Weekend at Scusset Beach

As recounted in "Going...going...gone!", my first stop after leaving New Jersey was Scusset Beach State Reservation, a Massachusetts state park and campground near Cape Cod. I pulled in exhausted on Friday night, but was almost immediately greeted by my friends from the Northeastern Lazy Daze Caravan Club. The group's spring get-together was already in progress.

Lazy Daze motorhomes—the brand I live and travel in—are built in small numbers (about 250 a year) and are sold only at the factory in southern California. Hence, most LDs have remained in the west; Gertie is one of the few that have made it to the east coast. When the northeastern LD club held its first get-together in the spring of 2003, only 13 rigs showed up...but they made up in enthusiasm what they lacked in numbers. Lazy Daze owners are the nicest RVers I've met...and that's saying a lot.

I made many friends at that first meeting and the ones that followed, as the group grew to more than thirty rigs. I even started a tradition of sorts: the "Silent Auction," where donated items change hands (for free) and everybody has a raucous good time. So a get-together of this group was a fitting way to begin my full-time travels...and I felt a little less sad about leaving my friends in New Jersey, knowing that I was going to be meeting up with lots more friends on my very first weekend.

I got a warm reception when I arrived at Scusset Beach, but I was just too tired to spend the evening socializing. A quick supper, a brief "I'm here!" email dispatched via cell phone...and then I climbed up into my bed over the cab. My cat Marie slept on the couch downstairs. This was her first night away from the only home she'd known in her seventeen years. I hoped she'd be all right.

Marie is used to sleeping with me—on the covers or under them, depending on the weather—but she just can't climb up and down Gertie's ladder...she doesn't know how, and her arthritis would make it too painful. Left on her cat bed, she mewed plaintively a few times, but soon settled down to sleep. At Marie's age, sleeping is her main occupation. And after the events of the past few weeks and the day's long drive, I was ready for a good long sleep myself!

In the morning I felt a lot better...until I discovered that the water heater wouldn't light. This wasn't entirely surprising, since it hasn't been used in six months...it probably just needs a little cleaning. Fortunately it was a warm day, so I managed a quick, cool shower without too much grunting and groaning.

Then I walked outside...and saw what had happened to the Lafuma lounge chair. I had carefully (I thought!) bungeed it to Gertie's roof rails before leaving New Jersey, so I was horrified to find it hanging over the side, barely attached at all. It's a miracle I didn't lose it on the highway!

Trouble is, the rails have rounded corners, so the bungees just slide along them...and I can only attach to two out of the chair's four sides anyway. I'm going to have to rethink this. Even if I could fasten the chair securely up there, it's a major pain taking it up and down the ladder, since I have to climb over or around the ladder-mounted bicycle rack to get to it.

The only alternative I can think of is to carry the chair on the upstairs bed...but my god, how many things can I put up there (and take down every night when I want to sleep)? I already have a bunch of stuff I'm planning to give to friends along the way, plus the 39" x 24" satellite dish...plus the bed's ladder, of course.

Once I got over the shock of seeing the chair hanging by a thread (as it were), I walked over to the Matthews' rig, where the rest of the group was enjoying coffee and cakes. More friendly greetings and hugs made me feel at home. Everyone asked how it feels to be full-time. The truth is, I don't know. I'm still half numb from the hectic confusion of the past few weeks, and especially the past few days. It'll be quite a while, I suspect, before I can give a meaningful answer to that question.

After coffee, most of us drove to a nearby pier, where we boarded the Viking, a 1955-vintage cruise boat. We motored half the length of the Cape Cod Canal—all the way to the east end—and then came back, a three-hour tour. (Shades of "Gilligan's Island"!) On the way out, we enjoyed a very interesting running commentary by a crew-member who told us the history of the canal and pointed out various landmarks.

I should probably pause here and explain what the Canal is, for the benefit of those who, like me, normally think of a "canal" as a thread of water perhaps twenty or thirty feet wide, with a towpath on one side for the horses that pulled the flatboats. (I grew up near the Delaware and Raritan Canal, which fits this description pretty well.)

The Cape Cod Canal is built on a much grander scale. 540 feet across, it's the widest sea-level canal in the world. For ships traveling down the Massachusetts coast, the canal shortens the trip by 165 miles and lets them avoid some particularly treacherous waters. Interestingly, it has traffic lights at each end, though these are used only for large vessels. (Oil tankers make up about 70% of the traffic through the canal.)

The three bridges that span the canal—the Sagamore Bridge, Bourne Bridge and Railroad Bridge—are 135 feet high, permitting even tall ships to pass unimpeded. I was especially interested to learn about the Railroad Bridge's operation. It's a lift bridge, and the 544-foot main span weighs 4.4 million pounds. In each of the bridge's two towers is a 2.2 million pound concrete counterweight. Because the weights balance the span so perfectly, the entire thing is raised and lowered by a pair of 150 horsepower motors. This sounds like the equivalent of a jet-ski towing an ocean liner...but it works!

On the way back, we chatted amongst ourselves...although we had to speak up to be heard over the loud thrumming of the Viking's twin diesels. The noise was a bit fatiguing, but I enjoyed the cruise just the same.

Back at the campsite, I made myself a salad for lunch and then tackled setting up the Dustyfoot satellite internet system, with help from Donna Benson, a retired EMT who's interested in buying one of these for her rig. We got the dish mounted and pointed, but could not get a signal higher than 10-12...and the instructions said we should be seeing numbers more like 50-80. Some oddities about the the mechanical mounting made me doubt that I was aiming it where I had thought I was. I tried calling Dustyfoot, but they're on vacation till Monday.

Having fooled around with the dish for about two hours, I suddenly realized that I had not yet made the tickets for the silent auction that I was to lead later that evening. Printing is the easy part—but we had 62 attendees who would need ten tickets apiece, and all the tickets had to be perforated and sliced apart into strips. Luckily for me, tiny, energetic Helen Huyffer showed up and offered to help. Working together, and using the compact rotary trimmer/perforator I carry in Gertie, we got the tickets done just in time.

The auction, which followed an excellent potluck supper, was a blast as usual. Members of this group really get into the spirit of the thing, so there's never a shortage of donated items. I myself had brought two cartons full of assorted RVing goodies—yes, I took full advantage of this one last opportunity to downsize my household!—and so we had four or five picnic tables covered with items. After folks had placed their bids (see my article for details on how this works), Bruce Rex and I conducted the auction amid much merriment. This will be my last time as auctioneer, but Bruce has what it takes to step into my shoes...he has a great line of patter, delivered in his trademark 'Bahston' accent.

I managed to get rid of all my donations, thus considerably lightening Gertie's load, and only acquired two small items: a pair of books about cats. These I'll read and then donate to Gen Kazdin (see next chapter), who can sell them online. Net gain: zero items. As a fulltimer, I have to learn to think this way!

Sunday morning I woke up around dawn, and decided to take my little folding bike for a spin around the campground. I'd bought this Dahon "Piccolo" bike a couple of years ago in anticipation of using it when traveling in Gertie, but up until now I hadn't brought it along with me on any trips—Gary Oliaro and I had installed the bike rack to make that possible just the day before yesterday. The bike only took a couple of minutes to assemble, and aside from a little twitchiness due to the straight front fork, it rode well.

Since the Scusset Beach campground borders both the Cape Cod Canal and Cape Cod Bay, I didn't have to pedal for very long to reach the beach. A long sand-and-stone breakwater extended out into the bay, and I strolled its length, gazing out into the early-morning haze at the offshore buoys and the circling gulls.

The early morning quiet was broken only by the gentle lapping of the waves and the occasional cries of the gulls. I could feel my stress slowly drain away. For the first time in months, I felt at peace. This was what retirement was supposed to be like!

Riding back to the campground area, I joined my friends for coffee and cakes one last time. Since I expect to be in the west for a year or more, I don't know when I'll be able to attend another meeting of the northeastern LD club...so this is goodbye for awhile. I've been at every meeting of this group since its inception, and many of my friends told me "It won't be the same without you." Perhaps, but I'm sure it will be lots of fun. The next gathering is this fall in Vermont. I wish I could be there!

Finally as the group was ready to break up, I climbed up on the roof of a nearby Lazy Daze to shoot the traditional group portrait. I was stunned when Helen and several others unfurled a large banner that read "GOOD LUCK ANDY and GERTIE." What wonderful friends!

And I was even more flabbergasted after I climbed down, when Helen brought out a big batch of Gertie-shaped sugar cookies. She had downloaded an image of Gertie from the home page of this website, used its profile as the template for a cookie cutter hand-made from aluminum flashing, and spent heaven knows how many hours baking Gertie-shaped cookies...then decorating each one with "Gertie" written in elegant script, done in blue icing to match Gertie's trim stripes.

As always on such occasions, I was overwhelmed and tongue-tied. I only hope that Helen and the others could tell how deeply moved I was by all their efforts, their good wishes and their friendship.

With the NE LD gathering over, I began to stow my gear for the next leg of my journey: a 12-mile jaunt across the Bourne bridge onto the Cape to see my old friend Gen Kazdin.