Ramble Log - October 10, 2023

Ramble Log

October 10, 2023

It’s so peaceful here.

The drive didn’t take as long as I thought it would. I left later than I wanted to. Unless I’m going to some scheduled appointment or function anymore, it takes a lot to get me into a “morning rush”. Still, I arrived just before three. It was a beautiful drive. Ten minutes to rearrange things into night mode and I’m kicked back inside Fred caressing the keys of this laptop that I have plugged into my solar powered vehicle-house system.

That little system was a great investment. Having it along on our camping trips, whether modern or period-correct for reenactments, meant A-C power went with us to keep our cell phones charged and to power Shirli’s CPAP machine. The folding panel is a 100-Watt Renogy that came with a built-in charge controller. The 400-Watt Wagan pure sine wave inverter draws power from a 122 amp-hour deep cycle marine battery. It’s just a Walmart battery that’s done a lot of camping and supplied necessary A-C for Shirli’s CPAP for some eight years now.  That battery has doubled in price since I bought it. Even at that, I seriously doubt that I will ever go lithium unless they outlaw lead-acid batteries.

Sure. It’s emotional being here. When I camped here in the horse camp back in May, it was quite emotionally painful. Sure, there is a sense of sadness being here … an emotional stirring of this reservoir of memories of camping here with Shirli. It’s not debilitating though, as it was when I was here those few months ago howling and weeping for days. The memories are now pleasantly sweet and heart-warming … striking me in that different realm of emotions that I am now experiencing this far along in this life-transition.

This trip has a multi-leveled emotionality about it.

I’m camping my way to South Carolina to see my step-son, John Jr., and his family. Enroute and returning, I’ll be spending a few days at a van-dwellers get-together. Shirli and I sat in on that camp years ago. [What year was that? It was definitely Pre-Kodiak tent. We were still camping with the orange-colored Coleman.] We always wanted to go back to that camp but that never happened. Life has a way of happening to divert us from things we would really like to do. This will be the first time I’ve seen John and his dad since Shirli’s funeral. I’ve not seen Pam and the grandsons in a longer time. That must have been around this time in 2021, just before the Red Sea parted, and Shirli and I moved into the shack beside the track.

So, I’m conveying a box of photos and a few items of memorabilia that Shirli wants John to have … stuff that is irreplaceable that I would not dare mail or ship. Isolating and boxing those loose photos, albums of carefully arranged photographs, and memorabilia involved looking through those albums. My goodness. There wasn’t an utter fall-apart. I did, however, come to a point that I had to simply walk next door and visit with my neighbor for a little while before I could finish what I was doing.

I have no cell service here. It bothers me a little that I can’t call out. I’m so off the beaten path that I can’t even send a text. At first, this aspect that’s inherent in my rambling, bothered me. There was quite a bit of anxiety associated with it. There’s still a little associated anxiety. I am, after all, solo and off-grid. Solo. Off-Grid. Two things that don’t quite seem to meld with life in the 21^st Century. 

I’m the only soul here and so far off the road that I barely notice the sparse vehicular traffic.

I couldn’t help but to wonder about Ingrid and her two children as I made the drive up.