Walking the Walk

What's not to love about a view like this--the Wisconsin-cheese-curd-squeaky pristine beaches of the Emerald Coast, along Florida's Panhandle?

Taking a peaceful walk along the beach on the Emerald Coast of Florida, you still have 2 choices: walk by the ever-diminishing natural setting of a state park or gawk as you walk on beaches that separate mega-million dollar mansions from the sometimes surly sea.

We did both today. Seeing the not-humble abodes perched like flamingos on stilts designed to keep the dwellers' feet dry, these homes represent the typically very part-time residences for the very rich who like the view.

I like the view too. Not houses but sea oats and other wild growth that used to adorn the coast before it was discovered by silly people who think they're impervious to hurricanes. Building a house that close to the Gulf of Mexico is audacious. Building a multi-million dollar 5,000+ sq. foot mansion is insanity and waste.

One of our group commented about how obscene it is to see these huge domains here and to know so many other people have little to no place to call home. I don't begrudge people their pleasures if everyone has a chance to get the basics needed for survival. But that is less and less the case.

We returned to our home base, me with Tillie's 150 sq. ft. which more than adequately shelters me. What it would be like to live in a sustainable house? If anyone has some info about this growing--and essential-- form of housing, please let me know.

Tough to Gauge

One of the earliest lessons I've learned in RVing has been that the gauges are pretty useless. For whatever it costs to get them, you'd think you'd get instruments of reliability of some reasonable level.

My moments of panic as I saw that my propane gauge erronously indicated "empty" are matched by the false confidence of seeing my water level was at 3/4 only to hear the pump telling me otherwise when I'm nice and sudsy....

So I'm ignoring the red blackwater indicator. Wonder what happens if I'm wrong??? Guess I'll find out.

Party Time

I'm rarely capable of coming up with an upbeat column. I suppose it's the casualty of working in the field of homelessness for all these years. But this time I'm gonna give it a try....

Pulling into this little campground in Lafayette, LA, I was sort of surprised that most of the 70 campsites had "reserved" signs posted. Oh yeah, Mardi Gras weekend...uh oh...

But I nabbed one of the few spaces left on Thursday night. I knew the onslaught of campers would show up Friday afternoon, and I was right. Almost every spot filled up--a lot of families with little and big doggies...and some serious party animals, mostly young males.

Now, at this point I'm happy to have electricity, water and an inexpensive--$13 a night--spot to hang out. If the party animals return in an enchanted state of mind I may rethink.

OK, for the happy part of this blog. It's kids playing. The sound and sight of pure, simple fun blending in with the twilight croaking of frogs from our nearby swollen stream makes for a delightful experience. Kids of all sizes are scooting on their bikes up and down the road and hillsides like busy ants. I've heard nary a nasty word from kiddos or adults. How weird is that??!!

I'm going to hold that thought, not wanting to create any bad karma that would upset this good karma.

Travel Treasures

While traveling for my documentary project, HEAR US, I pulled up to a busy Phoenix intersection and stopped at the light. An obviously homeless man began crossing in front of our paused vehicles. I was first in line, preoccupied with the reality that I couldn't find my 1:00 appointment at the nearby (or so I thought) shelter. He turned toward me, pointing to the corners of his mouth, made a universally understood motion to indicate "SMILE" and stood and stared at me.

With a snicker of someone who had been caught being overly pensive, I flashed a smile, which he recognized as sufficient to trust I'd hold that thought, and he moved on to the vehicle next to me, repeating his motions. They needed a little help, so our Mr. Smiley pointed up to the sky, circling his finger in a "divine" gesture, then stretched out his arms to indicate a worldwide expectation, and then the smile routine again. Finally, just in time for the light to change, they got it. He scooted out of the way and we moved on, me with a smile on my face that lasted longer than the red light.

Because I was trying to find an obscure location, I ended up circling around, coming up to the same intersection, this time sitting a few vehicles behind the front. I watched the end of Mr. Smiley's performance on the intersecting street, and marveled as this relentless smile-inducer scrambled to get to his next customers, our line of traffic.

Meticulously he tended to the frowning drivers and passengers of each vehicle, not satisfied until they shook off their disdain for his grungy appearance and simply smiled. Although he has no apparent way of gauging the quality of happiness he imparts, he can at least quantify the outward response--the smile, his measure of success.

My friend never made a motion indicating he needed money, perhaps because he had what money couldn't buy, the best job in the world, making people happy. His mime motions communicated more than expensive therapists, mega-bucks ad campaigns, or a pile of self-help books ever could: smile, life is short, be happy, the world is watching!

For more information on the documentary project, see www.hearus.us.

Will $3.50 a Gallon Put the Brakes on Travel?

The news about rising gas prices doesn't make me happy. Those of us with modest incomes who rely on our RVs for work/travel/home will start to feel more than a pinch.

Since I've been full-timing, I've seen gas prices zoom past the once-unthinkable $2 a gal. I had to decompress my anxiety, thinking of the per mile cost at those high prices.

I don't drive frivolously. I do it for my work, a nonprofit project. I plan my trips to minimize my travels. I don't idle idly. I rarely use my genny, and only with huge guilt about my carbon footprint.

We as a nation need to put the brakes on our use of fuel. It just seems like it falls on the income-challenged consumer rather than the power-boat crowd or the private plane owners....

What do the people do who must drive for a meager living--delivering newspapers or pizzas, driving cabs or driving to work long distances because affordable housing is not available?

My whining is justified because some people in the oil industry pipeline are reaping huge profits, claiming that these high prices are just a natural by-product of high demand. Sorry, but after the Enron scandal, my skeptical nature has risen to new heights, almost as high as the price at the pump.

You Never Know

Just a few weeks ago I drove through Fernley, NV, the scene of this weekend's weather catastrophe. When I hear of disasters like this in places I've been I feel a strange sense of connection, even though I don't know the people there.

Traveling in an RV, especially on backroads, offers a connection with the heart of this country unlike the experience available to jet-setters and Interstate zoomers. I maintain that our disconnect has cost our country a tremendous resource: our compassion-- or even just a responsibility-bearing sense of connection--with our backroad brothers and sisters.

My passing through Fernley, or my week of bliss spent on Oregon's coast right before the December storms blasted the area, or my recognizing the names of hometowns of dead soldiers...none of that matters on a bigger scale, but to me it's a prime benefit of my nomadic lifestyle.

My struggle, which I value as much as the benefits of my travels, is to figure out how to transform my connection into something that can help. No easy answers there....

Best Laid Plans

If I had my way I'd be parked at McDowell Mountain county park, slide out, tanks dumped, and my Baby Q grill all ready to cook a nice Christmas meal.

I'm not. I'm in IL sitting in a hospital room at the bedside of a friend who fell and broke her hip. Fortunately she's doing well.

I'd like to post my thoughts on a more pleasant concept....county parks.

As I've traveled these past 2 years, especially through the backroads, I've noticed a little-advertised treat--county or city parks that accommodate RVs, usually for lots cheaper than the parking lot-like private RV campgrounds.

Maybe a directory or website holds the key to these little havens. If so I'd be happy to know about it. They are several steps up from the Wal-Mart alternative, especially in areas where no state parks are available.

Speaking of the big box WM, could it be true that they managed to pass a state law in Nevada forbidding the overnight use of WM parking lots so RVers would be forced to go to casinos??? That's what a kindly security guard told me. He did suggest that Sam's doesn't have a similar problem. Any info on this trend would be appreciated.

Merry Christmas to all....