I let Junebug out of her chocks for a little two-nighter at Douglas Lake. Poor thing has been sitting for the bulk of the sweltering Tennessee summer at the clubhouse parking lot of the community I now call home. Time to charge her batteries up, check a few things off the road-ready checklist, and gear up for fall camping! I’m about as excited as a possum at a play-dead-fest.
XM’s No Shoes Radio is streaming from Junie’s outdoor Bluetooth speakers, the Cabernet is still half-full in my plastic-but-really-looks-like-glass wine glass, and I have a fire cranking out some serious flames in the pit. Most notable—besides my location—is the weather. And I have to apologize to my Florida friends who are still melting in the summer heat down yonder, but the weather is fucking phenomenal. (Sorry, Mom.) 70 degrees, offshore breeze that’s kick-ass enough to raise some whitecaps on Douglas Lake (thus, no paddling on Biscuit tonight), and I’m currently enjoying a fully shaded site, courtesy of a massive Maple and a few rather lush pines.
I have been enjoying the last several months at my cabin in the Smokies, and part of me wondered if I’d lost that lovin’ feeling of camping. I mean, when you live in a log cabin in the mountains, whyever would you consider spending your time in a 21-foot fiberglass box on wheels where everything vibrates when you walk, and your elbows (and hips) are much too close to the walls. And corners. And countertops. And, well, everything. I am often shocked and amazed that my hips are THAT big to have just knocked that picture off the wall when I passed through.
But then you get into your truck, psych yourself up for a fingers-crossed safe ride through a dicey one-road mountain neighborhood out to the main road and hill that once compromised your Ford Explorer enough that you sold it within a month and bought an F-150, start driving down the road, and think, “I can go ANYwhere.” Stevie Wonder and Superstition come on Sirius XM and, well, it’s all over. I’m free, I”m functional, I’m soaking fresh air into my lungs. All is good.
Arrived at the campground, inquired about any waterside site cancellations, should I be inclined to move, and I was rewarded by the fact that there WAS indeed a cancellation on a LEVEL site just 25 feet from the water and within a phenomenal view of the boat launch, which, if you’re a boat person, you will acknowledge is the highest form of entertainment.
I managed to navigate Junebug into her site without too much embarrassment and proceeded with all the things that campers have to go through upon arrival—but so many seem to make look SO much harder than it really is—before they can pour that first glass of wine and light the fire: level the rig, position wheel chocks appropriately to avoid sliding off and rolling down the hill (or into your tow vehicle), release the truck from its cargo, hook up electric and water, open up all the windows, and think about the next steps: food and wine.
Since Junie has been sitting dormant for a few months, there was also the added task of firing up all of her accoutrements (a/c, general power, fridge, freezer, etc.) to see if they still worked. And after a few minutes of utter confusion about why my power wasn’t drawing from the 30-amp power supply (duh: flip the master breaker that’s been in “off” position since June), all was ready.
I had one major task to complete on my “to-do” list—after making sure everything worked in Junie—and that was to strip the beautiful peel-and-stick wallpaper by the couch and paint the wall with a pretty grey paint named “After the Rain” I purchased at Home Depot yesterday. Seems peel-and-stick wallpaper doesn’t stick so well in a vessel that reaches upwards of 125 degrees in the middle of a sun-drenched parking spot on asphalt.
Painting done, it’s time to turn to my Gardenburger cooking over the fire. And with a little help from Pine Mountain’s fire-starting sticks, I soon have a raging inferno worthy of respect from even the nearby fifth-wheel geezer and his blue-haired wife. And now, it’s time for wine and food. The only problem is that I neglected to bring s’mores makings.
TravelswithJunebug 