The Brain Farts Just Keep on Coming
Our trip to Blackwater Falls State Park was rather uneventful.
At least until we reached the campground.
We arrived, backed into our campsite, and got the Weeblemobile set up without any problems. Everything went so smoothly that I should have known something was wrong.
Apparently, the brain farts had simply been waiting until we were fully settled before making their appearance.
When it was time to feed the dogs, we discovered that we had forgotten their bowls.
That was not a major crisis. We had paper plates, and the dogs were not about to file a complaint over the dinnerware. As far as they were concerned, food served on fine china and food served on a paper plate tasted exactly the same.
Then Mrs. Weeble went to give Pennie and Sophie their pills.
“Where did you put their medicine?” she asked.
“I didn’t do anything with it,” I replied. “I thought you packed it.”
There was a brief pause.
It was the kind of pause where two people look at each other and realize that neither one of them has any idea what the other person has been doing.
We had both assumed the other had packed the medicine.
You know what they say about the word assume. It makes an ass out of you and me.
In this case, it also left the dogs’ pills sitting at home, probably resting comfortably beside the forgotten bowls.
The bowls were not a big deal.
The medicine was.
Pennie has epilepsy and cannot safely miss her medication, so we started preparing ourselves for a drive all the way back home the following morning.
It was not exactly how we had planned to spend our first full day at Blackwater Falls. Most people visit the park to see the waterfall.
We were preparing to visit our own kitchen counter.
Before accepting that we were going to spend most of the day driving, we started thinking about who might be able to help us cut down the travel time.
We did not need anyone to come all the way to West Virginia. We just needed someone willing to pick up the medicine and meet us somewhere in the middle.
Then I remembered that I was off for the holiday—and so was my son Jeff, who works in the same office as I do.
I called him and asked if he might be willing to help.
Jeff and his wife, Amanda, graciously agreed to bring the medicine and meet us in Harpers Ferry, West Virginia.
That saved us from driving all the way home and proved once again that adult children are useful for more than moving furniture and explaining new technology.
Our new plan was in place.
We still had to get through the night without Pennie’s medicine.
Before bedtime, she had one seizure. Both Mrs. Weeble and I spent the night keeping one eye and at least one ear open, watching Pennie and hoping she would be okay until we could get her pills.
It was a somewhat restless night, but there was one bright spot.
The new mattress was wonderful.
Compared with the original RV mattress, it felt like sleeping on a cloud.
A firm cloud.
A cloud designed for people with back problems.
But still a cloud.
Even while worrying about Pennie, we could tell that buying the new mattress had been one of our better decisions.
The following morning, we headed toward Harpers Ferry.
We had previously purchased calming pills for the dogs. Since Sophie and Buster have a tendency to become a little vocal when left alone, we gave the calming pills to them before leaving.
We could not take all three dogs with us, so Sophie and Buster stayed behind while Pennie came along for the ride.
Pennie was her usual traveling self. She climbed into the back seat, lay down, and went to sleep.
No drama.
No complaints.
No requests to stop at Buc-ee’s.
The drive to Harpers Ferry was fairly routine, although Pennie did have another seizure along the way. Considering she had been without her medicine for more than 12 hours, it was not entirely unexpected, but it was still upsetting to see.
We met Jeff and Amanda, who delivered Pennie’s pills and officially became the heroes of the trip.
We thanked them, turned around, and headed directly back to the campground.
Nobody was waiting at our campsite to complain about Sophie or Buster, so we took that as a good sign.
We did hear Sophie howling as we pulled in, but we had no way of knowing whether she had been howling the entire time or had simply heard the car and decided to greet us with the song of her people.
I realized afterward that I could have left a camera recording inside the RV to see what they were doing while we were gone.
Naturally, I did not think of that until we returned.
Another brain fart successfully completed.
That evening, I cooked pork chops and baked beans over the open fire—the way a man is supposed to cook while camping.
Mrs. Weeble has been very satisfied with my outdoor cooking skills.
At least, that is how I have chosen to interpret her silence.
She was not giving me a dirty look while I wrote this, so I am counting it as a five-star review.
After dinner, we sat around the campfire and relaxed for the evening.
That is one of our favorite parts of camping. There is something about sitting beside a fire, talking about nothing in particular, and watching the flames that makes everything slow down.
It also gives you time to remember all the things you forgot to pack.
The next morning, our furry alarm clocks went off sometime between 6:30 and 7:00.
There is no snooze button on a dog that needs to go outside.
There is only increasing volume.
While Mrs. Weeble prepared her morning coffee, I took a shower. For her added pleasure, I even shaved.
Some husbands bring flowers.
Captain Weeble removes the campground stubble.
I then fixed breakfast, which consisted of bacon and pancakes.
The pancakes turned out well, and Mrs. Weeble appeared to enjoy them.
Again, there were no dirty looks, sighs, or cross-eyed stares.
Breakfast was officially a success.
We spent part of the morning relaxing because we were going to have to move the Weeblemobile.
Not to another campground.
Not to another loop.
Not even around the corner.
We were moving five campsites down.
Because of another reservation snafu on my part, we had one campsite for the first few nights and another for the rest of our stay.
Nothing says adventure quite like preparing an RV for a journey of approximately 150 feet.
We packed up the outside equipment just enough to avoid dragging anything behind us and made the great migration down the campground road.
No rest stop was needed.
Once we were settled into our new site, our plan was to visit Blackwater Falls and explore the park.
At first, we considered taking Buster and Sophie with us and leaving Pennie behind. Pennie would have been perfectly content sleeping in the RV.
Buster and Sophie, however, see our departure as a personal betrayal that must be announced to the entire campground.
In the end, we decided not to take any of the dogs.
We were especially glad about that decision when we arrived at the falls and had to park in the overflow area.
Apparently, we were not the only people who thought seeing Blackwater Falls would be a good idea.
Blackwater Falls was magnificent.
There is an overlook where you can get a very good view without walking all the way down. Mrs. Weeble decided the overlook offered everything she needed.
I continued down the steps to get closer.
There were quite a few steps.
Going down was easy.
Gravity was very supportive.
The problem with walking down a large number of steps is that, unless you plan to begin a new life at the bottom, you eventually have to climb them again.
I made it back to the top, although my legs immediately submitted a formal complaint to management.
I also recorded a short video of the falls, which you can watch using the link below.
Blackwater Falls video link here
The falls were truly majestic, and I highly recommend seeing them if you visit the park.
Pictures and videos are nice, but they cannot fully capture the sound of the water, the scenery, or the feeling in your legs when you reach the top of the stairs.
After seeing the falls, we decided to look around the lodge.
Blackwater Falls has a beautiful lodge with several overlooks and its own restaurant, the Smokehouse.
We planned to eat lunch there, but the restaurant closes between 2:00 and 4:00 in the afternoon.
We arrived at 2:10.
Ten minutes late.
After climbing all those stairs, being denied lunch by ten minutes felt unnecessarily cruel.
The restaurant had closed its doors, and apparently my suffering had not earned us an exception.
Since lunch was no longer an option, we drove around and looked at some of the cabins inside the park.
They looked very nice and included televisions, Wi-Fi, air conditioning, and heat.
In other words, they allow you to enjoy nature without letting nature get too close.
The following morning, the dogs woke us at their usual time of around 6:30.
It was Father’s Day, and Karen presented me with gifts from the pups.
Apparently, the dogs had been shopping.
They gave me two T-shirts. One was a camping shirt, and the other featured one of my favorite sayings:
“I’m not sleeping. I’m just resting my eyes.”
That phrase has served me well for many years, especially when I am sitting in my chair with my eyes closed while the television watches me.
Mrs. Weeble then made me a Father’s Day breakfast burrito.
Yes, we used the microwave.
We had electricity at the campsite, and we were not afraid to use it.
Cooking over an open fire is wonderful, but sometimes the greatest sound in the wilderness is the cheerful ding of a microwave.
Mrs. Weeble and I had a few things to do inside the RV, but Buster wanted to remain outside.
He had been quietly enjoying the campsite for about 20 minutes when Mrs. Weeble went outside to do her exercises beside the Weeblemobile.
She had barely started moving her chair into position when another dog walked past our site.
Buster decided he needed to introduce himself.
Immediately.
Buster is a gentle soul. His plan was probably to run up, say hello, exchange a few sniffs, and discuss campground life.
Unfortunately, the other dog had not been included in the planning process.
It appeared that Buster had been chewing on his leash.
When he lunged toward the passing dog, the damaged leash broke, allowing him to make an unscheduled personal appearance.
The other dog began squealing.
Mrs. Weeble began yelling.
I heard the commotion from inside the RV.
There was just one small problem.
I was preparing to get into the shower and was wearing my birthday suit.
I briefly considered charging outside to help, but I did not think the rest of the campground needed that much excitement before lunch.
I had to locate the shorts I had just removed and put them back on.
By the time I made it outside, Mrs. Weeble had everything under control.
Buster had only wanted to meet the other dog, but he had scared it badly.
That was enough to put Mr. Buster deep in the doghouse with Mrs. Weeble.
He spent the rest of the afternoon inside the RV reflecting on his poor choices and wondering why nobody appreciated his social skills.
Later, we decided to give the Smokehouse restaurant another chance.
Mrs. Weeble treated me to lunch for Father’s Day.
She ordered the brisket sandwich, and I had the ribs.
Both meals were very good, and this time we arrived while the restaurant was actually open.
That greatly improved the dining experience.
After lunch, we walked around the lodge and visited the different overlooks. The lodge sits in a beautiful location, and the views alone make it worth stopping there.
We then drove into Davis, West Virginia.
Davis is a unique little mountain town with an artsy personality, interesting shops, and plenty of local character.
We wandered through several stores, including one with a large collection of cookbooks.
Naturally, the cookbooks caught my attention.
I enjoy looking through cookbooks, although buying one does not necessarily mean I will ever prepare anything from it.
Sometimes owning the book creates nearly the same sense of accomplishment as cooking the meal.
Among the selections was the Willie Nelson Cannabis Cookbook.
I looked at it.
I considered it.
Then I decided that, considering my former career and my current position, beginning that particular style of cooking might not be the wisest move.
There are some conversations I simply do not want to have.
“Keith, what exactly did you put in these brownies?”
“No comment.”
The cookbook remained safely on the shelf.
In another shop, we found a handmade bottle cozy and spoke with the woman who had made it.
She explained that she knits it normally and then washes it in very hot water. The heat shrinks and tightens the wool fibers through a process called felting, creating a much denser material.
It was fascinating to hear how she made it, and we ended up buying one.
bottle cozy
After exploring Davis, we returned to the campground.
The first thing we heard was Sophie howling.
For this outing, we had decided not to give Sophie and Buster their calming pills.
I had also remembered to set up the camera so we could finally see what they did while we were away.
According to the recording, we were gone for about 70 minutes.
During much of that time, Sophie and Buster took turns howling their displeasure.
It was less like two lonely dogs and more like an organized shift schedule.
Sophie would howl for a while.
Then Buster would take over.
Then Sophie would return for another set.
They apparently believed the campground had booked live entertainment.
Pennie, meanwhile, was probably lying down somewhere, wondering why she had been assigned to travel with amateurs.
We still do not know how well the calming pills worked during our Harpers Ferry trip because we did not record the dogs that day.
They may have slept peacefully.
They may have howled until the pills wore off.
They may have formed a small band.
We will have to do some additional experimenting and much more careful planning before future adventures away from the Weeblemobile.
That evening, we decided to keep dinner simple.
We had leftover Manwich and leftover Little Caesars pizza.
It might not have been gourmet campground dining, but it tasted good, filled us up, and did not require me to drag out the Blackstone.
Sometimes the best camping meal is the one that requires the fewest moving parts.
Mrs. Weeble and I spent the evening sitting beside the campfire and talking about the campground and the surrounding area.
We agreed that Blackwater Falls was quickly becoming one of our favorite places.
I am not quite ready to place it ahead of Shenandoah National Park, but it is definitely close.
One major advantage Blackwater Falls has is electricity at the campsites.
That is not available inside Shenandoah National Park, and having electricity makes RV life considerably easier.
It is difficult to argue with air conditioning, a microwave, and two fully charged phones.
During our drives around the area, Mrs. Weeble became curious about the price of local real estate.
That led us to Zillow.
Zillow is dangerous campground entertainment.
You begin by saying, “Let’s just see what homes cost around here.”
Ten minutes later, you are studying a mountaintop mansion with seven bedrooms, nine bathrooms, an indoor swimming pool, and a price requiring several winning lottery tickets.
We spent some time looking at McMansions we could not afford, did not need, and would probably get lost in.
We are not ready to give up the RV life we have been working toward, but it is still fun to look at the possibilities.
It costs nothing to dream, provided you close the Zillow app before accidentally contacting a realtor.
By our final evening, we had packed most of the outdoor equipment and arranged things so we would have very little to do before leaving in the morning.
With three dogs serving as alarm clocks, we expected an early start.
Before hitting the road, we stopped at the lodge for breakfast.
I ordered biscuits and gravy with a side of bacon. Mrs. Weeble had pancakes and fruit.
It was a good way to finish the trip—and it saved us from having to cook breakfast, clean everything up, and then pack it all away again.
Sometimes the smartest camping decision is letting somebody else wash the dishes.
After breakfast, we climbed back into the Weeblemobile and headed for home.
Even on a short trip, I enjoy returning home.
I love traveling in the Weeblemobile, seeing new places, and sitting around a campground fire with Mrs. Weeble.
Blackwater Falls gave us beautiful scenery, a great campground, good food, an interesting little town, and several new stories.
It also gave us forgotten dog bowls, forgotten medication, a drive to Harpers Ferry, a five-site migration, a broken leash, an attempted campground jailbreak, and more than an hour of recorded dog howling.
The brain farts just keep on coming.
Still, no matter how enjoyable the trip may be, there is something special about pulling back into our own driveway.
There truly is no place like home.
Especially since that is where we apparently leave all the important stuff.
Have you ever arrived at a campground only to realize you left something important at home? Tell us about your best camping brain fart in the comments below. It might make us feel a little better about ours.
The adventure does not stop here. Use the Previous and Next post links below to see where the wheels rolled before—or what trouble we found next.
