Rose Cottage, Idaho
October 14, 2019
Greetings Fellow Adventurers!
Having just returned from the Northern sector of the Colorado Plateau Province (look it up) I find myself reflecting upon the nature of craft. That is to say, the skills necessary to survive in the red, slick-rock country of the high desert near Moab, Utah.
Most of these skills are long mastered and I often find myself passing along tips to those less fortunate. Particularly my brothers-in-law that I have to keep a careful eye on when we are in the Idaho wilderness. However, there is one skill that continues to escape me and that is the art of backing up the darn camper.
Now my brothers-in-law have campers that are as long as sea yachts and they back them up with skillful dexterity that makes one think of spacecraft docking in space. Absolute precision in motion. One of my brothers-in-law can fire up an eighteen-wheeler tractor-trailer and back it onto the head of a pin. The first time, no re-dues necessary.
Scout and I own a trailer that is about as long as a golf cart. When selecting a campsite we have to find one that has no large rocks, trees, or children nearby. They would all be in grave danger when I shift the old fishing car into reverse and hit the gas.
I have watched numerous videos on how to back up a trailer and watched as these YouTube fellows zip campers backward down twisting mountain roads just for fun. I like to start my maneuvers with a full tank of gas because I will need every gallon before I get the trailer even near where it needs to be.
Do you think it is easy? You try it. I am certain that once in reverse the steering wheel disengages from the front wheels and just spins aimlessly. There is no correlation between my steering direction and the path the camper is hell-bent on.
I have backed over, and on to, bushes, trees, boulders, picnic tables, and park rangers. I have hit chipmunks, rabbits, coyotes, and once I winged an elk. When Scout starts directing me her arms fly like the windmills of Holland. I keep the windows rolled up so I don’t have to hear her “helpful hints.” I am very sensitive.
I often just give up and go to a hotel. It is very embarrassing to go to a hotel pulling a perfectly serviceable camper.
If I do get lucky and find myself located the campsite I jump out of the car out to admire my work. The term jackknife always comes to mind. Usually, one corner of the camper and one corner of the car are crunched together making a very nice /\ shape as if I tried to circle the wagons. But I say, “Close enough, let's have a gin and tonic!” As you know, I like to look at the sunny side of things.
Unsurprisingly, things don’t get any better when we return home to the cottage. We have a big, over-sized driveway leading to the double garage. I don’t even try to get backed inside the garage. I just want to have both camper wheels on concrete, I don’t care where. Once backed in, that is it, I cannot access either of the bays. The cars have not been inside the garage in years. Often the trailer hitch ends up on, or near, the back doorsteps. But I say, “Close enough, let's have a gin and tonic!” We home!
I hope this dispatch finds you healthy and happy. I also hope you are out having your own adventures in the fall leaves.
Over and out.
