Ed & Gail Hit the Road

Where should we start?  How about at the beginning.  We got out of Hatfield okay, no foibles.  However, as we approached the historic Cumberland Gap, I think Daniel Boone farted and blew out the air intake hose on our truck's engine.  Actually, the clamp looked like it had been removed by our truck mechanic to get at something and replaced, but not tightened, so the hose wasn't tight enough, and the pressure of pulling 31,000 lbs. up over the Cumberland Gap just was too much for Great White.  We heard a "whoomf!" and suddenly the truck would only go 5 mph.  We crept up to a rest stop, opened the hood, and there was the hose, flapping in the breeze.  Luckily we have wrenches, and we hooked the hose back up and REALLY tightened the clamp, and off we went again.

Don't think that's the end of the story.

Our campground is/was about 5 miles East of greater metropolitan Elkins, WV.  We got there fair enough, but as we approached the campground, all of the very carefully solicited directions we got from the campground went awry.  We found ourselves driving down a back road, called the campground, and the guy insisted we were right there, just go back over the bridge and turn right into the campground.  So we did.

Only it wasn't our campground.  Nope.  As we drove back into the campground, Kathy observed that it looked like some backwater campground from "Deliverance."  And then we hit the end of the drive, at a small house.  Hmmm.  How do we get out of here?  Chuck came out of the house, a shambling 70-something, who told us we could drive over his grass and then back up and turn around.  Sure.  We drove over the grass and promptly the whole rig, truck wheels and all, got mired in soft ground.  Whirrrrr.  That's the sound of the wheels spinning ineffectually in the mud.

To make a long story short, Chuck and his boss Frank, the owner of the campground, brought over their 4-wheel drive pickup to try to haul our 31,000 lbs. of lard out of the mud, and it had the expected effect.  We were able to unhitch the truck from the rig and "rock" it out of the rutted mud, but couldn't get it out of the soft ground before it got stuck again.

Say us to Frank and Chuck:  "Thanks, guys, but tomorrow's another day.  Can we camp overnight here and we'll call Good Sam Emergency Roadside Service to save our sorry asses in the morning?"  They said, Sure, and we gave Frank (the boss) $20 bucks for the overnight campsite, who said it should go to Chuck because he's going to have to repair those hellacious mud ruts in the back yard.  So Chuck got the $20.  We hooked up our generator, powered up the RV, slid out the slides, and concentrated on dinner.  Kathy cooked while David schlepped down to the stream to get some questionable water to flush our toilet (no water, mind you). 

And here we sit.  We popped a really delicious beer from Iron Hill Brewery, had our steak and salad, called Katie to listen to her inevitable guffaws, and settled in to check e-mails and post this chapter to our little adventure book before going to bed.

I know, I know.  All those comments about Mickey and Goofey's trailer adventure.  All those remembrances of Lucille Ball's "Long Long Trailer," and so on.  But, hey, we're at home, we're listening to Bob Dylan, and we're going to get a good night's sleep and fight another day. 

No photos because we were too busy getting the truck out of the mud to snap action photos.  We'll take one in the morning and post it eventually, once we find out where civilization is.