Why the Truck Camper (Jim)

Note: Originally written a couple of weeks ago in Newfoundland, but only now getting around to posting it.  I blame Canada

The weather has mostly been glorious during our two weeks here in Newfoundland, but she has seen fit to grace our last couple of days with a more seasonal rainy weather pattern.  We will not complain - in fact it has been a good excuse to allow ourselves a couple of lazy days having spent so much time in the great outdoors.  As I sit here on the bed, the staccato of rain drops on the camper is reminding me that yes, it is OK that you splurged $30 on a campsite for a safe place to plug in and read away an afternoon.  And shower.  Damn, did we need to shower.

One of the persistent questions we have fielded by friends, blog readers, and fellow travelers is why we decided on a truck camper as a means to do our road trip.  Having been on the road in it for well over a month now we have had an opportunity to experience all the pros and cons and are generally pleased with how it has functioned.

Why on earth would we do this to ourselves?

There are as many ways to travel as there are travelers.  At various points in the evolution of this road trip, we considered many different options including but not limited to:

1. Towing a tear-drop camper behind my beloved (and sorely missed Accord) or upgrading to a bigger vehicle and doing the same.
2. Towing a camper trailer or fifth wheel behind a truck or SUV
3. Driving a big SUV or van and packing a big tent to set up in camp sites and staying in motels
4. Driving a Class C motor home (think van package on a truck chassis)
5. Driving a Class B van (think conventional van with more head room and utilities)
6. Wearing a backpack and hitchhiking using sad wet golden retriever puppy eyes and/or having Lindsay flash truck drivers to get lifts (OK only one of us considered this)
7. Hold out for a Vanagon in decent shape, meanwhile growing dreadlocks and shopping for underwear made only of hemp

We want to look like this after the road trip, not before

Ultimately, there were a few reasons that the truck camper option was the one we settled on, although if the right Class B van had come along we might have made that work.  In our part of New England however, decent used Class B's were very rare and brand new they are ludicrously expensive.

We want to be comfortable, dammit!  This is 'Into the Mild,' not 'Into the Wild' for a reason.  Do you remember what happened to the 'Into the Wild' guy?

This happened.  BEFORE, you know, dying and stuff

This is our home for at least six months - we literally do not have a permanent home right now.  Little things like having a bed that does not have to be made, a kitchen (however tiny) that we can cook and clean dishes in whenever we want, a fridge, a central heat source, and a bathroom (incredibly tiny) go a long way in making us feel that we have a refuge wherever we go.  We have 'camped' on busy city streets (thanks Newport and Halifax for the free digs!) and in parking lots - with the shades drawn, any place we can park has the potential to afford us privacy and a few (cramped) comforts of home.  While motel rooms are comfortable, they would not be a home and neither of us wanted to pack every night.  So, the tenting / car camping / motel options were out.

Never under estimate the importance of this....

...to make even the wasteland behind the grocery store in Port aux Choix, Newfoundland a home on a 40 degree foggy night

We don't want to tow anything.  We wanted to be able to go down any road, in the city or boondocks.  Towing anything, even a wee tear drop camper immediately complicates this.  We couldn't have done this with a trailer....

....I'm not saying we SHOULD have done this, of course

We still want some flexibility.  So we settled on some form of RV.  Class A's are so big you can only park in specially designed lots and you have to tow another vehicle just to get around towns and parks and get about 7mpg.  Class C's are commonly used but usually have been rotting in driveways for years and are full of raccoons, crusty fluids of unknown origins and shame, and are notorious for leaks.  Class B's (the smallest RV option) were a strong contender but did not have the storage we needed.  Also, all of these options have low ground clearance and not much power.  We wanted a vehicle that could handle some off road and mud in a pinch.  This pushed us in the truck direction.  Truck can get places RV's cannot.

We wanted to be able to do this, which is hard to do with a bus-sized RV

We have to consider the stupid precious dog.  This was a huge and non-negotiable part of the trip.  Keira had to come.  This meant that we needed a place for her to ride with us while on the road and a safe place to be left when she was not with us.  An extended cab pickup provided extra storage and plenty of room for her to sit with us along with a home (the camper) to leave her in - with the battery powered fan and AC when plugged in, we do not have to worry about leaving her in a car (ironically, the gal is a big fan of leaving dogs in cars.) 

Shut up, Keira

We are a wee people.  Our camper is a generous 60 square feet and 6.5' high.  There are precious few advantages to being short people, and goddammit we are going to luxuriate in this one.  Not only are we small, but we are nimble and do not mind clambering around on top of the bed to make it or hopping in and out of the thing without bothering to put the stairs up every time.  One advantage to being under-aged RV'ers (most of our peers these days are retirees) is that we are still on our original hips.  Plus, being hobbits gives us a stealth bonus, great when boondocking.  Bottom line, we don't need all the space provided by bigger RV's or trailers and truck campers work better for small young people.

We're like this, except more platonic. 

The miscellaneous intangibles.  Intangibles!  My favorite sports statistic (along with 'scrappiness,' only applicable to short white players that probably play for a Boston team) applies to this.  The truck camper concept just felt right.  We were able to shop around for just the right camper, and then shop around for just the right truck.  At the end of the trip, we have a viable vehicle to get us through the short term (and can use it to move).  The camper, not having axles, does not need to be registered and costs us no extra in tolls or ferry fares (this has literally saved hundreds of dollars so far).  Mechanically, there is less that can go wrong and while maintenance for both the truck and camper are expected, an issue with one or the other will not leave us stranded AND homeless at the same time (neat!).  Also, it is just small enough that it really forces us to have our shit together, only pack the essentials, and make sure everything goes back into its place - kind of like when backpacking.  Finally, it allows us to crash with friends (and strangers!) without feeling like we are imposing TOO much...since we just need a driveway to park in, we are low maintenance guests. 

Truck Campers are like the Danny Woodheads of the RV world....leading the league in scrappiness

Disadvantages.  Yes, there are some.  The biggest by far is the gas mileage.  Did you know that F250's kind of suck at this?  Kind of makes you wonder why so many dipshits drive trucks just to get around (probably the same assholes who drive Harleys).  Well, our camper must be hauled and a truck is required.  Our budget assumed a worst case of 10 mpg and $4.00 a gallon, we are so far getting about 12.5 mpg.  Gas is our biggest expense by far, we decided to accept this disadvantage because of what we save on camp sites, hotel rooms, or eating out.  And unless we bought a Prius and hauled nothing, it would have been hard to do much better than 20 mpg for a trip like this.  Say La Vee.  Another disadvantage is the height - we sit about 10' 6'', just high enough to have to keep an eye out for low overpasses or, much more likely, low hanging tree limbs.  Most recently, we could not drive into Baxter State Park because it has a maximum height of 9'.  We also had to be cautious driving around Acadia, which has some low arched overpasses.

I had to leave the camper behind to get into Baxter State Park, so I could take Lindsay here, so she could do this to me

Bottom Line.  This model works for us.  We do not really understand why more people in the US did not converge on this option and instead stick to the conventional ones of trailers or big RV's.  When touring Nova Scotia and Newfoundland, we saw many more truck campers with Canadian plates.  (I guess this makes us honorary Canadians eh?).  Some of these were headed to even grander adventures in Labrador, Nunavut or Alaska - places where having a truck is simply a matter of safety (trucks are polar bears natural enemies).  We are not sure if we will keep our setup after the road trip or if this will be the start of a lifetime of searching for the perfect truck / truck camper setup, but at this point all of our options are open.  Right now we are excited to be heading out west - Badlands here we come!!! 

It's just one hill. (Lindsay)

Yesterday we hiked Mount Katahdin; Maine’s highest peak.  I have been trying to avoid this mountain for many years as it strikes terror into the part of me that is afraid of heights.  Each year, Jim would say, “I’m going to drive to Maine and hike Katahdin.  Wanna come?”  Umm no.  Not only do I not want to give up an entire weekend to drive “downeast”, I also want no part in this structure named “The Knife’s Edge”.  

Jim gazing at the Knife's Edge.  And no, I did not hike on these spikes of death.

But this time around, I had no excuse.  Baxter State Park was “on the way”; our new euphemism for anything within 100 miles of our very flexible route and the weather was going to be perfect.  I’ve always considered myself a hiker but I’m not sure why.  Before this year, I had hiked exactly five mountains in my entire life.  I was dragged up one as a teenager and hated every step.  Jim has brought me up the others – Mount Monadnock in Southern NH, a small mountain in central NH and two in the White Mountains.  I cried most of the way up Mount Chocorua, a mountain that I would now practically fly up, because I was sure the wind would blow me right off the boulders.  My legs were shaking so much at the end of the nine mile Franconia Ridge Trail that I was passed by a woman with a broken wrist sprinting down the wet rocks. (Nothing gives you confidence like a broken middle-aged woman politely rejecting your offer to help her down the mountain.)

Just because you put white paint on a boulder, it doesn't make it a trail.


Needless to say, I wasn’t really a hiker.  But as lover’s luck would have it, I ended up with a boy who is in love with the mountains.  He was fortunate to have his Crazy Aunt Denny and many family friends start him on mountains at a wee age and he can now leap from boulder to boulder without pausing.  (I readjust my balance with every step which typically invokes the "are we really going this slow" look from him). 

 

I like to do this when I hike.

Not this.

If Jim is mountains and oceans, I’m forests and lakes.  I’m perfectly happy running through a town forest.  Hills are fine, even roots and rocks; I don’t mind running into terrifying wildlife and I’ve gotten myself home in the middle of the winter when I was lost for five hours in the woods without enough clothes or any food.  In the end, I just don’t want to die.  Running through the woods without another soul in sight while Keira sprints around, occasionally checking in with me, is bliss.  Scrambling up steep rocks while trying not to look at the ravine I’m likely to slide into is not my idea of a good time. 

Until it was.

I seem to have replaced long runs with long hikes on this trip and, I have to say, it’s kinda gnarly. (Advice: if a hiker ever tells you to do a hike because it’s “gnarly”, avoid it at all costs.  Gnarly = you will probably die) So, I begrudgingly agreed to hike Katahdin because Jim said, “well, I think you’re ready for it” which is Jim-speak for “she’ll tweak out but I really want to hike this mountain so I’ll pretend she’s ready”.

 

We wanted to hike the “easy” trail up (and by “easy”, I mean only “moderately strenuous”) but this particular park limits the number of people who can park at any given trailhead and apparently 35 other people also thought the easy route would be nice so we ended up on the Appalachian Trail (AT) instead.  (i.e. “very strenuous”) For those who don’t know, the AT ends at the summit of Katahdin so we were excited to possibly see some thru-hikers (those who hiked from Georgia to Maine) finishing their four-six month journeys. 

We met our first hiker at, you guessed it, the first f’ing ladder.  Ladders are used on trails to assist hikers up a particularly steep section.  I think ladders are a park’s way of saying, “okay, all the wimps can turn around now”.  When I get to a ladder or steep section, I want to be alone with my fear of heights.  I want to whimper and yell at Jim and even drop a tear or two without an audience.  But today, a man who had hiked 2,200 miles in the past four months stood there and watched me.  Of course, when someone is staring at you, you want to be cool so I just hoisted myself up without much drama.

This is what Jim thinks of ladders. 

And this is what I think.  See any difference?

We chatted with him for awhile and another thru-hiker about their plans now that their journey was complete.  I recognized the mixture of elation and sadness now that they were finished and knew I’d see the same in my eyes when our trip is completed.  And it got me thinking about how these men (and one woman – yay!) gave six months to be in the woods, to get away from the working world and just live in the moment.  And while Jim and I like showering too much to have done the AT (we considered it at one point but our max is one shower every three days), I found many similarities in the people hiking this incredible trail. 

While running helps me stay in the moment, it occurs more frequently when I hike.  Whether I’m trying to focus on every step on a technical climb or so exhausted at the end to think about much else, I tend to find hours of blissful nothingness in my overly-planning brain.  Imagine the effects of this if you do it every day for months? 

And unlike a long run, where you could theoretically quit and call your partner for a pity ride or just turn around, once you reach a summit, you have to go back down.  Which means when my legs are screaming after five miles of ascent, I just tell them to shut up because we have to do the same five to get back to the car where the cookies are.  It’s a wonderful feeling really, to move from excitement in the beginning of a hike, to a chatty ascent, to the silent huffing and puffing in the steep sections, to the celebration at the top, to the rage at having to now climb down the same sections that made you crap your pants on the way up, to a peaceful calm in the last mile or two and that glorious feeling of taking a shower and stuffing your face because you know you burned a few thousand calories.

I see the same peaceful look in the eyes of shelter dogs (or any dog) after a good run or hike.  There is nothing more satisfying than watching a shelter dog go from anxious and hyper in her kennel to calm and serene - the world is a better place for having volunteers who run with shelter dogs.

 

Beauty, a shelter dog, after her run.

Hiking is pushing yourself and staying calm when your brain is telling you to just go home and serenity all in one.  I heard on the radio today public libraries described as “places of bustling quiet”.  I believe mountains and trails support the same culture.  And it seems, for this reason, I am now a hiker.

 

 

Canada, you're SOOO dramatic (Jim)

Alright, I guess I haven't posted in awhile.  There are multiple reasons for this, but since I'm not big on accountability, I'm pretty much just going to blame Canada.

Or if you prefer

First of all, let's get one thing clear.  Collectively, Canada sucks at the internet.  I'm sure there are perfectly good reasons why I shouldn't have access to blazing fast, free Wi-Fi in an island province whose biggest concern is their hyper-abundant moose population, but dammit I am an entitled American.  Even when we THINK we have access to the internet, it typically fades in and out with infuriating randomness and makes it very difficult to actually accomplish anything important, like trying to find a gif of the Buttfumble because it has been too long since I had seen it last.



This happened.  And we must never forget.  Not even in Canada

Anyway, the last month or so has truly taught us that Canada is just damn dramatic.  All 'ooh look at me' and stuff.  Let's start with New Brunswick.  I bet you don't know anything about New Brunswick, do you?  Probably didn't even know it was a place, but it is.  Our camper will remember it as the place where the road signs have insufficient clearance for parking. 

10 minutes after crossing the border.  This was louder than it looks.

But mostly New Brunswick makes a real big deal about having the 'highest tides in the world.'  Of course, you have to sit and stare at the same spot over the course of eight hours to see this, but I guess it's not a bad way to spend the day.

 

Fundy National Park - miles of cliff top trails with coastal views

And then there is Nova Scotia.  (Fun fact - that's Latin for, New Scotia).  Did you know that Halifax was the site of the largest man made explosion in history prior to the Manhattan Project?  Well, the Drama Queen City will not let you forget.  2000 PEOPLE DIED IN 1917 WHEN TWO BOATS RAN INTO EACH OTHER IN THE HARBOR! 

Alright, who gave Canada boats?  And something explosive?

And if that wasn't enough, there is Taylor Head - a provincial park 5km off the 'highway' we learned about just by striking up a conversation with some locals at a grocery store.  Turns out this is a place with miles of white sandy beaches, coastal trails, crystal clear water, hardly any other people and if you are cheeky enough to ask a cop if you can camp here (literally beside the "no camping" sign) he will say "Sure eh, but watch out for the moose when you get to Newfoundland."

Taylor Head beach showing off.  No camping, unless, of course you would like to, eh?

But where Nova Scotia truly starts to get all dramatic is when you get to the northern region of Cape Breton Island.  What an attention whore.  The Cape Breton Highlands National Park is a place that is hard to ignore - unless you have no interest in mountains looming over the sea with pods of whales breaching in the distance.  From the trails or the road, take your pick.  The Cabot Trail is a 180 mile road that follows the circumference of the island and is full of shit like this:

Lindsay showering Cape Breton with attention

But the coup de grace for this drama queen province is when you least expect it - when you find a driveway to park in near the ferry expecting only a place to crash but instead consume sausage, beers, and single malt scotch offered by your host before dragging yourself up to sleep here:

 

This is bullshit

Obviously, we were pretty glad to be rid of this part of Canada and head off to our next destination: Newfoundland.  We thought we would get a break from the drama, but nooooo.  Our first night off the ferry we tried to park overnight in a place with the pleasant name "Wreckhouse" - seemed to us a gorgeous spot with mountain and sea views,  It was a BIT breezy perhaps.  After making dinner and settling in, there came a tapping as of someone gently knock, knocking at our camper door.  And who was it?  Some needy local, stopping by just to make sure we knew that this spot was famous for high wind gusts that blow over train cars and tractor trailers.  Could that be why no one else was parked here?  Well, we left the spot just so he wouldn't come back all smarmy after our truck was tipped over at 3 AM.

If it was called "Wrecktruck" we might have known better

We were pretty sick of all this drama by now as you can imagine, so we thought we would escape it a bit by spending some time in the woods.  Gros Morne National Park can't be too bad, right?  Wrong.  Day 1

Ancient chunk of earth mantle on the left, the Appalachian mountains on the right. 
Can't just give us the Appalachians, huh Canada?

Night 1

You're an asshole

Well, how about some nice walking in a pasture on our second day.  That can't be too dramatic, can it?  Green Gardens it is!

You're not supposed to put wildflower meadows next to ocean side cliffs and sea stacks, Canada

Fine, let's just climb the park's biggest mountain and get it over with.  It's only like 800 meters, and I'm no conversion expert but I'm pretty sure that is not that high of a mountain.  Can't be that big of a deal.

That's not even really a trail

North American isn't even supposed to HAVE Fjords

Really?  An 800 meter high lake with a waterfall? 

Needless to say, we were ready to get the hell away from this dramatic bitch and find ourselves a nice simple spot.  Like a parking lot, at the extreme northern tip of the island in St. Anthony (side note to Canada - not every fucking town has to be "Saint" something.  Jesus.).  This one is called Fishing Point, just going to chill out here for a bit.  IS THAT A GODDAMN HUMPBACK WHALE?

That white dot is the distinctive flipper.  It was rolling around and showing off,
not content to just do under water whale stuff. 

I suppose that is an 800 pound polar bear.  Turns out they swim here from Labrador in the winter - some nice lady had this outside of her kitchen window a couple of years ago.  Can you imagine if polar bears swam to your kitchen?

Fun fact - this guy died of a heart attack.  They shot it four times before approaching just to make sure anyway.

I'm sorry, is that a litter of frolicking fox kits?

Yeah, it is.  Cup stealing fox kits.

So as you can imagine, after dealing with this dramatic bullshit for weeks, we are getting pretty pissed with Canada.  I mean, there was this crap, and so much more that I do not have the heart to relate.  Everywhere we look, drama drama drama.  How did this make us feel?  Well, angry as you can imagine.  I will not even try to describe how angry, but pictures are worth a thousand words and this one comes the closest to the amount of rage we felt:

THE SHIRE!  She's very dangerous over short distances.

 Yeah. Viking Lindsay mad.

Road Trippin' with Your Dog 101 (Lindsay - and technically Keira)

Fair warning: This is a dog nerd post so if you don't have a dog or don't care for dogs, you may want to move along.  So you've been thinking about taking a road trip have ya?  And thinking it might be a good idea to bring the dog along right?  Maybe just for a weekend, maybe a whole year.  Well, I'm here to help you.

As you can imagine, the topic of whether or not to bring Keira on this trip was lengthy and took place over many years.  I kept score of all the things I did for Jim to win the battle while he prohibited me from obtaining a 2nd permanent dog when he realized there was no way he was getting out of this trip without a four-legged creature.  (before you get your pants in a bunch, the alternative was to give her to a friend for the duration) 

 

Editor's note: Jim actually loves Keira and only pretended he didn't want to deal with a dog to keep me

from sneaking one of the 800 pit bulls I fostered from work into our life.

I would have kept this one.

And this one.

And this one.

And this one.  He's so wee, Jim wouldn't even have noticed.

So your first task in determining whether or not to bring your furry friend is to decide if you think he/she will be "happy" with the new lifestyle.  If you have a spoiled dachshund who pukes from stress if you get up even an hour later than normal, this may not be the best move.  Or a senior dog who really just wants to sleep near the fireplace, spare him the turmoil.  (although I once read a story about a family who brought their dying dog on a long road trip as a way to give her some peace from her cancer - *tear*)

Keira = stomach of steel.  Literally she has eaten everything there is to eat in the woods and gulped dozens of gallons of giarrdia filled river water and not gotten sick.  She also learned my #1 lesson for dogs and cats many years ago.  Don't wake Lindsay up.  It doesn't matter if it's four hours past breakfast, you wait until I wake up to eat.  (I know, I'm soooo mean.)  But it helps animals learn to deal with change, I swear.

Keira learning to cope with stress.
The second piece is fairly straight-forward.  Does your dog do well in the car?  If your version of a nice family vacation is having your Great Dane hurl breakfast on the back of your head while you stare at beautiful scenery, then disregard this piece of advice.  Keira not only does well in the car, it's actually a safe place for her.

 

Thirdly, your dog probably shouldn't try to eat all the new people who want to squish her face or the new dogs who may or may not sniff her butt first.  Keira scores an A+ on the people part (she doesn't even growl when she soooo deserves to) but about a B- on the dogs.  She used to be a C or D on the dog part but we've done our homework and worked with great trainers and she's showing the world what she's really like now. 

Playing sword with babies is a must.

Fourth(ly?), she should be quiet so you can leave said dog alone in said camper from time to time without disturbing the world.  Keira scores a big fat F on this one.  She's an "alarm barker".  Aka a fancy term in the behavior world which means "your dog scares the absolute shit out of you at the most random times because she thought a squirrel looked at her".

Two words: Citronella Collar.  I can't believe I haven't used it on her before.  I've used it on shelter dogs.  I know it works.  But sometimes you have to run face first into the telephone pole to put two and two together.  It's a collar that emits a spray of citronella (citrus smell) when they bark.  The point is to disrupt the behavior and to avoid having it come from you (because if you come up with a way to get a dog to stop barking when you're around, it won't work when you're not).  Oh, the lives this thing can save.  The number of shelter dogs who die every day because they bark too much.  Or the number of dogs relinquished because they're too loud in their apartments.  Shelters - buy them, use them, give them to adopters.  They are humane and lifesaving.

Fifth, your pup should do well on a leash because the world wants them on one ALL THE TIME.  Again, Keira scores about a C on this one.  And it's not her fault.  We gave her a blissful off-leash life before this and she doesn't get it.  We've been working with the gentle leader which works for a bit but requires way too much attention from me to work properly.  (it is a good piece of equipment and works wonders for most dogs, just not Keira) 

Lastly, are YOU ready to travel with your dog?  Can you watch her ingest an entire chipmunk or watch her eat her own diarrhea and then vomit it up again?  (this actually happened last month)  Pick off ticks and put canned pumpkin on your regular shopping list? 

Now tabulate your results.  Does Fluffy or Princess fit the bill?  And if not, how far off the mark is she and can you deal with the symptoms?  I can deal with Keira's issues on the leash - it's called having a line in the budget for "fines".  "I didn't see the leash sign officer".

Because if she does, you're about to embark on an extraordinary adventure where you sleep, breathe and poop together 24/7.  What a wonderful life.

"The little furry buggers are just deep, deep wells you throw all your emotions into."

Bruce Schimmel

It's not all unicorns and rainbows but when it is, it's a unicorn on steroids jumping over a 28-hue rainbow. (Lindsay)

Now that we've spent a few weeks living full-time in our little camper and actually doing the things we said we were going to do on this trip, we've been making an effort to note whether it all feels right.  You know how it goes.  You have some crazy idea ("I'm going to climb Mount Everest!") which keeps you going for a few weeks while you read about other crazy people who have accomplished the same feat but then as the training and expenses pile up, you lose your mojo and quit.  Well, we didn't want that to happen but we also wanted to be realistic about which parts of our "only in our head" dream really make us happy.

It's one of my pet peeves that people go on a trip or have some experience and pretend like it was all sunshine and gumdrops because it sets an expectation for the next person to have the same euphoria and when it's inevitably lacking, you feel like a failure.  Everyone said living in West Africa would change my life and it did.  But it also brought on the worst breakdowns I've ever had after watching a mother hold her dying baby in her arms waiting at the pharmacy for some medication that would never save him.  (This moment passed when I stayed overnight with a friend's family and the wife, who I shared the bed with and ten years my junior, stayed up the entire night fanning me so I could sleep in the heat.)  Travel does that - it shakes you to your core if you really look around and then, just like that, it gives you something to smile about; something to be immensely grateful for.

I am on this road trip to find "the sweet spot".  Psychologists say this is the feeling we all get when we've reached our own unique balance between boredom and anxiety.  I've found it quite a few times on this journey and much more often than I was able to before but not really at the times I thought I would.  I found it last Friday after six and a half hours of hiking when I had taken a shower, eaten dinner and was folding my laundry.  I have no idea what it was - the peace you feel after a day in the woods, the chance to bathe, the security of the mundane - whatever it was, it was blissful.  I did NOT find it the next night while on an isolated and stunningly beautiful beach watching the sunset with the boy.

I found it here.

 But not here.

It's well known by now that Facebook and social media, while bringing us together in new ways, has also isolated us further from deep relationships.  It also paints such a rosy f'ing picture of everyone's life that the majority of people, when polled, say they feel inadequate compared to the lives of their friends when viewed through their FB profile.  Well, we all know how that goes.  Unless you're one of those "let it all out on FB" people, you tend to post the funny, the memorable and the proudest moments of your life.  Of 100 pictures I take in a given day, 50ish make the cut and 15 of the best end up on FB.  I don't post "I almost took Jim's head off today after the 50th time he stepped on the heel of my flip-flop" or "I had a minor breakdown in Acadia because I was sick of walking my dog on a leash".  No, instead we post about the positive.

Which brings me back to my point.  While there are some things I do not like about this trip - not showering after a particularly muggy day without an option to dive in a lake, driving on ugly roads, having to do some amount of research every day to try figure out our next moves (I know, waaaah Lindsay, you're on a roadtrip and we feel bad for you) - there are so many unexpected gems that it takes your breath away.  Because Jim put himself out there in the grocery store and asked the locals where to go we ended up on an amazing beach on the Eastern coast of Nova Scotia.  Even better, because we asked the local police officer if we could boondock there, we had the place to ourselves - for free.  Totally unexpected.

Keira also appreciates the amazing beach

And it amazes me how much expectations play a part in our happiness.  I had zero ideas about Halifax.  Literally none.  If anything I expected it to be kinda seedy.  But we wove our way through beautiful neighborhoods and found a small park with trails and spent the night next to it.  Before going to bed, we walked a few miles into the beautiful downtown and enjoyed a beer at a local pub.  I woke up the next morning, jumped out of the camper and took Keira for a run.  Just because we were there and it was beautiful.

So thank you for following our journey.  I just ask you follow it with a grain of salt.  Because inevitably on the same day I post "life is amazing and spontaneous" you can bet I also had a rage baby earlier in the day because my running pants really were starting to smell.

How to do 4th of July weekend in Acadia for $6.29 - Intro to Driveway Surfing (Jim)

A quick rambly post for you:

As I write this, I am sitting enjoying some deliciously cool and dry air at a camp site in Fundy National Park in New Brunswick (that's in Canada, for the geographically challenged of you out there).  Technically we are in the town of Alma, which is very proud of the fact that its location on the Bay of Fundy makes it the town with the biggest difference between high and low tide in the world.  Being an eloquent folk, their motto is "Alma....see that water over there eh?  Sometimes it is much higher and other times it is much lower.  What's that?  No, it doesn't happen very quickly.  No dramatic wall of water or rapids or anything.  But if you watch it for six hours you will notice a slow change in water height that is significant over that time frame.  Alma!"

The last few days we have been basically off the grid, but shortly before that we enjoyed an absolutely epic weekend in Acadia National Park.  Now, we had both been there before - you might have remembered that we ran a marathon there a couple years ago (no big deal), but the crippling pain of that weekend left little time for exploring and contrary to popular opinion, the course of the Mount Desert Island Marathon does a pretty lousy job at taking advantage of the spectacular landscape.  And so it was a priority to go there, and the fact that fate made it happen over the 4th of July weekend was just something we had to deal with.

Our dilemma was that being a national park, boondocking (camping without being at a camp site) is tough to do and reservations were all but impossible to come by.  Plus, we are cheap.  Enter: couchsurfing.org.  This is a site new to my awareness but I see a bright future for us.  Basically, it is a social network for people to host fellow travellers for free - offer your couch to random strangers?  Sure!  Sleep in the house of a potential serial killer?  Why not!  We decided to give it a try.

And this is how we found ourselves pulling into a house just outside of Bar Harbor last Friday evening.  This house was lived in by three fascinating people about our own age - the names have been changed to protect the innocent:

Caption Jack Sparrow - bartends in the summer, runs his own charter sailing business out of Grenada during the winter on his sail boat doing month long trips to uninhabited islands.  Well, usually - he took last winter off from this 'work' to spend surfing in Baja California, Mexico. 

Anthony Bordain - personal chef for a billionaire family with summer residences in Bar Harbor.  Also travels during the winter to their various ski resorts to be on call in case they need a snack.  Tore his ACL last winter teaching the heiress how to backcountry ski.

Jesus Lebowski - never actually learned what this guy did, but he looks like what you would get if Jesus and Jeffrey Lebowski had a love child (ok I'm no theologian, but I'm pretty sure Jesus was no stranger to non-traditional conception).  Shows up SUP'ers by walking on water wearing a bathrobe.

I won't lie - the place was kind of a frat house.  Ping pong table and kegerator in the living room about says it all.  But - the guys left the place unlocked for us, wrote 'Couchsurfers - mi casa su casa', and let us plug the camper in for AC without ever meeting us.  In fact, we barely got to see them at all since we were up early each morning to spend all day hiking and their jobs had them sleeping in to work late (frankly, best case scenario for us introverts.) 

All in all - we were able to get two full days in Acadia for free just by putting ourselves out there.  Now yes - there are massive asterisks here.  Having our camper and not needing to sleep on the couch (which we would never have wanted to inspect under a black light), cooking our own food bought at the grocery store before entering the park, and having already bought the national park pass (although ironically we were never challenged to produce - Acadia runs on the honor system apparently).  And yes, technically we could have been 'murdered and made into lamp shades' - all trivial details.  But all we bought were a couple of cold drinks at Jordan House on day 1 and a Snickers ice cream bar and a cold drink on top of Mt. Cadillac on day 2.  That was it.  Overall a pretty successful weekend!

As glorious as the weekend was, it was very interesting to meet Jack, Anthony and Jesus and get a glimpse of another lifestyle.  These guys are all early 30's, very bright and successful in their own ways.  They might share a sketchy apartment and almost certainly do not have 401k's and are not as 'successful' as us by most metrics.  And yet the shit they have done puts us to shame - adventures literally all over the world and a lifestyle that gives them months at a time to have them. 

We should all try to keep in mind that the path laid out before us is not the only one.  We get stuck in the mind set that our life is a revolving door of five work days and two days full of chores to take care of our houses, pay for our cars, and watch our tv.  It is certainly one way to go about life and there is great value in the certainty and the routine - seriously, I get it.  Just ask Lindsay how much I have been bitching about missing my comfort zone of work, eat, exercise, sleep (ok there was more eating than that).  We both see ourselves establishing these kinds of routines again and I am yearning for it, however I find the alternatives out there to be very interesting.

We have also used couchsurfer to hook up with a young pastor lady up near Sydney NS, our last stop before heading to Newfoundland.  Seems like a drastically different person from the trio we met in Bar Harbor, but it will be great to meet her (and great to shower). 

Mawage. That bwessed awangement, that dweam wifin a dweam. (Lindsay)

Today Jim and I celebrate our anniversary.  Five years ago and multiple attempts to force us together by mutual friends, we began this silly thing called a relationship.  I held a 4th of July party and after a few glasses of wine, I mustered up the courage to text him.  He drove a few hours, we played flip cup into the wee hours of the night, he was forced to run around my house (that's what you get for constantly losing) where he promptly broke his toe on a raised garden bed and the rest, as they say, is history.  (Ironic that while the country celebrated Independence Day, Jim lost all of his.  Mwa ha ha.)

Our first "date" (if one can call it that) ended with me walking my cat on a leash to his car where we stood awkwardly staring at one another until he broke the silence with a fist bump.  It was all.so.romantic.  After that, we found ways to spend time with one another even though we lived on different ends of the state and when I was sure we were a solid team, I did what any girl in love would do and moved across the country.  So we spent the next six months in an actual long-distance relationship.  Fate intervened and lured us both to the same area of New Hampshire in our 2nd year of love-ness where we bought a house together and lived happily ever after blah blah blah. 

Except we really did.  I'm consistently shocked and pleased that I still actually like him.  I start most days with "I still like you" and he always replies, "I know".  And when I look back at these crazy years, I realize how grateful I am to live in a time when this is all possible and mostly accepted.  I mean, I asked him out and I had the freedom to move across the country for a job opportunity and we bought a home together and shared it for four years.  Just a few dozen years ago (or less), I would have been ostracized for those choices.  But there is one piece that it seems with which our country still grapples.  So much so that it is constantly in the news.  And that piece is marriage.  (Mawage)

I am ecstatic about the Supreme Court ruling that killed DOMA because I whole-heartedly believe that everyone should have the freedom to make the choices that feel right to them.

Even grumpy cat agrees.

And while I don't wish to take any attention away from that victory, it has also become interesting to embark on a lifestyle that isn't quite understood yet - one where straight, gay, bisexual people choose not to get married.  Now, I'm not claiming to be fully discriminated against.  As I said, our friends and family, despite the occasional "when the heck are you getting married" question, are supportive of our choices but legally, we have some challenges.  (to be fair, we do use this frequently as fodder for practical jokes like when Jim faux proposes at a party)

Due to these challenges, Jim and I joke that we will get married when "it's beneficial for tax purposes".  But we do have some serious concerns about the lifestyle we have chosen.  I would have a heck of a time visiting him in a NH hospital in the event of a tragic accident or illness (immediate family my butt - I have literally picked ticks out of places on him where one should never have to pick ticks out of).  We cannot share health insurance unless we work for a progressive company that adds "partner" to their plan.  Thanks to Jim's last company, I had dental insurance!  But we had to open a shared bank account to get it.  Apparently that's what proves your commitment - scariest day of our relationship.  SHARED FINANCES - AHHHHH.  So Jim put in the minimum amount and promptly refused to give me access to the debit card.  Again, overpowering romance.

And don't even get me started on the kid thing.  If and when we decide to start a family, we will likely run into all kinds of issues.  While we're here and to answer that question outright, we still aren't sure but if we do, we will adopt - I don't want to ruin my figure - KIDDING - don't lose your sense of humor now.

Interestingly, the LGBT movement has actually helped pave the way for some of the rights I may enjoy as a non-married woman.  Adoption agencies seem to be more open to the idea of a non-married straight couple the way they've finally started to accept a married (or non-married) gay couple. 

Our friends sometimes say that common law marriage will protect us in most instances but this legal protection is actually quite rare in this country and in New Hampshire, it only matters if one of us dies (again, I can't stand the romance of it all).  Here is the actual definition:

New Hampshire recognizes common law marriage for inheritance purposes only, and the recognition begins only after the first spouse dies. In New Hampshire, a couple is determined to have been legally married if, after the death of one of the spouses, the surviving spouse can show that 1) the couple lived together for more than 3 years preceding the death of the other spouse, 2) the spouses had publicly acknowledged one another as husband and wife, (by their actions such as filing joint tax returns, using the same last name, wearing wedding bands, referring to each other as husband and wife, holding property jointly, etc. and 3) the couple was generally known as husband and wife in the community. Note that cohabitation alone, without further evidence of the couple holding themselves out as married, is insufficient to prove that a common law marriage has been formed.

Aka I get Jim's dining room set if he dies.  Maybe...

And I'm not missing the irony that NH is the "Live Free or Die" state.  You can choose to ride your motorcycle at 80 mph without a helmet but we aren't really recognized by our state unless I call him my husband in public.  Actually hilarious.  "And this is my husband, Jim, except we aren't married.  Oh, but we wear these rings so we can show our societal commitment to one another."  Feel better society?  Because apparently that's the only way I get my dining room table.

We have no idea if this road trip has just reset the clock on that three year requirement either.  I would argue, of course, that if two people can survive sharing a truck camper for a year then they have proven their "married-ness".  (we can't quite close the bathroom door when we use the toilet)

But the real question you all want to ask is "why"?  Why Lindsay?  Why wouldn't you marry the man you love when others are fighting tooth and nail for that privilege?  And I don't really know.  Just doesn't feel like me.  Sadly, society counters with "well, they must not really be happy" or "she's not actually sure if he's the one".  How about, we're two adults with shared morals and we don't wanna.

Here's what I know for sure.  I love Jim and he loves me (and Keira loves food) and that love may last many, many years until one of us dies (and I hopefully get the dining room table).  Or we'll grow apart at some point and hopefully say goodbye with mutual respect and a lifelong love for one another.  Who knows.  And I don't believe that marriage provides any better guarantee that two people will stay together - that's determined waaaaay before you ever walk down the aisle in your commitment to one another and ability to sort through challenges.

A hug is a strangle you haven't finished yet.

So fall in love with whoever you want (unless it's a four legged creature - I'm not okay with that.  Yet...) and get married or don't and have kids or don't.  Just be a good person and spend time with people who make you laugh every single day.

"All that I'm after is a life full of laughter"
Daughtry