 North Dakota may be the 39th state admitted to the Union, but it’s the 50th state Bob and I visited. Many other people have never made it there. According to YouGov, only 14% of Americans have visited the Peace Garden State, named for the International Peace Garden that spans the boundary between North Dakota and Manitoba, Canada. North Dakota is also known as the Roughrider State, in honor of the first volunteer cavalry organized by Theodore Roosevelt, and the Flickertale State, for its abundant ground squirrels. What the nicknames don’t tell you is that the state is the top producer of sunflowers, spring wheat, and honey, according to the nd.gov.  The 39th state is out of the way and requires intention to visit. As full-time RVers, we’ve been on a mission to see all 50 states (well, 49, since we can’t drive our fifth wheel to Hawaii), so North Dakota was on our radar. We had planned to cross into the state last year but rerouted to Plattsburgh, New York, to help with the annual CAF Airbase Arizona Flying Legends of Victory warbird tour. This year, we made it, entering the eastern side of the state from South Dakota and embarked on a boondocking adventure across North Dakota. Surprising weather For our first night, we parked on a small dirt pad surrounded by farmland near the town of Hankinson, unprepared for the nearly 90-degree August heat. Boondocking with no electric hookups made for a very warm arrival. We decided to get up early the next morning and move to a more scenic spot near Bismarck. Fog shrouded our early-morning drive most of the way to Fargo, the state’s largest city, with a population of nearly 138,000, according to World Population Review. There, we traded Interstate 29 for Interstate 94 and headed west against the wind. We had heard that North Dakota can be pretty windy, so we weren’t surprised by that.  What did catch us off guard was the number of lakes scattered across North Dakota. According to ndtourism.com, the state is home to more than 400 lakes. We thought it was all prairie land. Perhaps they caused the fog. A couple of hours passed before we pulled onto a little isthmus in Sweet Briar Lake and had the place all to ourselves. Out every window, we saw beautiful views of water surrounded by tall grasses. Our first night there, we had an interesting thunderstorm encounter that scared us out of the fifth wheel.  Unexpected scenery North Dakota holds a lot of World’s Largest records. On our travels across the state, we marveled at the expansive yellow fields of sunflowers and sightings of the:
The state is also home to the Enchanted Highway, a 32-mile drive from the city of Gladstone to the town of Regent past a collection of the world’s tallest metal sculptures, the brainchild of a man who grew up in Regent and wanted to share his town with others. The seven sculptures include Geese in Flight, the World’s Largest Scrap Metal Sculpture and the only one visible from Interstate 94.  Picturesque badlands After a few peaceful days at Sweet Briar Lake (once the thunderstorm passed), we moved on to the western part of the state. The Great Plains gave way to prairie grasslands and badlands. Unlike the flat eastern part of the state, the west is hilly and offers varied scenery. It’s also home to Theodore Roosevelt National Park. We boondocked in the grasslands near the small city of Medora, population less than 200. Our camping spot gave us beautiful views of a valley and the badlands. On hot days, Bob powered up the generator to run one of our two air conditioners, which helped. It’s a good thing he rewired the rig to enable that.  Across the state of North Dakota, we encountered friendly people and a relaxed pace of life. We may never make it back there again as it took nearly 60 years for us to get there the first time, but we’re glad we made the effort. It was well worth the experience.
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 A sudden shift in the wind outside the thin wall surrounding our bed awakened me from a deep slumber at 12:45 a.m. We had known before going to bed that night that a storm was expected before dawn, with wind and hail likely. I glanced at my phone and saw a severe thunderstorm warning for our remote area about 30 miles west of Bismarck, North Dakota. We had found a beautiful boondocking spot on a little isthmus in Sweet Briar Lake and had the place all to ourselves.  Having learned to check radar for our particular area, I did that as well. The radar displayed a large, mean-looking red swath headed directly toward us. I woke up Bob and showed him what was coming our way. He jumped out of bed, and we tried to determine what we should do in our sleepy state.  Choices, choices
We decided to close the slideouts in our fifth wheel to center the gravity in our rig, giving the wind less surface to hit and preventing our slideout toppers from flapping and stretching. Inexperienced at interpreting radar data, I panicked as we bolted around the trailer. I was ready to close the slideouts, forgetting that we needed to get items out of the way first. Thankfully, Bob remained level-headed. We quickly moved things to safe places so that we could close the slideouts. Rain had already started. With the slideouts closed, we had to hang out in the bedroom or bathroom unless we wanted to stand or sit in the hallway in front of the entry door. Nothing else was accessible. We returned to the bedroom and checked the radar again. Neither of us felt comfortable riding out the storm in the highest part of the rig. We wanted to be closer to the ground. Since we knew we wouldn’t be able to sleep, we agreed to make a mad dash to the truck. I guess you could say we were scared out of the fifth wheel. We quickly got dressed in case we had to go to a public place for safety, threw on our rain jackets and sandals, grabbed a towel, and ran for the truck. Rain came at us at an angle. Shelter in the storm I didn’t immediately feel safer in the truck. I wanted to be in the middle of the cab, away from the windows, but our large console prevented that. We removed our sopping rain jackets and used the towel to dry them and ourselves off as lightning flashed and rain pounded against the roof. After a little while, my panic and fear subsided and I realized that we were pretty secure inside Gulliver. We were closer to the ground in the dually and felt less shaking of the vehicle from the wind. As we sat in the truck with the lights on, we took comfort in seeing a vehicle with its lights on across the lake, where fellow campers were residing. We weren’t alone. We kept an eye on them, and they likely watched us. If neither of us moved, the storm couldn’t be all that bad. To pass time, we started making up our own version of the “Gilligan’s Island” theme song: Just sit right back and you’ll hear a tale, a tale of a fateful rig, bombarded by this thunderstorm out here in the sticks. The weather started getting rough, the giant rig was tossed, if not for the courage of the fearless crew, Tagalong would be lost. Refuge for the night We kept checking the weather radar. After about half an hour, the worst of the storm had passed and the rain let up a bit. We pulled on our rain jackets and carefully stepped around puddles to return to the trailer. Because we had closed the last slideout in the pouring rain, we thought we’d better open it and clean up the wet mess it had caused. That done, we opened the bedroom slideout and climbed back into bed, leaving the other two slideouts closed for the night. Bob turned on the TV, and we watched part of “The Brady Bunch Movie” while we waited for the tail end of the storm to pass. After two hours of excitement, we were exhausted and fell fast asleep, grateful for our safety and each other. Looking back, we realized we experienced much stronger winds in Carlsbad, New Mexico, and were fine. And we’ve faced at least four tornado warnings. A few things contributed to our decision to ride out this storm in the truck: my lack of experience at understanding radar output, the darkness, and our unfamiliarity with North Dakota storms. We’re glad we hung out in Gulliver and might do so again in a similar situation. You might also like Storm ready: Battening down the RV hatches.  We can normally boondock for about two weeks before our 50-gallon black water tank (toilet waste) fills up. While moochdocking at my cousin Deb’s in Michigan, however, our black tank appeared to reach capacity after only a week and a half — even though Bob had been out of state for about half that time — necessitating a dirty RV project. Measuring full During our first year as full-time RVers, Bob installed after-market tank-level monitors on our black tank and freshwater tank to give us a realistic picture of the volume of their contents. (The factory gauges that come in most RVs aren’t reliable, indicating full tanks when they’re not.) After five years of use, our after-market tank-sensor monitor started giving us false readings: 100% freshwater and 0% black, both of which we knew were incorrect. Bob returned the monitoring unit to the company, Tech-Edge, which troubleshot and fixed the issue — two burned-out chips on the circuit board — and sent it back to us.  Once Bob reinstalled the refurbished monitor, we got a reading that our black tank was at 90% capacity. We took measures to minimize adding to the black tank, but the next day, the monitor read 100%. We had to empty it. We hadn’t planned to move our rig for another three days and didn’t really want to close it all up, move it to dump the tanks, and then reset it up for just a few days. In previous years at the farm, we had a company pump out our black and gray water tanks. This year, though, they wanted triple the price. Taking a dump Fortunately, Deb’s son also owns an RV and had a portable holding tank we could use to transport the contents of our black and gray tanks to a septic tank on the farm. It sounded simple enough. The problem was that the portable tank held 36 gallons, which meant we’d have to stop draining our black tank before it emptied to prevent overfilling the tote tank. To be safe, we decided to start with one of our two gray tanks. Together, the kitchen sink tank and the bathroom tank hold 85 gallons. Deb offered to help and arranged for a forklift driver to transport the filled tote tank to the septic tank for draining. He brought over a pallet on a forklift, and Bob and Deb put the pallet into position to pull the tote onto once it was full. Typically, we empty our tanks with the trailer slideouts closed for easier access to the trailer sewer dump pipe and tank levers. Since we weren’t moving the rig, Bob, with gloved hands, disappeared under the office slide to connect the sewer hose to the drain pipe. Deb, also gloved, held the other end of the hose in an opening on top of the tote tank. I watched, took pictures, and helped where I could.  They successfully emptied the kitchen gray tank into the tote with only one minor mishap of the hose coming out of the tote very briefly. Good thing we started with the gray water! Bob and Deb pulled the tote onto the positioned pallet, but there was no sign of the forklift driver. He had gone to lunch. We didn’t want to wait an hour for him to come back. Toting sewage The tote came with a tow handle that could connect to a trailer hitch ball. So we attached the tote to Gulliver and climbed inside. I made sure Bob and Deb removed their gloves before getting in. Bob drove very slowly the 50 yards or so to the septic tank, watching the tote follow in our rear cargo camera.  Shortly before reaching the septic tank, the pin connecting the handle to the tote fell out, leaving the tank in the middle of the dirt road. We reattached the handle, and Bob and Deb dragged the tote into position to empty it. They donned gloves again (we went through a lot that day), removed a round concrete lid covering the septic tank hole, connected a sewer hose to the tote, opened a lever, and let the substance go. Success!  Next came emptying the black tank. We were able to stop the flow out of the tank in time to keep from overfilling the tote — with no hose mishaps. This time, the tote stayed attached to the truck, and Bob and Deb emptied its contents smoothly, as they had with the first gray tank. Back at Tagalong, we finished emptying the black tank into the tote, which still left plenty of room. So we drained the bathroom gray tank into the tote and filled it pretty full. Then we repeated the emptying process. We were able to dump all three of our tanks in only three trips.  Looking back, we’re convinced all the contents of the black tank would have fit in one tote tank full, which means our sensor wasn’t working properly. We still had at least another 10 gallons of space in the black tank. It’s always better to err on the side of caution, but it would be nice to get an accurate reading. Bob will have to recalibrate the sensor. It likely got off during the repair.
You might also like The logistics of full-time RVing.  When we decided to transition from sticks and bricks to full-time RV living, we went all in. Over a period of two years, we minimized our belongings and got our house ready to sell. We moved into our fifth wheel, closed on the sale of our home, and embarked on traveling the country, seeing amazing sights, and visiting friends and family. For five years, we’ve told people our truck, rig, and the clothes on our backs are the only things we own in the world. We can’t say that anymore after purchasing a half acre of property in Southeastern Texas, between Corpus Christi and Houston. Why did we buy property after five years of full-time RV living? The main reason is so that we have a place to go in case something happens that prevents us from continuing to travel. We watched a video early on of a fifth-wheel accident on a slick, snowy mountain pass. The accident left the RVers out of their traveling home for at least eight months. We’ve seen mostly good things in our expeditions across the country, but we’ve seen some bad things too, such as a semi-truck laying on its side in the middle of the highway. It was quite sobering to realize that could just as easily happen to us and our home.  Having a piece of land gives us peace of mind that we have a place to regroup. Sure, we know lots of people across the country. And many would take us in, at least for a time, if something were to happen. But it’s nice to have a place to call our own.
Why we purchased property in Texas We purchased property in Texas because we got an excellent deal on it. We could have bought land anywhere, but we didn’t want to pay a lot. We found this property, thanks to a couple on our last transatlantic cruise, at a great price and were able to pay cash for it. The land is in a small fishing community where people keep an eye on one another’s things and look out for each other. We already have a connection there (the couple we met), and we like the area. It’s near the Gulf of America, offering close beach access. We also chose Texas because it’s easy to get to on our travels to and from Arizona to visit family and friends. Temperatures are warmer in the South in the spring than they are in the North, so staying south on our travels at that time of the year makes sense. And Texas is another state, like South Dakota, that makes it easy for full-time RVers to make it their place of domicile. There’s no state income tax, and vehicle registration expenses and sales tax are low. Does this mean we’re settling down? No, we’re not ready to settle down yet. We really enjoy our nomadic lifestyle. Our property has utilities to it and offers us a place to park our rig for free — once we remove a tree and add a culvert and driveway. We’ll probably spend up to a month there on our way to Arizona in the fall and a month there in the spring, at least to start. The property gives us a place to build on if we decide to someday. We revel in those kinds of projects and are having fun dreaming. But we’re not ready to hang up our full-time RVer moniker anytime soon. You might also like How I balance work and life in 400 square feet.  The first time we stayed in Oklahoma in our fifth wheel, we camped on the expansive plains, where we experienced the wind the region is famous for. We were clueless that 28% of the state – accounting for more than 12,000 acres, according to the U.S. Department of Agriculture – has something else to offer: trees. Most of Oklahoma’s forest land can be found in the Eastern part of the Sooner State. We had the privilege to spend about a week and a half in Southeastern Oklahoma near Texarkana, Texas, thanks to the gracious hospitality of our friends Norm and Susan, who made sure we had an amazing Oklahoma adventure. Powered parachute flight Norm has had his pilot’s license for years and even owns and flies a powered parachute. What’s a powered parachute? you may be wondering. It’s a small, open-air cart structure with three wheels that resembles a large tricycle. Behind one or two seats sits a large propeller, and a parachute makes up the canopy, or “wing,” to keep the aircraft in the air. Since Bob has both airplane repair and tech skills, Norm had him take a look at the plane. Together, they worked on updating some safety wiring and the electronic flight monitoring system. In exchange, Norm offered to take me for a ride in his contraption. After loading the aircraft onto a trailer behind his side-by-side vehicle, Norm drove it to the cow pasture next to his property. There, he unloaded the plane and pulled out the parachute from its storage bag, carefully checking all the lines attaching the chute to the cart to ensure nothing was tangled, frayed, or ripped. Satisfied that everything appeared in good repair, Norm and I climbed into the cart and strapped ourselves in. He started the engine, and we slowly wheeled across the pasture, picking up speed. A smile plastered across my face. And suddenly, we were airborne.  The aircraft slowly ascended to about 2,000 feet at a speed of about 25 mph, the houses and barns below quickly decreasing in size. Goosebumps erupted on my arms, making me glad I had put on long pants before the flight.  We enjoyed an aerial view of the farms around Norm’s property, where trees had been cleared many years earlier to make room for pastures and hen houses. Norm showed me the house he had built over a five-year span, and we flew over Tagalong. We also buzzed Bob and Susan, who had set up chairs to watch our flight. After about 30 minutes in the air, we began our descent over the cow pasture. Frightened cattle bolted to get out of the way. All three of our tires hit the ground, and we rolled across the uneven countryside, laughter gushing out of me as we slowed to a stop. It was an incredible experience. Celebrity sighting Another extraordinary experience involved a local celebrity. In 2013, a chef who was born and raised in Norm and Susan’s town competed on “Chopped” on the Food Network. When Tabb Singleton appeared on the show, he did so with experience as a sous chef under Emeril Lagasse in New Orleans. Tabb won the competition and returned to his hometown with the hope of fulfilling his dream to start a restaurant there. In 2020, during the height of the COVID pandemic, he bought an old burger joint and converted it into a barbecue restaurant. Thus was born Phat Tabb’s BBQ, a small-town staple that attracts locals and visitors alike with its aromatic smoked delights. Having watched a number of “Chopped” episodes, we were intrigued. One day for lunch, we ventured to Phat Tabb’s to get a taste for ourselves. As we emerged from the vehicle, the delectable smell of smoked meat wafted into our nostrils, luring us in.  We wanted to try everything, so we ordered the Hog Lot, which features a hefty sampling of prime brisket, spare ribs, pork belly, okie bologna (aka smoked bologna or “Oklahoma steak”), housemade sausage, turkey breast, and three sides. For the sides, we decided on burnt end baked beans, white trash potato salad, and pickled okra salad – a tangy cold salad made of black-eyed peas and pickled okra.
The brisket melted in our mouths. Sounds of “mmm” and “so good” escaped our lips. Everything tasted delicious, as you’d expect from a celebrity chef. Our only regret was that our stomachs weren’t big enough to eat much of the options at the one meal. Fortunately, the food kept, and we enjoyed it the rest of the week. You might also like Rare sightings while full-time RVing. If 400 square feet of living space sounds small to you, that’s because it is. Despite that, for our first five years of full-time RV living, we used two Google Home smart speaker devices: one in the bedroom and one about 15 steps away in the kitchen. Recently, we became an RV divided when we traded one of the units for an Amazon Alexa virtual assistant. Embracing convenience It only seemed natural that we would have Google devices. After all, both Bob and I own Google Pixel phones and Google Chromebooks. In addition, I have a Google Pixel watch. When we sold our house and moved into the fifth wheel, we ended up keeping two Google smart devices, with the intention of giving one away. Before that could happen, Bob set up both units, and we quickly became accustomed to their convenience. The kitchen Google Home assistant is handy for rapidly adding items to our grocery list when we think of them, setting timers for cooking, playing music, and answering our questions that arise from conversations and TV shows. The bedroom Google Nest Hub displays photos we’ve taken, in addition to occasionally playing peaceful sounds, such as crashing waves or thunderstorms, when we doze off and answering our all-important weather questions in the morning when we’re getting dressed.  Facing issues
Two units may seem like overkill for our small living quarters, and indeed they are. Many times, the Google device we wanted to operate deferred to the other, setting a timer in the bedroom, for example, when we needed it in the living room. Although activated by a simple “Hey Google,” the Google devices’ abilities seemed to be lacking. For some reason, I was never allowed to add anything to the grocery list. Google didn’t recognize my voice for that, even though I could ask her anything else. I had to go through Bob to add an item to the list or open the app on my phone and manually add it. We encountered another issue with the grocery list when trying to add two items at once. Google didn’t know how to process that. Instead, she added the two items as a single entry: cheese and dental floss. Exploring an alternative Having set up Amazon Alexa for his mom and seeing her success in using it to turn her lights on and off and handle other tasks, Bob started considering having us transition as well. Logically, it didn’t make sense, given our affinity for all things Google. Seeing a smoking deal on Black Friday, we decided to purchase an Amazon Echo Dot (paid link) to replace our Google Home smart assistant in the kitchen. We debated transitioning to a single unit given our small living space but decided to keep the Google unit in the bedroom, at least for the time being. I have to admit I like the Amazon technology. I’m now able to add items to our grocery list by voice. If I want to add more than one item at a time, Alexa is able to parse that information and add two (or more) entries rather than combining the items into one. If I attempt to add something I previously added, she’s smart enough to tell me it’s already on my list and can even delete an item if I accidentally say something I didn’t mean. Google couldn’t do that. In addition, I can talk to Alexa from upstairs in the bathroom or bedroom, and she can usually hear me. So, do we still need the Google unit? No, not really. But we like the convenience of having it available. And sometimes, we like Google’s answers to our questions better than Alexa’s. You might also like Staying healthy and fit on the road. As Amazon affiliates, we earn from qualifying purchases.  Traveling the country on the well-designed interstate highway system and connecting state highways has been a staple of American life and freedom since President Dwight D. Eisenhower signed the Federal-Aid Highway Act of 1956. Although I first experienced the benefits of the interconnected highways at the age of 4, when my family moved from Michigan to Oregon, I didn’t appreciate the marvel of the highway system until embarking on my first cross-country tour with the Continental Singers and Orchestra at 18. I remember being amazed at the ease of travel with cloverleaf on and off ramps in Texas. Today, the “Greatest Public Works Project in History” makes full-time RVing possible. Although we like using interstates because we know they’re safe for our tall fifth wheel, we also like to venture off the freeways and away from large cities to get a better taste and feel for small-town America. Both kinds of travel can lead to some unusual sights. In addition to witnessing a total solar eclipse, dinosaur tracks, and the northern lights, here are some of the rare sightings we’ve observed in five years of RV living. Horse-Drawn Carriage on a Main Road  Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, is home to the oldest Amish settlement in the country. There, Amish people, who believe in simplicity and eschew technology, live alongside modern Americans who espouse contemporary conveniences. While en route from an overnight stop in Lancaster to Sight and Sound Theatre to see a show, signs displaying a horse and buggy gave way to the real thing. We happened upon a slow-moving horse-drawn carriage on the two-lane road and had to reduce our speed until oncoming traffic dissipated so we could pass. Camping Hearse  Because our rig is fitted with solar panels that allow us to do a lot of boondocking, we don’t spend a lot of time at campgrounds. When visiting our son Josh in Eugene, Oregon, however, a campground offered closer proximity to him than boondocking options did, so we took advantage of it. While at this campground, a hearse pulled in one day and took up temporary residence in one of the campsites. We had heard of van living, but not hearse living. Typically, hearses are associated with death. Truck Camper on a Trailer  Speaking of odd campers, while camped in Homer, Alaska, we saw a truck camper on the bed of a trailer, towed by a truck. I’m sure it has its advantages. After all, you don’t have to remove the camper from the bed of the truck in order to separate the two. But it looks a bit funny. We witnessed this phenomenon again in Canada en route to the Lower 48 after our summer in Alaska. Maybe it’s a new trend. A search on Reddit revealed people are asking about this setup and how to do it. Precarious Class A Motorhome  While boondocking in the Badlands of South Dakota, we caught sight of a class A motorhome parked downhill with its front tires off the ground. The weight of the coach rested on its levelers, with no supports under the tires whatsoever. It looked too unsafe for my liking, but apparently the owner had no issues. I have to admit that the first time we took our fifth wheel out for a test camping run, we set it up and leveled it, lifting the two passenger-side tires off the ground. Although it looked a little risky, we felt pretty safe. We were quite inexperienced then and have learned a lot about proper leveling techniques since. We no longer park with tires out of contact with the ground. Windmill Fan Blades in Transit  Travels through windy areas of the U.S. can lead to sightings of wind turbines designed to convert wind power into electricity. In passing, it’s difficult to gauge the immensity of these structures and how quickly their blades actually move. The length of a single blade is about 170 feet, according to the U.S. Department of Energy. We gained an appreciation for their enormity when seeing a blade stretched from behind a tractor trailer, seemingly suspended, and then attached to a self-steering, dolly-type trailer toward the back of the unit. Roadside Attractions  Living on the road gives us lots of opportunities to see roadside attractions, of which there are too many to count. We’ve seen a gigantic hot dog on the roof of a restaurant in Michigan, an enormous roadrunner made of recycled electronics in New Mexico, a giant beaver in Beaverlodge, Alberta (between Calgary and Edmonton), the Dignity statue of a Sioux woman in South Dakota, and many others.
Perusing the collection of photos from our travels, I can’t help but be grateful for the amazing lifestyle we get to lead. You might also like 6 Big-Rig-Friendly Overnight RV Stops.  Of the three main types of camping — hookups at a campground, boondocking off the grid, and moochdocking — the last has a lot of appeal, for a number of reasons. Let’s look at the benefits of moochdocking. What Is Moochdocking? Moochdocking is the term we use to refer to parking our rig on the property of family or friends. This can range anywhere from a driveway to a spacious farm. Although no two moochdocking setups are identical, they usually include some sort of electric hookup, a way to get water, and laundry facilities.  Some arrangements have beefier electric hookups than others. With a normal 15-amp circuit, we can run the essentials in our fifth wheel: lights, outlets, refrigerator, electric water heater — and charge our laptops and phones. And if we switch the refrigerator from electric to propane and turn off the electric water heater, we can use our microwave. With a 30-amp circuit, we can also run one of our two air conditioner units. Depending on the time of year, we may not need that option. With a 50-amp circuit, we can easily power everything inside our rig all at the same time, including both air conditioners, the microwave, refrigerator, electric water heater, vacuum, and more. Dedicated Time with Friends and Family One of our favorite aspects of moochdocking is the time it affords us to catch up with family and friends. By staying at the homes of loved ones, we get to enjoy meals with them, fun activities, reminiscing, and lots of laughter. Thanks to our affiliation with the Commemorative Air Force and our experience with Continental Singers and Orchestra (where we met), we know lots of people across the country. With those friends and our spread-out family members, we have someone to visit in nearly every state. Moochdocking offers us more frequent opportunities to see those loved ones than we’d get living in sticks and bricks. Cost Savings As you might imagine, mooching electricity and water from others helps the bank account. And by spending time with our hosts, we tend to take fewer trips in Gulliver during a stay, which saves on diesel costs. That’s not to say we take advantage of loved ones in this type of setup. Quite the contrary. We realize the blessing it is to spend time with and benefit from family and friends’ generosity and are quick to compensate where possible. That compensation can come in the form of cooking meals (something Bob loves to do and is really good at), helping with home projects, reimbursing toward an electric bill, or taking our hosts out for a fancy meal — or a combination of things. Longer Stays As a result of the cost savings and additional resources moochdocking offers, we’re often at liberty to stay in one location longer. By using hosts’ bathroom and kitchen facilities, our black and gray wastewater tanks don’t fill up as quickly as they otherwise would. This in itself provides a number of benefits. We have more time to help with projects, more time to catch up with people we haven’t seen in a long time, and more time to investigate the area. That’s how we were able to do quite a bit of exploring in Virginia, for example. It’s also why we were able to get a true Cajun experience in Louisiana.  Longer stays also give us opportunities to take care of needed maintenance and repairs on our rig. The key is not wearing out our welcome so that we can return for another visit.
Helping Others We’ve always enjoyed gaining and employing skills and experience by doing manual labor. With moochdocking and longer stays, we’re more readily available to pitch in on various projects, and we take joy in it. I once termed this “tradedocking” — working for a free place to stay. Not only does this help family and friends, but it also gives us memories together. We helped paint, renovate a bathroom, lay laminate flooring, upgrade computers and equipment, do construction projects, trim trees, and more. Sleeping in Our Own Bed One of the biggest benefits of moochdocking is being able to visit loved ones for a week or more and sleep in our own bed every night. As the saying goes, “There’s no place like home.” Likewise, there’s no place like our own bed for a good night’s rest. Moochdocking is a truly welcome experience. We’re thankful for our many friends and family scattered across the country, both those who have space for us and those who don’t. Being able to visit you all is a blessing we treasure. You might also like 4 Perks of Full-Time RV Living.  If you’ve ever wondered how full-time RVers stay healthy and fit while living on the road, this post is for you. Life on the road is not conducive to routine — at least not that we’ve found. Sure, we have routines to a certain extent. We follow checklists for packing the inside of the trailer for travel, connecting the truck to the trailer, and disconnecting the truck from the trailer. And I have a general work routine. What’s harder to set and stick with is a health and fitness routine. How Do RVers Exercise? Some RVers have a Planet Fitness Black Card, which gives them access to Planet Fitness gyms and showers across the country for about $25 a month. Many places we visit are not near a Planet Fitness, and we don’t want to plan our stops based on those locations. Other RVers carry exercise equipment, such as dumbbells and resistance bands, with them as part of their life on the road. Those who have toy haulers can even rely on an all-in-one gym because those rigs are designed to transport more weight than non-toy haulers. Jogging is another option, as is vigorous walking and/or hiking. We try to go for walks wherever we find ourselves. Some locations are more favorable for this than others. We’ve been in places near small, busy roads that limited how far we could venture. We’ve also been in places where we could walk as long as we wanted. We’ve had to be a little creative when it comes to exercise. When we’re stationary in the winter months, we can use the fitness center at the park we stay at for strength training. It gives us something to do together, and we can challenge each other. On the road, we have to make a point to exercise. For many months, I used a free phone app that ran through various exercise routines. I found it quite helpful, but after the end of each six-week or so routine, I had difficulty staying motivated to continue. After a bout of tendinitis, I got out of the habit of using the app. Virtual Reality When we owned sticks and bricks and were raising our kids, we had a Nintendo Wii for many years. We enjoyed how it encouraged us to be active while playing video games. I even used it for a regular fitness routine every morning and stayed in good shape. While visiting friends in Louisiana, we noticed a virtual reality headset sitting on a table and asked about it. Belinda let us try it out, and we were amazed at the immersive experience it provided, transporting us to a different world. Like the Wii, it involved being active to play many games.  A quick Google search unveiled that we could purchase a Meta Quest 2 for about $200. (Purchasing from that link will give you and us a credit.) I had expected it to cost much more. Convinced the unit would provide the avenue we wanted for staying healthy and fit — for a small footprint and without adding much weight to our rig — we invested in one for ourselves, along with a game called Beat Saber. Exercising now is fun. I get a good aerobic workout while slicing through boxes with a lightsaber according to direction arrows and the beat of music. It’s a challenge to hit all the boxes in Beat Saber, and it’s a great stress release after a hectic workday. As with anything, you get out of the experience what you put into it. I take my workouts seriously and am hooked. I guess we’ll be staying in better shape now. You might also like Is RV Life as Glamorous as It Looks?   Farms and crawfish ponds stretch for miles, cultivating a non-rushed pace of life. The appetizing smell of smoked meat wafts through the air. Cypress trees tower over homes and roads, providing a shady respite from intense sunshine and humidity. Birds whistle melodious songs. Turtles ditch the warmth of their log perches with a kerplunk into the water as footsteps near. These are some of the sights, sounds, and smells of the South we grew to appreciate and delight in after two weeks of immersion in Cajun country while visiting our friends Dwaine and Belinda in Ville Platte, Louisiana. Ville Platte is a unique place known as the “Smoked Meat Capital of the World.” It’s also famous for its swamp pop music and even features a museum dedicated to this rare genre, which combines country and western, rhythm and blues, and French Louisiana influences.  Perhaps most noteworthy, though, is the town’s special holiday celebrated on the first Friday of October. The whole town shuts down to commemorate Squirrel Day and the start of hunting season. Most men head to the woods to spend the weekend hunting, leaving most of the women behind to enjoy shopping and girl time. Food Focus As indicated by the importance of Squirrel Day, food is a focal point in this region. It typically centers on rice and gravy, which isn’t as plain as it sounds. It involves hours of browning meat, scraping up the stuck-on bits, adding water to deglaze the pan, reducing, and then repeating the process over and over. Not only does it create a delicious gravy, but it also tenderizes any meat. The meat, often smoked, is usually tasso (smoked pork), sausage, shrimp, chicken, or steak — or a combination.  No Cajun dish is complete without seasoning, which varies per cook but always includes cayenne pepper. Belinda uses about 80% cayenne pepper along with garlic powder, onion powder, smoked paprika, and white pepper. The people in Louisiana love their red pepper. You’ll even find it on pickles. We grew a taste for its flavor and steady heat. We also sampled cracklins and literal pigtails, which were kind of like chicken wings. Another staple in Cajun cooking, besides gumbo, is boudin (pronounced boo-dan — but with a soft “n”). It looks a bit like sausage but is not sausage at all. Somewhat akin to pasties in the North, it typically comprises pork, rice, and seasonings in sausage casings. This steamed all-in-one meal is enjoyed for breakfast, lunch, supper, or a snack.  Crawfish Boil Crawfish boils, common in the region when the critters are in season, provide a great reason to get together. While the live creatures undergo a running water bath by hose, corn cobs and potatoes — and sometimes other vegetables and hot dogs — are thrown into the boiling pot as an appetizer. After the veggies are cooked and shared, crawfish are transitioned to the boiling pot, and seasoning — including the all-important cayenne pepper — is added. When the crustaceans are cooked, they’re moved to a large insulated cooler to keep them warm.  Eating the feast is an experience in itself. It involves gathering around a partitioned table with a big hole in the middle to provide easy access to a trash barrel for collecting discarded shells. A huge scoop holding about five pounds is used to transport crawfish from the cooler to one of the table partitions, and a messy adventure ensues. Some people wear gloves while breaking apart and eating crawfish, and for good reason. The spices and wetness from the boil can turn fingers orange while trying to get the tail meat out, and the sharp shells can cut into skin. We opted not to use gloves and dove right in, reveling in the deliciousness despite the mess and effects on our hands.  Southern Hospitality
The South has a wonderful reputation for its generous hospitality, which adds to the welcoming, laid-back atmosphere of the region. Unlike in the big city we spent 24 years in, the people in Central Louisiana don’t tend to be in a hurry. They take time to stop their grocery shopping and errand-running to catch up with a familiar — or not so familiar, in our case — face. People enjoy getting together, visiting, and celebrating life. Despite their funny talking (omitting “are,” as in, “You welcome,” for example), they’re authentic and openhearted. We were blessed to participate in three get-togethers while in town. Each gathering centered on a delicious meal and plentiful opportunities to hear from others, share about our experiences, and learn from one another. Although the people had just met us, they genuinely cared about us and welcomed us back with open arms the next time we happen to pass through. Our lives are richer for having spent two weeks in Cajun country. You might also like Farm Living in Michigan. |
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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