Got up from our georgeous campsite, to a picture perfect day. Not a cloud in the sky. Norman, “Mr. Wonderful” was perfectly willing to drive back to Lake Pukaki where I really wanted to get a picture of snow-topped Mt. Cook over the turquoise lake. I could purchase a photo of this, but I wanted my own. Could not believe he was willing to do that for me ( I almost hated to myself ) but after 8 years, ( 6 weeks of which in a camper ) he just keeps surprising me with his thoughtfulness.
So off we went with a quarter tank of gas. I suggested getting some, but he, for some reason wanted to wait for the BP that the GPS said was 15 miles away. ( I said he was terrific – not perfect ). The trip to the lake was much longer than we remembered, and the GPS was crazy once again. ( You would think we would have learned, by now ).
After 30 minutes I decided to check our location the old fashioned way – with a map! How novel! We discovered that we still had a very long way to go, and disturbingly ( to me ) were low on gas. How is it that men find “fumes” a reliable source of fuel? I gave up my quest for the prized photo, for the comfort of a little diesel fuel. I guess being a “Professional Photographer” is not in my future. No guts.
The "scenic" road to the condo was long and boring, but we finally made it. Unfortunately, when we found the unit, it was down a steep set of stairs, across a walk, and then up a bigger set of stairs. We had to completely empty out the camper, and we were not scheduled to pick our suitcases up until the morning. It took about 15 trips each. I was glad we opted not to hike that morning! It was a gorgeous place, spacious (a regular room would be spacious compared to living in the campervan) and most importantly – warm. Fall was here, which made it a great time to leave the campervan behind.
Made dinner from all the left-overs, did buckets of laundry, watched the news, soaked in the tub, and hit the sack. Norman was so glad not to have to pull together the beds each evening and then take them apart the next morning, which was a chore he took on, and really hated, when I got hurt.
So off we went with a quarter tank of gas. I suggested getting some, but he, for some reason wanted to wait for the BP that the GPS said was 15 miles away. ( I said he was terrific – not perfect ). The trip to the lake was much longer than we remembered, and the GPS was crazy once again. ( You would think we would have learned, by now ).
After 30 minutes I decided to check our location the old fashioned way – with a map! How novel! We discovered that we still had a very long way to go, and disturbingly ( to me ) were low on gas. How is it that men find “fumes” a reliable source of fuel? I gave up my quest for the prized photo, for the comfort of a little diesel fuel. I guess being a “Professional Photographer” is not in my future. No guts.
The "scenic" road to the condo was long and boring, but we finally made it. Unfortunately, when we found the unit, it was down a steep set of stairs, across a walk, and then up a bigger set of stairs. We had to completely empty out the camper, and we were not scheduled to pick our suitcases up until the morning. It took about 15 trips each. I was glad we opted not to hike that morning! It was a gorgeous place, spacious (a regular room would be spacious compared to living in the campervan) and most importantly – warm. Fall was here, which made it a great time to leave the campervan behind.
Made dinner from all the left-overs, did buckets of laundry, watched the news, soaked in the tub, and hit the sack. Norman was so glad not to have to pull together the beds each evening and then take them apart the next morning, which was a chore he took on, and really hated, when I got hurt.
