It’s 9 p.m. and I’m just now sitting down for the hour of creative writing I’ve committed to do each day. I normally do my writing around 2 p.m., just before the dog and I drive into town for our city walk. After two months in coronavirus lockdown in a high mountain campground, our routine got quite solidified. Such a firm routine is unusual for one living a nomadic life.
But that routine was tossed aside. Today was travel day. The lockdown eased, the campground wanted their campsite back, and the dog and I wanted to begin our movement north for the summer.
Still, I was nervous. When you don’t hitch up and pull for a while, you get rusty. You lose confidence. That complete ease I’d developed in towing, then settling in for a few weeks, then towing again was dim in my memory. How does it feel to tow your home on wheels? Is it scary? Is it dangerous? Is it exhilarating? I couldn’t remember. And because I had only owned my new-to-me 18-ft. trailer for less than a month when the lockdown happened, I didn’t really know how it towed, how it handled wind and steep grades and traffic. I felt even further from the ease I once felt.
Then a few days ago, I watched a YouTube video by some nomads whose channel I follow. Like me and so many tens of thousands of nomads, they had been at the same place (in their case an RV park on the coast) for two months and they were eager to get on the road. But their experience was a cautionary tale. Last week, they found out their Pacific Northwest campground had reopened and they decided to clear out the very next day. They did a rush job getting their Fifth Wheel packed up and got out of there early. It was not a smooth start to their northern trip. They ran low on fuel, almost tore off their AC units under a gas station awning, and had a low tire. At the end of the video, their lessons learned included not rushing around to leave camp after a two-month stay. They were rusty, and their rig was new and unfamiliar to them.
So that’s when I decide to be kind and gentle with myself. Getting locked down for a global pandemic is not something we have done before. Staying at a campsite for two months is not something I’ve done before. Packing up and leaving after 2 months is not something I’ve done before. Not even close. I decided to start getting ready to leave 3 or 4 days in advance, to give my mind and soul time to adjust to the coming new reality. I began to pack up items I wouldn’t be needing, like my collapsible bucket and laundry soap, which I’ve been using to do my laundry while I shower. I won’t be needing theses because I’ll do laundry at my brother’s house, which is where I am now. So, I collapsed the bucket, zipped it into is cover, and stowed it in its place.
Step by step, I undid the life I had set up for myself on this spot. I reminded myself that I’ve never broken camp after 2 months. Be gentle.
As the day approached, I did myself a favor that I’ve learned these past 3 years of travel, which is to make a list of all the chores I’ll do on moving day. They include showering, hiking with the dog, placing my 27-inch iMac down on the bed for a cushioned journey, stowing the awning, stowing the fencing, stowing the outdoor table and the outdoor dog bed. My last task is always to wash the trailer and vehicle with Meguiar’s Wash and Wax. No matter where I’m going, I want to be towing a shiny trailer with a shiny car.
I took my time this morning. Whereas I usually try to dismantle a complete camp in 90 minutes, I didn’t even pay attention to the time. It would take what it takes. I had the luxury of knowing my parking spot at my brother’s house was a sure thing, so there was no need to rush to a campground early to get a good site.
I probably started breaking camp at 8:30 a.m. and was pulling down the slope onto the road at 11:30 a.m. I texted my brother: “I’m on my way.”
The kindness to myself continued. I didn’t unhitch from the trailer at my brother’s house until I watched the sun go down and decided the trailer was properly placed for wind and sun. I gave myself a nap. I reminded myself that moving camp after a global pandemic lockdown was a big deal and it was OK to rest. I helped my brother prepare a new vegetable dish with lots of garlic and butter (OMG!), and I attended a Zoom video meeting with my spiritual sisters.
And now, even though it’s coming up on 10 p.m., I’m keeping my commitment to do my writing. I could have used the extraordinary circumstances of the day to give myself a break from writing. But these are indeed extraordinary times and I want to document them.
I grew up without much kindness. I grew up with no hugs and no “I love you.” For so long I fumed about that and wondered when someone would step up and show me the kindness I needed so badly. And people did. I learned what kindness looked like, what it sounded like, how it felt. And eventually I learned how to be kind to myself. Thank you Katt. You really made my day.