• Sage Webb

The Logistics of Imprudent Camping

We have left this:

In favor of this:

Oh, we haven’t pointed Traveler north to pursue snow drifts, sub-zero temperatures, and explorations of ... well ... historical exploration (think Lewis and Clark or at least the pioneering of the gold rush to Deadwood, South Dakota) per se. Rather, the reason we have loaded Traveler with piles of anti-freeze-up-everything gear lies in the quality of the archery in the environs of ice.

(When I say anti-freeze-up gear, I’m talking insulated heating water hoses, piles of space heaters, heat-emitting shop lights to warm the “basement” storage on the chassis’s underside, and vats of anti-freeze.)

Yankton, South Dakota, hosts the headquarters of the National Field Archery Association ... and beckons great archers from around the country ... and great archery coaches. So north we go—toward one of America’s great coaches and a chance to train and get my bad self whipped into actual shooting shape.

And to camp.

In the snow.


As we pass along Interstate 35, through northern Texas, into Oklahoma, the temperature gauge reads 31. From his driver’s perch, the Bosun calls back to me, “Honey, would you run the water from the faucets in the galley and the bathroom?”

“Sure.” I get up from the dinette where I’ve been working, my laptop happily sucking away at my phone’s hotspot as the RV rolls down the road. “Like just to cycle the system?”

“Yeah,” the Bosun calls back, eyes on the road. “To keep stuff from freezing.”

Boat/RV Dog sits watching me, bundled in his little coat.

I run the water at both sinks, then drop back down in front of the computer screen.

“Did you do the toilet?” the Bosun calls.

Oh. Oops. I get up and return to the bathroom to flush the toilet and run its water for several seconds.

The temperature hasn’t even hit the 20s yet. And the high in Yankton one day is gonna be -1?!


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