We have been having a lot of fun here in Muskegon, Michigan with Berni and Rocky Frees. It is amazing how we can be apart from those two for a year, and the minute we get back together, the fun picks back up right where we left off.

Yesterday they both had to work, so Terry and I hung around the motorhome most of the day, filling a couple of orders, doing paperwork, and answering e-mails. With our Eastern Gypsy Gathering rally coming up fast, we are getting a lot of registrations in.  There is still plenty of time to get yours in too, if you want to come and join in all the fun.

In the afternoon I laid down on the couch for a short nap, and Terry woke me up a little after 5 so we could go over to Rocky and Berni’s. It’s the weekend, and Fisherman’s Landing Campground is starting to get busy. We noticed several RVs that had pulled in during the day, as well as a group of tent campers down at the far end of our lane. Hopefully they won’t be as loud and obnoxious as the tent campers who have partied here on the weekends during our past visits.

We left the van at Rocky and Berni’s and took their car to a great restaurant called Hobo’s Tavern.  We ate there once before, on a previous trip to Muskegon, and it was just as great as we remembered. I had an exceptionally tender and delicious New York strip streak, while Terry had a burrito plate with red chili sauce. We both really enjoyed our meals, and from the comments Berni made about her steak, and Rocky his half rack of ribs, they were pleased too.

Back at their place, we introduced them to a fun game we learned at our Eastern rally in Celina, Ohio last fall, called Pegs and Jokers. We had looked all over for a game of our own, and couldn’t find one, so our pal Ron Speidel made us one in the craft shop at the RV park where they stayed in Mission, Texas last winter. And then our good friends Mike and Elaine Loscher also gave us a second game, so now we have two, when we once had none! Isn’t it great having good friends who are also generous, and love you too?

On the two previous nights we had played Mexican Train, with me winning one game and Berni the other, so we needed to break that tie. Unfortunately, Rocky had to get up very early Friday morning, so by 10:30 or so, he was really beginning to droop. We stopped the game, and will probably have to pick it up tonight, just because Berni was ahead by a good margin at that point. I suggested that maybe we should start a brand new game from scratch today, but poor Berni has so few victories in her life that she insisted we continue the one we already had going. Boy, some people!

Back at the campground, even more RVs and tents had arrived, and campfire smoke filled the air. When we left, the sites on either side of us were empty, and when we returned, there was a motorhome on one side, and a popup tent trailer on the other.

We’re not sure if we’ll leave here Sunday to go on down to Elkhart, or wait until Monday morning. We’re having a lot of fun, but we also have a lot of work to get done.

Thought For The Day – When in doubt, mumble.

Click Here To Register For Our Eastern Gypsy Gathering Rally!

Yesterday we did another one of those long days on the road that I always tell everybody else not to do. I never take my own advice. We were up at 7 a.m. (I really need to break that nasty habit), and on the road by 8. We started our day in northern Wisconsin, and by the time I backed the Winnebago into my cousin Terry Cook’s driveway in Traverse City, Michigan that evening, we had rolled up 480 miles for the day.

We drove north out of Wausau, Wisconsin on U.S. Highway 51, hooked up with U.S. Highway 8, and followed it east across Wisconsin. This is hilly country, and while the road was a nice two lane most of the way, with a few passing zones on the steeper hills, in some places it was like riding a roller coaster.

It is amazing how lush the foliage is in this part of the country. Dense forests and thick underbrush lined both sides of the highway. We passed through a few small settlements, but there isn’t much in the way of city life way up there.

We crossed into the Upper Peninsula of Michigan at the charming little town of Norway, where we got onto U.S. Highway 2 and followed it to Escanaba, and then along the Lake Michigan shoreline for 145 miles. The water is incredibly blue here, and in some places the roadway is just feet from the shoreline.

There are plenty of marked pullouts where you can stop to admire the water and play in the sand.

In other places, people park on the shoulder of the highway to access the lake shore.

They call the hardy folks who live here Yoopers, for the initials of the Upper Peninsula, UP. It’s a beautiful place in the summertime, but in the winter, I want no part of it.

If you heard a high pitched wailing coming from the Midwest yesterday afternoon, don’t worry, Tiny Tim didn’t break a fingernail. That was me driving across the Mackinac Bridge.

I have a real phobia about driving over bridges, and in the last couple of years, I have been working very hard to conquer it. But as I wrote in yesterday’s blog, the very high, five mile long Mackinac Bridge that connects the Upper Peninsula with the rest of Michigan, scares the hell out of me. I’ve driven it a couple of times in the past, and found it absolutely terrifying. So ever since, when we have come this way, it was just easier to have Miss Terry drive while I sniveled, because I am not very good at multitasking.

But I believe we have to face our fears head on if we ever hope to overcome them. All the way to the bridge, I was debating with myself whether I was going to keep driving, or chicken out again. Terry is very understanding of my many shortcomings, and she let me know that she would be happy to drive if I wanted her to, or to talk me across the bridge if I needed that.

We rolled up to the toll booth, paid our $12.50 for the motorhome and van we tow behind us, and I was committed. Up, up, and away! The bridge is four lanes wide, the two outside lanes being paved, and the center lanes are paved part of the way, and then grated steel on the higher portions of the bridge. Trucks and RVs are supposed to stay in the outside lanes.

Did I mention that it is very high? Giant Great Lakes freighters look like tiny toys from the bridge. Not that I was looking down to see any!

Don’t I look like I’m having fun? If I seem taller in this picture, it is due to a phenomena known as the pucker factor. Cops, pilots and anybody who has ever been in combat are very familiar with the term.

It didn’t help that when we approached the very top of the bridge, we had to change lanes not once, but twice, for construction zones. I was having a hard enough time just following the truck ahead of me in a straight line, let alone changing lanes back and forth!

I’m not too proud to say that I did a lot of whimpering as we crossed the bridge, but Miss Terry kept calmly assuring me that it was okay, that I could do this, and that everything was fine. If it wasn’t for her, I may have just stopped right there in the middle of the roadway and ran back to the bedroom and covered up my head. But, like everything else we do in our life, we got through it together, and I made it to the other side. Thanks, baby, for your strength when I have none of my own.

Some people may think it’s pretty silly to be so afraid of a simple thing like driving over a bridge. But what can I say? I didn’t choose this dumb phobia, it chose me.

So I drove the damned bridge. And I’m in no hurry to go back and do it again. We were halfway to Traverse City before the above mentioned pucker factor eased up and I could sit all the way back down in my seat!

Thought For The Day – I plan on living forever. So far, so good.

Click Here To Register For Our Eastern Gypsy Gathering Rally!

Yesterday we drove a few miles to Britt, Iowa to check out the Hobo Museum, and instead found ourselves caught up in a wild crowd of bikers who had taken over this tiny farming community.

But don’t worry, these weren’t outlaw motorcycle gangs on a rampage, but rather bicyclists participating in the Des Moines Register newspaper’s annual bicycling event, the Register’s Annual Great Bike Ride Across Iowa, or RAGBRAI, for short.

Each year thousands of bicycle enthusiasts participate in the seven day long event, which takes a different route across the state each time.  This year the ride began in Sioux City and will end in Dubuque. Now in its 38th year, RAGBRAI is the oldest, largest and longest bicycle touring event in the world. The route follows the back roads all of the way, and stops for the night at selected small towns along the way.

RAGBRAI is a bicycle ride, not a race, and the route is laid out with an average of 68 miles per day. RAGBRAI is limited to 8,500 week-long riders and 1,500 day riders, who participate in a lottery to be included. But the ride has few rules, and thousands more unofficial riders, who call themselves “pirates,” also participate. Some ride the entire route, and many more ride just short sections. Riders range in age from 10 years to over 80 years old,

This year, the number of riders we heard about in Britt ranged from 15,000 to 17,000. and that doesn’t include the thousands of support personnel who travel the route in cars, pickups, vans, converted school buses, and RVs, carrying tents, bicycle parts, supplies, clothing, and food.

One might think that Iowa’s small towns would would cringe at the thought of hordes of riders and support teams descending on them, but quite the contrary, towns bid for the opportunity to be included in the route. These riders bring a lot of money to town. In addition to filling local motels and restaurants, every night is  a party. We were told that during their stay in one town this week, they spent over $50,000 for beer alone! In one town! I don’t know how accurate that figure is, but from what we saw, this is definitely a group that rides hard and parties harder, and some folks looked like they were sweating more than water and salt as they passed by us!

In addition to the riders and their support teams, the sidewalks were filled and the streets lined with vendors selling everything from cookies to t-shirts, and people who just came to see all of the activity and watch the parade of riders go by.

One lady even brought her goat to town for all of the festivities. After all, it is Iowa!

We watched the riders for a while, visited the Hobo Museum, where Miss Terry took my picture with a gentleman named Todd “Ad Man” Walters, who was crowned King of the Hoboes at Britt’s annual National Hobo Convention in 2005. I’ll have a feature story on the Hobo Museum in the next issue of he Gypsy Journal.

Back at Forest City, we had hoped that the work on our motorhome would be finished yesterday, but they still have a couple of hours left before everything is done. Hopefully, we’ll be on the road by noon today.

We’re looking forward to getting up to Traverse City and settling in for a few days, while we get Miss Terry’s annual medical checkup out of the way, and visit my cousin Terry Cook and his family, and our friends there.

And after days of getting up so early, I plan to sleep very late, then open my eyes, take a look at the world, and then roll over and go back to sleep again!

Thought For The Day – An adventure is only an inconvenience rightly considered. An inconvenience is an adventure wrongly considered.

Click Here To Register For Our Eastern Gypsy Gathering Rally!

I always enjoy talking to new RVers or wannabes about the fulltime lifestyle, and hopefully, I can help them avoid some of the mistakes we made as greenhorns by sharing our experiences with them. But sometimes I feel like I’m talking to a brick wall, and I want to ask them “Do you want me to tell you what I know, or do you want me to tell you what you want to hear?”

A couple of weeks ago, at a fuel island, I had a conversation with the fellow next to us, who was driving a fancy new diesel pusher. He told me that he and his wife have been fulltiming for several months now, and that they are about to throw in the towel because it’s just too expensive. “How can anybody afford to pay $1,000 to $1,500 a month on campgrounds and still put fuel in the tank?” he asked me.

I told him that I don’t know anybody who spends even half that much on campgrounds, and he asked me how we do it. I told him about all of the ways we save money on camping fees, from free campgrounds, to discount programs like Passport America, camping at Elks and Moose lodges, fairgrounds camping, and boondocking.

“My wife would never do any of that,” he said. “We joined Passport America, but we pulled into one campground and she said “No way” and we drove right back out. We have never boondocked, she wouldn’t stand for it. We only stay at four star rated RV parks, because she doesn’t like the looks of the people at other places. It’s costing us a fortune, but what else can we do?”

I felt like telling him that his wife needed a lesson in reality, but I knew it wouldn’t matter. It was obvious that she wanted nothing to do with the RV lifestyle, and that she fully intended to have a miserable time of it until she finally made him miserable enough to give in and go do whatever she wanted to do instead.

This can be a very affordable lifestyle, if one takes the time to learn about the many ways you can keep camping costs low. But, one has to be willing to settle for less than upscale RV “resorts” (and there are a lot of excellent campgrounds that don’t get a four star rating), and flexibility is also a major asset to have. But some people, like this lady, just will not be happy living the gypsy lifestyle, and that’s fine too. It leaves more opportunities for the rest of us.

I also had an interesting conversation with a couple while I was doing some genealogy research at the Family History Library in Salt Lake City a while back, but I really had to bite my tongue to keep from bursting their bubble. They noticed my Gypsy Journal t-shirt, struck up a conversation, and told me they had just purchased a new diesel pusher, and would be taking delivery in three days.

I congratulated them, and the husband told me that they looked at a lot of RVs, both new and used, and decided to go with a new motorhome because, while they don’t plan to become fulltime RVers, they will be traveling six to eight months a year. “We just don’t want to mess with repairs and stuff,” he told me. “With a new motorhome, all we’ll have to do is turn the key and go the day we pick it up, and not have to worry about anything being broken.”

I told him that he might want to be prepared to spend some time going back to the dealer once they take delivery, because every new RV that hits the street seems to need a certain amount of time to get the bugs worked out of it. I told him that many experienced RVers seem to feel that once you buy a new rig, it takes at least six months just to get all of the stuff fixed that should have been handled before it left the factory.

“No way,” he told me, “That’s why we bought a new diesel pusher. With the money we’re spending, I guarantee you that it will be ready to roll the day we take delivery.”

What could I do, except nod, wish them well, and also secretly wish I that could be a fly on the wall of that new motorhome about a month or two down the road, to see how their thinking would have changed.

Thought For The Day – A father is a guy who has snapshots in his wallet where his money used to be.

Click Here To Register For Our Eastern Gypsy Gathering Rally!

After boondocking in the parking lot overnight, we pulled out of the Flying J in North Platte, Nebraska just after 9 a.m. and headed east on Interstate 80. There were some clouds overhead, but no rain coming down.

For years I have driven under the huge wooden arch that spans Interstate 80, near Kearney, Nebraska, and wanted to stop. Yesterday seemed like the perfect time to do so.

The official title of this impressive work of architectural wonder is the Great Platte River Road Archway, and if you like history as much as we do, you just have to stop here! Displays and audio descriptions inside tell the story of the pioneer trails that all came through here, headed west, and the brave people who set off for a new life in the wilderness.

More contemporary displays cover early auto travelers and tourist camps.

Executive Director Gary Roubicek greeted us, told us a little about the history of the archway, and then sent us off to explore. We had a wonderful time, and I’d love to tell you all about it, but I’m saving this story for a feature in the next issue of the Gypsy Journal!

But I do have to tell you one very impressive fact about the arch. It was constructed in two halves, one on each side of the interstate, and then when it was time to put it all together, the highway was closed at 11 p.m. one night, huge cranes lifted everything into place, set it all up, and twelve hours later traffic was flowing again! What an engineering feat!

Here is a view from the arch, as traffic speeds past under us.

After touring the arch, we browsed the gift shop, where we picked up some excellent local history books, and then walked outside and across a bridge to view a Pawnee earth lodge. Very impressive.

A huge school of large carp live in the river, and we paused on the bridge to drop some food down to them, and watched as they made the water boil, fighting for it.

Just a short walk from the Archway is the Nebraska Firefighters Museum, and though we didn’t have time to stop, we made a mental note for our next trip. If you are traveling through central Nebraska, take the time to stop and check out the Archway. They have lots of room for RVs to park, and even welcome you to dry camp overnight!

Back on the highway, we continued east, crossed the Missouri River at Omaha, and on the Iowa side we got onto U.S. Highway 30, which took us through several small towns until we connected with U.S. 59 at Denison.

Now, I love traveling the two lane roads, but I have to say that U.S. 59 sucks. I have been on cow paths that were wider and better maintained. We bounced and rattled our way north for 15 miles or so, then the highway suddenly ended in a construction zone and we found ourselves detoured onto a series of narrow county roads that were still much better than the U.S. Highway. Where the heck are our highway tax dollars going, anyway?

Somehow we managed to escape being eaten by a Holstein, and wound our way north to Spencer, Iowa, where we pulled into the city-owned East Leach Park Campground about 7:30 p.m. We had driven 441 miles, which is a long day even on a good road, let alone some of the trails we covered in western Iowa.

We love the campgrounds in small town city parks that we have stayed in from coast to coast, but we were really disappointed in this one. For $15 a night, we got an RV site with water and 30 amp electric, which sounds like a good deal. We had lots of room, since there were only a half dozen RVs in the campground, but even though we were the only RV in our section, the electric power was terrible.

Our Progressive Industries electrical management system (EMS) showed 123 volts of power, then it would drop down to below 106 volts and the EMS would shut done to prevent damage to our coach, which is what it is designed to do. The power would come back on at 123 volts, and then start dropping again any time we turned anything on. We shut down the air conditioner, put the refrigerator on propane, and turned off the battery charger, and at  one point we were only drawing two amps, but the circuit kept tripping. I tried two other outlets with the same results.

If it hadn’t been so late, and if we were not so tired, we would have moved to another section of the campground, but it didn’t look like any of the other places available were any better.

We only have 90 miles to go to get to Forest City, and if we don’t get stuck in the grass from the storm that is just rolling in as I post this at midnight, we should be there early enough in the day to get our names on the list and a head start toward a factory service slot.

Thought For The Day – Life is like a jar of Jalapeno peppers; what you do today, might burn your butt tomorrow!

Click Here To Register For Our Eastern Gypsy Gathering Rally!