One of the few times when we found RV life daunting was a few years ago in Alberta. We had visited the stunning Dinosaur Provincial Park, had become absorbed, had stayed too long, and had as usual trusted to fate and our parking fairy to provide a campground for the night. That was a busy time and place, so no campground spaces were to be found. However, a helpful park employee told us about a nearby creekside area having tent sites. We drove there and settled down for the evening, feeling lucky to have a place to stay.
The rain began
soon. It came down gently at first, then harder and harder as darkness fell.
Lightning sparked across the sky, and thunder crashed. Worst of all was the
wind, almost threatening to capsize the RV. We tried to see the creek through
the blackness, not sure whether it was overflowing. Some tenters had tied a
large rubber raft to a tree. There was just enough light for us to see the raft
repeatedly flung up into the air, then heaved down onto the ground.
I can’t remember
if we slept at all that night. The next morning, the rain had died down,
leaving a flooded landscape, and we ventured out to the toilets. Several younger
campers were there, having spent the night under the only available roof. They
had made a party of the occasion.
If we had gone to
a motel for the night, we would have had a good night’s sleep. Weather scarcely affects motel visitors, who
can insulate themselves from the outside world, watch TV, use Wi-Fi, and so on.
Just as they probably do at home. But, we are closer to the real world in an RV.
The occasional night of terror seems like a reasonable price to pay for
experiencing an ecosystem first-hand.
As RVers, we can
also escape threatening weather quickly. If a hurricane or blizzard is
forecast, we can drive to s more hospitable area. Climate change may make the
RV life even more appealing in the coming years, when some campgrounds that are
pleasantly warm now become like Death Valley.
