius est pater means (IYKYK).

I saw her for the first time in years about 6 months ago, and yesterday, I found out she died.  Her Celebration of Life is being held near Windsor and remarkably, my itinerary takes me to within 20 minutes of the service that very day, so I’m planning on attending – the universe clearly meant for me to be there.

Salve.

You’d think the biggest entertainment at a campground would be going to the beach, or sitting around a campfire, or meeting new people, but you would be wrong.

The best entertainment at a campground is watching all the other campers arrive and park their RV or trailer on their campsite.  Bonus if that camper is a newbie.

The second I pulled up to my original too-small campsite at Wildwood, the guy situated directly across from me came out of his trailer, sat down in a lawn chair with a beer, and watched my first and futile attempts at backing into a site.

You learn a lot about people from how they cope with this exercise.  Years ago LL & I pulled into The Pinery on Lake Huron (Western alum will know it well), and after 15 minutes of to-ing and fro-ing, and turning and straightening, we manoeuvred a 29’ RV into place.  There was never a raised voice, never any tightened vocal cords, only considered and quietly-delivered comments like, ‘wait a minute Elaine, I want to think about this’, or, ‘LL – do you think we’re level?’ – a truly respectful process, considering we’d never does this before.  In fact, another camper came up after and said, ‘well done – you two did a great job.’ As we’d done a crap job at parking, we could only assume she meant we’d done a great job working together.

My sister & I didn’t do quite as well here at Wildwood this morning, but that was no one’s fault – she hadn’t expected to be roped into helping me get settled (that’ll teach her about the dangers of arriving on time), and I hadn’t told her where I wanted to be positioned.  But we got there in the end.  My only complaint?  I was calling to her (calling to her, mind) to be heard over the engine as we were manoeuvring, but she later told her family I ‘yelled at her’.  I wasn’t yelling, I was calling.  But in all honesty, I was glad to have her there for my first kick at the can.

Now that I’m settled in, it’s my turn to watch others as the campground fills up for the weekend.

Aside: I still remember one particular evening camping in Prince Edward County.  My friends and I were all set-up with RV all hooked up, awning out, lawn chairs placed, Weber grill on table, dogs on leashes, the whole shebang – which had taken the three of us at least an hour to accomplish, when in pulled up a Dodge Ram hauling a looong travel trailer.  He swung up to his site, backed in in one single, smooth, quick motion, stopped perfectly, unhitched his truck, hooked up the trailer, levelled it, opened the awning, placed an area rug, lawn chairs, and bbq, moved the picnic table, and drove away, all in under 15 minutes – it was like watching a well-choreographed ballet.  It seems it’s a service – he provides the rig and the set-up, and the campers just drive up an hour later to a perfectly arranged campsite.  Magnificent.  Hoping I’ll hit that level of expertise some day.

Walked the dog very, very slowly around the park.  Took lots of painkillers.  My sister came and took me out for a day in Stratford & St Mary’s, which, due to my limp, I really didn’t get to appreciate. 

Part of my whole plan with this blog was to offer some travel comments about the places I visit in Canada, but yesterday my only real thoughts were: ‘thank God my sister found a parking spot right in front of the little shops,’ and: ‘why is this grocery store laid out such that I have to walk so far for 3 items’, and: ‘yes, The Flour Mill in St Mary’s looks cute, but I want to go home and put my foot up.’  Not exactly the material of Samuel Pepys or Bill Bryson.

Here’s what I’ve experienced in the last 36 hours:

• Cracked my forehead (minor goose egg)
• Am covered in bruises (everything seems to be sharp corners and all so close together)
• Cracked the back of my head HARD on the corner of the open fridge door (major goose egg)
• Aforementioned debris on highway (my poor nerves)
• Discovered horizontal open bottle of white wine in fridge, almost whole bottle had drained into the crisper drawer (So I have Pinot Grigio-marinated vegetables, and no wine)
• Aforementioned two broken toes (and no wine to act as painkiller)
• Scout threw up (inside)
• Scout has diarrhoea (outside)
• Sliced the tip of my finger with a knife (I don’t want to talk about it)

Really wondering if this life is for me . . .

After a couple of small hiccups: too tiny campsite but the one next door was free; construction at the campground; seriously leaky spigot; only one other trailer in this section of the conservation area (that felt a tad creepy) . . . I got parked, showed off my rig to my sister, then off to dinner for a lovely Greek meal in London (Mystic Grill – deelish).  Back ‘home’ settled in for the night. 

And then it happened – at three in the morning, the dog wanted out for what I had assumed was a call of nature but turned out to be just an interest in nature (twit) – we returned to the RV, and I got her up and lying in her spot on the bed.  I hadn’t turned the interior lights on, so I misjudged a step and smashed (and quite possible broke) two toes on my right foot. Well, crap.  The pain was awful, the inconvenience is worse.

Didn’t sleep for the remainder of the night.

I had great plans (as previously mentioned) for my travel day.  I was to leave the campground early, head south on the 400, stop off at IKEA Vaughan, stop at my house to pick up more stuff for the remainder of the trip, make it to the next campground by 2:00, with my sister arriving at 3:00 to take me out for dinner. 

Hah.

Started with emptying the grey (sink & shower) and black (toilet) tanks.  The RV manufacturer includes a sewer hose in the sale, but everyone (including the staff at Heidi’s) agrees that they’re crap (pardon the pun) and everyone says to buy a Rhino sewer hose – they’re the best.  So I did – I picked up the last one at Canadian Tire.  Got out to start the process, only to realise that I’d bought a 3’ hose – I hadn’t read the packaging in the store.  Three feet?  Honestly?  The rig’s sewer outlet is 2 ½ feet above the ground.  I spent close to an hour trying to find a work-around with the two hoses I had, and finally gave up.  Will travel with full tank of . . . whatever . . . and will buy new hose at Cdn Tire near home, and return the mini-hose.  Stupid mini-hose.

Now running late, so we headed out – IKEA was a pipe dream at this point – just get home and get going. 

RVs are loud.  And you’re never quite sure if the noise is a mechanical issue, or an unlocked door, or a pot rattling in the cupboard – but you just persevere.  Was finally starting to get more comfortable, tooling down the 400 and just nearing the GTA, when a dump truck a couple of hundred metres in front of me lost part of its load, in my lane.  I slowed down, with cars & trucks whizzing by me on either side, and with nowhere else to go, ploughed through the debris, praying it was all cardboard and Styrofoam.  Made it unscathed, didn’t heard any major grinding from the undercarriage, but my heart can’t take this.

Got the new sewer hose, loaded more stuff from my house, and headed off to Wildwood Conservation Area.  What a day that had been, and it wasn’t over yet.

I sent the Heidi’s RV Service Department my 700+ questions (well, okay, 11 questions), and headed out to practice driving and to start my shopping in Orillia.  We hit Canadian Tire, Dollarama, Walmart, and Zehr’s, plus two RV supply stores.  Got a lot of the list done, and at the two RV stores, when they heard this was my 2^nd day RVing, they both gave me a discount on my purchases!

Got back and decided I’d had enough of packaged food and boiling my tea water in the microwave (it NEVER tastes that same when you do that), and braved the stove and the water heater for dinner. 

Then, bless her, Tina from the Service Department called.  And didn’t mock me.  At least not to my face. After trying to answer my questions over the phone, she offered to come over to the rig and give me some one-on-one time.  Well, (a) she is very knowledgeable, and (b) she is a hoot.  She answered all my questions, climbed in and out of the rig to show me things, and never once made me feel stupid.  When she left I felt 100% better – thank you so much Tina!  (Anyone thinking of buying an RV, go to Heidi’s first, and remember, post-sale service is often more important than the purchase itself.)