Currently we are sitting in PA visiting my brother and sister-in-law. We also visited them in early July on our way north. Two visits in such a short time is a bonus. Our next move, on Friday, will be to the Washington, D.C. area for a 7-day rally. We will be in a campground in MD north of Washington and then be transported into Washington to experience some of what Washington has to offer. The rally is with the WIT (Winnebago Itasca Travel) Club. This will be a chance to experience how well a different organization handles these RV caravan/rally offerings. We will be done with the rally on September 30 and leave that same day for SC to begin our volunteer gig at Waccamaw NWR in the Georgetown area.

One of our objectives for this month of September was to get our motor home looked at after the bone-jarring trip through the Atlantic Maritime region of Canada. We especially needed to have our main slide looked at since it is crooked and does not close fully. We had intended to take it to a Camping World preferable in Harrisburg, PA, but the earliest they could take us was October. One of the couples on our caravan trip to Canada is from Harrisburg, has an Itasca motor home, and recommended Cummins. We were able to get an appointment with Cummins, but they were not equipped to deal with our slide. So we now have an appointment with Camping World in Myrtle Beach, SC which is within 40 miles of the NWR. And, the NWR has a bunkhouse for us to stay in while volunteering. When we get to Waccamaw, we will have job orientation, move out of our motor home, move into the bunkhouse, deliver the motor home to Myrtle Beach, and hope we can afford to pick it up again after the slide is fixed.

Boring stuff, huh? It’s the life of a RVer, full or part-time, but more complicated if a full timer as we are. But along with this dark side of RVing are all the  positive things that can happen when RVing. Seeing great country, making new friends, being exposed to bizarre things like root cellars and gravy on French fries, and seeing friends and family that normally you don’t get to see. And, we did.

I have three first cousins (sons of my Dad’s youngest brother) that live in Delaware and who we see maybe every other decade under the best of circumstances and never visit them on their home turf. We just put an end to that tradition. Shannon and I spent a wonderful day with the three families and my aunt. They learned what we were doing, we learned what they were doing, we reminisced, and Tuzi entertained us all. The photo shows my three cousins putting a squeeze on the older cousin. I’m about 11 or 12 years older than the oldest cousin; so, they’re still in their prime and I can’t say I’m over the hill just yet, but I can sure see it looming in the not too far distance. We hope this visit will not be our last of the decade and we see each other more often. Thanks, Debbie, for motivating me to visit. It was awesome, the kids were all great, you’re a jewel, and laughter does go a long way for making things feel pretty darn good.

As for the ending of our travels to CA-NA-DA, we did make it legally back over the border to once again be reminded by the larger Walmarts and fuller shelves how good we really do have it living in the United States. We take for granted having all the choices we have when shopping until one travels to another country and shops in similar stores. Not sure if this is a positive or a negative; it is just how it is.

Anyway, a few parting photos from our trip…

We did have some interaction with extreme tide changes on the Bay of Fundy. This is Hopewell, NS where geology and the tide have sculpted rocks called “flowerpots.” At low tide they look like this, and at high tide or when the tide is coming in, the same rock formations look like this:

We rode what is termed the “tidal bore” in rubber rafts, rain suits , and old clothing. We were on the Shubenacadie River. When the tide came in and met the river current going out, where there were sand bars, the bars would create a drag on the water and cause turbulence. This continued until the water was at least 15 feet deep and the sand bar no longer had any influence on the water. We would ride into these turbulent waters and then when they subsided, head up river and wait for the next surge. Unfortunately, I don’t have any photographs because I was too busy hanging on for dear life, and fortunately we both managed to stay in the boat, a statement that our Wagon Master could not make.

One of the reoccurring themes of our travels in Canada were visits to large Catholic cathedrals and basilicas. Our last one occurred on Nova Scotia on the Cabot Trail. The tour guide wanted to demonstrate the acoustics and asked if anyone in the group sang. All, and I mean all, fingers pointed to Shannon. To her momentary increase in heart rate and perspiration, she discovered the hymnals were in French. So she led us in a song without hymnals, teaching us the words to the simple melody, and lived up to her reputation of being a singer. Her big disappointment was not being able to play the old tracker organ in the balcony. Alas, it was locked up and the organist was nowhere to be found. 

Washington, D.C. here we come!