An Invitation to Mindfulness
Boy, this is...different. My most brilliant spouse just called the Pleasureway Excel RV "an invitation to mindfulness." She nailed it: If you don't pay attention to everything you do (and try to live as you do at home) you will end up black and blue.
The problem is that the Pleasureway is small. It's a big van with some very clever appliances, but it's still just a big van. If you don't stoop and bow your head a little when you climb in the coach door, you clobber year head. If you get up too quickly from the bed/couch, you whack your head on the air conditioner. If you don't consciously pick up your foot before entering the bathroom, you will whack one or more toes and yell so loudly the neighbors will hear.
On the other hand, when lived in mindfully, the Pleasureway is comfortable and quite cozy. I think people who have overnighted on sailboats will know precisely what I mean. (The toilet is in fact identical to several I've seen below decks on cruise-boat excursion catamarans.) Every cubic inch of room inside the van body is put to use, but it's very much living in miniature. The bed is moderately comfortable, but it's a jackknife bed, built in three separate slabs that don't precisely line up to the same level, and there are cracks to drift into during the night.
That said, our first night here was fun in a young-marrieds sort of way. We used to tent camp a lot when we lived in Rochester and Baltimore, and this is a little like tent camping: You're always knee-deep in your stuff, with damp towels and swimsuits lying around draped over things, and coolers full of icemelt to dump regularly.
It's worth it. The photo above was taken from right behind the RV. Our site is on the bank of the Blue River maybe ten yards from a little waterfall, and we listened to the sounds of the water over the stones all night long. This morning we walked up an ancient jeep trail for a mile or so, huffing and puffing only a little. (Living for three years at 6,500 feet is excellent training for hiking at 9,100 feet.) The wildflowers were in exuberant bloom, including exquisite little wild roses, along with trail favorites like phlox, and many things we couldn't identify. A tiny snowmelt stream wandered along the old trail, burbling as it worked its way over logs and stones.
Even in mid-June, the surrounding peaks are all snow-covered, and I can only wonder what they look like in winter. We don't ski but we will probably come back to Breckenridge during ski season, just to see what it's about. I'm not sure I want to ski, but I always enjoyed sledding, and maybe somewhere they have a sledding hill that a 54-year-old kid could handle. We'll see.