Two weeks ago tonight, we had zero cell signal, dodgy Wi-Fi, the warmest, most snuggly mattress ever, and absolute serenity. There was nothing to greet us in the dark of night when we took Jaxx out to potty but the sound of the wind high in the evergreens. It was nothing short of magical, and I’ve thought of it frequently since we got back home.
We decided to get away for a couple of days and, instead of going to our travel trailer like usual, we headed to a rental cabin in the shadow of Mt. Rainier. I made the reservation back in July, the same week that Roxie died and that we adopted Jaxx. I knew then that we needed to get away, but we wanted to wait until Fall. We are Fall people. Summer and summer crowds are not for us.
We have now had this beautiful campsite for a year. In that time, we’ve had a crash-course in camping. We’ve learned how to deal with full tanks, refilling of water and propane, and all the other basics of camping.
We also learned that, while we adored camping, our motorhome was the wrong rig for us, so we traded her in for our our current travel trailer.
And as much as we love camping and intend to keep camping here, we’re planning phase two of our camping adventures.
Well… we traded in our 2005 Winnebago Aspect after just 13 months. With engine troubles constantly plaguing us and not enough space for me, the hubby, and our huge dog, we decided we’d had enough. Last week we took possession of our brand new 2018 Forest River Salem 25RKS travel trailer with a rear kitchen. It’s 29 feet long from tongue to bumper, but the camper box itself is 25 feet long. I’m in love!
I love mornings in the Pacific Northwest. There’s something about the chilliness in the air, even in July or August, and the crisp, clean smell of evergreens mixed with salt water that just infuses my soul with thankfulness. After two years here, I still find myself borrowing a few moments just to take it all in, observe the scene before me, and send up a prayer of gratitude.
Each new day here reminds me why I love this place so much. I have to do weird things here, things I never anticipated when I lived back east, like check the tide tables so that I know which foot ferry I want to use. When the tide is out, the ferry dock a quarter mile from my home has such a steep gangplank that is like climbing up and down a ladder to get to the float and on the boat. It’s not fun, especially since I’m in a medical walking boot right now due to tearing the fascia tendon in the bottom of my foot, so I’ll choose to use the ferry 1.5 miles away in town as it’s in a marina and doesn’t require feats of strength to get on the boat.
Who could anticipate a Midwestern woman worrying about tides?