I am writing at the little desk in the bedroom of the Southwind, parked at Paradise Park RV Resort in Old Orchard Beach, Maine, disoriented as we continue the moving of all our stuff into the RV for seven weeks on the road in New England and Quebec. I have lost my camcorder and hope it’s back at the cottage, where I took this photo yesterday afternoon during the initial move-in. Our essential Trailer Life guide to campgrounds got left behind in Cambridge. My three-ring leather poetry notebook got left behind in Denver. We have a long tail of things we need that are not here. But we have plenty of time to settle in and get organized.
Last night was our first night in the Southwind. We made the mistake of waiting until after dark to drive from the cottage to the campground. This meant I had to back into space H without the benefit of the television camera which shows what’s behind you. I was blocking traffic, so a guy showed up at my window and impatiently guided me back into the space. I couldn’t figure out how to open the driver’s door. The sewer hose didn’t seem to want to go onto the hookup. I screwed up the electrical connection, so none of the power outlets worked inside. The campground’s WiFi connection didn’t work. I went to bed with a headache and woke up at 3 a.m. full of worries, sleepless for a couple of hours.
It’s a gorgeous day in Old Orchard. We are in no rush and will linger here until tomorrow or Monday, then head for Augusta where I have a rendezvous with Alden Wilson, director of the Maine Arts Commission. The Southwind is a marvel of spaciousness inside. Darlene has found nooks and cabinets for all her quilting gear. The automatic levelers put us on an even footing with four strong footers that extended beneath the RV. Driving the Southwind for the first time yesterday got my heart racing, and I could almost hear it slurping gasoline as I pressed the accelerator. But by yesterday evening I felt confident enough to drive the rig right down Main Street in Old Orchard to the campground, with nary a pedestrian the worse for my passage.