The cost of our travels; the joys and perils of camping

I used to love to visit Branson.  Not these days, though.  It's expensive and crowded, and we go scooting right on by.  Within thirty minutes of leaving Branson, we can be in peaceful, quiet Arkansas riding on motorcycle roads with very little traffic, and the only cost to us is gasoline.  Last week we were on the road with our Gold Wing a lot, and only spent  $76.00 on gas.  By the way, gasoline is higher in Arkansas than here in the Kansas City area.  
Camping out cost us $25 for two nights at the Hub (that includes a $5 tip), and $11 (senior citizen discount) Friday night at Lake of the Ozarks State Park.  We ate off McDonald's dollar menu twice, and treated ourselves to a Mini-Blizzard at Dairy Queen once; the money came out of the grocery envelope.  Other than that, we ate stuff we took from home.  
Cliff wanted to show people that I actually cooked on our last little trip, so here's the proof:

Making grilled cheese sandwiches

Campbell's tomato soup to go with the sandwiches

Gourmet cooking at its finest!  We had to improvise somewhat, because we need paper plates and throw-away bowls, and my grocery funds are so depleted that I refused to buy those items until Cliff's Social Security arrives in the bank.  Saturday morning as I lay in my sleeping bag waiting for daylight, I wished for pancakes; next time we're on the road I will make sure to have some complete pancake mix along (just add water).  
I've found our Travel Toilet to be very useful around the campsite:

 It serves as a handy helmet-holder.

 And makes a sturdy place to sit while you're putting on shoes.  Cliff uses it as a prop to get up off the air mattress, too.  

The best part of camping is that you get to see sights like this after you wake up.  


The down-side of camping is Cliff's discomfort.  Years of butchering has left him with arthritis in his shoulders, back, and hip.  He sleeps quite well on the air mattress, and it seems to be fine for his back; but getting up and down from our bed on the floor of the tent is difficult for him.  Even at home it takes him quite a while to get all his parts moving as they should, and it's worse when we're camping.  We are going to buy a couple of those chairs-in-a-bag before next spring, because a picnic table is not very comfortable for sitting.  
We saw some very well-behaved children at the state park.  One little girl was riding her bicycle, saw our motorcycle coming, and got off the road, waiting until we passed to continue riding.  A father and his daughter were tent-camping near us, and I watched the little girl, perhaps seven years old, entertain herself with a baton for quite a while; then she had fun poking at their campfire with a stick.  On the other side of us was a family with a child who appeared to be around three years old, and he, too, entertained himself nicely. 


One purchase I'm happy with is our five-day ice chest.  I seriously doubt the ice would last for five days in hot summer weather, and we haven't fully tested it.  But over a three-day period we did not have to worry about buying ice, and that's a wonderful thing.  

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Two different people said we should go out and buy another air mattress:  The very next day, after spending a miserable night on the ground, we rode to Rogersville.  While we were there, we did spend $30 on a new air mattress.  I took the money out of our Dave Ramsey clothing envelope.  Hey, you could wear a mattress if you had to!  Even counting that expense, we still saved lots of money by camping and not eating out.  


Lindi had this to say:  "Sandwiches and cold cereal!  My favorite part of camping was my Coleman stove or cooking over a campfire.  That's the only time I liked hot dogs and s'mores.  Long time ago."
Cliff and I had a great laugh at this one.  Long time ago indeed!  Lindie, we took the Coleman stove, and we used it to make coffee.  I also took a skillet and a pan in case I wanted to cook.  However, I want you to imagine riding a motorcycle for five or six hours at age 67.  A lot of the allure of riding a motorcycle is feeling the wind in your face, but fighting that wind in your face wears you out after several hours.  Now imagine your tired self getting off the motorcycle, putting up a tent, and pumping a little plastic bellows for fifteen minutes to blow up an air mattress.  Honey, if you feel like cooking supper after that, you are a better woman than I.  Then after all this, imagine living in a 67-year-old body, sleeping on rocks all night, and getting very little sleep.  Would you seriously want to cook something that would dirty up a pan that you are going to have to wash?  Seriously?  I was doing well to make coffee, and the only reason I got that done was my addiction to caffeine.  The second morning there we found out Randall makes coffee in the office every morning before 6 A.M., and I didn't bother making my own.  We left an extra $5 when we settled up, in gratitude for the coffee, clean rest room, and shower.     


We intend to lighten our load next time.  I'm taking fewer groceries that need to be cooked, since I wound up cooking nothing, not even the can of Campbell's tomato soup.  We'd also like a one-burner Coleman stove.  The two-burner one we have is pretty heavy and takes up precious room.  Even with a trailer, by the time you pack sleeping bags and luggage and a tent, and leather coats and chaps, it gets pretty crowded.  We love to stay at Hub resort because, for one thing, bikers look out for one another.  Also, if torrential rains came and we wanted to abandon the tent, we could quickly rent a motel room for $55 plus tax.   


There was one thing that helped me make it through part of my miserable, sleepless night:  A group of BMW bikers from Wisconsin sat around a campfire just a few yards from our tent and talked.  I couldn't make out much of their conversation, just bits and pieces.... just enough to keep me tuned to what they were saying and get my mind off my troubles.  I was fairly sure they were from Wisconsin, judging by their accent.  Then I'd hear phrases like "when I worked up in Minnesota" or "when we were fishing in Canada", and I was positive Wisconsin was home to them.  I verified this the next morning by looking at their license plates.  
The group was made up of about ten guys.  They were drinking beer and passing around a bottle of moonshine.  Every once in a while I'd hear somebody say, "Here, take a pull."  And they'd start talking about their 'shine again.  
There was, of course, some colorful language.  What really cracked me up was when a couple of them came fairly close to our tent to take a leak (I could hear the splashing).  I made out their conversation quite well, but what cracked me up was the loudest guy back at the campfire (isn't there always one loudmouth in every group?) called out, "What are you guys doin', comparing?"  
And then, "Hey, are you guys hookin' up, or what?"  
By the way, we were in a dry county.  But then, who's going to bother people on private property?  
Personally, I think the whole idea of a dry county is ridiculous.  Just think how much money they could be making from liquor tax.  Surely they don't think they are stopping anybody from drinking?  

Vacations after retirement

I figure when Cliff retires, our vacation wings will be clipped.  We'll be able to afford the gasoline to travel; it's the cost of eating and sleeping while on the road that will keep us close to home.  I'm just being realistic here.
Cliff says he'd like to be able to head out to some distant destination on the motorcycle, knowing he didn't have to get home at a certain time.  He figures we could do it if we took a light tent and an air mattress atop the motorcycle trailer and camped at state parks.
Cliff has always hated to camp, so I'm dubious about this plan.  I suspect he'd be wanting a motel the first time it rained, because there aren't many things in life more miserable than camping in a tent in the rain.  Cliff has frequent back pain; how's it going to work for him, sleeping on an air mattress?  On the bright side, we wouldn't have to worry about the bedbugs that are invading the motels and hotels across the country.

We have a small tent that is big enough for sleeping, but you can't stand up in it; how will that affect Cliff's back?  Besides, there's no room for a potty.
A potty, you ask?  What's up with that?
Cliff and I both get up to pee a couple of times during the night.  By the time you've walked to and from a campground toilet in the middle of the night, you're wide awake.  We need our sleep.
Even though I can't imagine this camping thing working for Cliff, I've been doing online searches, and I did come up with a portable toilet that could be hauled around on a motorcycle trailer.  
The Travel Toilet.  
When I showed the website to Cliff, he was so impressed that he was ready to order one right then and there.  
Now, you can get a similar item for about five bucks at Bass Pro Shop, but I read the reviews.  It's pretty rickety; one thing I don't want in my tent is the contents of a broken or overturned portable toilet.  
Of course, we could simply travel to places where we have good friends or relatives, and mooch off them.  Unfortunately, we don't have any such friends or relatives in Colorado or Wyoming or Montana.  I think we'd be good to go in Iowa, Nebraska, Arkansas, or Tennessee, but those aren't the states we'd like to see.  Also, I don't think it would take us long to wear out our welcome, and who wants to lose friends and alienate relatives?  
Oh well, I'm willing to give this thing a try, doubtful as I am.  I'm always ready for an adventure.