 About 30 minutes into the first leg of our seventh season of RV travel, a ding sounded from the truck dash. We didn’t see the message that followed, but it didn’t take us long to figure out the issue. The truck started whistling again, like it had the previous August while towing our fifth wheel up a Montana mountain. Having spent thousands of dollars to fix the issue while wintering in Arizona, we were shocked to hear the annoying sound again so soon. Gulliver hadn’t made the high-pitched noise when not towing. We turned off the exhaust brake, and the sound dissipated. Clearly, it was related to that, which is also part of the turbo. We continued on without unusual noises from the engine and enjoyed a scenic route through Eastern Arizona on state highways before transitioning to Interstate 10 in Lordsburg, New Mexico, en route to our Texas property. It turned out to be a challenging RV journey east. Peculiar happenings Before long, a rock struck our windshield with such impact that the crack immediately splintered. Fortunately, the chip didn’t affect either of our driving views.  In addition, the truck whistle returned and seemed to increase in intensity the longer we drove. We made it almost to El Paso, Texas, that night and hunkered down at a Boondockers Welcome host. It turned out to be the perfect overnight stop, offering easy access, quiet tranquility, and the ability to open a couple of slide-outs so that we could feel at home after a long day’s drive.  Upon our arrival there, I went to open the stairs to the rig, but something seemed to prevent them from going down like normal. I heard a loud pop. Upon closer examination, I discovered that a water bottle had escaped the plastic-sealed package stored inside the door and wedged itself under the stairs. The pressure of the stairs going down on the bottle forced the lid off. I chuckled, cleaned up the mess, and climbed the steps to open the living/dining room slide-out and the bedroom slide-out. After finishing outside, Bob joined me and went to fetch a saucepan to reheat homemade soup for dinner. He found a puddle of oil in the bottom of the drawer. Either the change in elevation or the impact of hitting bumps had caused our olive oil dispenser to fall over and empty its contents, something that had never happened in six years of storing it in the same spot.  A maze of clouds Wanting to avoid precipitation in our target destination the next day, we got an early start and checked the weather radar regularly throughout the day. Although Bob had spent a couple of pre-travel days under our slide-outs to seal them against water penetration, we don’t like to drive our RV in the rain. God had cleared the way for our travel. We hit only light rain and a couple of cloud bursts as thunderstorms rolled by, nothing major. At one point while I was behind the steering wheel, I noticed in my rearview mirror a piece of trim on the trailer flapping in the wind. I kept one eye on the road and one on the mirror. The trim kept getting looser. Not wanting it to beat against the fifth wheel, we pulled to the side of the road. Bob got out, forced the trim back into place, and taped it down to keep it from popping out again. With that, we continued our journey.  Exhausted when we finally reached San Antonio, we parked in a Bass Pro Shops parking lot for the night (keeping all slide-outs closed), walked to a restaurant for dinner, patronized Bass Pro, and returned to the RV to crash. We awoke to a wet morning. The forecast called for worse weather in the area as the day progressed, so we didn’t linger. We got right on the freeway, stopping only for coffee and fuel, and encountered a little more rain than the day before. A welcoming sight It didn’t slow us down too much, though. We reached our property near the Gulf of America by noon, laying eyes on our driveway for the first time, beckoning us to park on it. We had arranged to have it installed while we were away. We also had the overgrown bush on our land pruned down and discovered we have eight trees. We thought there were only four or five in there. We’re thrilled to have a respite from long drives and high fuel costs, and we really like it here. It’s peaceful and quiet. Birds sing us melodies, a rabbit dashes about, green grass and trees refresh our souls, and sea breezes keep the humid climate from feeling unbearable.
You might also like Surprises on the first visit to our property.
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 It’s a good thing we didn’t secure the loveseat to the floor at the back of our fifth wheel when we replaced our RV furniture. After we removed the original tables that flanked the couch that used to sit there so that we could install new end tables we bought from Amazon (paid link), we discovered a soft spot in the floor. We knew it had been caused by water damage and needed to be addressed. Water is necessary for survival, but inside an RV, it can wreak havoc — and cause RVers to do crazy things. Not wanting our new tables, which came in at least 17 pieces each and took hours to assemble, to lean toward the exterior — or worse, fall through a hole in the floor — we watched some YouTube videos about repairing a rotten RV floor and got to work. Since the soft spot in our floor was near a back corner, we decided the best way to access it would be to pull up the linoleum from the corner. With a utility knife, I cut the edge of the linoleum the length of the side wall. Then I removed staples along the back wall holding the linoleum down and peeled the piece up to reveal discoloration.  Removing rot Before we could repair the floor, we had to remove the rotten wood. Bob and I traded places, and he started pulling up large splinters of plywood with his fingers. They came up easily in lots of pieces. Before we knew it, we could see a hole in the floor.  He kept breaking off pieces to reveal a 2-by-3 support board. It too showed signs of water damage but still provided enough support that it was salvageable. Bob peeled the plywood to the wall and toward the interior until it stopped coming apart effortlessly. Then, using his oscillating tool, he cut the floorboard to create straight edges for us to fill in with a replacement board. But to adequately attach a new board, we had to remove rotten plywood from atop the base board under the wall. For that, Bob used a chisel.  That gave us two places to attach a fresh piece of wood, but we weren’t convinced that would provide enough stability. We wanted a third support. Looking at the floor, we saw a series of screws leading toward the back wall, potentially indicating another 2-by-3. Bob reached under the floor and confirmed our theory. We decided to cut the floor to that board.  Fixing the damage We made a trip to The Home Depot and picked up Bondo Wood Filler, Bondo Rotted Wood Restorer, sandpaper, trim for the edges of the floor, stain and paint sponges to apply the stain to the trim, linoleum adhesive, screws to attach a new piece of wood to the subfloor, and L brackets to attach our tables to the floor. We only needed a 5-inch-by-8 inch piece of plywood but had to buy a 4-foot-by-8-foot sheet. But we found a 2-by-3 piece of wood in a trash can that a worker let us take for free, and he even cut it to the length we wanted. After getting our supplies home, Bob went to work painting the rotted wood restorer on the flooring around our freshly created hole and the damaged support beam. It made for some strong chemical smells while being applied that lingered while it dried and hardened the damaged floor to create a more solid base.  The next day, Bob cut the plywood to the size we needed and attached the 2-by-3 we bought and the plywood to the floor. Then he covered the seams and any remaining low spots with the wood filler. When that dried, he sanded it down to make a smooth surface. Putting the floor back together Meanwhile, I stained the trim we had bought for the base boards and left it to dry. It took a few coats. When Bob was happy with his repair job, we were ready to put the linoleum back down. He slathered linoleum adhesive on the floor to ensure the linoleum would stay in place. Then we carefully smoothed it over the plywood and back into position, covering all evidence of an issue. Before we completely put our living room back together, we wanted to address a gap we had noticed between the floor and the back wall. After another trip to The Home Depot, Bob came home with some spray foam and forced that into the gap to seal it. Once that dried, he cleaned up the excess and attached the new trim pieces.  Next, it was time to attach our furniture to keep it from moving during travel. We took measurements to ensure the back loveseat would be out of the way of the slide-outs when closed, marked the floor with tape to ensure we aligned it properly, and Bob secured it to the floor. After that, we identified the best locations for our side tables to allow easy access to the cup holders they provided, even from our other loveseat, and marked those positions with tape. Then we pulled out one table at a time, attached L brackets to two legs, moved it back into position, and screwed the L brackets to the floor.  We repeated the process on the second table and stood back to observe our handiwork. Our lips curled upward as we took in our completed living room, happily satisfied with our choices and what we accomplished.
You might also like Removing an RV TV antenna. As Amazon associates, we earn from qualifying purchases.  When we turn on a water faucet, we expect water to come out of it. Imagine my surprise when I turned on the hot water tap on the kitchen sink in our fifth wheel and that didn’t happen. Flabbergasted, I vocalized my discontent and tried the cold tap. It worked. A day before that experience, I had noticed less water pressure from that faucet and mentioned my finding to Bob. I checked our hose connection to city water and verified it was fully open. I racked my brain but couldn’t figure out the issue. When no water came out of the kitchen faucet with the temperature set to hot, Bob checked the bathroom hot water tap and barely got anything out there. But the cold water worked in both sinks. Clearly, something was wrong. With no time to address the issue, we set it aside and hoped for the best. Worsening problem A couple of days later, I turned on the bathroom faucet and found significantly reduced water pressure. Liquid dribbled out, even with both taps fully open. What happened to the water? Had it gone off for the entire RV park we were staying at? I went to the kitchen sink to check. The cold water worked properly there. I told Bob about the situation, and he didn’t seem too concerned. He did some research anyway and told me to use the clubhouse shower in the meantime. According to Bob’s research, our symptoms reflected a common problem in RVs: a check valve malfunction. The check valve prevents heated water from going back into the water heater. It’s designed to block winterizing fluid from mixing with water and contaminating the RV’s water supply. Since we live in our rig full time, we’ve never winterized it, so this seemed like an odd problem. Regardless, the valve wasn’t letting water out of the water heater. Replacing the check valve We went to Camping World and picked up a replacement check valve for about $11. Bob turned off all water to the rig and shut off the water heater. He opened the faucets to let any trapped water escape from the lines. Then he removed the contents of our basement and unscrewed some wall panels to get to the back of the water heater. He detached the water line, used channel locks to remove the old plastic check valve, added Teflon tape around the threads of the new brass valve, and installed it. Replacing the valve was easier than getting to its location. While Bob was at it, he upgraded the pressure relief valve as well.  Finding the source Bob turned the water and water heater back on and verified both were working properly. With that confirmation, he put the basement back together and showed me the culprit: delamination of the inside of the valve, perhaps caused by Arizona’s hard water. Essentially, the valve had started eating itself, causing blockage.  Depending on the source of information, check valves can last anywhere from five to 20 years. Ours had survived eight years before giving up the ghost. One of the biggest factors contributing to a shorter lifespan is high temperatures, according to John Valves.
We bought our rig in Arizona in June 2019, and it’s lived five to six months every year (usually October to March time frame) in the Phoenix area ever since, most often with the water heater facing south, the sunny side. Maybe we should have another check valve on hand for the next time it fails. Then again, we should be good for at least five years. You might also like When things go wrong in RV life.  No RVer ever wants to experience trouble with their black wastewater tank, the one where all the sewer goes. Just the thought of that brings up images of the memorable scene in the movie “RV” when Robin Williams connects two sewer hoses to try to empty his rented RV’s black tank and a geyser erupts. We started to notice a trend every time we went to dump our black tank: The lever handle was difficult to pull. It seemed to be gummed up on the inside, causing stickiness and friction. We could get it partially open, but it took extra effort to get it to the fully open position.  Not wanting to take any chances on trying to fix it ourselves, we called a mobile RV tech to repair our black tank troubles. Black tank repair, take 1 The morning the tech was scheduled to arrive, Bob drained the contents from the black tank. Then he attached a hose to the trailer and forced water into the tank to flush it. After it reached capacity, he emptied it again. He repeated that process multiple times to give the tech a clean area to work with.  Bob also emptied our basement storage compartment and removed walls to allow access to the plumbing and wiring. Bob was sure the cable was the problem. As soon as Manny from Cruz Mobile RV Repair showed up and took a look, he told us it wasn’t the cable. It was the valve, which relies on the lever to slide a blade back and forth between two gaskets to seal contents in and let them flow out. Back to square one Unfortunately for us, Manny had just used the only valve on his truck at the previous customer stop. He couldn’t get another one that day and told us he’d be back in a week. Not wanting to leave our belongings outside in the intense Arizona sun and heat for a week, Bob reattached the basement walls and moved our stuff back in. A week later, he reversed course yet again, emptying the basement contents, removing the wall boards, and emptying and flushing the black tank. Black tank repair, take 2 Manny returned and got right to work. He crawled under the fifth wheel and cut a hole in our new underbelly to access the faulty black tank valve. He had to disconnect it from the black tank and then crawl inside the basement to fully remove it. He began installing the new valve and gaskets. To alleviate further problems, he decided to reroute the cable for the valve to allow it to move more freely. This took a little extra work.  Once he got everything securely in place, he had me open and close the lever multiple times. What a difference! Instead of pulling with all my might against friction, the lever moved smoothly and easily — and opened all the way without extra exertion.
Then Manny had me add water to the tank so that he could check for leaks. I complied and left the water running into the tank while he continued to finalize the installation of the valve and cable, including securing it to the rig. After some time, Manny had me shut off the water and empty the tank. To our relief, nothing leaked. With that confirmation, he crawled under the trailer again to reseal the underbelly to complete the job. He left, and I reattached the wall boards in the basement and moved our belongings back in, out of the sun, grateful we had called a mobile RV tech instead of trying to complete that job on our own. You might also like Our strangest experiences in 6 years of RV life.  Rain is a good thing, as a Luke Bryan country song says. It makes the beautiful greenery we enjoy in places such as Northern Arizona. It also creates mud, something we try to avoid as the owners of a truck without four-wheel drive. (We intentionally ordered our dually that way from the factory to save on gas mileage and gears to maintain.) After three-and-a-half wonderful sunny days boondocking at a Boondockers Welcome site in Northern Arizona, light rain and drizzle turned into something more substantial, thanks to the remnants of Cyclone Priscilla. We were parked near a gravel drive, so we didn’t think much of the situation — until we loaded into Gulliver in an attempt to go visit our friends Neil and Leanna and got stuck in the mud.  Gulliver needs a tow … again Rain continued to pour as we tried to determine a way out of the muddy mess. Our host heard us revving the truck engine and came over to say hi, as we hadn’t met him yet. He offered to pull us out with his Ford F-350 4x4 truck. Lew went to get his truck, and we retrieved the tow strap we had invested in after another time of getting both Gulliver and Tagalong stuck. Bob attached it to both trucks, and Lew climbed into his vehicle to take out the slack. With that done, Bob crawled into Gulliver.  I stood in the rain to communicate between the two drivers, a difficult chore given the revving engines and the sound of the precipitation. Lew’s truck successfully pulled ours, but our highway tires slipped in the mud, drawing Gulliver closer to the trailer and making Bob and me nervous. The three of us reassessed the situation. We relocated where the tow strap attached on each vehicle, and Bob closed his side mirrors. The second tow drew the truck even closer to Tagalong. Something had to change. We had Lew back up and reposition his truck in another location to tow Gulliver toward the gravel drive and away from the trailer. This time, it worked. With Gulliver out of the mud and on gravel, we thanked Lew and loaded up to visit our friends, an hour later than planned. I peeled off my saturated raincoat only to find my shirt sleeves wet. Apparently, the jacket wasn’t designed for an hour of downpour. After a wonderful time with our friends, we returned in the dark, with hopes of getting the trailer out the next day. Getting the RV out of a sticky situation Not wanting to get the truck stuck again, we took serious measures to prevent that. Bob cut and laid dead Juniper branches in the anticipated path of the truck tires for grip in the sloppy mud mess. He sent me on a hunt to find lava rocks on the property that we could use to provide traction under the truck when starting to tow the trailer. I dragged my bucket around like Igor in “Frankenstein,” watching for young prickly pear cactus along the way and discovering wild mushrooms in the process. After two bucket loads of rocks, we had accumulated enough to provide a good grip for the truck tires. Convinced we were prepared to move the trailer from its dirt perch to the gravel drive, we connected it to Gulliver. Then we went over our plan, wondering aloud if we’d be able to clear a small Juniper tree en route. Our original plan, before the rain had turned dry ground into peanut butter, was to pull forward and then back Gulliver onto the gravel drive to line us up to leave. That was no longer an option.  I was convinced Bob could clear the tree. He wasn’t so sure. We knew momentum would be key and discussed being willing to scratch the side of the trailer to keep from getting stuck. Arizona racing stripes never hurt anything. Equipped with walkie-talkies, Bob climbed into Gulliver and I tried to find a decent place to stand. From my vantage point, I could see the tree — until the trailer blocked my view. Bob pulled out. Everything looked good, so I told him to keep going. He stepped on the gas and succeeded in getting Tagalong onto the gravel driveway. But he heard a loud crunch in the process. I thought we had made it just fine. But as I approached the rear of the trailer, I noticed a tire mark awfully close to the tree. I moved nearer to investigate and found our plastic trailer fender lying on the ground in pieces, along with a light cover that had been ripped off the side of the rig.  Examining the trailer revealed remnants of the tree jammed into every crevice they could fit. The bottom right corner of the entry door had been bent up, as had the bottom right of where the fender had been attached.
As we inspected the damage, we found ourselves grateful that it was mostly cosmetic. It hurt our pride more than anything. The situation could have been much worse. An important debriefing After leaving the property, we conversed about what we did wrong and what we would have done differently. The problem came down to being in a hurry. As full-time RVers, we know that most mistakes happen when we’re either tired or rushing. Our kids were coming up to meet us at our next destination about an hour away, and we wanted to get there before them. We could have waited longer for the ground to dry out, as the sun had cleared the clouds and was working its magic. Or we could have called our Coach-Net roadside assistance service to tow us out, even though it could have taken an hour or longer for a tech to arrive. It doesn’t pay to rush as RVers. We learned that lesson early on when we first marred the same side of our rig on our very first venture out. It hit home harder after this. Regardless, we had a wonderful time with our kids and granddaughter. Bob was able to clean the mud streaks off the side of the trailer, making the damage less noticeable. He also banged out some dents and fixed the door frame so that we could open the door. We’ll get a new fender and fix the light. And we’ll take our time in the future — and not stay on dirt in Northern Arizona if any rain is in the forecast. You might also like Our top RV lessons in 5 years of RV travel.  For more than a year, we had succeeded in not acquiring any stowaways while boondocking. Then one night near Salt Lake City, Utah, while Bob was up late playing a computer game, he saw a little mouse run across our kitchen counter. Bob quickly got up to follow the rodent and observed it underneath our TV televator eating tortilla chips that had dropped there, out of reach. Not wanting to be pestered by the nuisance, or encourage it to invite friends, Bob moved things off the counter to where (hopefully) the mouse couldn’t get to them and set a trap. We were getting ready to leave the country for nearly two weeks and didn’t want to return to a mess of destruction. The next morning, we awoke to a dead fieldmouse. The greedy little thing had died trying to get to a big piece of cheese. Snake alert The next day, Bob returned from a laundromat trip and told me I needed to see the truck. “Oh no!” I thought. “What now?” Bob pointed to my sandals, wanting me to put them on to go look at the truck, but something caught my eye. “Why is there a snake in here?” I asked. Knowing that Bob is a prankster, I thought he had intentionally put the small tan snake there to trick me. He hadn’t. He grabbed a towel to try to capture the creature to throw outside, but it slithered into the mechanism that allows us to stow our RV stairs for travel and disappeared out of sight. We lifted the stairs into the trailer, hoping that would knock the snake loose. No such luck. So, we put the stairs back down, and Bob grabbed a flashlight. From my vantage point outside the rig, I could see a tiny part of the snake’s body, but there appeared to be no easy way to knock it loose. Bob got a brilliant idea to fetch a lighter. With it, he literally lit a fire right under the snake, and it eagerly left its perch. Bob was able to throw the snake out of the trailer, but it landed on our top step. That was still too close for comfort. Finally, it dropped from the stairs and slithered toward our tires. I didn’t want it anywhere near our living quarters. Bob handed me our fly swatter, and I used that to move the snake farther away from our home. Then Bob came out, scooped up the ready-to-strike (but not rattling) reptile, and flung it over the ridge next to our trailer. Free at last. Safety nets Despite those unpleasant encounters, we had a lovely time at our stop in Utah. Every morning and evening, paragliders and hang gliders graced us with alluring views as they flew into the wind over a ridge. We set up our chairs and watched in amazement while relishing the temperate air and the panorama of the Rocky Mountains and Utah Lake.  Fellow RVers Joe and Andrea joined us, and we all agreed we lead an extraordinary life full of incredible experiences, even if some are less desirable than others.
You might also like Close coon encounter in critter country.  En route from Eutaw, Alabama, to Nashville, we encountered the first Buc-ee’s of our 2025 travel season. Since we needed fuel and a potty break, we decided to stop. That turned out not to be such a good idea. Here’s why we should have avoided the Buc-ee’s stop. Darkening clouds We pulled off the freeway and onto the Buc-ee’s property in Athens, Alabama. Seeing the first set of fuel pumps open, we took advantage of it, dodging our plan to go to the less-popular end of the line. This would allow us an easy out when we were ready to leave. After about 10 minutes of quenching our thirsty Gulliver on our first Buc-ee’s visit with Tagalong, we walked to the store to use the restrooms. Thanks to Buc-ee’s’ abundance of facilities, neither of us had to wait. Impressively, we got in and out of the restrooms, grabbed some snacks, paid, and were out of the store in about seven minutes.  Dark, mean-looking clouds greeted us as we emerged. Not liking to drive our RV in rain, we knew we needed to hurry and get on the road. As we re-entered the freeway, the clouds burst. We had waited too long. Bob maneuvered our rig to the shoulder of the on-ramp so that we could determine a game plan. The weather radar showed brightly colored red, yellow, and green cells plaguing the area for up to five hours. We couldn’t park on the on-ramp that long, so we decided to move on. Weathering the storms The clouds grew darker, the rain came down faster and heavier, and visibility decreased greatly. We slowed to a seeming crawl, our wiper blades moving furiously to try to stay ahead of the deluge.  I kept checking the weather radar to glean our chances at escaping the worst of the storms on our way up Interstate 65. It looked like we might make it. But then it didn’t. We pulled off an exit and sat on the off-ramp shoulder this time while Bob revisited the radar. He seemed to think the worst of the weather might be behind us. So we pressed on.
Dark, dripping clouds gave way to lighter-colored, dry clouds. After a little while, the sun peeked out. It appeared we truly had made it past the worst and would steer clear of rain the rest of the way to Nashville. And we did. Learning lessons I should have examined the weather radar while Bob was fueling, as soon as I first noticed the dark clouds. I thought they wouldn’t affect us in the direction we were headed. I didn’t realize thunderstorm cells surrounded our route. If we hadn’t stopped or had left after discovering that, there’s a good chance we could have avoided the storms. When we reached our destination, we found a sopping door mat and carpeting inside our rig. I used a towel to absorb as much of the excess moisture as possible and put the mat outside to dry in the sun. We learned an important lesson about checking the weather radar anytime we see dark clouds before embarking on a drive, especially when towing. We also discovered it is possible to get in and out of Buc-ee’s quickly. And we found that sometimes it’s best to keep going to stay ahead of weather. You might also like Our top RV lessons in 5 years of RV travel.  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.  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. |
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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