 The highest suspension bridge in the world stands at 1,627 feet, spanning the Sidu River in Hubei, China, according to Guinness World Records. Before it was built in 2009, the Royal Gorge Bridge in Canon City, Colorado, held that title, at 956 feet high. It’s still the highest suspension bridge in North America and the tallest bridge in the United States. Since we camped about a half hour away from Canon City while trekking across Southern Colorado, we had to go see this marvel, held in place by 4,100 steel cables.  Once-in-a-lifetime ride The $35 per-person admission includes access to the bridge, a gondola ride across the gorge, and a children’s playland. Having worked up our courage, we paid the fee and headed straight to the gondola, joining a couple in the first of three cars hanging from a heavy cable.  In no time, our compartment left the loading station, slowly starting its 2,200-foot trajectory across the gorge before picking up speed. As our car dangled, we looked way down to the Arkansas River, noting a train track running adjacent to it and seeing rafters in the water. We snapped panoramic photos of the 1,260-foot bridge, a true wonder indeed, before spotting climbers on the rock face as we neared the other side of the gorge. Treacherous walk to remember After pulling into the gondola station, we unloaded and meandered toward the bridge for our chance to walk across the 1,257 wooden planks spanning its length. Flags from each of the 50 states lined both sides.  A golf cart entered before us, giving us reassurance the bridge could support our weight. It was actually designed to hold more than 2 million pounds at one time. We started our crossing, one foot in front of the other. I made a conscious effort not to look down through the gaps between planks. Bob, on the other hand, eagerly peeked through, encouraging me to do the same. I finally gave in and gaped through a crack, quickly realizing how long it would take for a dropped item to reach the ground. We stopped in the middle of the bridge to admire the views on either side. Posted signs warned us not to attempt fishing from the bridge. (Someone must have tried that at some point to warrant such a sign.) Thrilling adventures As we lingered, brave souls seemingly floating through the air caught our attention. These people paid an additional $52 each for the thrilling 2,350-foot zipline — America’s highest. The park also offers a $41 skycoaster ride, where passengers don flight suits and are harnessed to a tower near the edge of the gorge. They’re lifted off the ground and then swung 1,200 feet out over the gorge, at up to 50 mph.  A conception in time
The idea of a bridge across the Royal Gorge dates back to 1900, when a man named T.C. Johnson envisioned the Brooklyn Bridge there. It wasn’t until 29 years later that the bridge became a reality. Built in seven months, it was designed to provide a place for people to admire the scenic landscape, not to build a road across — although cars were permitted on the structure, for a toll, until 2013, when a wildfire damaged it. The bridge reopened in 2015 and returned to vehicle-only traffic for a short time during the COVID pandemic. The gondola became part of the experience in the 1950s.Today the bridge is limited to pedestrians and work vehicles and attracts half a million visitors annually, according to highestbridges.com. You might also like Riding the Durango-Silverton train.
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 One warm May day in Larkspur, Colorado, I turned on the fan in the kitchen ceiling of our fifth wheel and opened the roof vent and some windows to bring in cool air and push out heat. When it came time to turn off the fan and close the vent, the blades kept spinning and the vent remained ajar. No matter which button I pushed on the wall controller, the fan didn’t get the message that it was supposed to stop revolving. Bob identified the fuse that controlled the fan and removed it from the RV’s circuit panel. The fan went off…and so did the refrigerator. Clearly, that was not a long-term or even short-term solution.  Troubleshooting Bob got out his tools, climbed onto the kitchen island counter, and removed the screen over the fan blades, as well the shroud in the ceiling, to expose the motor and wiring. He disconnected the wires powering the unit, put the other parts back in place, carefully got down, and reinserted the fuse to run the fridge. We’d have to function without the vent until we could fix it.  Internet research revealed we stood to risk the least by ordering a replacement wall controller for $40. If that corrected the issue, we’d save about $200. The part arrived, Bob replaced it, but the fan still wouldn’t turn off. He took apart the unit again and, using his multimeter tool, determined the circuit board was bad. We could replace it for around $170, or we could change out the entire roof vent fan for about $200. We opted for the latter. We liked the roof fan the factory had installed in our rig. It featured a rain sensor that signaled the vent door to close when wet. So we ordered the same thing from etrailer.com, a Maxxair MaxxFan Plus 4-speed roof vent, and had it sent to an upcoming stop. Removal Before we could install the new unit, we had to remove the old one. That meant pulling up existing self-leveling caulk from around the exterior of the vent. Early on a June morning in the middle of Louisiana, Bob climbed onto the roof and put his oscillating multitool to work to break apart the gummy caulk.  The buzzing overhead pulled me from my dreamy slumber. I rolled out of bed and went to help Bob, serving as his apprentice. Once he cut through enough caulk, we were able to lift the old vent out of place, exposing a large hole in the roof. More caulk clung to the rubber membrane surrounding the hole and had to be removed to create a level surface for the new unit.  The oscillating tool helped clear away the outer portion of sticky substance from the rubber roofing while I used my fingers to painstakingly pry the tacky residue from the inner square, where the vent had been attached. We swept away any remaining debris, and Bob added a fresh layer of non-leveling caulk around the inner square, in preparation for attaching the replacement vent. Installation With that done, we put the new unit into place. It fit perfectly. Bob reinserted the original screws to secure the vent to the roof. Using a caulking gun, he covered each of the 16 screws with a dollop of self-leveling caulk. Then he traced the edge of the vent unit with caulk and continued adding the substance until every portion around the vent cover was concealed.  Inside the fifth wheel, Bob removed the fan screen and shroud to expose the wires, connected them to the circuit board, and turned on the fan. The test proved successful. We could turn the fan both on and off with the wall controller. Bob put the shroud and screen back into place, and we have an operative roof vent fan once again.  In hindsight, we should have verified that the new unit worked before we sealed it to the RV roof. Thankfully, it functioned as intended, with no issues. You might also like Removing an RV TV antenna.   A wonderful couple we met on our Mexican Riviera cruise in January invited us to park our rig on their property in Southeastern Oklahoma if we were passing through. When Norm and Susan extended that offer, we didn’t know how much the stay would be needed. A week and a half on bright green farmland surrounded by pine, oak, hickory, and maple trees provided a much-needed respite for us to grieve our son’s tragic death in quiet solitude. Refuge or rendezvous? One night early into our stay, I awoke at about 2:20 a.m. overheated. After lying in bed with my mind racing for about 10 minutes, I heard a light scratching at the fifth-wheel door. It didn’t sound like a knock. I knew we hadn’t parked close to any trees, so it couldn’t be a branch being blown in the wind. What was it? I wondered. We hadn’t seen any creatures but rabbits, squirrels, birds, cows, and horses. On heightened alert, I strained to hear any additional noise. Then I detected moving metal, as if someone or something tried to open the door latch. I breathed a small sigh of relief at the recognition that I had locked the door, but I awakened Bob to warn him about the would-be intruder. “Something’s trying to get in our trailer,” I said. “Where are we?” he asked, a common question given our full-time RV life. It’s often difficult to keep track of where we are and where we’ve been. “At Norm’s,” I replied. “Who’s Norm?” he asked. I reminded him, and we quieted to listen for more sounds. Silence. Bob crawled out of bed and tiptoed toward the door. He peeled up the window blind and peeked out, seeing nothing. Maybe the gentle movement of the trailer had scared away whatever it was. Emboldened by Bob’s assessment, I peered out the window myself, seeing very little but darkness. We returned to bed and tried to identify what could have attempted to enter. A bear? Do they have bears in this area? A person? We were surrounded by farmland with friendly neighbors toward the end of a dirt road. It was unlikely that a person had tried to wander in. I assured Bob I had indeed heard the door latch move. Convinced the invader had moved on, we drifted back to sleep. Critter calling card The next morning, I opened the shade covering the window that overlooks our door and saw no signs of attempted entry. When I went outside, however, I discovered mud all over the stair railing.  Then I noticed three fingerprints on the door and bare metal on the edge of the door latch. “I was right,” I told Bob. Something had indeed tried to get in. Norm saw the evidence and confirmed it had been a raccoon. I could only imagine the results if the door had not been locked and the critter had entered our rig. I’m glad that didn’t happen.  I left the prints on the door that night as a deterrent to other critters that might want to get in, and we had no disturbances. The next day, I washed away the marks. Thankfully, we had no encounters that night either — although we almost forgot to lock the door. I remembered an hour or so after we went to bed and quickly got up to secure the door.
Earlier the night of the coon encounter, Bob had made steak and gravy for dinner, an amazing-smelling Cajun staple. The raccoon must have followed its nose to our rig, wanting to feast on any leftovers. You might also like Unwanted RV guest.  After our diesel turbo issue en route to Flagstaff, Arizona, our friend Ron posed a great question: “What are you doing to avoid a repeat of the turbo fault?” he asked. “Limping with a big rig behind doesn’t sound like fun.” That didn’t sound like fun to us either. Although Bob had successfully reset the codes the truck had pulled, we wanted to make sure we didn’t have a repeat incident. Having sensed some issues with our two truck batteries, we decided to proactively replace them — in a Walmart parking lot in Page, Arizona. After all, they were more than three years old. We parked near a collection of RVs and got to work. About 45 minutes later, we returned the old batteries to Walmart to regain our core charges and stock up on supplies.  Finding a fix We knew that wasn’t enough to correct the turbo fault. When we had our truck’s turbo replaced in December 2024, the shop that completed the work had recommended tuning the diesel engine as well. That would have been another couple of thousand dollars on top of the $6,600 we were already forking out, so we opted not to pursue it. After our turbo issue near Flagstaff, however, we thought the tuner might be worth the investment, especially once we realized we faced an 11,000-foot mountain pass on our route across Southern Colorado. We had the tuner shipped to a Boondockers Welcome host’s site in Yellow Jacket, Colorado, near the Four Corners, and paid for expedited shipping to ensure we’d receive it in time. It arrived a day late but was nowhere to be found after the UPS driver had called us and confirmed he left it at our rig. A stressful hour later, the host’s grandson delivered the package to us. He had picked it up thinking it was for his grandmother, whose name appeared on it in addition to ours. Installing the tuner The next day, Bob installed the tuner. The process required inserting a bypass cable for the On-Board Diagnostics (OBD) sensor under the truck’s dash to allow the tune to take place. Bob loaded an app onto his phone and then downloaded the tune settings the company had made specifically for our Dodge Ram 3500 dually through the app. He applied those to the vehicle following the guided instructions in the app. After that, Bob attached a switch under the dash and connected it to the OBD port. It enables us to manually transition between five tuner settings:
With the installation complete, Bob took Gulliver for a test-drive to see if he could detect any performance increase. Assessing the new tuner We knew the real test would come when towing our 18,000-pound fifth wheel, Tagalong. A couple of camping stops later, an 11,000-foot peak and the Continental Divide loomed between us and our next destination. With snow in the forecast, we were eager to get beyond the summit. We set out, trying to stay ahead of predicted windy conditions. But our stop at a gas station to dump our wastewater tanks, refill our propane, and add air to a tire with a slow leak turned into an hour. The tire wouldn’t take air. Bob put in as much as he could as the wind picked up. Butterflies in our stomachs, we headed toward the pass with the tuner set to heavy tow, hoping and praying we’d make it up and over with no issues. The climb started gradually, with two lanes for ascent. Faster vehicles passed on us on the left as the speed limit dropped, making the wind less of a concern.  We reached the summit safely with plenty of power and successfully began our descent, noticing the truck automatically downshifting, something it hadn’t done before. As we passed small towns with flags flapping in the wind, we counted our blessings.
We’re pleased with the tuner and glad we invested in it. In addition to increasing our truck’s performance, it gives us diagnostic data about the operation of the truck. You might also like Our top RV lessons in 5 years of RV travel.  When you hear the word Colorado, you likely think of mountains, snow, and skiing — and for good reason. Even the state’s license plates depict snowcapped mountains. The state boasts 4,053 named mountains, including 58 peaks higher than 14,000 feet, according to PeakVisor. And it averages 67.3 inches of snowfall each year, according to Uncover Colorado. That’s more than 5.5 feet. With those statistics, we weren’t surprised to awake to a white blanket outside our windows near Alamosa in April. Fortunately, it wasn’t a travel day. We lay low, and the snow melted before noon.  We were, however, amazed not to find a muddy mess as a result. We attributed that to Southern Colorado’s high desert geology. Sand covered the ground. Even more surprising was our realization that Colorado hosts Great Sand Dunes National Park, a strange phenomenon surrounded by towering, snowcapped mountains that reach the sky. In fact, the park is home to the tallest sand dunes in North America, rising up to 750 feet from base to crest, according to the National Park Service. The U.S. Geological Survey reports that average sand dunes measure up to 100 meters (328 feet) high. Intrigued, we decided to check them out for ourselves. Visiting Great Sand Dunes National Park As we drew near to the park, the dunes came into view. They didn’t seem like much in light of the colossal peaks looming behind them. And they definitely looked out of place. Like many others, we wondered what had caused sand dunes to be in such a mountainous location.  The 20-minute film in the visitor center gave us the answer: Every year, the surrounding Sangre de Cristo Mountains and San Juan Mountains shed their snow. As they do, the snowmelt carries sediment and pebbles from the mountains to the flatter ground. Over time, that accumulated to create these sandy hills that continue to be shaped by the wind. Satisfied with that answer, we loaded into Gulliver and drove to the dunes to see these marvels up close. With the wind in our faces, we started hiking, not an easy feat in the oxygen-deprived 7,500-foot elevation. The sand gave way under our feet, making us work for each step forward. Our hearts beat hard, and breath didn’t come easily. We reached a midway crest and sat down to rest and take in our surroundings. Unlike White Sands National Park, where lots of visitors sled down on round saucers, the mode of choice here was a sandboard. Similar to a snowboard, it has footholds. We watched a young man gracefully navigate down a slope, only to fall at the end. The sand, quite the opposite of fluffy snow, has no cushioning qualities. He lay on the ground for a while before eventually getting up. We opted not to attempt a high-speed descent here. As we sat on our perch, wind blew the sand grains all around us, covering our clothes and even filling our pockets. We relished the cooling breeze and magnificent views before making our descent, grateful we had made a point to visit this amazing wonder. You might also like Experiencing the Albuquerque Balloon Fiesta.   Durango, Colorado, in the Four Corners area, has a long railroad history. In fact, the city was founded by the Denver and Rio Grande Railroad in 1880 for mining purposes, and the railroad arrived the following year. Today, the city is still known for railroads — specifically, the Durango and Silverton Narrow Gauge Railroad. Narrow gauge means the rails are about 3 feet, 6 inches apart. As a result, they can maneuver tighter curves than their standard gauge counterparts (4 feet, 8.5 inches apart), making them ideal for mountainous areas. Although most narrow gauge railroads in the U.S. have ended operations, a couple of them are still in service for passenger rides. The Durango and Silverton is one of them. The White Pass and Yukon Route in Alaska is the other. While journeying across Southern Colorado, we couldn’t pass up the opportunity to go back in time and experience the railroad in Durango. Here’s what it was like to ride the Durango-Silverton train. Climbing aboard Since the train line isn’t open to Silverton until early May, and we were in Durango in April, we opted for the five-hour Cascade Canyon round trip. Not knowing if we’d ever be in Durango again, we splurged for a first-class car, which gave us each a window seat with a wooden table between us, complimentary soft drinks, a breakfast muffin, souvenir cups, and a tote bag.  After getting our fifth wheel situated at the La Plata County Fairgrounds (for much cheaper than a campground in the area), we nestled in for the night, eager for our adventure the next day. We arrived a half hour early for our 9:15 a.m. departure time, parked, and followed volunteers’ guidance across the railroad tracks to get our first glimpse of the train. Heat emanated from engine 482, and white smoke floated into the bright blue sky. We snapped some photos, boarded our car, and settled into 20th-century luxury.  The interior decor beckoned back to the 1880s: wooden beams and tables, padded wooden chairs, wire racks above our heads for luggage, a wooden counter, and a uniformed attendant who served us and shared stories about the train and the experience we were about to embark on.  Chugging along Two long, loud whistles sounded from the engine, and the train chugged into action, moving slowly as we meandered through town, passing people waving and taking pictures. The car moved back and forth, feeling less stable than a B-25 WWII bomber, as it followed the Animas River, offering beautiful views. The curvy, climbing route ascended through the San Juan Mountains, part of the Rocky Mountain Range, as the train rocked to and fro. The smell of burning oil from the engine drifted through the open windows, which offered breathtaking views of steep cliff faces, deep canyons, and the winding river.  Letting off steam One long whistle burst from the engine as the train slowed to a stop to refill its water supply. A few minutes and whistles later, the train roared back into action. After a couple of hours, we had navigated 26 miles and climbed about 1,500 feet in elevation to the Cascade Wye, where the train stopped moving and then backed up to get into position to take us back down to Durango. It came to a complete halt and let all 200 passengers off to wander the expansive area and enjoy lunch while the crew recharged. The destination gave us opportunities to capture more pictures with the train, this time in a mountain setting. We ambled away from the group to the rushing river and basked in its peaceful burbling, the wind in our faces. We lingered there, exploring the variety of colorful rocks. After trekking to the last of the 16 train cars, we noticed a wooden pedestrian bridge spanning the river and hurried toward it for a different perspective on the location, which featured fire pits and picnic tables. Contented, we slowly worked our way back to the train, not wanting to get left behind. Although we found the area inviting, we had been warned that the next train wouldn’t arrive until the following day. Backtracking We returned to our seats about five minutes before the engineer blasted the train’s whistle to warn passengers that we were about to depart. Since the train had made an about face, the journey back into town highlighted different scenery. We traded stunning glimpses of canyons and valleys for close-ups of craggy rocks that nearly hugged the train in places. We walked to the deck on the back of our car to experience the outside views for a bit before settling in for the duration. The way down the mountains offered different sensations as the couplers between train cars jerked from slack to taut. Still, we enjoyed the excursion into the valley and the captivating scenery it provided.  After two hours of descent, the train reached the end (er, beginning?) of the line and pulled back into the Durango station. We exited our car grateful that we had taken advantage of the opportunity to embark on such an amazing adventure.
You might also like 3 adventurous things to do in Alamogordo, New Mexico.  In five years of full-time RVing, we’ve seen a lot that this great country has to offer, from vast oceans to towering mountains to broad prairies to rolling hills to expansive deserts. Although we had managed to stand in three states at one point — South Dakota, Minnesota, and Iowa — one goal eluded us: visiting the Four Corners Monument, the only place in America where you can stand in four states at once. A brass plate in the ground marks the junction of Utah, Colorado, New Mexico, and Arizona.  Much of the Four Corners region belongs to the Navajo Nation, as does the monument. Getting there from any direction requires driving through reservation land. We had traveled through the Navajo Nation from north to south on two different occasions — once on the western portion and once on the eastern. But we’d never driven through it west to east or vice versa. We used the Page, Arizona, area as our jumping-off point. After spending a week about 45 minutes southeast of Page in alluring Marble Canyon near Lees Ferry, we were ready to move on. We navigated to U.S. Route 160, which, coincidentally, is also known as the Navajo Trail — for good reason. It starts in the midwest section of the Navajo Nation and takes travelers northeast, directly to Four Corners before continuing into and across Southern Colorado and ending in Southeastern Missouri. In a three-hour span, stretching high desert gave way to beautiful red rocks, fascinating formations, and panoramic views. Eight flags flying in the wind signified we had reached the Four Corners Monument. We stopped at a booth, paid our $8 per-person entrance fee, and found a parking spot to take advantage of this rare opportunity and snap photos as proof.  Where to from here? From Four Corners, exploration opportunities abound in every direction, all rich in Native American history. Northeastern Arizona showcases Monument Valley, also part of the Navajo Nation and the most famous area of the Four Corners region. Featured in numerous movies and popularized by Forrest Gump’s enduring run in the eponymous film, the spectacular red rock formations draw more than 400,000 annual visitors to see the marvels for themselves, according to bluffutah.org. We had the privilege of glimpsing the incredible buttes in 2021 and found ourselves in awe of the amazing landscape, although we opted not to pay the fee to get up close.  Southeastern Utah boasts its own red rocks and magnificent formations en route to Moab and stunning national parks, including Canyonlands and Arches. Northwestern New Mexico features the largest city of the Four Corners region, Farmington, with a population greater than 46,000, according to the U.S. Census Bureau. The area is also home to Zuni Pueblo, the state’s largest, as well as Aztec Ruins National Monument and Navajo Lake State Park. In Southwestern Colorado, vast farmlands coexist with historical sites, including Canyons of the Ancients National Monument and Mesa Verde National Park, which displays one of the best-preserved cliff dwellings. Finding direction Having spent ample time in Arizona, Utah, and New Mexico — though more in the Albuquerque area than the northwest — we opted to head to Southern Colorado. We had originally planned to spend much of our 2025 travel season in Colorado but changed our minds after driving Interstate 25 from Wyoming to Albuquerque in 2024. The traffic congestion, on a Saturday, made us want to avoid our old stomping grounds in the Denver area, where we had lived as newlyweds. During that time, we didn’t explore much of Colorado outside of Denver. The state offers a different landscape and climate than the other parts of the Four Corners region, with breathtaking views of snow-capped mountains that make us grateful for our Creator and the RV life we get to lead. You might also like 3 cool things to do in Yuma, Arizona.   We started our sixth year of full-time RV living in slow motion. We only moved 5 miles away for our first stop, and we didn’t leave that spot until 10 a.m. on our departure day. After emptying our wastewater tanks and stopping for coffee, we finally merged onto the highway at 11 a.m. for a potential five-plus-hour drive from Mesa, Arizona, to Page, Arizona. About an hour later, the congested cityscape gave way to expansive desert landscape, and we breathed sighs of relief. After six busy months in a metropolis, we were ready for a change of pace. The big truck that could Vast deserts turned into mountainous regions, and we enjoyed a leisurely drive. While making the last long ascent into Flagstaff, a ding sounded from our truck dashboard, signaling that the check engine light had come on. “Oh no!” we thought. We had just changed our truck’s turbo after having issues during our last travel season. “Was the root cause something else?” we wondered aloud. Slowing our pace, we kept going. The turbo continued to work all the way to Flagstaff. But while making a small climb just outside the city, and flooring the gas pedal, our speed dropped from 35 mph to 25 mph. We thought it best to find a place to stay in the area, where resources were available. Fortunately, Bob had already identified such a location as a backup plan in case we didn’t want to complete the drive to Page in one day. And that spot happened to be shortly after this hill-climbing challenge. We pulled off the main highway and turned off the truck. Bob rummaged through a bin in our basement to find his vehicle code checker to see why the truck’s check engine light had come on. The results indicated an airflow leak in the intake system. On the level We found a great spot to boondock off a fire road in the Coconino Forest, but Flagstaff is hilly. We couldn’t position our 42-foot fifth wheel to get level. Not knowing if we’d need to be in the area for a week or two to address the truck issue, we wanted to make sure we had a good setup. After two hours of trying multiple angles and parking spots, we finally got our lengthy rig level and set it up. Bob spent many hours researching the truck issue before we called it a night.  The temperature had been forecast to get down to 26 degrees, a drastic change from the 80-degree temps we had left in the Valley of the Sun. Upon waking, I crawled out of bed to turn on our propane heater. The digital thermometer inside the rig read 44 degrees. With the heat on, I clambered back into bed to snuggle under the covers for warmth. Further research indicated our truck would be OK. Our new high-performance turbo has the ability to send more air into the engine than our truck computer expects. When this happens, the computer thinks it’s an error and puts the truck into limp mode, which greatly decreases performance. Just to be sure, we wanted to drive Gulliver around, separated from the trailer. While running a few errands, the truck’s check engine light never came back on. The road less traveled Although we would have been content in Flagstaff, the weather forecast called for snow a few days later. We wanted to avoid that if possible. After a leisurely breakfast that included huevos rancheros and an egg burrito at a homey cafe, we returned to our rig to pack it up for another move. At 1:30 p.m., we hit the road and headed north. Instead of going to Page, we decided to camp on Bureau of Land Management land near Lees Ferry, southwest of Page en route to the north rim of the Grand Canyon, which hadn’t yet opened for the season. Lees Ferry, part of Glen Canyon National Park, is the only place within Glen Canyon where you can drive to the Colorado River, according to the National Park Service.  After setting up our rig for optimal views of the towering red cliffs that line Marble Canyon, we took advantage of our proximity to Lees Ferry to admire God’s beautiful creation there. Of course, we had to dip our hands in the river’s water. The magnificent panorama that comprised our front and back yards for the week cost us the price of relentless wind for a day and a half and a blanket of fine dust on every surface in our trailer. But it was all worth it for the amazing scenery, the peace and quiet, and the slow pace of living.
You might also like Exploring Valley of Fire State Park in Nevada.  The day before our scheduled departure from our winter RV location, we still hadn’t put the fifth-wheel hitch in the bed of the truck or topped off our propane tanks. Nor had we done any packing to speak of — although we had fixed some upholstery issues, defrosted our freezer, cleaned our ceiling fan, and lightened our load by getting rid of some rarely used items. We didn’t feel ready to travel. But the mobile home/RV park we were at had a strict 179-day maximum RV stay. This led to a very unordinary RV travel day. Preparing to hit the road Due to local responsibilities we wanted to complete, including helping our son finish a drywall project and tying off loose ends at the Commemorative Air Force, we decided to stay close. With high temperatures in the forecast, we knew we’d need an electric hookup, but all of the campgrounds in the area were booked, as it was still prime snowbird season. Thankfully, our friends Peter and Janice graciously offered to let us moochdock on their property, 5 miles away — our shortest point-to-point distance ever. The morning of our departure, Bob busied himself with inflating the six tires on Gulliver and the four on Tagalong while I worked on preparing the inside of the trailer for travel. That meant clearing areas to allow the slideouts to come into the rig and securing any loose items for the impending earthquake that would rattle all of our belongings.  I was most excited about the prospect of seeing our table again. It had become a dumping ground for things that needed our attention or we didn’t know what to do with. Normally, I would have started packing the night before to make for a smooth and relatively quick trailer closing so that we could connect it to the truck and get on the road. Our brief travel distance eased our pressure, giving us time to make sure we did everything properly — an important aspect after getting out of the habit. Four hours later, after taking care of a number of other tasks, including resealing the rig’s underbelly, we dusted off our checklists to ensure we wouldn’t forget any steps when closing Tagalong’s slideouts and connecting the truck to the trailer.  Finding a way in Getting situated at Peter and Janice’s required backing in a long distance. But first, we had to turn around to get into position to go in reverse. We had two options:
We attempted the first option, which meant backing down a hill to turn the trailer around. It started off well. Then CLUNK! Bob thought he hit a gate. I assured him he wasn’t close to the gate, and we wrote off the sound as “normal” truck and trailer noises while moving. We were wrong and learned a very important lesson: If the truck and trailer aren’t mostly level, we shouldn’t attempt a 90-degree turn. Trying to make that maneuver on an incline caused the fifth-wheel pin box to hit the edge of the truck bed, bending the frame that holds our tonneau cover. Oops!  On to the second option. Bob backed up the trailer farther to get into position to drive around the neighbor’s U-shaped drive. As he pulled onto the neighbor’s property, he caught the flank of the trailer on a rebar post, ripping the side camera off Tagalong. We didn’t use the side cameras much anyway, so we didn’t think it a big deal.  If at first you don’t succeed After backing up again and re-entering the property, we had no issues. Bob drove the trailer around the drive and got it into position for the lengthy backup procedure, which involved avoiding large rocks, making a turn, and staying out of a pit. It proved a great way to get re-initiated to trailering for our travel season. The process went slow but successfully. Bob avoided all the obstacles and parked the trailer. We disconnected and leveled it and started setting up. That’s when we discovered that our electric cord wasn’t long enough to reach the receptacle — even with an additional 30-foot extension cord. We needed another 3 to 4 feet. We reconnected the truck to the trailer, and Bob scooched Tagalong’s tail closer to the outlet. The electric cord reached, and we were able to disconnect the truck and trailer and set up our home. In our debrief afterward, we realized we still need to work on our communication. Bob thought I was pointing at a bush when I tried to stop him from hitting the rebar. Instead of yelling “Stop!” through the walkie-talkie, my words could have been clearer, such as, “You’re x inches from hitting rebar on the driver side of the trailer.” We did both stay calm through it all, so that’s improvement. Although we didn’t travel far, we appreciated the change of scenery — beautiful mountain views and desert landscape — as well as the quietness of being farther from the city. And the issues we encountered were easy fixes that Bob already repaired. You might also like Our top RV lessons in 5 years of RV travel.  Having been stationary for nearly six months — a seeming eternity for full-time RVers — we were itching for a travel experience. When some friends wanted help moving a trailer from the Phoenix area to Yuma, Arizona, we jumped at the chance. It would get us back on the road and allow us to visit my parents — a win-win. The plan included leaving Gulliver behind in Mesa, Arizona, and using the friends’ truck to tow the trailer. Ultimately, it led us to find adventure in unusual places. When you haven’t towed in a while, it can be easy to forget steps, such as checking connections and performing a pre-travel vehicle walkaround. We had to get back into our on-the-road mindset. We took the route through the city of Maricopa, which led us over numerous rolling hills before reaching the halfway point in Gila Bend. While on those hills, we heard a scraping noise a couple of times and determined it to be the trailer tires oscillating. Upon reaching Gila Bend, we pulled over to check on the trailer and quickly realized the true source of the scraping. The extendable leg of the electric trailer jack had come loose from its housing, allowing its foot to hit the asphalt on the hills and bending the extension. With it in that condition, there was no way to get it back into its housing. The right tool for the job Bob was able to remove the foot of the unit. This allowed him to get three fingers underneath — not enough clearance for safe driving the rest of the way.  We checked the Love’s truck stop for a sledge hammer to knock the extension back in alignment so that we could raise it into the housing but didn’t find one. We did, however, have a hacksaw with us. That turned out to be the right tool for the job. Bob lay on the ground and painstakingly cut through the metal pipe with the saw. With that done and out of the way, he loosened the bolts holding the electric jack in place and removed the unit from the trailer’s tongue. Although that rendered the trailer essentially stuck to the truck, it made for safe driving to our destination.  In Yuma, we secured a replacement electric jack from Harbor Freight and installed it. Problem solved and crisis averted. On the road again Fortunately for us, that was only part of the adventure. We enjoyed some time with my parents, and then we learned that our friends needed us to move the trailer again, this time from Yuma to Tucson. Although less excited about this relocation, we were up for it. Our travels took us through expansive desert, past Picacho Peak, and into Saguaro National Park — with more rolling hills. Good thing we had replaced the trailer’s electric jack. After we reached our destination, our friends told us they were going to fly us back to Mesa in a private Twin Commander plane.  We buckled in for a comfortable, roomy ride that gave us an aerial view of the Central Arizona Project canal system and the airplane boneyard in Pinal Airpark, a place we tried to visit once but didn’t have security clearance.
Thirty minutes after takeoff, we touched down in Mesa, culminating a few days’ worth of adventure and whetting our appetites for more. You might also like A Jurassic adventure. |
AuthorThis is the travel blog of full-time RVers Bob and Lana Gates and our truck, Gulliver, and fifth wheel, Tagalong. Categories
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