Since my last post, Beth and I purchased our second RV, a gently-used 2021 Rockwood Mini Light (WooHoo!), finished up our two week stint at a summer camp on the Jersey shore and spent 4 nights in Bryn Mawr, PA visiting friends.
As I mentioned in another post, we were struggling with the low trade-in deal offered by the seller for our old RV. Eventually, though, we decided to say screw it and move forward with the exchange. The price on the Rockwood was exceptional compared to other units we found for sale throughout the good ol’ US of A, so we felt good about it.
Since that time we’ve put a few hundred miles behind us and now we are in Montauk, NY for another week of beach time. Tough life, huh?
Our first camper was a good starter home. It had everything we needed and what it lacked we recognized as luxuries. To spend less when we weren’t sure if we’d stuck with RVing made a lot of sense to us back then. As Beth said yesterday, “we’ve always been more lean and mean” in our approach to accumulating camping equipment. Plus, we didn’t have very much money!
As I wake up in Hither Hills, site of our first foray into car camping with our young family twenty five years ago, I recall when a tent, some sleeping bags, a small Coleman stove and a percolator comprised our bedroom and kitchen. We traded up to air mattresses, a more robust propane stove and a new chillaxing tent over the next two decades , but always maintained our philosophy of less is more.
Coming back here in our newly purchased, upgraded RV, then, is a shocking change in a couple of respects: we have more money than we did as young marrieds and a greater desire to attend to our comfort. We are now the older campers that many of the young ones look at and think, “one day I might have that.”
The only thing I hated then and now about Hither Hills is the way the natural beauty, the serenity and rugged landscape of Montauk is spoiled by all manner of things purchased in stores, particularly the garish riot of plastic that makes the seashore resemble a camping expo. It’s ugly and I’m okay with the snobbery you might attach to that view. It’s what my French-speaking family called, “déclassé.”
Whatever judgments I carry about the habits of the middle class in our country, though, they pale compared to my negative and angry views the entitled rich. The town of Montauk is overrun with these haughty highbrows during the summer and I would, on occasion, run them down with my truck if I weren’t such a nice guy.
Still, I love the sound of the surf in this place and it calls to me regardless of my penchant to judge others. From one’s bed in a tent or a camper, you can hear the waves breaking. It is relaxing and reminds me that being near the ocean is one of life’s greatest pleasures.
This morning Beth and I walked the shoreline, stopped and did some yoga and then meditated back-to-back for twenty minutes or so. That’s pure heaven to me and speaks to why people refer to this place as “The End.”
