I know, everyone usually talks about how to winterize an RV. But for snowbirds like us, fortunate enough to have a home in the mountains where we spend the summer months, preparing your rig for the season is different.

For starters, it’s more important to keep the critters out than worry about keeping the water heater from freezing.

To summarize, the summerization of our rig entailed little more than:

• Plugging in, to keep the batteries charged.
• Emptying grey/black tanks and rinsing  them well.
• Removing all food items.
• Cleaning out fridge and turning it off.
• Covering the wheels to shade tires from sun.

After driving around for about a week I looked at the dust gathering on our hitch and decided it wise to summerize that too. After all we weren’t headed anywhere for a few months at least. As a side note, I’d prefer to remove it, but Rene has a point or two. It is heavy. And should we need to evacuate in a hurry, being able to quickly take our second home with us would be a good thing. But there i go digressing.

I love our hitch, enough to take good care of it. To prepare it for not being used, I took the following steps to tuck it in for the summer:

• Cleaned off all dust, grime and grease.
• Re-greased the slide tubes, both the top and inside of shafts.
• Released tension from catch spring.*
• Covered with plastic. (I used an old vinyl BBQ cover Rene had made since we have a shed now!)

*NOTE TO SELF: Remember this before hitching up in the fall!

It dawns on me now, that I never shared just how much I really do love our Pullrite Superglide fifth wheel hitch. And no, that’s not even an affiliate link! One of the biggest determining factors for me when it comes to complete product satisfaction is customer service. Pulliam gets an “A” in my book.

To make an already long story short… After a couple years on the road, we noticed out hitch had a lot of play in it and didn’t sit level. The top plate slanted so René often had to hold flat as I backed it into the trailer kingpin. This got old quick. Then I noticed what looked like piece of a small leaf spring in our truck bed one day.

While searching for our Colorado property last year, we paid a visit to RV America in Loveland. Upon looking at our hitch, the parts manager was very concerned and suggested we call the local Pullrite sales rep.

To make an even longer story a little but shorter… he agreed to meet us at the shop and have a look.

One look was all it took. Though it could have been serviced, he offered to replace the complete top portion of our hitch. Not just the receiver plate, but the whole rocker arm assembly too. No charge. Better yet, the kind folks at RV America agreed to install it free of charge. We left with a brand new hitch and a better understanding about how to disassemble it should the need arise in the future.

Upon inspection of our Superglide’s way tubes, the Pullrite rep asked about how and when I grease them. After explaining, he commended me for the good job, commenting on how they were in good shape for what we’ve put them through. I fully intend to keep it up so this love affair with our hitch lasts a long, long time.

NOTE: We use white lithium grease to lubricate the way tubes on our Superglide hitch, but Pullrite also recommends a graphite spray which we will be trying next season. Buying a can was the least we could do after getting a virtually new hitch from RV America!

Earlier in that day of the Texas flash flood that nearly swept our trailer away a few months ago, we watched the odometer in our truck turn 77,777 miles. While that evening was full of excitement, normally such an event would be a big deal.

Well, at least for me.

On long stretches of highway, what I used to consider numerical anagrams are always something I look forward to. Then I learned at Google University that the proper term for such a sequence of digits is a palindromic number. These are numbers that read the same forward and back. And when the mileage gets up there like it has on our Dodge, it’s fun to figure out the next palindrome we’ll reach in our travels.

OK. It’s  no exciting, rip roaring, click you heels kinda fun. But it does give a long haul driver something to think about for a few miles. Like what would be the next palindromic number in sequence in our example here? Hint, we passed that over a thousand miles ago.

The first few are easy. Not including single digit numbers, they begin with 11, 22, 33, 44… etc. The fun, however, doesn’t really begin until you get to much larger numbers, like 101,101 for instance. Maybe we’ll hit that one during our next season on the road down south.

I signed up for NüRVers because it has to be the best social networking portal for fulltime RVers who break the stereotypical fulltimer mold. But then again, it must be the only one too. Aside from RVblogz, that is.

We have social sites for every segment of society. René is into her tweets and Facebook. Jerry lives on at Twitter, Dogster and ZooToo. I just keep my LinkedIn profile fresh.

If I have my way, I’ll never have to use my connections to land a job working for somebody else ever again. But LinkedIn is one social business network that makes a nice little safety net, if I ever had to dust of my résumé that is.

Its also a great way to keep in touch with old coworkers and colleagues. And I get a kick out of updating my status with things like “gone fishing” or “Heading South for the Winter” while others talk about provisioning servers or recontextualizing some brand paradigm to maximize market penetration.

Done that thanks. I’ll take my mobile lifestyle and workamping anyday. That’s why I started the LinkedIn Workampers Group. I also stumbled upon the RV Enthusiasts LinkedIn Group. If you’re LinkedIn, check ‘em out. You won’t find me on Facebook.

Forgive me if I rant for a moment, but it’s been a while, and I need to get this off my chest. There’s something about this whole mess in the Gulf that really upsets me every time I hear about it – which is every time I turn on the radio. It’s times like this I’m thankful we have no television!

No, I’m not talking about the economy down south that’s heading even further south. I’m not talking about soiled birds and destroyed estuaries, nor the rising cost of Gulf shrimp. I’m talking about a matter of semantics.

Yes, all of the above is truly upsetting, but it’s what everyone is calling the cause that really turns my stomach.

Call it a disaster, call it a calamity, call it a gaping whole in the earth’s crust. Call it human error with dire circumstances or call it the beginning of the end of the world, but please… stop calling it an oil spill.

A “spill” implies something finite. The Exxon Valdez running aground caused an oil spill. And while that was – for lack of a better term – a lot of oil, it was an amount limited to what the ship could hold. As much damage as that did, it was manageable. What we have in the Gulf now is not a spill. It is a veritable infinite amount of oil gushing from the ocean floor with no stopping it in sight.

Calling the Deepwater Horizon catastrophe a spill seriously downplays its ramifications. Consequences of which we will not know the true nature for years to come. Thank you. We now return to our regular programming now in progress.

[steps off soapbox]

There is a magical place, nestled in the hills about 30 miles north of Santa Fe, New Mexico.

A holy, mystical place where you can step back in time.

A place where you can get a handful of miraculous healing dirt, and some of the best tasting roasted chile mixes you have ever tasted.

It is a place where you can commune with the wise one, and feel his words warm your heart. Yes, el Santuario de Chimayo is a sacred place which houses “el pocito” – the small pit of Holy Dirt which many believe has remarkable curative powers – and one legendary miraculous crucifix. But I am referring to el Peregrino Café and Gallery, just across the Plaza of El Potrero. And the wise one I speak of is one Carlos Medina – the Chimayo Chile Man.

This is the place where we first met Charles Medina, where we were first enchanted by his chile spell, and where I had my first tortilla burger. And it is a place where we had to return when passing through Santa Fe. We yearned for some more tasty chile powders, we wanted a tin cross we neglected to buy upon our first visit, and we needed another dose of Mr. Medina’s wisdom.

About the Cross

We may not be very religious, but the small crosses Carlos makes have special meaning to us. After all, Jerry was with us the first time we visited Chimayo. Carlos crafts these crosses – large and small – with strips cut from the original tin roof removed from el Santuario in  1922. We wanted one the first time we saw them, and always regretted not buying it. The small memento we now have hanging on our wall has an even more special meaning since we watched Carlos make and sign after asking how he does it.

About the Chile

The ritual of tasting Charles’ chile mixes alone is well worth the visit to el Chimayo. He’ll have you smell the robust powders and give you a pistachio, but ask you not to chew it. Filling the half shell with chile mix, he’ll explain if it is male or female, and ask if you like hot spice. With dash of salt, he’ll hand you the chile and tell you to chew it with the nut. Your palate will explode with flavor, and Carlos will flip you another nut chaser. Red Number One… Male Green… before you know it you will forget your favorite and start tasting all over again, getting a little history lesson and a few recipe ideas each time.

About the Chimayo Chile Man

Carlos and his sister Sharon Medina Candelario will greet you with big bright smiles as you enter their patio filled with age old artifacts, beautiful artwork, and tasty aromas. They are both talented tinsmiths. They will welcome you with a warm heart, and give you an intriguing history lesson behind any piece you inquire about.

The familia Medina settled in Chimayo sometime in the 1570′s. Yes, that’s fifteen seventy something! And evidence of their history can be seen throughout Chimayo, from street names to ancient graves in the Santo Niño Chapel plaza.

Charles himself seems to embody 500 plus years of wisdom. Our goal was to capture some of his philosophy on video, but he respectfully declined. We made him promise to let us document his chile ritual on camera next time. But this time, I was frantically scribbling notes after touring the Medina gallery with Carlos as our host for nearly two hours…

“To enjoy life, take your time. Those in a hurry can never fully enjoy life.”
— Carlos Medina

Words of Wisdom from Carlos Medina

“Some people put on the wrong attitude when told of bad news,” says Carlos Medina. “There is no reason in life to be sad, mad, or angry. These are three sisters – not daughters of God. Allow one to enter and she will invite the others and throw a party.”

So how to keep the sisters at bay, I asked. “Smile,” he simply said. “But to distribute the power of the smile one must laugh.”

“We must forgive,” Carlos added. “Throughout life, we walk toward the light and leave the shadows behind. We cannot dwell in the darkness.” As an example, he shares, “When you go to bed, ask God to help you forgive those who may have upset you. Then, ask for forgiveness yourself.” He adds, with a  grin, “Because we are not Saints – we are all a little mischievous.”

The best way to enjoy life, according to Carlos? Take your time. “Those in a hurry can never fully enjoy life.”

About religion, he says, “You do not need to believe in God. You need to believe God.” Carlos Adds, “God speaks to all of us from within – we must listen to God within ourselves.”

About prayer, Carlos suggests, “At the end of each day, say out loud [with a heavy drawn out breath] ‘Wealth‘… it is good to provide for those you love, or to be able to help others do the same.” He gives the example of paying someone to build a fence, then adds, “then say to yourself out loud, [again with a heavy drawn out breath] ‘Health‘… for you cannot have one without the other.” He then asks, “What good is it to be rich, and too sick to enjoy it?”

Sharon shared with us her own words of wisdom for being “successful” in life. “Society tells us we must go to school, get a good job, and make lots of money to succeed,” she said while etching a tin cross under the new Mexico sun. But she took Charles’ advice to “Follow your heart.” With a Master’s degree, after working in social work for four years, Sharon followed her heart and now she couldn’t be happier with her lifestyle creating jewelry and artwork outside in the plaza at Chimayo.

Our new annual pilgrimage

Just as tens of thousands of the Faithful flock to el Santuario de Chimayo every Easter – many after walking miles with large crosses on their backs – we too might just be making an annual pilgrimage to Medina’s. But it will have to be during the week. Upon leaving, Carlos shared with us his final words of wisdom – He doesn’t work Saturdays.

Allen’s Fried Chicken and Luckenbach are the only other two places we have specifically returned to after traveling the whole country, aside from visiting family. Now we just need to get back to Pawlet, Vermont for that Roy Egg rooster head we should have bought when we had the chance.

“Home” … it has a weird sound to it.

After nearly three years on the road, it’s strange settling back in here at Jerry’s Acres knowing that we’ll be here until it’s time to head south again next winter. We were only here a couple months before hitting the road again last season, and having returned I suppose we are officially Snowbirds now, or Snabbers rather.

Though I thought Snowbirds were supposed to travel away from the snow! It was snowing when we left last October, and as I look out the window now it seems we are living in a snow globe, and someone is shaking it really hard. Just a couple weeks ago we were sweating it out down in Texas – running the A/C all day, thinking it was time to head “home” … now we wondering when we might be able to stop wearing multiple layers!

The good news is, I must have done something right with my directions for how to winterize a mountain home.

After doing our best not to fear the worst for the past few months, we returned to a clean house, perfectly intact, where everything came back online without any problems. No broken windows, no burst pipes, no critters trapped inside, no worries. We were even prepared to spend a few nights in the RV, having no idea what to expect upon our return. But considering this crazy weather, I’m certainly glad to be inside, next to the fire.

Bonus: My motorcycle even fired right up after sitting stored over the winter. Before we left, I had added some Stabil to the gas tank and turned off the fuel line, letting it run dry. I disconnected the battery, wrapped the bike in moving blankets and forgot about it. Then, a couple months ago I got to wondering, “Can the water in batteries freeze?” Well, apparently not, at least not this time.

Best of all, we had a welcoming party greet us upon our return. The day after we got back, René spotted a moose walking down the road past our house. The next day, we saw two moose cows and a calf – the same one we saw last year I believe – crossing our property while out for a walk. And earlier today we had a nice little training session with Wyatt learning not to bark at deer right outside the window.

It’s good to be “home” … but don’t worry, we have lots of stories to catch up on from our not so recent adventures. And before we know it the time will come to head back out on the open road in our home sweet home on wheels!

They came. They got to know each other. They made cocktails.

I’m speaking of the Nü Rvers of course, at their recent get-together in Gonzales, Texas for Days of the Nü II. One highlight from this year’s gathering was the first Bartender Wars.

Ben and Karen took first place with their Blazing Bloody Mary, and we brought home the Best Presentation award thanks to our Nü Hawaiian, complete with theme music and little umbrellas. (Thanks to Sam and Tracy!)

But as we promised the fine folks from Republic Tequila – who we met at the first Luckenbach Hat Festival, which they sponsored – we brought along a bottle of their new Reposado for the Nü Crew to try out.

Enjoy this video of us preparing a batch of Republic Texas Tea and getting feedback from a few true tequila afficionados …

After making this batch of Republic Texas Tea, and passing around a few straight shots, the votes were unanimous – well, almost. Among actual tequila drinkers the consensus was; Republic Tequila rocks! It is aromatic and mellow, ultra-smooth and easy drinking – fine to sip, and most excellent mixed.

Here’s the topper, Republic Tequila is made with 100% certified organic blue agave at La Quemada, one of Mexico’s only organic distilleries. Even better, Republic uses recycled Jack Daniels charred American Oak barrels for aging their tequilas – 8 months for the Reposado and 20 months for the Añejo. And best yet, the people behind the brand are good-hearted, fun-loving folks who share a common goal; to create and market the world’s perfect tequila.

They might have done just that. Everyone has that one liquor they just can’t drink anymore. And while I make a mean margarita, I haven’t been able to sip straight tequila for years due to circumstances I care to not divulge, or can’t remember. But once I tasted the Republic Reposado, my aversion might just be cured.

Republic Tequila – “Born in Mexico, Raised in Texas” – was launched last August and is already in four states. Look for Republic throughout Texas at Spec’s Fine Spirits. I’m just glad it’s available in Colorado now! By the time of this writing you should also be able to buy it in Oklahoma, New Mexico and Arizona.

If your favorite liquor store doesn’t carry Republic Tequila, tell them they should! If they do, you can’t miss it on the shelf. It’s the one in the Texas shaped bottle. But this is much more than just a gimmick. It symbolizes the spirit of this spirit, its big hand-crafted taste, and the freedom you’ll feel after sipping some … responsibly of course.

Some stores may also have Republic in the “tall” bottle. But what fun is that considering this tale Jack told about how the Republic bottle came to be… “We started drinking in Amarillo,” he said pointing to the neck of the bottle. “By lunch we had reached Abilene,” he adds and points to middle of bottle. “It was so good, we kept on drinking until we reached South Padre Island!” Or something like that, but anyone who knows their Texas geography understands that means it’s time for a new bottle.

There is simply not enough time to enjoy all the barbecue goodness Texas has to offer. From the big cities and fast highways to every sleepy little town and winding FM (Farm to Market) road, the savory smell of smoking meat can be enjoyed as it radiates from rickety shacks and strip malls alike. It even overpowers the ever present aroma of Texas oil country.

Last year in Luckenbach, René promised me a dinner at Hondo’s in Fredericksburg. This year, she kept her promise. Hondo’s is an informal, self-serve restaurant with a menu sure to please any discriminating taste, and yes, they have BBQ. Place your order and have a seat on the shaded patio sipping a cool tea until your pager blinks. We might have sat inside and stuck around for the live Music if we weren’t taking a break from the Hat Festival.

After seriously considering the brisket, I opted for the special – “a generous portion of whatever David’s been smokin’ all day” – and was informed that the 2 lbs of ribs came just like that, just ribs. So I added some fried onion strings, and was reassured by a sincere “Mmmmmm…” from the woman taking our order.

I traded a bunch of crispy strings for for some of René’s succulent grilled Mahi Mahi salad. There was no way I could eat so many ribs without some fresh greens. And fresh they were.

I would have certainly hurt myself even trying to finish the big ol’ basket of ribs, so leftovers were in order. With some grits and greens topped with remaining onion strings, I got tasty BBQ two days in a row – bonus!

After passing far too many BBQ joints – with names like Fat Boy’s and Bubba’s BBQ – over the next couple weeks, we found another gastronomical treasure at Pop’s Pit in Brookshire, Texas. Pop’s is old school BBQ at it’s best, but these days you’ll even find traditional places like Pop’s Pit on Facebook!

Pop’s Pit is home of the Heart Attack sandwich, chopped beef and sausage. But after ordering the ribs, I spotted the brisket sitting on the counter. It comes sliced or chopped, on a bun or in a bowl, and it looked – and smelled – too good to pass up. I opted for the sliced beef sandwich, and got a funny look when clarifying our side order of beans and slaw. After all, René had just ordered the Suicide Spud wit the same sides, to split. “She’s gonna eat all that?” the woman asked. “No” I said with a grin, we were splitting the side dishes. “I’s gonna say…” was her only reply as she turned to shout our order to whom I presume had to be Pop.

The woman’s reaction was clearly understandable once our food was ready in the walk up window. Another bonus for me: the sausage and chopped beef that comes with the monster baked potato smothered in melted butter and sour cream. The beef was tender and tasty, but leftovers were once again in order. The smoked sausage scrambled up with eggs the next day made for another one of those memorable all day breakfasts.

The final bonus at Pop’s was that we got dinner and a show! Shortly after sitting down at the shaded picnic table with our mess ‘o food, police cars started zipping by with sirens blaring. Then they went the other way, and back again. A parade was about to begin. As I sat licking my fingers, feeling satisfied, and finishing René’s iced tea, she ran off with the camera to capture the colorful Cinco De Mayo celebration passing by.

As paramedics brought up the rear, I felt safe knowing help was nearby if I decided to eat just one more piece of sausage. Allen’s, here we come!

One last word about Slab City*: Freedom

My final answer to those who may question a stop at Slab City based solely on it’s outward appearance is that the whole scene is all about the people, and the freedom they choose to experience – and share – with others.

Boondocking on the Slabs is free, in many more ways than cost. You can’t beat the price, but then it’s free of any services whatsoever too. Life on the Slabs is free of that sense of urgency which has polluted society. It is free of any rules, really, and it’s the people who are truly free.

One could easily drop out of society with residence at Slab City, as I’m sure many have. But we’ve never felt unsafe At the Slabs, and we have met some very fun and interesting folks.

Freedom can be seen in the smiles of anyone at The Range on a Saturday night. Genuine happy faces and permagrins alike share the good vibes and great music. While minding their own business, each person we meet there is always welcoming and warmhearted.

Chance from Airracket sums it up best …

yeah freedom, i’m free to love you.
i’m free to care for you.
i’m free to fly …

Watch the video for our neighbor Dakota who frequently took flight in his self-propelled parasail. He succinctly summarized his own freedom when he answered our question of where he was headed next with, “Wherever the wind takes me.”

We’re thinking the wind wants to blow us North soon to check in at Jerry’s Acres, but Crystal Lakes received another foot of snow last time we checked. So, there’s no rush to get “home” and we are free to take our time. Freedom is a good thing.

A big shout out to Chance for his mind-bending guitar work and lyrics. He’s got some great sounds and will always get ya thinkin’ … Freedom has always been a personal favorite, thanks.

* Until next year.

René recently cut out another quote and taped it inside our bathroom cabinet door:

“At its core, adventure is the willingness to commit to an uncertain outcome with and open heart and an open mind.”

I don’t know where she got that one or who said it, but her timing is impeccable as it certainly applies to our latest adventure.

Had we known of the uncertain outcome that awaited us at By The River RV Park in Ingram, Texas, alongside the lazy Guadalupe River, we might have left after our first night. But who would have thought this pretty park could be covered in water within the next 24 hours? And after nearly three years on the road, we’ve come to expect the unexpected. Without such an outlook, panic may have set in even earlier than it did the other night.

No, that first photo is not a picture of the park. It’s just where we ended up spending the night, along with all the other rigs from the park, which is a very good thing considering how events of the evening unfolded …

Earlier in the day, we had walked across a spillway path over to an island on the river across from the park. It’s where they allow tent campers – of which there were none, fortunately – and the path was clear of water. We later took the short drive to nearby Hunt, TX to see Stonehenge II – noticing along the way various river crossings that would clearly become impassable with the slightest rise of the river. A sign of things to come. Later that night, three people would be washed downstream after trying to cross the river there. One has yet to be found, another spent most of the evening up a tree crying for help.

Upon returning to the park, I noticed only an inch or so of water covering the path we had walked. That would soon change.

At about 10:00 p.m., the park manager showed up only suggesting that we “may want to hitch up and be prepared to leave” – a high water advisory was in effect until midnight. I figured we had plenty of time and decided to dump our sewer, not knowing where we might be in the morning. While doing so, I walked over to the river bank and noticed it was much closer.

The water was about 8′ higher than it was, and only about 5′ lower than our site. I poked my head in the trailer and told Rene, “Uhh… we might just want to leave now and beat the rush. Come check this out!”

Our pace hastened, we disconnected our power and water, and proceeded to get going. That’s when we heard the sirens, saw the fire truck and noticed emergency personnel suggesting we hurry up because, “This end of the park floods first.”

Gee, thanks for letting us know now, I thought.

A look over their shoulder showed the water about another two feet higher. Everything was fine, it was pretty exciting, but that was it. Then we couldn’t hitch up.

This is when it started to get scary. Multiple attempts to connect the trailer resulted only in a frightening clunk. Apparently I had bent something while trying to hook up in such a hurry. Fearing the damage was permanent and we would be forced to leave the trailer, Renee scrambled to determine which belongings we absolutely needed to grab and I remembered something I learned when getting SCUBA certified: Panic = Death.

Each time I jumped out to adjust the legs of the trailer up or down, there were more volunteers trying to help. One wearing a safety vest and helmet, diligently tried to calm down René. Another tried to assist me by holding our hitch plate level. Clunk. I panicked and tried to force the hook up.

That’s how I pushed the trailer legs off their blocks, causing the fifth wheel kingpin box to slam down on top of our truck bed rails. Doing my best to remain calm, it was clearly time to poop my pants. But no time for that. I wasn’t leaving without our home. The water was another foot higher. I raised the trailer, pulled out from under it and started dismantling our hitch. I think that’s when René really started freaking out.

I quickly confirmed the hitch was still functional and put it back together. One last attempt after adjusting the trailer height again – with the park manager holding the hitch, and me holding my breath – we connected, but it didn’t feel like it. I knew something was wrong. The manager insisted he heard it click, and he must have. I was clearly out of my mind and the water was another foot hgher.

Side Note: Old time RVers throughout our travels have more than once made the same comment one fireman did as we waited for our trailer’s legs to retract: “Are those things moving?” he said. The Arctic Fox may indeed have the slowest retracting legs in the RV industry. But this time it seemed to take an eternity. With water lapping at our site, we were on our way, just in time.

We joined dozens of other RVs up the hill in a church parking lot for the night, hoping the trailer wouldn’t fall off, wondering if we would be able to unhitch. As more continued to show up, one frantic woman asked if I had a fifth wheel. She said someone needed help getting their trailer out because they had no way to pull it. My heart shrank as I had to say no. Our Pullrite Superglide requires a kingpin adapter to function without damaging the hitch and/or trailer.

Walking down to survey the damage the next morning, I noticed our site had clearly been under at least a couple feet of water. All the RVs and trailers did get out, some with their sewer hoses draped over their bike racks. Others who left theirs behind. With only our end of the park truly getting flooded, we feel very fortunate to have our home with us. We moved on to a park down the road a in Bourne called Top Of The Hill RV Resort, thinking we might need to be there a while waiting for hitch parks. But upon further  investigation, the damage done was nothing a few whacks from a hammer couldn’t fix.

Epilogue: As we were leaving the morning after, I noticed a trailer tire was low. Pulling away in hopes that we would find a service station soon, we immediately pulled into a tire shop right across the road. We had not one, but two punctured tires.

I guess when it rains, it really does pour. Especially in Texas. After all the excitement, I did little math and calculated that the river was rising a foot every five minutes. That may not sound all that fast, but consider the gentle slope of the terrain and it’s easy to imagine that flood approaching like an incoming tide – we don’t need to, we were there!