Is that an adventure?

“Are you sure?”

Carolyn gave me a cockeyed glance as I pulled the Osprey day hiking pack from its cabinet. The sun only barely peeked over the horizon to let in a sliver of light.

“Yeah, it’s beautiful out and I’m gonna do it.”

I filled the three-liter water bladder before stuffing it inside the bright blue canvas backpack.  First aid kit, energy bars, apple, selfie stick, map.  All preparations for the day’s hiking adventure.

Carolyn was concerned with good reason.  Laura Beth, are you really prepared for an 8+ mile mountain hike over diverse terrain, by yourself, on an average of six hours of sleep each night for the last week? 

I’ve sometimes got a bit of a bull head.

Black Elk Peak, located in Custer State Park with parts of the trail in the Black Hills National Forest, is the highest point on earth between the Rocky Mountains and the Great Pyrenees in France.  And today, its summit was in my sights.

I’m an introvert, right?  This place was *magical*.  Get started early enough, and you’ve got the entire trail to yourself.

When life keeps speeding up, when all the things you’re thinking of, striving for, and positioning to achieve just keep rolling forward and it all sort of feels a little out of control but directionally right…that’s the run-on sentence moment when you pause. 

And look.

Sometimes you just need to go for a really long walk and stare at large rocks for a while.

You should also decide to carry ample snacks because you might run into a diabetic on the trail whose blood sugar is tanking and can’t make it to the peak…who will gratefully scarf your leftover snacks pilfered from Disney World’s marathon race this past January as fuel to summit the peak. Besides, who needs Go Go Squeeze applesauce when you’ve got ample love handles to fuel every elevated mile?

Church during COVID is something of a dilemma.  I’m Christian and would usually be gussying up a little and tromping down to my local house of worship on Sunday mornings, but with virus particles misting across the world I’ve opted for the virtual version.  I won’t risk others or myself, simple. 

This decision is somewhat important for our travels when we often find ourselves driving or sight-seeing on Sunday mornings.  Raised in a house that flurried on Sunday mornings to get all four kids Sunday-presentable with both parents leading music, running Sunday School classes, and ensuring the audio visual components worked out…our life revolved around church. Church, school, Dad’s work. That was life.
And it was good.

RV life is very different.

I’ve always felt a little funny not spending my Sunday mornings with the devout.  What to do?

This Sunday morning, I sat with God.  We just spent time together, no agenda.  No particular prayer or hymn or Bible reading.  We sat on a mountain and stared at really big rocks together.

We rested in the quiet, unshaved legs and all.
Real life, I’m tellin’ ya. Doff those societal conventions, eh? At least during the pandemic.

Nearby hikers’ voices floated across the trees that rustled their branches in protest of the upcoming season. The winds are soon to change.

And yes, that was an 8+ mile hike according to my Garmin running watch.  LBC was a tired pup.

As Sunday ended, another work week kicked up, and, with it, a lapse in sight-seeing. But!  I promised a poop-tastrophe.  Yes, yes, that’s right.  I guarantee you’re already thinking in the right direction.

When we get to camp set-up, Carolyn does the outside, and I do the inside.  It’s better to divide and conquer, but this approach means I have absolutely no clue how to hook up the Tin Can’s utilities.  Perhaps a problem, no?

I asked to go to Carolyn’s Outside School and admitted myself as a most-eager pupil.  Our first order of business was to execute a ‘black tank flush’ on Thursday.

What is a blank tank?  That’s where all your toilet wastewater goes.  Anything from your toilet, and only your toilet, heads to this tank.  The grey tank holds any other wastewater sources – think shower, sink, etc.  You don’t want either to overflow, so periodically you’ll dump these tanks through your sewer hook-up.  You did book a campground with full hook-ups, right?

But that darn black tank has an obstinate build-up of solids you’ve got to wage weekly war against.  Hence, the black tank flush.  Empty the tanks and then fill ‘er up with water ~3 times until the dumped water runs clear.  Usually this process takes about seven minutes, depending on your site’s water pressure (as we would find out). 

You must shut off the water before the tank overfills and finds…other outlets.

But.

When you’re watching your phone’s alarm and not the black tank fill indicator, you risk a poop-tastrophe.

It went everywhere.

…

The toilet, overflowing into the bathroom. 

Shooting up into vents on the roof.
 
Spilling over the side of the RV.

Sprint, sprint, go, shut off the hose.  Too late!  Poop water streamed across our campsite.

And so went our Thursday evening, cleaning up Laura Beth’s poop-tastrophe.  We drained half a bottle of bleach and four rolls of paper towels to sanitize the rig and anything that poop water touched.  I’ve never cleaned so diligently in my life.

Carolyn gave me an F for my final grade but promised to help me re-take the class.  Boy howdy, for a high school class valedictorian, that was tough feedback!

Adventures awaits in many places – on top of a mountain and whilst scrubbing toilets.  Where is your adventure today?