Night, Hope Valley Trailer Park

After a thoroughly hectic day of napping, reading and puttering about, I decided to walk Gilbert the dog around the trailer park. The first thing I noticed was the dark. The park had lights here and there coming from campfires and the interior of trailers. It was a bit like a hobbit community. Little people were running along the trails with glow bracelets and whispering excitedly to each other. One group went by with only the pedals of their bicycles lit by glow coils. Otherwise they were like invisible little people calling to each other, "I can't see you.....just follow the pedal light....I can't see you.....just follow the pedal lights." It was magical really. I noticed I was dragging Gilbert and realized he was having a constitutional beside the path. Though I had a plastic dog bag, I'd not brought a flash light and didn't plan to grope about in the dark for wet warmth. The trouble with a leash for a dog is that there's often this delay before his intention is conveyed and I stop. It bothers me thinking I've dragged my poor dog along thinking about the golden rule and how rude I'd feel if some bigger person interfered with me in that way.

Other campers were sitting about their campfires talking. One fellow actually was telling stories to some youngsters. It brought back fond memories of church camp, cubs, scouts and YMCA camps. When I'd gone as far as I could on the trail and turned back I actually found my own #20 spot. I'd bought wood last night so decided least I could do is start a fire.

I got the gasoline from the back of the truck and after years of trial and error with all too many errors I poured just the right amount of gasoline on the wood. I lit a piece of scrunched up toilet paper and threw it on the wood. Poof. Voila. Flame. Fire. Screw rubbing sticks!

Gilbert and I sat at the picnic table. Gilbert dug holes in the ground while I watched the fire and speculated on the distance to the stars overhead. They've just found a near star with planets about it that could sustain life. With the training in yachting and now motor homing I think I'm ready for a little space ship jaunt. Visit the neighbors in their ultra chic and funky star worlds.

Laura came out and joined us at the picnic table. I pointed out the star to her. The sounds of the night, the breeze, the smells, indiscernible conversations arising from other campsites interjected by laughter, wood smoke fragrance, darkness all about, a little girl with a flash light, walking by with her dad: it all seemed rather wonderful.




After a while we came in and now are going to bed. I've got to figure out how to use the sani station for the first time tomorrow. I can already imagine every vehicle lined up behind me while I've made a mistake and am standing helpless in a pool of waste.




Good night.



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Evening, Hope Valley Trailer Park

A lot has happened since I last wrote this afternoon. Trailer park living is anything but exciting. Last I wrote I'd had a shower and Laura had had a bath and I'd walked the dog. Laura and I read for a bit and I napped. Napping is an integral part of the RV reading routine. Laura had made a list of what she thought we needed for provisions so we planned an excursion to the Big City. Hope with a couple of gas stations and churches is a few miles away. Gilbert, Laura and I all loaded into the truck. Gilbert was beside himself with all the excitement. He squirmed and circled and grinned with excitement.

I drove us to town and left Gilbert in the truck while we shopped. To Gilbert this was about equivalent as the american people finding out that President Nixon, their president, really had lied. Gilbert and our relationship would never be the same but like the American people Gilbert can't remember things like politician dishonesty so when we returned with $300 worth of food and household stuff Gilbert completely forgot we were the mean people who'd abandoned him. He barked with glee, did circles and grinned. He doesn't even know about Clinton. He's that young and full of enthusiasm for life.

After the grocery store we went on to Fields where Laura and I again abandoned Gilbert like Canadian Prime Ministers have abandoned the people in locked trucks without even the keys in the ignition. Laura and I proceeded to have in depth discussion about bathroom mats and plastic brooms. I escaped from the seriousness of these philosophical and theological debates on colour and texture to swipe a half dozen worksocks and underwear on sale at a ridiculously low price in this discount store. Laura had found the only wastebasket which would actually fit the space designated for such in the new RV. Gilbert had more toys to assuage our guilt. He quickly forgot we were those people and did all manner of jumping up and down in celebraition of our faithfulness. Like a teenager he took the toys and began making noise.



We then drove back to the trailer park. I unloaded the truck and Laura stowed. When we were done Gilbert sat at the door and watched all the world go by outside the screen door of the new trailer. I posted a picture of us as Trailer Park Boys on Facebook.





Laura made dinner of bavarian sausage, kraft dinner and peas. It was exquisite. After we ate I returned to reading and for the next several hours did more napping than reading. Carl Hiaasen's Star Island is very funny. Somehow amidst the napping I managed to finish it. Outside some kids were walking by a lot. Men were talking about brakes and trucks in the next campground. The sun was out when I began reading and now it's gone leaving darkness in it's wake.




I've napped a whole lot of today. When you don't nap or have time to read in the busy schedule of things, it can be really exciting.

A person without an RV or who had never been to a trailer park wouldn't consider any of this worth writing about. In Trailer Park World I suspect we are the buzz. Very few trucks move once they arrive. It may be the aim here is, now I may be wrong so don't quote me, to relax. He who naps most wins, may well be a trailer park motto. It wouldn't surprise me.


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Afternoon, Hope Valley Trailer Park

A lot has happened since this morning. Laura made bacon sandwiches. This set the smoke alarm off. I stopped the high pitched shreik by taking the battery out twice. This occasioned us finding and using the stove fan and the overhead fan. Gilbert begged bacon successfully. Laura's a soft touch. I let him watch me eat my whole sandwich doing dutiful begging dog 'work' and rewarded him with the corner of the end of my sandwich reinforcing dog begging behaviour as my dad did and my grandfather did before him. We like dogs quiet and serious when we're eating.
I showered in warm water. Laura bathed in warm water laced with two kettles of boiling water.
Gilbert and I walked about the trailer campgrounds, this time going in the other direction. Some dogs barked at Gilbert. He peed on bushes.
I was impressed with some of the more experienced RV folks cool additions. I even saw a guy charging his trailer battery with his truck battery. That could be a useful peice of information.
I dried off Gilbert's paws and belly again. He rolled over like it's a fun routine.
I read up on Atwood DSI water heaters and solved the problem of the water heater. It's now boiling out of the tap. The freezer is frozen and fridge is cold. Everything in the trailer is working as it should. I even got the rear window cover unstuck. Gilbert now likes sitting on the bed looking out this big window at the neighbors dog.
I even phoned a truck dealer who offered to trade up my Ranger for an F150 with more hauling power. I'd just make payment for another year. No change in financial status overall. A thought to ponder. It's pretty obvious that Laura and I have what it takes to be trailer trash so we may as well have the higher power too.

I've read Star Island and scratched Gilbert's belly. He has a nap for a bit then comes to visit. We roll about and then he goes back to day dreaming Fifi or rabbits and I go back to reading. Laura's reading her book now. In keeping with the trailer trash look she's sporting a black bra and wrap around skirt. I think she looks fetching in the new look. I'm in stained red tshirt, blue expandable shorts and mauve socks. I'm already sporting a bit of a belly. I forgot where I was and shaved. A little practice and I won't make that mistake next time. The sun has come out.

The neighbour's started a fire and are sitting around it outside. Laura and I have considered the picnic table from the viewpoint of the window but we haven't actually sat outside. I think the furnace is Godly. I've not put up the awning. That's another event to look forward too.

We've talked about a truck trip into town 10 minutes away to get dinner and things like a broom and candles. Candles sound good.


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Peace of Mind and Truce of Mind

Peace of Mind is not something money can buy. It's different from the 'Truce of Mind" . Truce is a temporary state that one knows is precarious. Peace of Mind is a deeper state of spiritual awareness. The mind is calm like an ocean where the currents and winds have been stilled. At times in passing there is this state. It's a gift that comes and goes almost independent of self. Peace of Mind though is also a state that comes from right action, work, faith, prayer and that old concept of 'mental hygiene'.

I don't believe that psychopaths or sociopaths have it. I know that people who have killed have nightmares easily triggered by the environment. Their peace of mind is more often a Truce. It's not a gift either but the product of a struggle to keep the demons down.

In addiction the mental stillness that can be called 'blatto' or 'stoned' is only a temporary truce. As long as the distraction of drugs last this false sense of well being is achieved. Like sex or even the distraction of any sensual entertainment after it is over the person returns to being alone with themselves. Most people who isolate don't know peace of mind either. They can be alone with themselves only because being with others is more trying. Their thoughts torment them alone and even more so with others.

The reason cognitive therapy relieves symptoms as does antidepressant medication is because they address this turmoil. One does it by training one mind to break repetitive negative behaviors while the other raises the levels of serotonin and noradrenaline. In the latter it's a bit like priming a pump by adding water or transfusing someone who by stress has overworked their capacity to keep up the supply of happy making chemistry. The problem is that if one continues to do this they are potentially only forestalling breakdown. The best depression therapy combines medication and therapy. Relationship serves to ground and address the cognitive distortions that give rise to emotional dysfunction.

Psychoanalysis and the 12 step programs go to the underlying reasons for the development of depression and loss of peace of mind. Both give insight. If one is capable of changing behaviour with insight then psychoanalysis opens the door to change of behaviour and restoration of peace of mind. In contrast the 12 step program encourages the recognition of the basic motivators of behaviour and encourages the change of behaviour through group process as a consequence of the insight gained through doing the steps.

Religions provide their own ways of encouraging peace of mind. It's one of the draws and spiritual foundations that all religions share. Jnana yoga and St. Augustine both encouraged mantras or affirmations to still the 'monkey brain' or 'demon' distractions.

Guilt and shame increase with environment and actions. If one goes against one's conscience the price is loss of peace of mind. The Bible speaks of this double mindedness and persons at war with themselves. Spiritual Warfare speaks to the struggle for the soul where true awareness of soul is likened to the peace of mind seen in Adam in the Garden of Eden before the fall. It's the promise of the second Jerusalem and the new Adam. Each of us has the internal compass or conscience which when aligned with actions results in the sense of well being and feelings of peace.

Peace of Mind can't be bought. Seeing the rich and famous in the star magazines might look good on the outsides but over the centuries it's been thought easier to acquire wealth and stature in the material world than it is to acquire peace of mind, which to those who have lost it, know well it's pricelessness.

Peace of mind is equally not something the poor naturally know. When survival is the name of the game all one's thoughts and actions go to that end. There is no peace for the starving man or the man without work or the woman vulnerable to the horrors of a deranged society. Buddha had everything but gave it up for peace of mind. Moses could have lived a life of wealth and privilege as a high ranking Egyptian but sacrificed it all for peace of mind. Jesus came from a wealthy class and gave it up to do God's will. Peace of mind in so many ways means the alignment of one's life with life of God.

I don't believe evil people can know peace of mind. I believe they can be wealthy and famous and kill, maim and neglect but history teaches me that Napoleon on the island or in high place never was satisfied. Hitler certainly would never be accused of peace of mind. It's not a trait that comes to mind about Vlad the Impaler. But it's what people felt in the presence of Sister Theresa. It's a quality that Ralf Nader shared with Gandhi and Churchill in later years.

Mostly I think of the peace of mind that Jesus had at the end. Having been at the dying bedside of many I know that there are those who die in peace and those that don't.

I pray that the peace of mind I know may only grow and I too will have that tranquility nurses and doctors so commonly comment on at the beside of the dying. It's as good a reason for doing the right thing as any.


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Location:Flood Hope Rd,Hope,Canada

Morning, Hope Valley Trailer Park

It rained last night. Laura and I listened to the rattle. "I'm glad I'm not in a tent," she said.

"I love the furnace, " I said. Cozy in the firm thick foam queen sized bed we nestled together. Gilbert was on the floor beside the bed. He'd visited us a few times to walk across our crotches, abdomens and chests to lick our faces. Then he'd settled down beside the bed on the floor in the cool.

"I love new sheets." she said. "I love the new pillows." We'd bought them at Sears delighted to happen upon a bedding sale on the day we needed new bedding.

I woke at 4 am worrying about pulling the trailer up hills. I saw myself bowling backwards down a steep incline taking out the miles of tourists behind me. In another scenario I was stopped waiting for a tow truck everyone driving around me. Finally I was unable to brake going down the mountain with the trailer wrapped about my neck like a scarf and I was flying over the Frazer canyon looking down at the roaring river and ascending among angels. I ignore dreams like these. My mind catastrophises. When I was sailing I'd awake having hit tankers or been slapped down by the tails of whales. Still I'll be taking this pulling a trailer slowly and won't be cutting any corners.

I got up and peed. I love the bathroom. The toilet is just like the ones on the airplane. It goes whoosh when you're finished. Back in bed I listened to the rain some. Laura doesn't snore. She looks rather angelic, at peace asleep, blond hair on pillow. Gilbert had followed me to the toilet and followed me back to the bed. In the World of Dog a nocturnal event like this is memorable excitement. We might have gone out hunting Fifi or whatever his puppy brain conjured up. We might have. That's what his expectant look had said. He settled down to hope and dream himself.

In the morning his little body climbed all over mine and I woke to having my eyelids licked. "Yes, Gilbert, walk time," I know.

There was still the sound of rain drops on the roof. Where are pants, jacket, leash. It's a muddle in the morning. All the while Gilbert is circling and jumping up and down on the verge of dog delirious. "We're going for a walk. Master and I are going for a walk. I can pee. Finally I can pee. Hoorah! Hoorah!"

Green forest, pine smells, quiet. We walked along the lanes among the sleeping campers. A pretty young woman was going into the shower. She smiled at Gilbert. All the pretty girls smile at Gilbert.

I walked Gilbert across the road to the train tracks. It was fun to be there remembering times at Minaki with Kirk walking along train tracks. I tried balancing and walking a bit on the rails. They were slippery and I wasn't nearly as good as when I was twelve and we boys would compete one to a rail walking miles till either of us slipped off. Rock and shale and oiled wood. Spikes and rails. Farmers fields on either side. Another fat man walking his white poodle on leash along the road. A farmer with his jacket off pulling weeds in a row. Unusual to see the hand labour. 6:30 am. A truck passed on the road. Labour Day Long Weekend.

We came to a road that led to the Airport and turned around. Laura was up making the bed when we returned. She'd set out a towel for me to clean off Gilbert's paws. He thought it was a game. Couldn't understand why we both said 'No!" when I let him go and he headed straight for the freshly made bed.

He settled for being under the table on his new dog mat. "It's water proof, " the beautiful Asian woman at Wagababa told us, "If he vomits on it or anything you could just wipe it off until you find time to put it in the washing machine." She tilted her head knowingly with the conspiratorially look that dog people give each other when discussing the digestive tracts of their canine friends.

Just yesterday Gilbert had pooped in the Seven Oaks Mall. I'd snatched him up somehow thinking this would help. It only sent his poop arcing through the air to land neatly while the second splash landed by my foot where I stepped in it. Laura and I were then huddled together trying to conceal Gilbert and the poop from passing eyes while she rummaged in my bag for a doggy bag. "Oh my god, I got it on my fingers," she said as I looked down and saw I was tracking Gilbert poop across the clean tile floors. I found some wet ones to give her and together we cleaned up the tracks of my shoes and where Gilbert himself had stepped in his poop. More people passed. We were all down at Gilbert's level and the big people passing were all giving disapproving looks. Outside Gilbert had no more poop to offer. In side , carrying Gilbert this time a young security officer approached me and said, "I'm sorry, Sir, dogs aren't allowed in the mall." We left. "It's a good thing he'd not been here a few minutes earlier." she said. "Well done, Gilbert your poop was an act of political expression for all dogs who have been abused by Mall's." Together we walked Gilbert outside with security following us to make sure we didn't sneak back in.

I opened the Bible to Judges and read:

Tola: After the time of Abimelech a man of Issachar, Tola son of Puah, the son of Dodo rose to save Israel. He lived in Shamir in the hill country of Ephraim. He led Israel 23 years, then he died and was buried in Shamir."

I'm not sure what I'm supposed to take from that. It's uplifting though. 23 years of peace for Israel is never anything to frown about. Israel in the Bible often represents at the microcosmic level rather than the state level, individual man. We're all Israel in this equation and the trials, tricks and seductions of the world cause us to turn from God until we come back again and again. If you seem far from God, the saying, goes, guess whose moved.

I like this time of peacefulness. This little community of motorhomes and trailers is flush with children and teen agers. Kids were running around at night in little groups with lots of chatter and excitement. Occasionally an adult voice spoke with authority. Mostly the adults were sitting under awnings beside fires while their kids roamed this little community. If there was any drinking by the adults it was truly social. No shouting. No loud music. No disturbing of neighbors. No tell tale reek of marijunia. This is a trailer park. When I was setting up men walking by and greeted me.

Now I'm looking out the kitchen window at the occasional person walking by in hoodies and suits. It's not a high heel and short skirt or tux crowd by any means. I really ought to be bow hunting. i brought it along for the opening of the season but think maybe later. Another coffee and a bacon sandwich seem more pressing.

If I ask Laura, like a dying invalid, with both hands burnt in a far off war, whining with that manly baby tone, I'll bet she'll make me a bacon sandwich. Maybe if I say, "Wouldn't a toasted bacon sandwich taste good about now and wait," she'll figure I'm really just thinking about her, fearing she'll waste away to nothing. When she's decided to make one for herself then I can say something like, "Don't go to the bother or if you're making one for yourself, I guess I could force myself to join you." She's a soft touch for making bacon sandwiches in the morning camping.

I could try out the shower. We don't have the hot water working but the water is warm enough for a quickie. I'll give the pilot light another go for the water heater and then settle for whatever. Laura's already said she's going to boil a couple of kettles of water and have a bath. After I'm clean I'll read some more of Carl Hiaasen's hilarious Star Island. There's seconds, minutes and hours of day ahead and we don't go back till tomorrow. More reading, walking the dog, being aware of brushing teeth and dressing like's its something original and not part of work's automatic pilot. Gilbert's asleep under the table. Laura's reading. It's not like I've done nothing. I thought to buy the bacon at the Husky last night in anticipation of just this moment.

"Wouldn't a bacon sandwich taste great, Laura?"





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Location:Flood Hope Rd,Hope,Canada

The Travel Lite Trail Cruiser

Tenting has been an integral part of my life. From as young as I remember we tented as a family. When I left home I tented. Canoeing I tented. Bicycling across Europe I tented. Driving across Canada and the United States I tented. Hiking in the mountains I tented. 4x4 ing I tented. Fishing and hunting I tented. When I was younger I rarely stayed in campgrounds. As I got older I found myself gravitating to KOA. I liked the showers and flush toilets. Mostly I blamed my increased appreciation for civilization on my partner. She liked the comforts. Obviously I liked roughing it. Obviously.

When us kids left home Mom got Dad to get her a motor home. Together they travelled across Canada and United States. They joined Good Sam Club. They made Good Sam friends and participated in Good Sam activities.

Laura told me that when I'd leave pre dawn to go hunting or fishing, she'd worry about bears as she lay awake waiting for dawn. I'd taught her how to use a little shot gun and left her with that and bear bangers. She only told me about her mornings after I bought this RV.

I told some of the guys I know who hunt and fish about that. Phil said, "That girls' a keeper."

Luke and Sammy and I have been planning a moose hunt since last spring. It seemed like a good time to have a motor home. I figured Laura would enjoy the trip better if I had a motorhome. Not to mention that I might enjoy having a furnace, shower and flush toilet. My back with age prefers a bed to roots and branches. Then there were the killer mosquitoes our last camping trip this spring. They were definitely encouragement.

Craig's List had countless trailers for sale. It's a good time to buy. I have a Ford Ranger Level II V6 4x4. I had to look up the Maximum towing capacity to learn that 5000 lbs was tops though some blogs on the internet said this particular Ranger might go as high as 5800 lbs. It's better to have an automatic transmission and to take it out of overdrive. The hitch I had installed was good for 600 lbs. I had a cooling system added to the transmission and had my brakes checked. I have drums and the bigger trucks have disc brakes. Disk brakes are better. I had an electric braking control added to go with a 7 prong plug.




The only trailers I could get were in the ultralite series. These trailers are made to be pulled by a V6. Roger in Mission had this 23 foot Travel Lite Trail Cruiser for sale. It was a great deal. Laura loved it. Laura liked the combined bath and shower. I liked the furnace and the ability to live aboard it. Everything was there and everything was well thought of. I bought it.

Then terror struck.

Roger lived up on a mountain. After you left his house there was a downhill turn.
I imagined myself rolling down the mountain trailer straight out behind me, Laura, Gilbert the dog and I inside doing some sort of painful and humiliating washing machine thing.

Laura's son in law Ryan has a mega truck and an RV that's a bout the size of what the Mars Mission might use. It's called a 'toy hauler'. His dog Gage is a Great Dane. By comparison, Gilbert is a cockapoo. With age I've been scaling down.





Laura talked to Ryan. He offered to pick up the trailer and take it to his house in the flat land of Chilliwack. I've never hauled a trailer. The day for the move torrential rain struck Vancouver. After doing the transaction with Roger and getting the insurance at Mission Superstore we met up with Ryan and Shannon at Tim Hortons. They'd actually brought their new baby, Kingston.

In my mind this was a military expedition. High risk. Major event. The moving of a trailer. Ryan brought a baby along. Laura had said the day before, "Ryan wants to know what size your balls are?" I'd taken that rather personally until I realized that he was talking about the hitch ball. Roger and Ryan talked all kind of greek before Ryan hitched the trailer to his truck and off we went in the dark and rain. He didn't roll down the hill. Nothing untoward happened on the highway either.

He even parked the trailer backing up with Shannon out behind the vehicle doing some weird cheerleader number with lots of pointing and swinging of her arms. I was humbled.

All week Laura and I were excited that today we'd actually be taking the trailer out ourselves. At the storage locker we loaded the camping gear we usually took without the tent. Then on the way we stopped at Canadian Tire and Sears for the rest of the outfitting. New Carelle unbreakable microwavable dishes and new sheets, pillows, towels and comforter. Of course Gilbert got a new toy.

At Ryan and Shannon's we loaded the stuff from the truck into the trailer and I began to study the hitch and tension bars. See one, do one, teach one was the medical school motto. Thankfully Ryan arrived to oversee my work before heading off on his quad with the baby Kingston on his lap. He wasn't as serious about this whole pulling a trailer behind a truck as I was. He has a certain nonchalance around vehicles. The moment for leaving had arrived.




I'd unchocked the tires, locked every door and walked around the trailer several times. With all this obsessive concern I'd only forget to check if the brake lights and turning signal were satisfactorily connected. A road stop confirmed this later.

I pulled the trailer forward and was ecstatic. "You've only gone two feet." Laura said. "But the trailer didn't jackknife with the truck. We could have been sandwiched." She was not impressed with my catastrophizing.

Wide turns. We made it to the church parking lot in Rosedale. The electric brakes weren't working. We decided to go on anyway.

60 km/hr. 80 km/hr. Braking. Up hill 3000 rpm. Temperature guage steady. No smells. Entering the freeway. 90 km. Many cars and trucks passing.

I'd become one of those. After hotshotting on my Harley here I was an old man with an RV going 90 km on the 100 km highway.

Hope Valley RV Campground. Labour Day Long Weekend. We arrived. They had a 'pull through' spot for us. My secretary had talked with the owner and forewarned them. I didn't squash any small children. We'd come about 80 km. I walked through the park to our spot and thought just maybe I'd be able to handle the turns. Trailers the size of space ships were parked her and there in the woods. I returned to the truck and drove the final distance to the campground.

I even got the trailer disconnected from the hitch and put out the struts. Nothing collapsed. No hole opened in the earth. The truck was fine. Laura loved being inside. I even hooked up the water and electricity thinking this was just the same as a boat in a marina.





I loved the airplane like toilet. Sitting in my bathroom taking a dump I felt like I'd finally arrived. This was my home and I was surely King of the Castle.

After his sniff and piss walk around the park, Gilbert has been all over the bed and couch. His new squeaky toy is competing with Bach playing from the state of the art sound system. At times he's even in rhythm.


Outside people have fires going. There's the smell of wood smoke in the air. I made coffee in a stove top expresso maker. Laura is about to microwave chunky stew. We were going to stop at the grocery but once the trailer was on we decided to settle for food we could get in the Husky gas station market. You can't just park anywhere with a trailer. I have to think ahead and not go anywhere I might have to back up. Not yet. Laura has to do a workshop with Shannon and Ryan on the giving of directions. That is until I can get a rear view camera built onto the truck.

I'm fairly happy with my accomplishment. I phoned Dad. He's 92 and laughed at us having a trailer. I got a Good Sam Club membership too and got a 10% discount already.

All that's missing is a brass band playing and the prime minister pinning a medal on my chest. I can see that in my mind. Laura's smile and Gilbert's glee at being out in the country is good enough for me.

What is tenting? Why do people tent? Whoever would want to tent? I can't imagine anyone who would consider such a thing.





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Date Night Movie

Zip your vagina! This is a very funny movie that starts slow, builds momentum and crescendos in laughs. Boring suburban couple get caught in big city racket. Steve Carrall and Tina Fey star with Josh Klausner as writer and Shawn Levy directing.

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