Last June, we pointed our RV down (and up) a sparsely traveled highway that took us from Utah’s Arches National Park into western Colorado. At one point, as we merrily rolled along, I glimpsed something to my left and stopped the RV along the side of the road. It so happens that I pulled over right at the state line. In fact, as we climbed out to take a short stroll and snap some pictures, I’m pretty sure that the front half of the RV was parked in Colorado while the back half was in Utah.
But the state line isn’t what caught my eye.
What I had noticed was a house, but not really. It was virtually camouflaged, essentially organically constructed from the elements around it. It was embedded in the bedrock that lined the rural highway. In fact, the nearest town was called Bedrock – and it honestly looked like something that Fred, Wilma and Pebbles might call home.
I didn’t have the courage to knock on the door. I figure if someone wants to surround themselves with rock and emptiness, there’s probably a reason. And that reason probably doesn’t include gawking strangers.
But it’s a fine example of one of those memorable wonders that you stumble upon if you’re paying attention. And it’s not something you see if you’re flying over it… or rushing to get to a restaurant in your car. It’s one of the house-on-wheels, road-less-traveled benefits. And it’s certainly something you don’t see every day.
When is an RV more than an RV? Over the years, I have concluded that the answer is this: Constantly.
It is a home, a comfort, a means of transit, a safe haven, a movie screen playing an ever-changing American reel. At times it is a source of a pride, a symbol of adventure, a conversation starter, a plot device, an inspiration.
But I have also found it to be… a measuring stick. And I mean that almost literally.
Along a crowded city street or in a suburban neighborhood, a big RV can feel… large. For some reason, a house on wheels conveys an outsized vibe when it’s parked next to an actual house. But next to a massive natural marvel, an RV can seem small. More important, it can be a means of truly appreciating the scope of the wonder you’re visiting.
I have photos of a 30-something foot RV in front of Utah’s grand sandstone arches and amid New Mexico’s sprawling White Sands and alongside South Dakota’s far-reaching Badlands and in the foreground of Montana’s snow-capped peaks. Always, it generates an appreciation for comparative size. And it makes for a great picture.
So here’s another installment of Road Royalty – the RV in Redwood National Park.
Travels With Charley, John Steinbeck’s classic travel memoir in which he named his house on wheels Rocinante, was published 50 years ago. One of my favorite Steinbeck lines about travel is this: "A journey is like marriage. The certain way to be wrong is to think you control it"
Being happily married for nearly two decades, I understand the sentiment. But I actually think the statement doesn’t apply too well to RVing. You’re actually more in control in an RV – you travel on your own terms.
With that in mind, I’ve collected some other grin-inducing travel quotes that – for reasons that will be obvious – DO NOT apply to the RV experience. Seriously, they just wouldn’t happen in a house on wheels. Here are a half-dozen of them:
“Most travel is best of all in the anticipation or the remembering; the reality has more to do with losing your luggage.” – Regina Nadelson
“When setting out on a photographic holiday, always provide yourself with two cameras, one to leave in the train going and the other to leave in the cab coming back.” – W.C. Sellar & R.J. Yeatman
“A tourist is a fellow who drives thousands of miles so he can be photographed standing in front of his car.” – Emile Ganest
“I feel about airplanes the way I feel about diets. It seems to me that they are wonderful things for other people to go on.” – Jean Kerr
“Travel is only glamorous in retrospect.” – Paul Theroux
“You got to be careful if you don’t know where you’re going, because you might not get there.” – Yogi Berra
Don’t believe a word they say. Except maybe Yogi, who admitted, “I never said most of the things I said.”
Here’s a photo of our RV with a guy whose words you could trust…
