I’ve been secretly watching her outside my window for a few minutes. She is taking photos of her RV and of the campsite.
With short spiky grey hair, and brightly colored designer eyeglasses, she looks more like a woman you’d find wandering around an urban art gallery than in a gravelly RV park.
I haven’t seen any indication that anyone is with her.
As she gets closer to my window, I make the move to open it, but am slowed by the four latch locks.
She reenters her mini motorhome.
Damn, I missed her!
I unlatch all the locks, hoping she’ll come back outside. I sit patiently at my dinette until, finally, she does!
Quickly throwing my window open, “Are you traveling alone?”
Startled by the flying window and my loud query on her solitary travel status, she hesitates a moment.
“Yes, I am.”
“So am I!”
We talked non-stop for hours. Married, traveling without her husband, and on her way to Alaska, we had a lot of shared experience to talk about.
What a joy to be in an environment where I can say, “I’m married, but decided last year that I want to drive the Alaska Highway by myself” only to have the response, “Really? Me too!”
Things are going well so far!
(P.S. She was part of a caravan that wasn’t leaving for ten days, so we couldn’t make the trek together.)