SKIP THIS TOUR

As a one-time bacteriologist, I have always been interested in the biology and practical uses for bacteria and fungi. Everything from wine to penicillin can be produced by these amazing microscopic creatures. When I lived in the Midwest, I took some tours of breweries and learned more about beer than I could have from reading textbooks.  (Yes, I enjoyed sampling the beer, too.) So, when we reached the Tillamook cheese factory in Oregon, I wanted to take the tour and find out exactly what organisms are used in the cheese-making process, and how the procedure is managed.

The factory turned out to be gigantic, surrounded by a huge parking lot for myriad visitors. No dairy cows were on site, though many thousands of milk-producing animals must be required to supply the factory with enough milk for the 170,000 pounds of cheese churned out daily. We saw a stream of milk trucks coming in the back way, and cheese-laden trucks leaving from another gate. Somewhere in that building, we surely could find the details of what happens in the interlude between milk and cheese.

Just reaching the front door was difficult, because of the mob of tourists entering and leaving. Inside the entrance, past the café and gift shop, a sign directed us toward a self-guided tour. A couple of benches faced a large screen where we expected to see an introductory video. It turned out to be a puff piece about how happy dairy farmers (and their cows) are to be providing the raw ingredient for Tillamook cheese. If they are required not to use antibiotics, to avoid pesticides and fertilizers in their fields, or to be organic in other ways, the video did not mention it. Some posters on the walls promised to give us some information before the tour, but turned out to be a history of the Tillamook area. Though of some historical interest, they had nothing to do with the cheese-making that had lured us to the factory.

Following the signs to the tour, we stood in a lengthy line, then passed a long row of free samples of cheese. They were standard Tillamook cheeses—mild, sharp, and extra-sharp Cheddars—that can be bought in any supermarket. Nevertheless, visitors happily speared as many as possible of the sample cubes with the toothpicks that were (thankfully) provided.

Next, we entered a shop where we could buy cheese, crackers, and so on. Again, the cheese was standard Tillamook grocery-store stuff: better than cheaper brands, but nothing special. The prices were perhaps $2/lb. less than we would pay at our local Safeway store. We bought two pounds of the extra-sharp Cheddar, as we do eat a lot of cheese and would put it to good use.

Finally, we moved on to an observation deck overlooking two large divisions of the factory. In one huge area we could see the lids of steel vats within which cheese was presumably being made. No humans could be seen, and there was absolutely no information provided about the process. In the other area, we saw large blocks of cheese carried on a conveyor belt, and workers slicing off the edges of the blocks. The large blocks were then cut into smaller blocks and packaged in their familiar plastic wrappings. The events in this area were so obvious that we didn’t mind the lack of explanation.

Before going back to the entrance, we stopped to buy a dish of ice cream. It was delicious, though no more so (and no less expensive) than we could have enjoyed in any good ice cream shop where the environment would be less hectic. Like the cheese shop, this area was extremely crowded with people, some of whom weighed two or three hundred pounds on the hoof and were stuffing themselves with ice cream. This place is an obesity crisis. And that was all. We had wasted more than an hour fighting crowds and buying some cheese and ice cream without learning a thing about how the foods were made.

I love Oregon in general. The coastal scenery is possibly the most beautiful of any in the United States, and we are fortunate in living near enough for a quick visit. But, every state has some places to avoid, and the Tillamook Factory is one. For anyone seeking the facts about cheese, some smaller companies are likely to give real tours, and to produce higher quality cheese as well.  

WE’LL ALWAYS HAVE WALMART

 

It was nearly midnight on Saturday, but firecrackers were still exploding near us. We had made the mistake of staying overnight too near a college, and some boozy fraternity boys were celebrating something or other. Another time, a noisy football game was starting up in the parking lot in the middle of the night.

As this shows, staying overnight at Walmart—sometimes called “blacktop boondocking”—can be annoying or even hazardous.  There are many other reasons as well to stay elsewhere: traffic on nearby streets is often noisy, there are no campground showers, and even the toilets may not be available before 8:00 AM. As an environmentalist, I have been extremely unhappy with the expansion of big-box stores, too. Why should I take advantage of the parking spaces they provide?

However, it is nearly impossible to resist the many plusses of parking overnight at Walmart. First, it is free! Camping for more than a few nights, even in low-cost campgrounds, can become expensive. The ubiquitous Walmart stores are often easy to find, and the parking lots tend to be more level than those in campgrounds. (We grow very tired of leveling our rig with leveling blocks.) The bright lights and security at Walmarts protect us as well as the stores. Shopping for common items there is easy; I have sometimes found RV supplies that are identical to those at Camping World at a lower price.

So, we often find ourselves at Camp Walmart. Usually the landscape leaves something to be desired, but occasionally it is attractive. The store in Scranton is on a bluff overlooking a valley; I remember watching the moon rise as lights were coming on in the houses below us. Some other stores are near wooded areas, and by careful positioning we can sit at the dinette and look out  at that view.

Perhaps our worst experience was in a store near our home in California. We had had some repair work done late in the day, and to avoid driving home at night we stopped at Walmart. We checked for signs forbidding overnight parking, found none, and fell asleep. In the middle of the night we heard a commotion just outside, and some loud talking in Spanish. Peeking out showed us a crane with some workers high up on it painting a lamppost and hanging one of those “No Overnight Parking” signs on it.  We played possum and hoped they would not drip paint on our rig. Luckily, they did not, and in the morning we made our escape.

Though many of the Walmarts seem to welcome RVers, some do forbid staying overnight. Municipal ordinances, rather than Walmart, may be responsible. The store that seemed most adamant about this issue is the one near Gettysburg, where huge signs warned of dire consequences that included being towed away. We paid attention and stayed at an expensive campground instead.

The infrequent antipathy toward RVers may have something to do with the boorish behavior of some of us. We have watched, incredulous, as people have spread huge Class A motorhomes across six or seven parking spaces. Others have unrolled their awnings, unfolded their lawn chairs, and barbecued in the parking lot. People like that may cause so much irritation that all of us are banned, which would be a shame.

We try instead to be as unobtrusive as possible, even after checking with the management to make sure we are welcome. That means staying in travel mode—not putting out the slide or raising the TV antenna, and looking like shoppers rather than like campers. We always buy some groceries or other items, and may have breakfast in the store if a McDonald’s is in it. Our small motorhome easily fits in two spaces.

Yes, we would prefer staying in national forests and parks, with intermittent stops at places having hookups for electricity when necessary. Walmart helps fill in the gaps between more desirable places, though. It’s a bit like McDonald’s—not too helpful for the environment and a possible contributor to the obesity epidemic, but a cheap source of clean toilets and orange juice.

 

 

WHICH WAY? HOW FAR? WHERE ARE WE?

Having a ghostly voice provide directions as we are driving might simplify our RV life, but what sort of challenge is that? We pride ourselves on making serendipitous discoveries of places that don’t appear on maps. Much better to blunder along with the questionable help of my old Rand McNally road atlas, and with the even less reliable aid of locals.

Conversation with the locals can be amazing, revealing much about current education. When we can get the attention of a young woman who is absorbed in texting about last night’s date, we may ask, “Can you tell us how to get to Wal-Mart?”

“Yeah, sure. Actually, it’s down that street.”

“Which way, east or west?”

[Blank stare.] “That way. Like, past the big mall a ways.”

“How many miles?”

“Uh, I’m not sure. Not too far, actually. You can’t miss it.”

Much later, we pull into a gas station where we can again ask for directions. A slack-jawed young man reluctantly approaches.

“Can you tell us where Wal-Mart is?”

“Well, it’s, y’know, over on the other side of the highway.”

“How far over?”

“Not too far. Like, y’know, half an hour, maybe.”

“Do we go north or south on this street?”

[Glazed expression.] “Just go that way. Y’ go over a coupla bridges.”

Despairing of ever finding Wal-Mart, we stop at a fancy coffee shop filled with people glued to their laptops. The barista—no doubt an MBA looking for permanent employment—listens sympathetically and whips out her expensive tablet. She searches desperately, then brightens. “Here we are. It says the closest one is over in Illinois. About 200 miles.” 

We are in Wisconsin. Three cheers for technology! This is so much better than relying on the locals.

THE ELDERLY RV TRAVELER

For the truly old, RVing would be unpleasant, if not impossible. Climbing the steps, driving the rig, and being far from home would ruin any advantages of this kind of travel. For those of us who are merely aging, though, the RV life is ideal. Just think—a bathroom is always just a few yards behind the driver’s seat! There is a fridge, too, and a couch where we can take naps. At night, instead of hauling a suitcase into a motel room, we turn down the Travasak cover and snuggle into a comfortable and familiar bed.  We are not locked into any schedule, and stop wherever we please. Why would anyone of a certain age not love traveling in an RV? We do need to travel intelligently, however. More than younger people, we should keep some things in mind that will help us enjoy RVing, not wish we had stayed home. 

Most of our possible problems are related to health and safety. Surprisingly, any idiot with a current driver’s license can rent or buy an RV and drive away in it.  I think that is insane; while driving and maintaining an RV is not terribly difficult, it does require some instruction and practice. My own first RV trip was in a rented Class C rig. Even though my companion was a good instructor, and I am ordinarily a good driver, I managed to hit a tree branch and break a side mirror. It might have been much worse. 

Maintaining an RV is harder than driving it. There are numerous buttons and dials throughout the rig, and many components are hidden from view. A typical owner’s manual is gigantic. As each RV model is slightly different from others, even an experienced RVer may take a while to discover what to do when, and a novice should not be trusted alone. Also, some tasks may be difficult for an elderly person. I have osteoarthritis that prevents me from grasping some small objects and opening some valves; my companion has to do some tasks for me.

Staying healthy and fit is vital for the elderly wherever we are, and it can be harder on the road than at home. I doubt that any RV has a stationary bike in it! Some fancy RV resorts, of course, have exercise rooms with good equipment, but we do most of our RVing in national and state parks. Our own solution to the exercise problem is to walk and hike as much as possible, which is easy in the parks. On the occasional days when we drive more than 200 miles, we take breaks every hour or so, and do stretches. I also enjoy doing tai chi chih, and can do it anywhere. My companion is a good swimmer, so sometimes we stay at a KOA where he can swim. The important thing is to do something active every day to avoid stiffness and weight gain.

Eating healthfully is equally important. This is easy for us—even at home, we eat very simple meals. (My companion is a vegetarian, and I eat little meat.) We keep the galley stocked with soups, brown rice, pasta and sauces, eggs, peanut butter, and salad materials. Whenever we see a farmer’s market, we stop and try some of the local produce. This boomeranged once: Just north of the Canadian border, we bought some wonderful sweet corn and other produce at a farm stand. We ate a little, then put the rest in the fridge for later. When we crossed into the U.S., a stern agricultural inspector confiscated the food and lectured us about bringing it, along with possible agricultural pests, into the country. We should have stayed in Canada long enough to have a huge picnic!

Though we usually cook in the RV and avoid restaurants, when we boondock at a Walmart having a McDonald’s we eat breakfast there for convenience. By ordering a large breakfast and splitting it, we can each have a good breakfast without too many calories. (I get all the bacon, which is nice.) I may have a small Arby’s roast beef sandwich, or a Wendy’s Cobb salad, once in a while. Aside from those aberrations, we stay out of fast-food establishments. 

Elderly people take more medicines than younger folks in general, and this can be a real nuisance when we travel. Unlike food or clothing, medicines can’t be instantly replaced if the need arises. I take about 20 pills a day, and my companion has diabetes. His insulin stays in the fridge. The rest of our meds (prescriptions and important over-the-counter items) are stored in a small suitcase near the entrance. If we ever have to evacuate quickly, we want to be able to grab that suitcase and run. When we start to run low on a prescription, we go to the nearest pharmacy to order a refill. This is remarkably easy when the pharmacy is part of the same chain we use at home—CVS, in our case—but can be a problem when it is not. So, we count out all our pills a week in advance and make sure we have enough. Otherwise, we may have to sit for hours in a pharmacy, or even stay in a town for an extra day, while faxes travel back and forth. 

Just as at home, we are more liable than young people to need hospitalization. In remote areas calling 9-1-1 may not be quick enough. If you travel with an iPad or similar device, that probably can help you find the nearest hospital. We mistrust high-tech approaches, and prefer to watch for the large “H” signs indicating hospitals. Whatever method you use, be sure you know how to get medical help if needed.

We have no children, which makes life easier in some ways, but you may have children or grandchildren who worry about you. You may want to set up a schedule for phone calls, so they will know you are all right. We keep in touch with friends and family members by sending emails every few days. Often no Wi-Fi is available in our campground, and we use the Wi-Fi at the nearest public library.

These precautions may sound daunting, but they are really no more trouble than those associated with other forms of travel—and traveling carefully is infinitely better than not traveling at all. Bon voyage!

CAMPGROUND TOILETS

You know it’s really cold when the vault toilet blows frigid air up through the seat onto your rear end! We awoke one day in Joshua Tree National Park to see a quarter inch of snow on the ground and to hear a cold wind blowing. Because we postpone adding anything to the blackwater  tank as long as possible, we dashed across the way to use the campground toilet instead. It was not a pleasant experience.

The range of toilets in primitive campgrounds is amazing. In Canada we once found a simple pit toilet that had whitewashed walls and a bouquet of fresh flowers in a vase on the shelf. Then there are the horrendous ones I don’t need to describe. Conditions depend mainly on the campers rather than on campground owners; only an ignorant person or slob steals toilet paper or leaves it on the floor, fails to clean up any messes, tosses trash in the toilet, or leaves the lid up on a vault toilet.

Because the conditions are unpredictable, I always prepare for the worst. I take along some toilet paper and a soapy washcloth or hand sanitizer to clean my hands. (It would be nice to take bleach and paper towels, too, but that would raise hob with the decomposition.)

Of course, a lot of these problems can be avoided by going to an expensive RV resort that has bathrooms with real plumbing, but usually we prefer cheaper, less formal places—even if it means taking a chance on the toilets. Besides, you haven’t lived until you have had your butt frozen!

RV ENVIRONMENTALISTS

 

Knowing we are environmentalists, friends sometimes look amused when we announce we are planning another trip in the RV. How, they wonder, can we justify using all those fossil fuels and polluting the air with carbon compounds?

They have a point. We try to minimize the environmental damage as much as possible. Our 24’ Sprinter-based motorhome (which uses gasoline rather than diesel) gets about 13 mpg, very low compared with most autos, but high in comparison with larger rigs. When we can, we take the shortest route to destinations (though often we choose scenic routes). If a campground close to home is as appealing as one farther away, we choose the nearer one. We seldom tow anything—our inflatable kayak was carried on the Suzuki just once, but usually travels under the dinette table—to keep the RV as light as we can. As it is only 24’ long, we can drive into rather small parking spaces, and we don’t usually need to have a dinghy. Yosemite, Glacier, and some other national parks provide buses for visitors; our rig can stay in the campground. By having our own “apartment” with us, we can stay out of elaborate resorts and campgrounds that are like small towns, and stay in Forest Service campgrounds, where there has been little despoiling of the natural environment.

The propane used for heating and refrigeration goes surprisingly far, probably because the rig’s interior is small. We avoid using the microwave oven, doing most cooking in a Dutch oven on the stovetop, which also heats the interior somewhat. If we happen to have electrical hookups, a tiny ceramic heater keeps us warm without using propane. Of course, then we are using electricity; we balance that use with reading rather than watching TV. Occasionally we take wood from our home in the forest to make a campfire, if we are not going far. (Wood can harbor insects that might be invasive in other areas.) We keep the refrigerator and freezer very full, minimizing the number of shopping trips and making refrigeration as efficient as possible. When stopping for the night, we always use simple leveling blocks, which also maximizes the refrigerator’s efficiency. (This can be annoying, but is important.)

Being a coffee addict, I have to make a special effort to conserve electricity. Water is heated in a camper’s teakettle, then poured through coffee in a Melitta filter cone. If I don’t drink the coffee immediately, I save it in a thermos to avoid having to reheat it. Yet, some campers say they _must_ use their microwaves for reheating coffee!

Knowing that the fresh water tank holds only 35 gallons, which must do for showers, toilet-flushing, cooking, and cleanup, we are extremely frugal with water. Our showers are the Navy type—rinse off quickly, turn off the water, soap up, rinse again quickly, turn off the water! Or, we may take sponge baths. Yogurt containers in the shower and on the counters hold warmup water for later uses. We try to dry-camp most of the time, and use the vault toilets rather than our water-consuming toilet. Cooking and dishwashing are done with the smallest amounts of water possible, but we do use our lightweight Corelle dishes rather than disposable plastics. We wash and re-use aluminum foil, cover dishes with saucers instead of plastic wrap, and save glass and aluminum for later recycling. I always feel smug when dropping a tiny litter bag (if anything) into a campground’s Dumpster, seeing the gigantic bags inside.

My companion is an enthusiastic user of solar energy, both at home and while traveling. This means hauling a solar panel with us and hooking it up to the batteries; in sunny weather it provides enough electricity for us. In fact, we only use the generator during extreme heat waves, when air conditioning is a necessity. Only one light is on at a time, and the TV is usually off. We do use the radio, which uses a very small amount of electricity.

Though we prefer dry-camping, our small tanks limit us to doing so for about three days at a time. After that, we must look for a campground with hookups. Even there, we avoid wasting electricity and water. The sustainable habits imposed during dry-camping serve us well when resources seem more plentiful, as well as when we go home again.