Life in an RV (for a week)

One of the most-oft questions people ask upon the return from a trip is "how was it?" I think we especially got asked this question since we've been back because 1) we went to a cool place, 2) we traveled with teenagers, 3) we traveled with teenagers across country for a week, and 4) we were in a confined, vehicular space of recreation for said week. 

To answer: everyone survived.

One of the handiest of things was being able to park when we wanted to use our space. On the first night, we parked in a Walmart parking lot somewhere in Arkansas and slept there:

Now, sleeping ended up being very hard for me. That's weird, because generally I can sleep anywhere at any time. I did not sleep more than two-hours at a time for the whole week; I would sleep, wake up, repeat throughout the night. In order to keep the rig cool, we had to run the loud AC unit (and sometimes generator). If someone so much as blinked, you could feel it when you were laying down in the bed. We had to sleep with all the doors open for air circulation and that was the longest amount of time that I had no privacy (and that Randall and I had no married-partner privacy). Trips to the bathroom at places like rest stops and Walmarts became the only moments of privacy any of us experienced for the week and that was more draining than I anticipated.

For most of our lunches, we tried to find a park to set up and eat. We'd stabilize the rig, pop out a slide, and folks could eat a lunch (hot or cold!). We did dinner that way a few times (I planned the snot out of meal prepping for RV trips).

A small, but super-convenient space

It was also handy that everyone could spread out during the drive. That was probably the most convenient part of having the RV. In a minivan or station wagon, everyone would be snug, crammed even, and sitting for what ended up being especially-long drives. In the RV, folks could sit on the couch or at the dinette and could lay down if needed. So in that sense, it served its purpose. The kids could watch movies on different TVs. Additionally, without the availability of a bathroom on board, we would have been stopping at 45 minute- to hour- intervals to accommodate my amazing ability to stay hydrated. 

We initially evaluated that renting the RV (through RV Share) would probably end up costing about the same as renting a car, driving, staying in hotels, eating out all week, etc. After we tallied totals, we probably spent a little more than we intended, but I also think we did the trip our way and it worked out the best it could have possibly worked out for our family. We will all have memories from the week that we will carry for the rest of our lives. 

I definitely enjoyed the freedom of just being able to park wherever and enjoy.
Here, we parked at a city-managed park, ate our lunch, and the kids played in the river for a bit.

And Randall and I have talked about getting our own little rig for retirement. I enjoyed the experience enough to not reject the idea in its entirety.

Managing Expectations

When people ask me "what does a tour director do?" I usually respond lightly "I point at things and take dinner reservations." A tour director does a heckofalot more than that. Once of my biggest roles is that of expectation-manager. Guests who come on tour have ideas and expectations of what they might experience. After having led dozens of tours over the course of five year, I knew what complaints to expect and had some tricks up my sleeve to prevent these complaints by setting expectations in advance. Evidently, I need to figure out how to apply these tricks to myself. I had my own expectations of our visit to Yellowstone, as well as the trip itself. When those expectations did not work out as I anticipated, I have nobody to blame but me.

We woke up very early on our scheduled day to visit Yellowstone National Park. I knew it would get busy quickly and I thought it would be neat to watch the sun rise. I planned on spending some time at the Old Faithful location and wanted to secure parking for our rig. I also desperately wanted to see the Grand Prismatic Spring. Our first few minutes into the park granted us a glimpse of a glowing sky:

"Hooray!" I thought. "A sunrise at Yellowstone! And over the very spot I want to see!" We planned on stopping at the Grand Prismatic Spring. If you are not familiar, it is a fairly visually-iconic location of Yellowstone:

Within minutes after that glimpse of sky, we rolled into fog and clouds. This was our early morning view of the Grand Prismatic Spring:

I had not managed my own expectations. I had not planned on preparing myself for the advent of weather. And I *know* better. The kids pipped up more than once "that's it? where are all the colors? aren't we going to see it?" And I shallowly responded with something like "that's just a part of traveling, especially to places in the outdoors." I didn't believe myself.

The physical clouds eventually blew over but my mental and emotional cloud hung around. I was disappointed in missing out on the part of the park I was most excited about. I mean, I still experienced it. But I did not experience it in a way I expected. Additionally, at that point in the trip, the kids had gotten comfortable whining telling me their opinions about the trip and sharing what they would have liked better. You have probably been exposed to some version of a movie storyline where a parent tries to offer a fun vacation to his family (usually, it is a goofy father figure) and the kids just want to complain and stay home with their friends for summer vacation. I felt like I was that goofy father figure, grasping for something to keep my stepkids happy. Even reading articles about being a stepparent while traveling with stepkids did not prepare me for how I felt during several parts of the trip. Disappointed. Defeated. I gritted my teeth a lot. I tried to excuse myself sometimes. I even bubbled over some, just like we saw those geysers bubble over. I expected some form of a picture postcard vacation and I got a foggy day version of it. I still experienced it, but I experienced it in a way different than what I expected. I manage expectations for a living and I couldn't do it for myself.

And, as it goes, life moved on.

Old Faithful did its thing and folks "ooohed" and "aaaahed." The clouds disappeared and I got a sunburn on half of my face. We continued on our whirlwind visit over the course of the day. We were able to see Old Faithful spew 2.5 times. We hiked some (and the kids learned what hiking at elevation feels like). We saw some marmots. We picnicked by Yellowstone Lake. We stopped at Fishing Bridge. We then had to hustle home in order to meet the unyielding demands of the kids' biomother, which meant driving some 1,450 miles in two days (and we did it with 15 minutes to spare). The trip was equally exhilarating and exhausting.

I went on a very cool trip and got to share amazing places with my Love. I added two states to my "visit list" (only three more and I will have been to all fifty states). My body connected to physical spaces that my heart holds so near and so dear. I think just breathing the air at National Park Service sites energizes me at a cellular level. And yet, I sowed personal expectations that yielded disappointments. Social media sites like Instagram and Facebook allow you to share all your wonderful experiences and show off that you are having the best time. They don't leave a lot of room for sharing about disappointments (so I turn to my blog! I know, it is technically social media, too...). Who wants to hear Elizabeth whine about how she struggles with parts of life when she if off visiting Wyoming and Montana? But my struggles were as much a part of my trip as the geothermal activity we witnessed (and smelled). Also, I am allowed to write what I want on here and nobody is making you read it.

The trip will fade into my memory as a positive experience. My brain will rearrange my recollections so I remember the fun and forget the disappointment. And I imagine when I get ready to travel again, I will forget all these life lessons about managing my own expectations that I have been exposed to this past week. And that's just life.

Side note: Midwesterners are fun. But I still say "soda."

*I wrote and posted this on my own time.

Day 3: Go [indirectly] to Jail

We woke up with this outside of our window:

While it would probably have sounded awesome to hear the river running, the generator of our "rig" is especially loud and drowns out all noises, even thoughts. We got the kids up early to start our Colorado adventures.

First, we popped into The Dam Store for the kitch of it.

Then we had breakfast at the Colorado Cherry Company. Cherry pie and buffalo jerky topped off with cherry cider? Breakfast of champions.

Then off we went to do some exploring at Rocky Mountain National Park (and surrounding area, as we had limited time).

We stopped at the Wyoming State Historical Prison site (we did not pass go, we did not collect $200).

Then we drove another seven hundred and sixteen hours through the bottom of Wyoming to get to our campsite. (Well, it felt like it, anyway). That part was nerve-wracking, as we had absolutely no signal for most of that drive.  We crashed in Dubois, Wyoming knowing that we had another early, long, and wonderful day ahead.

Beep (bleep) Beep

We woke up in Kansas this morning (which is a good thing, since we fell asleep in Kansas last night...). We overnighted at an RV park in Chapman.

The staff were super friendly and the shower house was immaculate. There were several box-store produced signs of encouragement. I think the one that read "Don't let yesterday use up too much of today" spoke to me most.

I am especially prone to dwelling in the past (hey, I am an historian, after all). I worry a lot about what I said or what I didn't say when I could spend that time dealing with the present. Although, sometimes, dealing with the present provides it's own struggles (so it is easier to reminisce about our version of the past).

Hours and hours of Kansas

Today we are riding in an RV through Kansas. We should be to Colorado by lunchtime. I want to embrace everything about my today, however, we have a slight situation: something about air flow makes the RV sound like it is spontaneously honking as we drive along. It is one part annoying, one part aggravating, and all parts loud. It is not the actual horn. And it does not seem that cars passing us can hear it (nobody has started at us as they drive by, nor provided us with any special "hand signals"). But it still happens and, gosh, it is hard to stay "present." Figuring out potential remedies is becoming Randall's slight obsession. Well, that, and removing these smushed bugs from the massive windshield.

Onwards (while staying present, of course).

Not Technically "Day 1" because we started driving last night

I am typing this out on my cellular device that doubles as a technological wonder these days. Currently, I am somewhere on Interstate 70, heading straight into the sunset on a family trip to Yellowstone. Some time ago, my husband and I decided renting an RV on a cross country trip with three teenagers was a good idea. Today is our first full day of said trip and so it still seems like a good idea.

I brought my computer with me but it has been giving me fits and now won't even turn on. Thanks, Dell. Randall's co-workers evidently mentioned how it might be fun to track the trip (maybe via video). If I can get the technology to work, I might just make it happen. For now, typing out blog posts on a phone will have to do.