Flying Solo

April 2 is always a tough day for me. In 1988, it was the day I married my late husband, Jack Gregory (Greg) Talbott. So I try to honor the day each year with a kindness to myself. This year, the kindness was to allow myself a weekend alone in Asheville at my favorite spot on the French Broad River at Wilson's RV Park. So I left work early on Friday the 31st and headed up Black Mountain.

Wilson's is immediately adjacent to the Asheville Outdoor Center where we have signed on to trips down the French Broad and through the Biltmore estate. Asheville also has an extensive system of greenway parks, one of which--the French Broad River Greenway, starts a mile east and runs right throught the RV park. It

was too cold that weekend, mostly rainy and damp, for comfortable paddling, but it was perfect for a weekend of reading, introspection and long river walks.

My friend Caroline, from the Cheraw trip, lives near Rutherfordton and joined me Saturday night for a craft beer and BBQ in downtown Asheville. It is always good to see her but the point of the trip was to be mostly alone. I needed to know I could manage the rig alone but more importantly, I needed to know I could manage being alone with the rig.

I will be 63 in June. I have been widowed 12 years now and hope to be retiring soon. The limits of my days of good health are becoming increasingly evident and there are things I still very much want to do. It is also increasingly evident that I need to be prepared to do them by myself. So this was a practice run,  and for the most part, it went well--with one tiny boo boo that taught me two things. #1 Unplug the brake cable when backing into a camp site. The truck and camper can turn so tight you (I) can pop the brake cable out of recepticle on the truck. Oops. And #2 Fearing I might lose brakes coming down the continental divide, I took the Saluda Grade home rather than Black Mountain. Easier and faster--good to know as I intend to be back.