The Next Chapter Begins - RV Life Day #9

Last night I lay on the warm, rock-hard black top driveway of the RV park. The reek, reek, reek of crickets over the babbling, bubbling hot spring creek was meditative. Zipping across the sky, I saw flashes of light belonging to fading stars or comets. I felt like a 10-year-old child watching the curvature of the night sky like a planetarium sprinkled with stars. A meditative moment alone, I pretended I was on a Cancun beach listening to waves crash, minus the comfort of a lounge chair.

I can't believe the kids are missing this, I thought to myself, which is how I know I am certifiably insane, and Cancun, minus children, the only place I can relax. As car lights approached from the right, I sprang to my feet and walked back to the RV with determination. I can't believe my kids have never seen stars in Portland, or laid on a blacktop staring at the sky!

Opening the RV door I spied four kids fixated on electronics who refused to give me the time of day, let alone entertain an astrological education, the 10-year-old streaming a Harry Potter movie, the 13-year-old Brawl Stars gaming, the 15-year-old consuming Reddit and the 17-year-old checking her days-old social media feed. Who could blame them for suffering withdrawal the past few days in Yosemite off the grid? Even I had been sucked into the latest news of the day, my blood pressure rising almost as fast as my fingers could type.

"Mom, we've seen stars, blah, blah, blah" my 13-year-old son replied, followed by the most whiny, nasally, annoying sound that makes you question your parental motives, "Why do we have to?" my 10-year-old pleaded. I remember threatening to seize their electronics before the youngest two begrudgingly followed and my oldest two children called my bluff. Half-way down the road, the boys said something like "Wow, stars mom!" before high-tailing it back to the RV. Exhaling a sigh of 'WTF did you expect', I laid back down on the pavement alone remembering the days we spent unplugged.

I'm grateful for parks that promise WiFi and don't deliver. Yosemite Lakes RV Resort was surely named by the mom who couldn't find internet connectivity standing tippy-toed on the roof of its tallest building, her children forced to hike in the valley and frolic in the mountain streams. The kids can't even blame me when gaming lags and Snapchat doesn't respond! It's like we've been transported back to the 1980s, riding bikes without helmets, jumping off boulders into cool mountain waters and experiencing boredom as every child should. Forced to read along our journey, my kids are eager to get outside the tin-can RV confinement, as opposed to spending typical Covid-19 quarantine inside on devices at home. If not for my husband needing to virtually produce for a paycheck (and the god-damn broken generator), I'd recommend RV life unplugged to anyone forced to homeschool this year.

We all agree 'Resort' is fake news when it comes to RV camping. There are no fresh linens, fancy gourmet buffets, or sparkling pools with lazy rivers. It's down right dusty and dirty, do-it-yourself, and even the resort's game rooms are Covid-closed. RV campgrounds are a melting pot of humanity that give you a crystal clear understanding of why America is so divided. From the two retirees outside the laundromat bantering "It's all the Muslims who moved to Minnesota that caused the problems," to the Latino family with at least a dozen family members laughing and playing in the river without cause for concern. I chatted with an interracial couple who studied at Portland State University and missed downtown Portland, as well as with two middle-aged, four-wheeling, tent wielding, admittedly conservative men drinking a case of Bud-lite who stated "This isn't the America we know, no matter what your politics!" We bridged the divide, sharing firewood, smiles and empathy.

My iPhone pictures remain postcard-perfect, if nothing else. From the top of the highest peak to the bottom of the valley, Yosemite delivered, the most peaceful place on earth!

This morning I'm at peace listening to the intermittent hoot, hoot, hoot of a wild owl over the cha, cha, cha metronomic Rain Bird water sprinkler of the Keough Hot Springs RV Resort, where the mineral water pool rivals the triple digit California heatwave. I sit here typing, sweat rolling down my back in my campfire chair, my computer WiFi-dependent, and my children electronically entertained inside. I summon the courage to hit the road again, abandoning 'alone time' and dreading the connectivity we now require for relative air conditioned RV comfort. We will detour around Death Valley to a Beatty, Nevada 'RV resort', where the promise of a laundromat to wash my sons' rock-hard socks turned dirt brown will be our oasis in the desert. I secretly pray we can evade Wifi and the news of the day. Onward Schnoodles, another adventure awaits!