Let’s start this blog entry with a pop quiz: Based on the paint transfer you see here on Kevin’s left rear bumper, name the gas station/convenience store chain where Rob dinged the gas pump?
Hint: They have pretty delicious coffee. Bonus points if you can identify the number of minutes Rob thought the world was ending or the number of times he said we would need to get a new camper because this one was ruined.
Answers below.
Wawa
73
19
Now, let’s begin…
Our last morning on Assateague started out rainy. After collecting our soaked camp chairs and drying off our grill, Rob, Marlie and I ventured out to the last trail in the park, Life of the Marsh. Making a quick detour on the way, I pulled the Jeep into one of the loops when I spied horses grazing in the fields among the campers. The horses seem to like the campsites on the bayside, which is where we have seen the majority of the horses. There are about 150 horses on the island, and I bet we have seen 30 different ones. Admittedly, on our first day, I uttered the statement, “They all look the same. When you’ve seen one horse, you’ve seen them all.” I regret those words. I am not tired of looking at them and they do look different. And, yes, I still yell out “horse” every time I spot one.
The Life of the Marsh trail is an extensive wooden walkway that extends over a mucky marsh teeming with plant and animal life. Far out into the swampy ooze, a small group of horses grazed lazily, not bothered by the people or the drizzle. They truly are everywhere in the park. If you think a horse wouldn’t be there, you are wrong. They even swim and cross deep channels when they want to search out food. These incredible creatures are a marvel and keeping the herd healthy and wild is top priority for the park services here on Assateague.
Having enjoyed the peace on Assateague, but also fighting constantly with the amount of sand six people tracked into the camper over a 48-hour period, we headed out toward Williamsburg. Travel days can be long and boring unless you are traveling with us. Inevitably, something will throw a kink into our plan, and, good or bad, we make the most of it.
Owning an RV is a delicate balance between pleasure and pain. We love the freedom to move around the country in our self-contained unit. We love having our own comforts from home and seeing the country from the road. That said, there is no shortage of repairs that have to happen each and every time we head out. Luckily Rob is handy and after the initial panic-attack, he leaps into action and fixes the problem. Today’s problem was an old friend that keeps cropping up – the right rear jack. The jacks that stabilize the camper when we are parked retract automatically, except for the right rear one. Despite numerous resets, the system repeatedly alerted that the jacks were not completely retracted. This meant that Marlie had to sit near the control panel for the leveling system and reset it every time it began beeping – roughly every four minutes. This prompted a stop at, you guessed it, Tractor Supply Co., for a ratchet strap to hold the jack in place while the RV is in motion. Rob “McGyvered” a temporary solution while I took the rest of the crew for burgers at Hardee’s – and just like that, we were back on the road. No photo of this process due to grumpiness.
Back on the road, we headed over the Chesapeake Bay Bridge-Tunnel. At the toll booth, we were instructed to pull over and shut off our propane tank before crossing. Due to high winds, Rob drove slowly in the right lane as Kevin was jostled by a brisk ocean breeze. The bridge-tunnel is 17.6 miles and has two tunnels that go underneath the bay at a depth of 25-100 feet. Normally, there is a fishing pier about halfway across the bridge where you can park and get a great view out over the water, but it is currently under construction. It’s an incredible feat of engineering, but getting across it and onto solid land was a huge relief. Getting pushed around like a toy in a 30-foot tin can would make anyone’s blood pressure skyrocket!
Crossing over from Maryland into Virginia, we immediately found ourselves in the land of chicken production. The circle of chicken expertise surrounds this specific area of the state. Within a span of 5 miles, both Tyson and Perdue have enormous farms and processing facilities. Massive galvanized steel barns set off the road house thousands of chickens, while just up the road, giant factories process birds, moving the products to industrial warehouses and distribution facilities. To be honest, it’s a little grim.
The Williamsburg Campground was like a magical oasis of hot water and electricity. Upon arrival, I immediately evacuated the camper in order to sweep the last of the sand out the door. It was in every nook and cranny. I swear, we took half the beach with us. I even had a little grit on the rim of my coffee mug this morning. We rested. We showered. We charged every device we had. Ahhhh. The campground is not the peaceful oasis that was Assategue, but we strive for balance in this family and I think I speak for the entire camper when I say just how happy we were to spend an hour doom scrolling on our devices and exploring possible activities for the next couple of days.
To cap off our first night in Williamsburg, we took the crew to mini-golf at The Pirate’s Cove! It’s always a good time mini-golfing with a party of six. (My sincerest apologies to the people behind us.) Rob and I are fiercely competitive in mini-golf and frequently are neck-in-neck for the top spot. I didn’t come out on top tonight which puts me two games behind him. To his credit, he was a good sport and quietly celebrated his victory.
Tomorrow’s adventure is Busch Gardens! I haven’t been to this park since I was about seven, so I’m looking forward to visiting the park and maybe getting on a ride or two… being very mindful of my healing body. Stay tuned to see who rides the big coasters and who chickens out!!!
Wandering, But Not Lost 