At the beginning of September, my husband and I set out on an RV vacation— our first. Since we both retired from our 9-to-5 jobs a few years ago, we’ve been fortunate to be able to take long trips overseas. But in this year of COVID-19, that was certainly not possible.
So, we reached into our bucket list and decided that this would be an excellent time to visit the Western National Parks. Neither of us had previously seen most of our incredible National Park System — one which offers so many natural wonders and is the envy of the world.
But we wondered: How would our basic needs be met? Hotels, restaurants and, well, public restrooms — that certainly seemed foolhardy.
It’s 2020 and with both of us being in a high-risk age group, we needed to do something safer than an ordinary road trip. That something meant renting a recreational vehicle. Those who know us even a little bit would say that we are not RV people. I’m not sure exactly what that means, but until we did the trip I would have agreed. I am not casting aspersions on those who travel in recreational vehicles; it’s just that I never before imagined us in one.
Based on a friend’s recommendation, we found ourselves at the Cruise America RV rental office in Fillmore, and signed on for a trip taking most of September and covering over 4,000 miles.
There is a lot to describe about the trip: the incredible drama of Old Faithful in Yellowstone, snow-capped mountains of the Grand Tetons, the peaks in The Arches, petroglyphs depicting Native civilization at Canyonlands, the mammoth fold in the earth at Capitol Reef, the drama of the Colorado River glimpsed far below at the bottom of the Grand Canyon, and the low and high deserts coming together in Joshua Tree.
I’m barely doing these natural wonders justice, but what I actually want to describe is the pockets of humanity we discovered not in the National Parks but in the KOA parks we visited. KOA — Kampgrounds of America — is the largest privately owned network of campgrounds in our country. They’re everywhere, especially near important tourist sites.
I am sure there are many excellent campgrounds to be suggested. But, based on recommendations from a friend who has more camping experience than we do, it was KOA all the way. We were informed that their facilities are clean, well-maintained and have full hookups. That last phrase was one foreign to me, but one I soon learned the importance of.
After a full day of driving and sightseeing, that bright red and yellow sign was a welcome one. My husband, who cheerfully drove our rig the entire trip, with absolutely no help from me, pulled up in front of the registration offices. There, our hosts provided the number of our camping site, the internet password and other useful material.
KOAs are so helpful that a man riding a golf cart personally escorts you to your proper site. That’s when I learned, from hearing my husband’s grumbling, the importance of pull-through sites … another new phrase. A pull-through site meant he could drive into the site and out again the next day without backing up. Backing up a 25-foot RV is not for the faint of heart, nor for aging eyes. I can’t tell you how much he liked those pull-through sites.
Now, back to full hookups.
This means that connections for electricity, water and emptying the gray and black water (use your imagination on what that means) are available. I want to add here that whatever flaws I might have previously seen in my dear spouse, his handling all those hookups (including emptying the infamous black and gray water) makes him a real hero in my book. Never again will I complain about a lack of flowers on our anniversary.
But what I really noted in those RV parks was the basic level of humanity and cooperation between RVers. I think there was more of a mix of folks in those parks than in almost any neighborhood in America. Dogs, children, old people, young people, Republicans and Democrats managed to cohabitate rather nicely. A lot of dogs travel with their owners in RVs. Our little dachshund, Ramona, and our new fluffy rescue, Covie, were with us, of course.
In the mornings and evenings, there was a parade of owners and dogs out for a stroll. Some of the RV parks have wide avenues, some more crowded, some with paths near rivers. Yet, everyone was tolerant and slightly amused by the behavior and misbehavior of each other’s dogs. I was terribly embarrassed when Ramona started barking at the peaceful German shepherd in the adjoining site.
“No problem,” said the grizzled Vietnam veteran with an American flag on his RV. “He’s just being a dog.”
I’ll bet this fellow and I vote differently in November, but we all loved our dogs. Kids coming from large, tricked-out RV’s played happily on scooters with other kids whose parents were tent camping in modest vehicles. It kind of felt like an American Main Street that had been put in a blender and the result was a happy mix.
RV parks may be somewhat different this year as a wider variety of people are looking for a safe way to travel. But we finished the trip wishing that all our country could be as amiable and respectful as the RV parks we visited.
Don’t get me started on how claustrophobic I felt inside that little traveling metal box. I’m afraid I am still not an RV kind of person, but I have a great deal of respect for those who are.