Saturday, June 30, 2018

Maverick Truck Camper Journal

With the new to us  white Palomino Maverick Truck camper on the white Ford F-350 Lariat edition truck feeling like angels, we headed out on the highway for the Canadian wilderness. In the city streets Trump haters and Trudeau lovers ran about in frenzied packs only to stop at intersections to bare ass and leave hot steamy dumps of human waste in protest.  Clashes occurred between cyclists and auto drivers every block.  Every Vancouver gas station had groups of protestors carrying signs   saying “I can’t drive my BMW because of the price of gas..” Along the highway rows of middle class families slouched away from the most expensive city in the world pushing their designer baby buggies carrying their bags of Jimmy Chou shoes, their children forced to walk carrying game boys and hauling behind them diamond studded Pomeranian pets.

We shut off our iPhones and turned off the Pravda CBC and listened to cacophony of auto horns in the bottleneck of Langley.  

“Darling, “ the blond haired  vixen beside me said,” You’re so courageous to drive this big truck with this big load.”

I smiled sweetly back at her, thinking of my hero, Chevy Chase. 

Gilbert, the blind old cockapoo, sat between farting.

The first challenge was filling up with gas, wide load and high. Whenever I drove under anything, no matter how high, I saw images of the camper being torn off the truck. Pulling into the crowded gas station I made such a wide turn I could hardly reach the truck with the pump hose.  The propane tanks were outdated and needed to be replaced.

At the O’Connor RV Parts store, where the people were finest, a gorgeous young woman named Tracy helped me man handle the old mattress out of the truck and put the new mattress in.  When did I change I wondered from admiring a beautiful woman for her obvious sex appeal to liking her strong back and strong legs as she helped the old guy get the new mattress into the camper. 

At Hope we bought groceries. July Long Weekend runs were happening in the potato chip and wiener lanes and fights broke out over the last pop corn packages.  I felt blessed to get a bag of BC Ambrosia apples, steaks, and BC potatoes.

We drove on listening to inspirational IDAA tapes on the radio.  Local radio refused to carry irrelevant political maulings and instead announced pig prices and played praise music.  

Traffic thinned as we passed lovely green pine and spruce, a large golden doe nibbling by the side of road, bald headed eagles circling above in the grey skies threatening rain.   Princeton, finally, Home Hardware still open.  I bought a tiny RV barbecue with a ‘little assembly required’.  A pocket lathe for making metal bits came in the package.  I realized I’d forgotten the charger for the electric bicycle which was a nuisance to load and unload in the camper.  Electric bike chargers are not a common item outside of the city.

We headed north on a winding secondary road, fearing we’d fall over on every tight turn.  I stopped a half dozen times to check the turnbuckles tie downs.  I was vaguely headed up to a logging road Luke, Sunny, Tom and I had hunted one year. I had my Winchester 300 win mag with the thought I might shoot a suicidal bear to share with Naomi nursing the new baby Faith. Her bear hunting husband had been unable to hunt this spring distracted by the birth of his child and instant repurposing as nappy changer.  I even had a fly rod for fishing.


Chain Lakes Wilderness Recreational site appeared.  A terrific site host informed us there really was a site available though all the lake sites were taken. I love these sites with hosts living there.  Guarantees  the rowdies with loud music not wanting to be there.  Dogs and kids and families. RV’s and tents.  

I backed into a place beside a picnic table.  Gilbert and Laura had bailed.  They stood by looking terrified.  No  property damage ensued. . Only later would we learn that when the camper is on the box the jacks can accommodate a tilt to the back but not a tilt forward. I was tilted forward.  To sleep we had extra pillows . Being a sailor I’m used to walking on a tilt. 

The process of getting systems going began. The slide worked.  I disconnected the power cable to the truck so the house battery wouldn’t drain the car battery.  Laura walked Gilbert about so he could sniff and mark his new territory.  I got the propane working. The stove works. The water pumps work.  The refrigerator works on electricity but doesn’t appear to work on propane.  

The lovely wife of the host came by and brought wood so I could made a huge fire.  Laura made the bed up.  Apparently I had brought a duvet cover thinking it was a fitted sheet.  Otherwise we had a bed worthy of a king and queen.  Gilbert loves his little bed but demanded we let him join us at 6 am.  He can only get on the bed being lifted up. To shut off his begging grunts I lifted the little squirmy alarm clock up.  He promptly lay down on Laura’s face to show his love.  Now we were all awake he cuddled and went back to sleep. 

Before bed I’d barbecued half the hotdogs.  

‘Laura these silly hot dogs are individually wrapped.”
“ Yes, we had those as a kid. They must be coming back. Did you take the wrapping off before you put them on the barbecue.?”
“No,” I replied. Following up with, “Could you give me the rest of the hotdogs.”
The plastic adulterated hotdogs went into the fire and the individually unwrapped dogs went on the barbecue.

Laura had brought Cobs buns but we’d not got mustard but had remembered butter.  We ate at the sweet little table on the slide.

I was so tired after that I climbed into bed and slept most of the night waking chilled as I’d forgotten the duvet. I snuggled against Laura missing her earlier menopausal hot flashes but getting enough warmth to go back to sleep.

In the morning I got the heater working to take the chill off. The old house battery was dying faster, dim lights paling more. I couldn’t run the water pump and the heater at the same time.  But later when I heard others running generators,   I started up Honda 2000 generator and got more systems going.   Amazing what can be done with pliers, screw driver and duck tape. 


 Later I got the  hot water heater working.  I made a cup of espresso coffee with cream and honey and was in heaven.  It had rained in the morning.  I walked Gilbert in the fresh air.  The lake was serene.    I still can’t get the strut down because I don’t have a ratchet.  

I’m on my second cup off coffee. There’s no wifi or cell service. The world could have burned up with global warning and I would have missed the talking head discussion of it and the Facebook arguments about it. A nuclear bomb could have exploded in Guam or Israel and I’d not know.  I can feel myself twitching with withdrawal.  I don’t know if Justin Trudeau has given another terrorist 10 million dollars or removed any more Canadian freedoms.  Trump could have finally given in to the constant barrage of hate and shaved his head.  I am reduced to watching one silly dog and will have to survive without funny animal videos.  

We really are roughing it.  I am keeping a record of our terrible deprivation as people in Vancouver will never believe we survived this.  I can see movie producers calling me up next week if we survive and the world still exists. We really are thinking of a run back to Princeton for a new battery and a duvet and possible the ratchet to get the strut to come down.  I’m considering a book deal,  

Laura has dared to shower. I’m hoping a sudden change in water temperature will have her running naked out of the camper.  I can’t decide what’s causing the disorientation more, the lack of wifi or lack of visit to a mall in umpteen hours.  We could get a fix in Princeton. Then head out again to try another dose of supreme roughing it.  We are stowed and could be ready to go in minutes if we just have the courage.  

I’m going to have a shower after Laura.  I’m sure I touched some dirt when I was making the fire last night..  I feel grungy depending on the natural oils of my body.  A little corrosive soap will no doubt help with my decision making. I’ve no cologne with me.  I smell of  Musk Oil ,the very best solution to keeping the tiny flying vampires outside off.   





          
    



  

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

happy camping