Cape To Cape

While Marilyn is in South Africa and Botswana on safari with her sisters, I'm finding I may actually have some time to catch up on a few of my long term blog goals that I've kept on the back burner while we continue our non-stop North American travels.

So for this post, we'll not go to Cape of Good Hope or Cape Town, but rather Cape Coral- which is on the Gulf coast of Florida. The coach and the Quig are both tagged to Florida, Lee County, Cape Coral, where we maintained a very nice home for about five years. Our legal address currently is also Florida, but not Cape Coral. Instead we use a mail forwarder by the name of St. Brendan's Isle, which is generally in the Jacksonville Florida area.

The number one question we get "on the road" is "Where are you from?" That is a long story.... and I hope the next few posts will give some added perspective to the answer to that question. Presently we are "from" where-ever we are parked. That is the stock answer for those who, like us, live full time in a coach, a camper, an RV, or what have you that moves from place to place on a full time basis. Transients. Migrants. Gypsies. Homeless. Perhaps a bit of each but also none of the above. A lot of people think this is a unique life style and I suppose that is true, but certainly the number of people who do just that is vastly greater than many would assume. We see it all if we possibly can. Our perspective on the world, or at least this part of it, is as diverse and inclusive as we can make it.

But where have we "come from?" Five years on the road (with no end in sight) began from the Florida base. The home in Cape Coral was, like many homes in that area, on a canal. It was also across the street from a protected "green" area which was on the Caloosahatchee River. It was a beautiful home, in our humble opinion, and our time there was a very happy time. Many friends. Boating. Fishing. Semi tropical climate. Along with all the good things came the hurricanes. We counted 8 of them in the five year period that impacted us to one degree or another- even if was only to force us to "shutter up" in anticipation of what could happen. We never had damage to our house, although the landscaping took it on the chin a time or two. We were lucky. Not everyone was. Still, the time came, when our "five year plan" matured and we longed to see more, travel more, experience new things...and so off we went.

What I wanted to do here is to post pictures of the Cape Coral house. Re-establish roots by visiting the places we are "from." In reverse order....



We did the landscaping ourselves- which led to a small landscaping and property management company which did very well for as long as we ran it, before eventually selling it. We did the landscaping to make the property as lush as possible- our effort to make the Florida property as close as possible to our Roatan, Honduras Island property which represented the five year plan which led into the Florida five year plan. You can't make the semi tropical regions as lush as the tropical regions of the world, but you can come darn close- and we felt like we did just that.

Beginning with the next post, I hope to start an in-depth look at island life. Of all our five year plans, so called, the Roatan experience was THE most amazing.

One Half Gundyville On WINGS?

So far all of our stories have been "wheel based"- that is to say we traveled to all of our destinations by coach and/or van. But while this has been true to date, it is also the case that we have had Marilyn "in training" for going on safari with her two sisters. This coming Wednesday the girls will travel to New York and board a plane for South Africa and Botswana- so one half of Gundyville (Marilyn) will be traveling to the next venue by wings. She had to do some "outfitting" as neutral color clothing of specific requirements are advised by the travel company. She had to have a camera with specific capabilities....and learn how to use it effectively.

In order to help her get in the spirit (not that it took much to do that!) I made her an "elephant" from some palm tree components and gave it to her to practice with. Don't have a clue what I am talking about? The pictures will explain everything that needs explaining.

So here is a first look at pre-safari Marilyn....and I invite you to stand by with me and await her return from Africa with a camera full of exciting photos. Or so we hope!

Even When You Are "IN" Safe and Sound

With all the problems that plagued us almost daily on our recent cross country run, we were mighty happy and feeling fine to back in to the site at Thousand Trails in Hershey and shut the engine off. Whew! Made it. No more problems- at least for a while. But that feeling assumed there would be no problems without the engine running and the wheels turning. You do know what happens when you "ASS U ME" too much, don't you?

So I guess I really should not have been all that surprised when I hooked up the city water supply, turned on the spigot, and the inlet valve on the side of coach exploded in my face and sent water shooting everywhere. Without that inlet valve- no water, no shower, no dishes, no anything water related. The valve contains a back-flow preventer or check valve, so it was not even possible to access the water in the holding tank, what little we had been traveling with. So after 9 hours of driving, we phoned around to find a part and off we went to fetch it- a ride which required another three hours on the road. Then home to lay on the wet ground in the dark and make the repair.

Now if that would have been the extent of the situation, I guess I would have been laughing in short order instead of crying. But I still faced figuring out what had been the problem with the basement doors, which had popped open a total of thirteen times on the crossing. That was lucky 13 because the doors did not get clipped or ripped off; unlucky though because I couldn't seem to stop it from happening again and again. I rigged them with small bungees as each in turn became a problem en route. Latch adjustments. Latch hold adjustments. Door adjustments. Lock adjustments. Nothing stopped the problem. And while over the last two weeks I have worked on those doors repeatedly and put redundant safety mechanisms in place- I really won't know until we roll again whether my "fixes" were fixes at all, or just me spending some quality time with my basement doors.

When I have not been working on things at the coach, we have been fixing things at the home of my mother which is about an hour (each way) from the campground. So while the coach hasn't moved in two weeks, the same cannot be said for the van. Fuel prices here are hovering up and down around the four dollar level. Could be worse I suppose. But sure wish it were better.

Tomorrow we will move the coach to Krumsville where we will be parked for one month. I will still be working on the coach I assume....and doing chores at the house. Marilyn will be traveling "the world" with her sisters. There must be a Ya Ya Sisterhood post or two in there somewhere. But a bit more of that in June, and then hopefully I will have a "guest blogger" late in the month.

Today I checked all fluids. A special brand of paranoia is driving me hard right now! I fixed the safety catch on the rear sliding closet doors. I also picked up a new potable water hose as the one we have been using decided that it too would spring a pin hole leak and super soak the ground under the water compartment. I could go on and on, but right now I'm not seeing the point, so I'll stop.

My high school class, the class of 66, will also be holding its 45th reunion next week. This will be the first one I have ever attended. It may just be the last too. If that is true, I hope it is because I choose not to attend any more....and not because I can't! A lot of the class of 66 have passed into the next life, so I guess there is merit in touching bases with those that are still here.

Rolling June 1. Go, coach, go!

Terror In Trailerville

When last I posted I posed the question: "What next?" In the weeks, even months, since then most of what happened was making sure that the family business was all in order after dad's death. It was a somber task and a consuming challenge- especially in light of trying to get things done quickly rather than over the years that such things often require. While trying to accomplish all this, we pretty much stayed at the house. The coach was in the shop for a while undergoing the body work that needed doing from the previous trip to Pennsylvania when a tow truck cracked the frond end of the rig while hauling it in to repair a broken antifreeze line. But most of the time, it sat unattended in a campground just waiting for our very occasional visits to check that everything was going OK. Problem was it wasn't always going OK. A back flow preventer in the water line got a tad fussy and allowed salt water from the softener system to circulate through the coach. I suppose a saltwater shower is an all right kinda thing but as drinking water it's the pits. This happened not once, but twice during our prolonged stay at the house. On yet another visit to the coach, we arrived to find that the super fancy side by side refrigerator freezer that can run on electricity or propane decided that it was no longer prepared to work so hard if no one was going to be around to appreciate it- so it stopped- taking with it several hundred dollars worth of meat and produce that was stored in the unit. Turns out those reports of 3500 dollar repair jobs on RV fridge cooling units are very true indeed.We could have lived with that. It was the mold and the melty, slimy, nasty juice and warmed up funk that we could have lived without. Having to deal with that at a time like this, or anytime for that matter....is just plain WRONG. But you play with the hand you are dealt, unless of course you are willing to fold and walk away. I wasn't made like that, which I suppose is the best reason I don't play poker. Bluff was never my strong suit.

But all these things are tolerable, if barely so. Trouble takes your breath for a time but hardly ever stops you from breathing. But on our last visit to check the coach we got more than would let you keep breathing for a time and made the heart race way faster than it was ever intended to beat.

There had been severe thundershowers in the area. The Pennsylvania days had been heated to the 90's and the humidity was typically high and heavy. But as we turned into the fields of corn that are the approach to the Thousand Trails Preserve in Hershey (it's actually Lebanon, but called Hershey camp), we got our first glimpse of the trouble that lay ahead. The corn stalks were stripped like tassels on a graduation cap. First there were fields that were not like this...and then all of a sudden the fields were all like this. Across the corn field by the tree line there were branches on the ground first. Than small trees. Then larger trees and branches. Road signs warned of danger and closed areas. What was going on here? We had a bad bad feeling as we turned into camp. Trees were down everywhere- some broken but many out of the ground root ball and all. Signs were where they didn't belong. Roofs were missing from structures that had them just days prior. Debris was scattered in every direction and with no rhyme nor reason. Bad storm? For sure. TORNADO!

Once the authorities arrived at camp to assess the situation, it was declared that the storm had been an EF-0 tornado. As tornadoes go that is a small one - 80 mile an hour winds in rotation. Lesson learned: Never want to be in a big one! Or at least never want to be AWAKE when a big one hits. There was plenty of damage to camp. Power out and lines down. Water off line. Sewer plant damaged beyond immediate use. The effort was on cutting downed trees so the rigs that could still move could be evacuated. It was reported that at least 40 of the rigs in camp could not be moved. They had not been picked up and slammed back down as they surely would have been in a bigger tornado. But a giant oak or maple laying across or alongside your rig makes it realty hard to drive down the road. Trust me; I've been there, done that.

If there was good news in the mix, it was certainly the fact that absolutely no one in camp was harmed, including the young family staying in the cabin directly in front of us, which was unfortunately the final resting place of the tree in front of us as well. As the winds were swirling it could just as easily have landed on us. Grateful we are! But there was bad news as well. An adjacent horse farm that raises thoroughbreds had twenty six of their horses cut badly when the barn collapsed and another three that were mauled so badly they had to be put down immediately. The owner of the farm was himself trapped in the barn but was evacuated with only modest wounds.

Family's and neighbors who experienced the late afternoon storm first hand reported it was the scariest thing they had ever experienced. They spoke about the noise. They spoke about the fear that they would have their rig rolled over or be crushed under all the trees coming down. They spoke of the rain that didn't fall at all because it was going sideways. They spoke and then they feel strangely silent as the thoughts of the storm were maybe too much to cope with at the moment. Ten minutes of terror had created a lifetime of concern. We have experienced as much with the nine, yes 9, hurricanes that we have gone through- everything from a Cat 1 to a Cat 5.

Somewhere hence around a late night campfire there will be tales to tell of the tornado that attacked the campground near Hershey. Of the fear that huddled campers in the corners of their all too flimsy rigs. Of feelings that were felt for the first time ever. Of the will to survive and carry on.....

There was one, and only one, as best we could tell, among the campers at the meeting the next day, who was unhappy with the response. I have no idea where he was coming from. That group of campers and rangers whipped out their chain saws, their shovels, their ladders and tackled that debris with the same ferocity that the storm had come in to camp. And a person who saw the camp on day two or even day three after the storm would have had no idea exactly what damage had been done. Campers are a determined lot; gypsies with an attitude. For tomorrow - we will move on.....one way or another. And that is as it must be in life.

What Next?

Last couple weeks we have been dealing with grief management and family business. Apparently now I need to add some anger management to the mix. And I'm writing this not so much to vent anything as to solicit some help to right what I see as a mega injustice. The Mammoth Ivory Tusk that hung above the sales counter in the Outpost of the Chicken Gold Camp in one of our all time favorite places in this world- Chicken Alaska- was stolen at a recent break in to the Outpost. Something like this should not happen in Chicken Alaska, and for certain it must not be allowed to stand. I know I have a lot of Alaska fans and some residents with good connections there among my readers, so I'm asking for your help- anything you can do. Be on the watch for the appearance or the sale of ivory that seems to be out of the ordinary. Talk to native products dealers in your town- carving, etching, etc. Mike Busby is asking for photos of the tusk (if you have any good ones especially) to be posted on his Face Book page or on the page of the Chicken Gold Camp. The Busbys work sun up to sun down to find and archive such precious artifacts from the region. Those of you who have been there know that sun up to sun down- in the land of the midnight sun- means they work tirelessly and endlessly to preserve such wonderful pieces.They BELONG in Chicken. This particular specimen was just awesome in size and quality. Check your pictures if you have been to the camp. Post what you have that may help or send it to me to do the same. Touch bases in your community with those who might get a lead. That this can happen in Chicken and to these honest and hard working and fun loving people really ticks me off! They are the kind of people that make Alaska the amazing place it is. Let's pull all the stops to see if there is anything the readers of this post can do to set things right!

Below is my only even decent photo of the tusk. Click on the picture to enlarge it. The tusk is hanging in the photo upper left over the sales counter. It's not the perfect picture- but it's a start! can you help????

Reporting For Duty

Reporting For Duty
Samuel Charles Gundy
March 28, 1918 - April 23, 2010

A man of science and a child of God passed into the early morning cloud formations after a week of waging one final battle to hold on to life and stay behind with those he loved so well. As I and others had done for the better part of a week, I sat beside him and attended to his needs as best I was able. At such a time, the willingness to help and the ability to help are dueling realities. There was for all intents and purposes nothing that I or any of us could do to help besides be there and provide whatever comfort that may have been. The desire to hold on must be tempered by the permission to let go - a balancing act that I found to be one of the more substantive challenges of my life. Dignity- so hard to achieve in life seems even harder to maintain at such a time.

Family was all present and accounted for. Hospice volunteers and providers were a constant source of comfort and guidance. If you believe in angels, you might just consider that one or many of them are by your side when Hospice and Home Instead arrive on location. I had one hand on my dad’s heart and the other holding his hand when he drew his last breath and the heart began its permanent state of rest. The moment I had dreaded for so long a time was actually very peaceful. Regrets, there were none. Everything said that needed to be. And as he went, the expression on his face transformed the pain of more than half a century into the smile of a lifetime, a most curious miracle that astounded us all and delivered the message that all was well with him…and that it should be so with those of us left behind.

Somewhere above, a spirit (probably wearing a flight jacket with a B-17 pin on the lapel and shoulder patch) flies even without wings, marveling at all the undiscovered mysteries of the next life. And at the gates of Heaven arrives a dashing now young-again pilot who stands before his maker and offers in full and honorable fashion, with a click of the heels and a crisp salute:

First Lieutenant Samuel C. Gundy
Reporting For Duty As Ordered, Sir!

-Gregory S. Gundy, April 23, 2010