Beyond the Garbage Bins

Beyond the Garbage Bins

It’s Wednesday morning at 6am and I’m sitting barefoot in the jump seat of the Sprinter Van we have rented for a trial run. I have put the blinds next to me up because, while Kim has fallen back to sleep, I know she wears both an eye mask and ear plugs and will not be bothered by my rousing. I am feeling very alive this morning, but can’t claim that is either a good or particularly bad feeling. We’re in the Ventura Ranch KOA Campground in Santa Paula, California and there are a dozen other campers around us that I can see. We secured this spot only last week and so we have a direct view of two overflowing recycle bins (clearly not the preferred campground spot and tailor-made for rookie campers like us who know nothing of campground logistics). There are several wild peacocks in the vicinity and they have been crowing that distinctive mournful wail of theirs for slightly over an hour. They did not wake me since I have been conscious since slightly before 4am since comfort and air mattresses are somewhat at odds with one another. Right now my bigger concern than the peacocks is the recurring sound of a low-flying helicopter over the valley that is probably engaged with the Lime Wildfire, which according to the Cal Fire Map has burned 802 acres due East of here some ten miles.

If the Lime Fire were the only hot spot here in the Santa Clara Valley, I would be only mildly concerned. But yesterday, as we headed north in this Sprinter Trial Run, I got an email from Dr. Bednarski, a loyal reader of this blog, informing me that the big Ventura County hot spot for this resurgent Coronavirus outbreak (menacing Texas, Arizona, Oregon, Nevada and California, in addition to a dozen other states) is centered right here in the Santa Clara Valley north of Santa Paula. While the epidemic seems focused locally on Latino farm workers, did I mention that we are at the vortex of Americana here at a KOA campsite? Unless this virus can jump between camper vans, I think we are good. The common facilities and bathrooms are closed, so each camper is a self-contained germobile. We did notice as we drove in last night and picked up some bottled water at the local bodega that no one was wearing masks, but they certainly were friendly and gave Kim two apples as a gift. Kim promptly wiped down everything and we skidaddled to our campground.

Let’s cut to the chase, we are booked here for three nights and at 4am I made the command decision with Kim that a.) We are not campers, b.) We are too old, big and spoiled to enjoy a tiny-house Sprinter experience sleeping on a cramped air-mattress, c.) We have little interest in staying at the Ventura Ranch KOA past 9am or so, d.) We will stay in the Inn in Ojai tonight as planned and return the Sprinter earlier than intended on Thursday to avoid another fun but sleepless night of wondering whether Kim can’t stay on her side of the air-mattress or if I compact the thing so much that she naturally rolls into me all night, and e.) There is no way in hell that either of us like the rigamorrow and process of trying to live in something that is less than 100 square feet including utilities.

We firmly committed to ourselves last night that we would stay the course and do three full days of this, but somewhere in our laughter at 4am over our predicament, we decided that was just too silly and the answer was too clear to us both. I figured out how to plug into the campground 30 Amp outlet. Kim figured out how to blow up the air-mattress. I managed to put the windshield shades on. Kim was able to sort of make the bed. We agreed where we would put our weekender bags and where we would stand to dress. I figured out how to plug in what needed recharging. Kim figured out how to best use the tiny bathroom sink. I found that the toilet is useable by me only if I keep the double doors open. I learned that the table cannot go up unless the two front seats are turned around. We both learned that the ceiling fan and bedside windows work well to create a nice cross breeze that keeps the unit chilly at night. We both also learned that getting up to pee becomes a family event in a Sprinter van. All good to know and perfectly manageable, but why do we feel the need for this in our lives? Does monitoring the garbage bins at the KOA really need to be our job?

This morning we will pack ourselves up like professional van campers and head back to Camarillo to drive up the coast for lunch with Sharon and Woo. We will stay overnight at a little inn in Ojai and then drive tomorrow down Angeles Crest if it’s open and then back to Long Beach to return this beast. The owner will get the vibe that it did not go well enough to make a sale to us of the unit, but he will get over it. We, on the other hand, will have provided great pleasure and stories to all our friends and family about another Rich misadventure. There is nothing I like more than adventure, and to have good adventures you have to risk misadventures. This was an interesting and logical plan for a post-COVID world where road trips become more the norm than fly-off destination vacations. The tiny house trend has to be lived to be understood in its fullest. This all works well for some, but it didn’t work well for us. The test run reconfirmed my view that my two prior attempts at this mode of recreation were not outliers and I am simply not cut out for this no matter how appealing it seems on paper. I was able to go all-in in short order because I had had those prior experiences. I gave it another go and now I am done. I will put on some shorts and shoes and wander outside to stretch my legs and enjoy the fullness of the campground beyond the garbage bins.