Hope and the Palomino Maverick Truck Camper

The guys call the camper, “Laura’s Tent”.  I can’t argue I really do appreciate the security and luxury of the camper. It’s still a steep learning curve.  Together for the first time we tried to back it into the slot.  The battery had run down because I’d obviously left something on.  That meant the electric struts had to be manually cranked up.  This took time and significant muscle power.

“I said I needed exercise, so here’s God’s gift.” I told Laura who stood by holding onto Gilbert.  She can’t even reach the switch let alone man the handcrank.

Once I had it up, with a wind blowing, I was sure the camper was going to nose dive into the back of the truck.  It didn’t.

With the help of the black line Mac had told me his Dad had used, and I’d painted on a couple of weeks before I actually had it almost aligned first time but we hadn’t accounted for the cable which needed to be under the camper to reach. This resulted in a half dozen more tries and one bang that had both Laura and I convinced that was it, both Camper and truck were toast.

Ron, who John the kind owner of Chilliwack RV had called in to help with my refrigerator problem, was still in the park working on another RV.  I asked him if he’d mind helping.

“Sure, no problem”.

“Line her up. Crank this way. All the way over this way, Now hard left,  a bit right. A couple of inches backwards. No, too far, an inch forward.  There that’s good.” The camper was perfectly seated in the back of the truck.  We’d bumped the camper lightly and whereas Laura and I had died with the bump, Ron was nonplussed. The camper’s obviously were built tougher than we imagined not that I plan to test their tolerance.

I then remember the chains for tie down.  Wow! It would have been easy to forget those.  With the bike and the generator loaded, we were off.  We’d left Burnaby at 230 pm , a slow traffic drive and an hour in the lot, we were on our way east at 6 pm.  Not bad. It felt good.  Road trip.  

Ron had also taught me how to light the propane on the refrigerator though it still didn’t work because it didn’t ‘whoosh’ to power and because the battery had died and the slide was in covering the battery box, he’d not been able to test it.  With the truck idling while I was cranking the struts I’d been able to get enough power to move the slide in and out to get the bike in. 

We were on the road, the same rolling motion of the boat, but barrelling down the highway. I’d been hankering after more wilderness camping but with the battery needing charging and Laura wanting luxury we reverted to our ‘original’ plan to go to Hope where we’d looked at a lovely river site, Telte Yet Campsite,right beside the big Frazer river. We’d have town water, electricity and charge the battery to full and even have a chance to dump the waste at the end of the weekend.  Luxury.

The people were really pleasant and helpful There was 30 amp service sites available. People tent there too. Right beside the town so I didn’t worry about not having everything.  Laura guided me out back,tentatively. 

“I was terrified when you were backing under the camper.I thought the whole thing was going to fall over and crush Gilbert and me.”  

Now I just needed binoculars to see her in the mirror. But it really wasn’t a challenge. When we’d back up the first RV in Boston Bar when I couldn’t find a ‘drive through’ ,now that had been a trial. This was just backing up a truck. Two tries and I was positioned in the site by the picnic table and hand’t driven over the pup tent in the site beside us.

Either side were retirement age folk or people who’d lived really hard and looked retirement age but were still in their youth.  The man had three women with him. One was elegant and friendly asking us where we came from. They actually turned out to be from White Rock and like us just enjoying a different view and less city.

We’d brought more ‘stuff’ to stow and had the carpet and chairs out, water and electricity and Gilbert watered and fed in about a half hour.

Leaving Laura and Gilbert I rode my Torino electric rad bicycle with a Harley Davidson chain lock to Fields.  I have the Harley Davidson state of the art lock because more people would try to steal this bicycle than they would my Harley. At Fields I bought a $24 camo back pack.  Then at the country store I proceeded to buy more supplies than I could load in the pack sack and on the bike.  I’m
surprised at my capacity for overestimating the load but still somehow managing to carry it. This is always a conversation matter when I take the motorcycle to Costco and return with a truck load of stuff ,when I just planned to get a chicken,

I had the Little Caesars for Gilbert, a bone, cold ginger ale for us, chips, Hagen daz Vanilla ice cream, the specially made ice cream for roughing it in the wild, chocolate bars, and perrier.  I normally pedal on the bike to look athletic but with the load on I just road back on the electric bike getting waves from the Harley riders passing through town.  I manage 30 km.

Laura and Gilbert were settled in when I returned, having had more exercise. 

After I remembered where I stowed the barbecue I had it going and Laura gave me the beef whiners from Costco I’d brought. She had wiener buns from Cob’s and gourmet mustard.  The fellow next door was barbecuing steaks and commented, “You’re the chef of your outfit too, I see.” There’s as a certain whimsical cynical turn of phrase as we’d both obviously done the heavy lifting bits while the ladies all looked lovely.  Laura was sporting a new purple and white sun dress and the bracelet her friend Melody had brought from the north. 

Soon enough we were sitting in the camper with hot dogs and chips looking out the window at the passing river.

“I love the quiet.  In the city in the summer, there’s just so much noise, shouting, music, cars, banging...sometimes I like it a bit but mostly I just long to be out here in the quiet. “ she said, her apartment in Vancouver’s Westend epicentre.

I have this theory of consciousness with cities being dense nodes and the further out the more our consciousness can loosely expand. I love the lightness of being feeling sailing solo and sometimes in the wilderness I’m almost there. It’s so relaxaing.  

I didn’t sleep that well, it was hot, I could have put on the air conditioner but liked the breeze. Still I woke a few times missing my CPAP. I wondered too if it was the a bit of the notorious ‘smog’ air that sometimes settles in Hope. Still I was restless for a couple of hours, my mind not settling, worrying about patients, trying to push away the frustrations of work, falling back to sleep, only to wake at 6 am to Gilbert harrumphing at the bottom of the bed. He can’t get up on his own. I let him up and he did the squirmy licky thing. Thanks to Laura being there I only got half the attention.

A little while later I got up and walked him about the camp. It was 630 am. Only one other fellow was awake.  Peaceful. Even the town wasn’t awake.  Gilbert loved the walk and blessed the ground with 4 big offerings which I duly picked up and placed in the proper cans. It really disappoints him that I don’t appreciate the effort he places in the spot he chooses and the cultural significance this all has for his canine species.

Back in the camper I lifted him up to get his morning massage from Laura while I promptly fell back to sleep.

 I woke again at 930 am and see my neighbours leisurely coming out of their trailers to sit at picnic tables or or lawn chairs cups in hand.

I’ve got a cup of Kona coffee. I loved that islands coffee when I’d anchored my sailboat there. I ground the beans. That’s probably not something I should mention in a story about roughing it.  I Think I’ll grind another cup,though.. Laura has got up. She has a cup of the Nestle’s instant she prefers.  It’s a touch demanding schedule I can envision today.  Reading and lawn chairs. The sun is wonderful with the breeze off the river.