campervan

Wildlife and me

/ Tracy Abell / 2 Comments

I had a lovely solo camping trip in Golden Gate Canyon State Park last week. The weather was pleasant and my site was level, plus there was a peaceful little Nature Trail right across the road that I wandered a couple times. Oddly enough, there weren’t many birds and it was mostly quiet except for the occasional Mountain Chickadee and Common Raven (which I heard several times but never spotted). I had high hopes for bird sightings since on the first afternoon I saw a White-breasted Nuthatch on a tree trunk near the restroom. That was my one and only nuthatch sighting although I had two encounters with a pair of Gray Jays. I’m not sure it was the same pair both times, but one flew directly at me near my campsite then landed in the tree right next to me, followed by another jay. And the next morning as I paused outside the restroom to put on my mask, a Gray Jay flew right (like, right) in front of me and into the building wall as if it thought it could perch there. Then it flew back into the closest tree where another jay waited. I never saw them again, but spent some time pondering whether they were trying to tell me something or maybe thought I was a kindred spirit in my gray fleece jacket that’s the same shade as their feathers.

On my first morning there, I suited up to run on the Raccoon Trail which is a 3.5 mile loop (including spur from campground) that includes Panorama Point and a view of the Continental Divide. Because I was starting at 9100 feet elevation and would gain several hundred feet more, I knew water was essential. And while I never run with my phone, I knew it would be wise to have it, so wore my small hiking pack that holds a camel back for water. After some stretches to warm up, I took off. The pack bouncing on my back didn’t bother me, but I was very aware of the water as it sloshed with every step. The trail starts out in forest and soon opens up to aspen groves. Five minutes into the run, I sloshed my way around a curve and was startled by a large crashing in the brush. A moose! Heart hammering, I immediately stopped and spoke quietly while glancing around for a calf. I only saw the one moose, but my heart still pounded at the sight of all those skinny aspen trees that weren’t big enough to hide behind if the moose decided to charge. Fortunately, we both calmed down and it soon went back to browsing. As it moved farther from the trail, I slowly and silently (no sloshing!) continued on my way. A few minutes later I came upon a hiker and as she stepped off the trail to let me pass, she asked if I’d seen the moose. I said I had.

“That calf was so cute,” she replied.

Calf?

Turned out, this woman had been about ten feet away from the juvenile moose and she’d taken photos. Yikes! Fortunately, all was well with the mama and everyone moved on without incident.

The rest of my run/scramble up rocky slopes was uneventful. I stopped to check out the view at the top and then kept going. It wasn’t until I was back at my camp site doing my cool-down stretches that I had my favorite wildlife encounter of the trip.

This ground squirrel calmly perched a few feet from me, drinking up the warm sun. Moments later, the squirrel was flat on their tummy in an obvious display of fearlessness.

I’ll confess that I took loads of photos of this squirrel and their many poses. It made my heart so happy to share the space together, that morning and throughout my stay. This squirrel was a very gracious host and I’m grateful both for the companionship and also for the fact my heart didn’t practically leap out of my chest at our encounters. Moose are amazing creatures but my time in Alaska taught me they can be very volatile and extremely dangerous. Unlike this little ground squirrel.

This squirrel was pure chill which was exactly what I needed on my trip.

Oops, I did it again

/ Tracy Abell / 9 Comments

Last night we returned from three days in southwest Colorado where we visited son Wildebeest, his girlfriend, and their new cat (shout-out to adorable Franklin!) Halfway through the six-hour drive home, we stopped for gas in Del Norte. I pulled Moby the campervan next to a pump before noticing a sign that said if we used that pump, pre-payment was required inside. Zippy asked me to move to another pump.

I pulled forward and began circling another pump island so that the gas tank would be on the correct side. A truck was parked at the neighboring pump which meant that because I hadn’t made a wide turn, I had to back up a bit. I did so using the side mirror, watching as the rear of the van remained clear of the pump island guardrail. Plenty of space! Then I put Moby in DRIVE and moved forward.

CRUUUNCH
Immediate expletives from Zippy
Nonsensical panicked embarrassment from me that also included expletives

While I remained frozen in the driver’s seat, awash in a sea of excruciating déjà vu, Zippy got out to assess. He quickly reported that I’d somehow hit this guardrail so that Moby’s left rear tire was pushed against it, leaving no room to move forward.

No, I wasn’t taking photos in the middle of the chaos. This was taken afterward.

As Zippy examined the situation, a man using the opposite pump came over to see what was going on. I wanted to disappear. Instead, I sat there behind the steering wheel, talking to myself and bowing my head in shame. The man with the truck I’d backed up to avoid hitting, noticed my angst and assured me everything was okay, that it was only a vehicle. Then he joined the other two men’s discussion about the best strategy for getting Moby unstuck. Truck Man had me put Moby in park while the three of them tried rocking the van to get it free. But they weren’t strong enough and no one else joined the effort, so Truck Man instructed me to crank the steering wheel ALL the way and then sloooooowly back up.

LIBERATION!

As I shouted my thanks and gratitude to them, Truck Man grinned and said, “Now you have a good story about that first blemish.” He got in his truck and drove away while the other man talked with his friend who’d just come outside, pointing to Moby and mimicking the rocking motion. Apparently, he’d also gained a good story. My face burned with the knowledge that my carelessness was at the core of his retelling.

See, this wasn’t my first experience getting stuck like that. Many years ago when I was in high school, my boyfriend worked at a gas station/garage and one afternoon I went there to borrow his beloved Camaro. After going inside to get the keys from him, I got in the car that was parked between two white gas tanker trucks, and backed out.

CRUUUNCH

The car was wedged up against one of the tanker trucks. My boyfriend LOVED that car and I had to walk back inside to let him know what I’d done. Not only that, I had to tell him in front of his co-workers who hooted and hollered before following us outside to witness my humiliation. There was no best approach in that situation–going forward would scrape the car and going backward would scrape the car–so my boyfriend chose to back it out.

SCRAAAPE

Thanks to me, there was blue paint on the white tanker truck and white paint on the blue Camaro. Over the years, the sting of that humiliation lessened as it turned into a memory of me being young and foolish. And because nothing like that had ever happened again, it morphed into a funny story from my early driving years. Until yesterday.

Except, while yesterday’s embarrassment came on fast, this time it faded relatively quickly. Zippy was nothing but kind. Truck Man was not only kind, but also funny. And the other guy? Well, he now has a story to tell about his role in freeing a cargo van. To be clear, my high school boyfriend had also been pretty chill about his Camaro and it would be easy to blame my flaming red embarrassment on his co-workers. But I’m pretty sure what I’m feeling right now is the result of being decades beyond where I was when backing up that dark blue Camaro. Also?

There’s no blue paint/evidence on Moby. Just some faint red smears.

Heck, they could be ketchup.

Thanks for the memories, Del Norte!

Twofer Tuesday: watercolor memories

/ Tracy Abell / 4 Comments

These are views from our campsite at Vega State Park last week. It’d rained all day and when it finally stopped, we emerged from Moby to do a little exploring in the calm, freshly-scrubbed air. The water’s surface was the perfect palette.

May 11, 2023

The peaceful quiet was only disturbed by the sound of Emma chomping on a crayfish claw shell she’d found and then refused to let me remove from her mouth. Naughty little dog.

 

Intentional peace

/ Tracy Abell / 2 Comments

Yesterday, we drove Moby the Great White Campervan to the mountains for some rest and relaxation. Our intention was a few hours of peace and rejuvenation. We’d never been there before and were thrilled to claim a small parking area next to Buffalo Creek. I explored with the camera and captured some nice shots. This is where I sat to work on my novel revisions.

Buffalo Creek. June 22, 2022

I sat in a chair on the little patch of beach at the bottom of the photo and revised a chapter on my laptop as Zippy and Emma napped in the van. Rushing water. Clean air. A shiny, green hummingbird buzzing in for a visit.

The entire experience soothed my spirit and, as I type these words, I’m already looking forward to a return visit. May each of us experience peace and rejuvenation in these very difficult days.

Sunday song

/ Tracy Abell / 5 Comments

We took our first camping trip of the year at the Pawnee National Grasslands. That area is supposed to provide a magnificent night sky and we went in hopes of seeing the meteor shower. Turns out we didn’t put much effort into the sky because the high winds made it unpleasant. So unpleasant, in fact, that we came home a day early.

The good news is, there was a lull in the wind on Thursday evening and we walked the trails around the Crow Valley Campground. The lighting was divine as birds serenaded us. Here’s a Red-winged Blackbird in song:

And here’s an American Robin singing as it perches on the fence next to a couple of the MANY tumbleweeds in the area  (which I either leapt over or plowed through when running on the trails the next morning):

Here’s a Western Meadowlark singing its heart out:

This last one–Turkey Vulture– was silent, but it was a thrill when Zippy spotted it because on our maiden voyage last April, a whole bunch of Turkey Vultures roosted above our campervan.

Others may disagree, but I consider a Turkey Vulture sighting a good omen for the coming camping season.

Campervan conversion update

/ Tracy Abell / 6 Comments

After some much-needed snow this past week, we had a couple days of sunshine and 50-degree weather which allowed us to make progress on Moby’s conversion. Yesterday, Zippy cut and screwed down firring strips while I sprinkled baking soda on the horizontal surfaces of the new pop-top to absorb the outgassing chemicals (ugh…being chemically sensitive is zero fun). The last I did was thoroughly vacuum and clean the subfloor. Today, Zippy reinstalled the linoleum floor (removed before sending Moby off to get the pop-top) and taped ram board on top of it to protect it while we work. Then he began putting up the first wall of the beetle kill pine boards we’d sealed twice before sanding-sealing-sanding-and sealing a fourth time. Whew.

Lower boards are nailed in place, but upper are still being sized. January 30, 2022

 

As Zippy said, “It’s a pain in the ass but it’s going to look really nice.” Hooray!