We left Mercedes on Friday with a heightened vigilance that
anything can happen on the road, knowing this trip would be different. We had 1,250 miles ahead of us, some very
uncertain times and the knowledge that if we headed down the road and changed
our minds, coming back to Llano was not an option. The park has been basically locked down the
past 2 weeks. Only residents and those delivering essential services are aloud
in. No new check ins aloud. I spent the past two weeks telling people checking out that they absolutely
were not aloud to check back in if they left. A couple of people headed down
the road and had trouble and wanted to come back and could not, due to ‘shelter
in place’ orders to protect the parks 55+ population dynamic.
The morning started with a headache that we have seen happen
to others and even helped others overcome. One of our two 22’ slides refused to
come in. Champ spent an hour and a half working on it and did rig it so it
would come in and there it has stayed the entire trip. We have purchased 6 RV’s
over the years and my big requirement has always been that it must be inhabitable
with the slides in, just in case. If you can cook, poop and sleep the floor
plan satisfies my basic requirements. Of
course, if you know me that is just the first step in a long list of things
that must satisfy me when picking out a rig. But I digress.
We are on our last leg to Des Moines this morning. The trip
has been very different and eerie in a sense. Campgrounds and RV parks are open
but with no contact procedures in place when we arrive. The weather was bad the
first two days. We left oppressively humid mid 90’s weather and drove into a
cold front that resulted in heavy rain and plunged temperatures into the lower
40’s. The coldest weather we had experienced
all winter.
The most noticeable and eeriest factor was the utter lack of
traffic in the Interstates. The most we saw was going through San Antonio at
rush hour on Friday afternoon. Normally it would have been stop and go through
the city, but we didn’t even slow down.
Traffic was plentiful but moving along at speed limit. When we travelled
through Waco and Ft. Worth on Saturday, we felt like we were in a post-apocalyptic
movie. We have been in Waco on Saturday in the past and it is normally busy
with Baylor University folks and tourists heading the Magnolia Markets or maybe
the Texas Ranger Museum in the shadow of I-35. Not this Saturday. Ft. Worth was
even more desolate. We also noticed the absence of law enforcement. No speed
traps, no DOT Inspectors ruining a trucker’s day with a spot inspection and
portable scales. We were well into Kansas before we saw our first State Trooper
on the road. Interstate LED signs that normally remind us to wear our seatbelts
and announce how many people have died in accidents this year, now tell us to
wash our hands and avoid contact with each other. Traveling through the cities, it is strange to see the sprawling retail complexes, along the interstate frontage road deserted. It's like being in a Stephen King novel.
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| Approaching Oklahoma City |
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| Deserted Flyovers in Ft. Worth |
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| Our normal view the entire trip |
Even stranger is seeing people gloved and masked at the truck
stops. No one is talking to each other. Suspicious glances are about all the communication
that is going on in public. Society is so raw and scared these days. A sad situation
indeed.
We met up with friends in a Casino RV park in southern OK on
Saturday night and again were stricken by the fact that there were only about
20 sites occupied in a park that can accommodate over 400. We sat outside around
our portable propane fire pit and talked about our last two days. We parted
ways the next morning on different routes and time frames that will ultimately
bring us to the same destination early this week.
Yesterday I started to feel normal and the anxiety of
travelling began to fade. It was my day to drive. I watched the roadsides
change. Poplars, Northern Red Buds and Pear trees blooming replaced the Cacti
and gnarly Live Oaks. We saw our first Casey’s General Store and knew we were
almost home. After checking into our
site in a state park, backed up to a river oxbow, I really started to feel like
my old self again. We collected firewood, and I listened to the Cardinals
and Robins in the timber. Gone are the calls of the Great Kiskadee and the Red
Crowned Parrots. Annie and I watched a Hairy Wood drumming away at the tree
next to our site and the sound of a freight train in the distance, reminded
me I was back home in the Midwest. After an early dinner sat by the fire
talking about how strange trip this has been.
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| Annie birdwatching with me |
We slept soundly knowing we
are almost home. Three days ago, 1,250 miles seemed like a million. This morning we
are less than 300. Iowa will greet us today with 70-degree weather but the same
weird vibe of no contact. The kids and grandkids will be near but so very far
away still until they feel comfortable with contact. Champ and I are
practically sterile with three weeks of very minimal contact under our belt.
The Rio Grande Valley is just beginning to see cases of
COVID-19. With only 38 cases, they imposed shelter in place orders two weeks ago. Iowa’s cases are growing exponentially and nearing 1,000 cases. We struggled with the
decision of whether to go home or hunker down. The deciding factor ended up
being that cases were starting to ramp up were we were, so we had nothing to
lose by being home. It is better for me since my health insurance is non-existent
outside of Iowa. If I get sick, I need to be In-Network as they say. It is a risk I take each winter when we leave, but this is a game changer. We know we
are heading to a place with more cases per capita but we will be home and there’s
a lot to be said for that. We have been in regular text and phone contact with
other RV friends. Some have already made it to Iowa, others are still waiting
things out. There is a mutual comfort in knowing we are keeping tabs on each
other. The full-time RV life is inherently a little uncertain, but this is
different. On the upside, gas is the cheapest we have ever pumped into the
motorhome.
Tonight, I will be sitting in my lawn chair at Griff’s RV
Park a stone’s throw from our daughter’s house. I know we are healthy and what we have or have
not encountered the past weeks. We do not know the details of who our loved
ones have been in contact with as many are still working each day. It is like a
musty, damp gym towel hanging over our homecoming. We dream of the day later
this spring when Saylorville will open once again and site number 7 in Volunteer
Village will be home. I long for my summer days on the mower, or with Judy in
the Butterfly Gardens. I long for the sound of my grandkids voices as they
snuggle up against me on the couch after a busy day playing outside. The world
needs a big dose of normalcy. I hope it comes soon.
Until Next Time…
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