Wednesday, October 23, 2013

Seasick in Frogmore

Early this morning we had to get my traveling sailing wandering buddy to the airport.  No car, just my wheel estate, so off the house goes with the doggy in tow. My campground is paid up for 10 more nights, so we didn't have to pack up everything to go, because I was coming back later.

Campgrounds seem to be notoriously lacking in crime. Besides my outdoor chairs are old and faded, the patio mat is wore out flaky, the innocent coffee can sitting outside doesn't hold coffee, it has doggy poo we steal tucked in little baggies stashed inside.

But just in case, we locked my Santa Claus red bicycle to the 6 foot 6 ton picnic table, then hid it under a ripped table cloth, so if the winds piped up the bike wouldn't blow away.

Best we could figure the airport was about 1.5 to 2.5 hours away by motorhome, plus 2 hours for airport insecurity, plus 1 hour for getting lost, detours, wrong turns, thick traffic and another hour for walking the humans and dog, feeding same, plus a bathroom break for all and well, we figured if we left at 0'dark thirty, we might just make it there in the nick of time for the 12:30pm flight.

It was decided my friend should drive the motorhome to the airport, giving me a break, so I would have the energy to do the trip home alone in reverse. So far on our trip I've been doing about 90% of the driving, while my friend has been doing about 90% of the labor stuff, so it's been fun for both of us, but I do tucker out easily these days.

As the sun came up, I sat smugly in the passenger seat, cradling my puppy until the seasickness struck.


This isn't a boat, I haven't been seasick since I sailed from Venezuela to Florida in nineteen eighty something, so why today of all days was I seasick in a motorhome, my motorhome, the same one I've been driving for over 3 years?

Just a few weeks ago, we took the wheel estate out to sea. Yessiree, the highlight of my trip was 3 glorious hours being back on the ocean with my motorhome, dog and buddy along for the ride. Wasn't seasick then. Wasn't seasick on the thirty or forty thousand miles I sailed at sea on sailboats afloat after that fateful trip from Venezuela.

Life is goof.

So, where are the pictures?  All the wonderful ones I wanted to snap while I was the passenger instead of the driver while rolling down the Sea Island Parkway. I wanted to snap the drawbridges, the incredible marshes at low tide, the majestic sunrise on the east coast, the fighter planes parked at the intersection to turn towards Parris Island, the funny street signs on Frogmore like Coffin Point (is that where smoking sailors go?) and Polowana Road plus Two Rut Road. Then there was the red piano and all manner of things I wanted to capture on my cheap little camera. (The good one inexplicably died a few months back so that is why my pics are not so sharp anymore.)

My phone is so ancient, it doesn't take pictures at all. Matter of fact, it can be downright cantankerous at times, just making calls.

Then I remembered. An angel had given me a nifty little soft sided camera case that had a velcro strap on it to presumably to attach it to one's belt. I had stuck it on my bicycle handlebars so I could carry my camera or cell phone or both in it. When Harley rides in the basket up front on the bicycle, there is no room left for anything but dog.

The camera is for snapping up beauty, the cell phone in case we have an emergency or a wreck. Which we did have an accident the other day on the bicycle with the camera still in its case but without the cell phone. We weren't seriously hurt, and it's a good thing too, since we had no phone to call for help. Not that Harley dog can call out anyhow, his paws too big, the phone too small. But I did ruin my pants and Harley was scared but hey we survived and that counts for something.

So no pictures today because goofy *ahem* that would be me, left the camera in the case, attached to the bicycle handlebars, under the ripped table cloth, locked to the picnic table back at the semi-abandoned campsite.

Well that just dills my pickle.


  1. Seasick in a motorhome-now that is a new one:)

  2. So did you get over the seasickness okay? And everything was in its place when you got back to the campsite?

  3. I've never had my campsite raided in my absence except one time a small plastic Catsup bottle was left on the picnic table. A raccoon removed the lid, liking the Catsup so much that he dragged the entire bottle off.


Life is goof!