Moose Rules

I don't always get a view like this from my campsite. But from time to time, the view makes all the inconveniences of living in 120 square feet worthwhile. The view tonight is from the Grand Isles in Lake Champlain. To one side the Green mountains of Vermont fade into a blue haze. On the other side, the Adironacks of New York beckon. Other views are burned in my memory: the sun setting on an Amish farmer still plowing the fields,  watching the tides rise and fall at St. Martens on Fundy Bay and the Atlantic from the  bluffs along the Cabot Trail.

But twice as often as a dreamy view I see the broadside of another RV. I shut my blinds and start writing about the places I have seen that day and the view improves. And once in a great while there's a campground without a view that stands out for other reasons. Such a camp can be found at Moose River in Vermont.

Most of the Moose River campground residents are long term, "seasonals". They rent their little plot of ground with a water hose and electric plug and park their rig next to Moose River for the summer. The Moose River seasonals are a happy bunch who take ownership of the campground and its rules to heart. And well they might. In addition to a spot by the river, the campground provides them with a long row of pastel rockers on a porch with a view of an eclectic collection of moose.

That's where the residents were when I checked in, rocking on the porch, except for the greeting committee on the road that gave me the universal motion for "keep the speed down." (I was speeding along at 10 mph, twice the suggested speed limit). Once I slowed down, I was welcomed warmly. The porch rocking group was disapointed I was staying only one night. I could see it was going to take longer than one night to appreciate the collection of moose statues scattered round the campground.

It was also going to take more than one night to get the rules memorized.  I received my check-in informational packet, with two pages on garbage procedures plus some very detailed information on restaurants where I was to say Moose River sent me. The owner said that since I had a pet, the poop rule applied. She would charge my credit card $25 if I didn't pick up after Daisy, and if another resident caught me, they would get a $25 reward. I too could profit from catching a dog owner not picking up the duty. The laundry had more rules. I broke two of them: I used powdered detergent and washed a rug. More rules about the shower curtain....I did okay with those.

Seasonals are a new experience for me this summer. The Northeast and Maritime Provinces are packed with summer RVers who park a few miles from home and settle in to life in the RV park. On Prince Edward Island, I met a woman who lived 20 minutes away. She liked to move to the RV park in the summer, she said. In Antigonish, Nova Scotia, I met a family that lived in the same town. There they were, a few blocks from home, living in the trailer, sitting under the awning a few feet from the next RV, grilling burgers, watching the children come and go. Young fry roamed the park from sunrise to sunset, riding bikes and skateboards non-stop. Is the attraction the confined area of the park so the parents don't worry when their children run free? The population in the Maritimes is so sparse, why not a spot on the beach, or a lake, rather than the middle of a town?

I don't understand the motivation for clustering so close together, but I find the seasonal residents a happy, helpful lot. They quickly offer to help, whether it's telling me which dryer works the best and giving me their leftover dryer minutes, or referring me to a Vet for Daisy. Everyone wants to pet my dog, and that's important too. They are good people living the good life, enjoying a perpetual summer picnic. That's the memory of RV park life that makes me smile when I lower my shade and dream of a view.