Returning to California from a long cross-country trip, we
stopped in South Lake Tahoe for the night. Affordable campgrounds were already
filled, of course. Fortunately, we had heard of a casino that allowed RVs to
stay all night in their parking lot (probably with the hope that the drivers
were unlucky gamblers). We went to the casino and were directed to a narrow
spot at the back of the lot, between two behemoths with running generators—not
the sort of sylvan spot we ordinarily look for, but it was free, and we were
tired. We backed into the space and went to bed.
The next morning we looked out through the windshield at the
parking lot, shuddered, and began getting ready to drive off. As I brushed my
teeth, I happened to look out the bathroom window, and was delighted to see a
lovely evergreen forest behind us, with no casinos or vehicles in sight. Just
the sort of view we wanted!
Since then we have seen many beautiful views from our toilet
window. Sometimes they are just part of an entire vista to be seen all around
us, but often we find them deliberately. It’s part of the strategy of choosing
a site—if we must back into the site, as is usually the case, then we make sure
that the view behind us is enjoyable. Even if we must stay in a crowded campground
with RVs on each side of us, we can usually find a way of framing a decent view
in the toilet window. Often it is just a matter of choosing a site at the outer
edge of the campground, which also leads to having a quieter, less crowded site.
In the Tuolumne Meadows section of Yosemite National Park,
we had a view of the campground host’s rig from the front window, which was
less than inspiring. From the toilet window, though, we could see Mount Dana.
Not only is the mountain a beautiful sight, but my partner had hiked to the top
of it back in the seventies. He can no longer do that much hiking, and seeing
it in this way brought back some happy memories.
We paused for a while on the Beartooth Highway in Wyoming to
have a picnic lunch and to look at the myriad alpine wildflowers. Soon some
bikers appeared outside the toilet window. Though we don’t enjoy the sound of
motorcycles, we could hardly begrudge them the pleasure of enjoying the
spectacular mountain scenery.
When my plane landed in Winnipeg after an emergency return
to California, Thane was waiting for me in the View. He had spent several hours
at the airport museum (the museum had a uniquely accessible Lockheed Electra that
he was able to tour), and watched one plane from the toilet window.
The day we visited the Hoover Dam in Arizona was rainy and
windy, not a pleasant time for standing outside taking photos. Fortunately, the
toilet window provided a good view of the new bridge over the dam, lessening
the time we needed to brave the elements outdoors.
So, at the end of a road trip, it is depressing to put the
RV in the garage and look through the toilet window, where the only view is of
shelves laden with paint cans, broken appliances, and other assorted junk. And
that helps gives us the motivation to take to the open road again.
