Escapees January-February 2023

camping chair chat

I was emotionally stunted for decades. My alcoholic father was my primary caregiver and he had di ffi culty with encour aging his daughters to aspire to be anything but good home makers. He tried valiantly to teach me cooking, shopping and all the other duties necessary for maintaining a home. My brothers’ duties were always the “masculine” chores such as using power tools, cutting the grass and fi xing a car. I disappointed my dad because I was disinterested in anything to do with being a homemaker. In fact, when I was living at home, I was strictly interested in getting drunk, immersing myself in the Rolling Stones’ latest record and occasionally attending my high school classes. When I married my husband, I had zero self-esteem and internally called myself a loser. I tried desperately to become June Cleaver for my spouse, but failed. I despised cooking, shopping and ironing. Fortunately. my husband did not care and encouraged me to pursue a career in nursing. I became a successful nurse and retired in my early sixties. Emotionally, I had matured over the years, but secretly I was terri fi ed of attempting new things especially anything that required “masculine” skills. Whatever required any mechanical prowess was beyond my skill set. I took a bold step and announced to my husband that I wanted to RV. Naively, I never thought that RVing would require me to do anything but learn the basics, such as turning on the water pump or hooking up the sway bars. I quickly learned that every RVer must become self-suf fi cient. Most of the time, problem solving is required when your RV mechanic is not available. Due to my husband’s disabling arthritis, I was forced to solve many daunting mechanical issues. During our annual journey to escape the Wisconsin winter, I was overwhelmed by new challenges. Our fi rst stop was in Illinois. While I was plugging into the electrical box, I noticed a few drops of water dripping from some mystery tubes. Due to fatigue, I decided that I would Can’t Never Could Altitude Sickness Tip

investigate this anomaly in the morning. When I opened the door the next day, I was shocked that our RV was surrounded by a frozen pond! I exclaimed to my husband Ed that, “I can’t fi x this!” He reassured me that I could, so I found a YouTube tutorial about the mysteri ous leaking hoses and learned that they were low point drainage tubes. After slipping and sliding on our “lake,” I discovered that the hoses just required a cap. I fi xed it! I was euphoric for approximately fi ve minutes. I attempted to drain the black tank and was horri fi ed to discover a brown iceberg blocking the exit. Dark thoughts overtook my mind. We are done with this RVing nonsense! Through tears, I graphically explained to Ed that our sewer tank was blocked. At this point, he reminded me of a family slogan, “Can’t never could.” I claimed that I never heard of this slogan. He explained that he and his brothers had been given this gem by their paternal grandfather and that I should incorporate it into my thinking. After viewing a tutorial on thawing out frozen tanks, I realized that I could fi x this. I was obsessed with the black tank and purchased a high-power hair dryer. When we reached Joplin, Missouri, I positioned the hair dryer by the frozen tank and poured boiling water down the sinks repeatedly. After several hours, I heard the beautiful sound of rushing fl uids fl owing out of my sewer hose. As the winter sun set and a wicked wind blew, I danced around my RV shouting, “I did it!” Another mechanical skill that I mastered during this road trip was accurate leveling. I relied on my husband to handle this chore because it was too intimidating for me. His arthritis had progressed, so I had to learn. After many instructions and discussion, I hauled out the blocks and the level and balanced our RV. Since our winter trip, I rarely say, “I can’t.” I have incorporated, “can’t never could” into my daily living. My dad and grandfather have passed but I wonder what they would think of me now. By Marie Hass, Guest Contributor

After reading about camping in high altitudes, in Mark Nemeth’s article, in the September/October 2022 issue, I have one more piece of advice. I’ve been at very high altitudes many times and never had a problem until my husband, Larry, and I were RVing in Peru. We slept at 14,000 feet, and I began to get all the symptoms of altitude sickness and ended up in the hospital in

Cuzco. I didn’t get better until we fl ew back to Lima, and then to New York City where I was back at sea level. I later learned that a person should never sleep at their highest altitude. A tip I found online says to: “Climb high and sleep low. If you climb (or drive) more than 1,000 feet in one day, you should come down to sleep at a lower altitude.” Joyce Space #61818

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January/February 2023 ESCAPEES Magazine