Somewhere between Deep Creek Lake, MD and Chocorua, NH.
Somewhere in Pennsylvania. Walpallen, or something like that... one of those inimitable Pennsylvania town-names. Just off the intersection of I-81 and I-80 but definitely off the beaten track. We were on I-81 North, turned briefly onto I-801-West, onto some country sideroads, drove and drove and drove and finally ended up at Moyer's Grove Campground, directed here by Trailer Life and Woodall's Campground Directory, neither of which made mention of closer and more-easily-accessible campgrounds we passed, but we had reservations here, and, people of word that we are, we stuck it out and came here. Tomorrow night, we'll camp somewhere in Massachusetts; the next night, hopefully, at our new digs in New Hampshire.
This is a true red-neck hillbilly trailer-trash campground. The kind I really dig for a night or two. The shower house and laundromat is in the basement of the campground owners. The laundromat costs $1.00 for a washing machine, $.75 for a dryer, half the price of higher-end campgrounds, so I'm washing clothes. Clean underwear and running clothes will materialize two days sooner than expected. I'll take a shower here, too. Our own shower is filled with my sentimental houseplants, and, according to Woodall's, the next campground has PAY SHOWERS (of all the nerve...) so this looks like a good bet.
I'm practicing, you see, taking what's available, rehearsing for navigating the Appalachian Trail. Somewhere in my future.
I had these big ideas of doing it in 2008. That was until a couple days ago. I took 4-yr-old Abbie with me (the Goodwill Shopping Trip) to see her Great-Grandma, my mother. My mother's IQ is about 170 and her ability to navigate life is about -170. She has trouble getting around physically and doesn't sweat the small stuff.
But the small stuff piling up, and either I'm going to need to stay home and help her, or hire someone nearly full-time.
Life is what happens while you're busy making other plans.