Excuse Me If I Seem A Little … Cranky!

 It started with Boggle.

Since November, a gift card Jordan received for her birthday for a local games store has never left its spot on the side of our fridge. Just prior to our trip, I decided to opt for an IOU and purchase some items for our little adventure. I purchased a road trip themed Spot It and a new Boggle, the kind that the pieces are internal and can’t be lost. I figured the girls could practice their words. Excited, at a stop light, I opened the packaging, gave it a twist, shook, and twisted it back. Unfortunately, because I was at a stop light, I didn’t read the instructions. I assumed, wrongly, that the twisting feature put all the squares back automatically. Bottom line, one piece got wedged on top of another, thus immediately breaking the Boggle. Well, it wasn’t broken, per se, but it doesn’t close properly now. Stupid, but not a big deal.

Then it was a toe.

I was packing the trailer in the driveway on Thursday night, excited about the trip. We were running behind, having had an extremely hectic week. With company from out of town Friday night, a conference presentation on Saturday morning, and a hopeful departure time of mid-morning Saturday, I didn’t have a lot of time to pack the trailer after picking it up from having the bearings greased and new tires put on (which was done slower than I was initially told). As the trailer is quite long, it takes up most of the driveway when open. It just so happens that the door opens partially into the garden. I was careful most of the time, except that one time. I kicked a rock, and immediately collapsed on the grass. After being attended to by Marley and Evelyn and putting on a bandage for what I thought was a scrape, I continued my frantic pace. The next morning, my pinky toe was quite swollen and purple. I don’t know if I broke it, but it still hurts. I didn’t wear shoes for almost a week, as it hurt to put my toe inside. Add this to the long list of injuries I’ve inflicted on myself this year, and there goes a few more weeks of training. Dang.

Then there were a few little annoying things.

Then there was the net – but I’ll have to fill you in on that later, as it would spoil another intended blog.

All of that, combined, and multiplied by five, does not compare to what’s really made me cranky.

Today we finished driving up the Northern Peninsula, to our intended camp ground at Pistolet Bay Provincial Park. From there, the plan was to visit L’Anse Aux Meadows, view some icebergs, hopefully see whales, and camp for two nights. After picking a new, and improved, site, I started to set up the trailer while Leia went to the gate to let the guard know our new site number. That’s when things went awry.

For those of you that have no tent trailer experience, there is labour involved. It is part of what I love about the trailer. It isn’t simply a parking job. I have to transform the box into functional sleeping quarters. One of the first tasks, cranking up the roof. My trailer has a handier crank at the back. It started normal. I cranked up the trailer to the top. But then it unwound, just a touch. I didn’t think it was a big deal. I wound it up all the way again, but found that it would stay up all the way. Strange. Maybe I was winding it up too far. I had some trouble with the cranking system last summer, when a few times it seemed tough. I assumed I simply had gone to far, and set about putting up the rest of the trailer. I put the door in and noticed that it didn’t quite fit. This was a bad sign. I knew that meant the trailer didn’t go all the way up. So, I went back out, cranked it up. And, to my dismay, it didn't stay up. In fact, this time, I felt something slip when I was cranking. That couldn’t be good.

It wasn’t.

Thankfully, Leia had just got back. I got her to come and give me hand. Maybe if I got the door in properly, it would hold the roof up and I could find some way to fix my problem. She started cranking for me, but the roof didn’t get any higher. To make matters worse, it had come down far enough that now I could get in the trailer. Now we had ourselves a situation.

I managed to climb into the trailer. At this point, I could see that the weight of the roof was beginning to bend the top of the door frame. Cranking didn’t seem to help, so now I was pushing. Things were getting more intense. Leia was worried. I found out after, she was really worried. She thought the roof might collapse on me, crushing me. Of course, she forgot that the roof would eventually stop, leaving me unharmed, but perhaps trapped inside behind a bent door.

I realized at this point that if the roof came down, I likely wouldn’t get it back up. I quickly put things in order, while Leia and the door held the roof up. I then pushed up with all I had and asked Leia to take the door down. The door, when things are working, goes into a little groove that prevents it from swinging into the trailer. I don’t know how deep that groove is, but it seemed implausible. I was pushing up while Leia, growing more frantic, with crying children behind her, tried to get the door out. With no luck initially, we eventually were able to get the door loose – the first item it found was my face. No matter, We put it parallel to the ceiling where it is stored in transit, and we let the roof come down on me.

At this point, all three girls were in hysterics. For one, the trailer was clearly not working, and they knew we had nowhere to stay. But, more critically, as I discovered later, they thought I was going to be crushed. Marley told me later she thought I’d die or get trapped in the trailer. I chuckle as I write this, but that explanation explains their wailing.

With the roof down, and most of the parts in place (expect for the beds, which were extended out still), I crawled out of the trailer and tried to assess the situation. I had already had my moment inside the trailer, while I tried to figure out how to fix it, so I mostly got right to work.

The aftermath of a failed crank.

I crawled underneath to assess matters while Leia went to the front gate to see if they had any suggestions or could help. Warren showed up while I was underneath. He and I spent about an hour taking things apart. Eventually, we surmised that the cranking mechanism, which turns a chain, which then turns a rod, which raises the roof, was broken. To the best of our ability, without removing the entire back panel, it was the mechanism that is supposed to make the crank lock.

Evelyn the Manager, making sure Warren and I do our
jobs to her satisfaction!

We debated what to do next. Do we use 2x4s to keep the roof up? Do we take it down and head to St. Anthony? Eventually, we decided to take it down. We got the most important items out that we could, in case we can’t get back in anytime soon, and set about closing the trailer for transport. With a refund for camping in hand, and with the only Ontario beers I had available to me as a gesture of thanks to Warren, we set out to find a motel.

We spent some time tonight looking for new accommodations for the remainder of our time on the Rock. We’ve also discussed what’s next for this trip. Thankfully, we have places to stay on the mainland. It messes with our plans, but those plans are easy to modify. What really sucks is that I’ve now pulled a trailer to St. Anthony, having paid the extra cost for the ferry, the extra fuel, having booked campsites, to use it for one night. I love spending time in the trailer. I know it can be fixed – it is simply a matter of whether or not it will be fixed for this trip.

There are plenty of lessons, no doubt, in all of this. I’ll let those come to me in days to come. I was surely frustrated. I don’t seem to catch breaks with this sort of stuff. It wears on me. It is a bit of a crushing feeling, like a … oh, I don’t know, a tent trailer roof slowly closing in. I don’t catch small breaks, but thankfully, the small breaks don’t define us – unless, of course, we allow them. Trailers can be fixed. Money spent on motels can be recovered. Disappointment at not camping will be displaced when canoeing 190 kms in a few weeks. When it comes to big breaks, I’ve faired much better. I think of the great family, good friends, wonderful neighbourhood, and luscious curls I have. And, of course, the three wailing girls concerned for my safety and my lovely bride, doing her best to prevent the roof from, in her mind, crushing me to death.

In other news, this is what we saw at dinner tonight:

There was at least 15 icebergs in view from our restaurant.