Blythe Island left a literal hole in our travels

Since we launched, we had mostly been traveling with no big plans, instead just rolling along and staying flexible. We have our reasons for this type of travel; grand adventures are not what will bring us joy right now. What has brought us joy is getting out of winter, returning to favorite places we hadn't seen in years, and visiting our loved ones along the way.

In the spirit of visiting loved ones, we made one exception to our spontaneous travel and booked a campsite ahead of time in Fort Myers, so we could visit Anthony's parents for Easter and my father-in-law's birthday. Even on cusp season, reservations are hard to come by, so we made sure to secure a reservation as soon as we thought we'd be able to launch back on the road. We lucked out when 9 nights were available for our dates at Blueway RV Park.

Once we left Assateague, we had some nights to fill as we journeyed down to FL. I went into RV Trip Wizard and mapped out our route. 1,000 miles meant we'd want at least a few drive days, and we had 9 days until our Blueway reservation started. Plenty of time to divvy up drive days and stationary days. It would still be a quick pace, but hopefully nothing too overwhelming.

My planning didn't go smoothly. Already, I had put off filling these itinerary gaps because I was still feeling the whiplash of being back on the road full-time. I sat down expecting trip planning to take about an hour, but 2 hours later, I was still deep in planning mode. It seemed like every campground gave me some sort of problem.

• I couldn't find pertinent information, like the check-in and check-out times for any of the campgrounds.
• One of our campgrounds only had a request form, and so we needed to wait for confirmation/site info. When it came, the email went to spam and I missed it entirely.
• Another campground had a glitch in their online booking system, which put a hold on the site we wanted, even though we knew it was available. We ended up needing to call the park so they would release the hold and book us the site over the phone.

When I'm already at the limit of my planning capacity, these little annoyances add up. I try to be a diligent planner, but once fatigue sets in, there might be campground details I miss.

Our gap-fill travels started off great. We overnighted at a Harvest Host in Virginia and then 3 nights at a South Carolina RV Park only a few miles off I-95. After that, the plan was to travel 4 hours down to Southern Georgia.

I chose to book a site at Blythe Island Regional Park, a choice that was a no-brainer:

• The price was extremely reasonable for the area
• It put us in nature, gave us water views and hiking trails, but was only a few miles from the interstate
• It offered full hookups despite being a county park campground
• It had stellar reviews
• It was a stone's throw away from Jekyll Island, a place that guaranteed incredible scenery

My research did yield some information to keep in mind, namely that the campground roads were tight and tough to maneuver. Duly noted.

This was also the campground that needed to manually confirm our reservation request. Even though I missed the first confirmation email, a couple days later, we received a second email alerting us that, since we'd be arriving on a Sunday, the office would be closed. They asked us to call to authorize our balance payment and told us our check-in packet would be waiting for us outside the office. A little more roundabout reservation process than we typically like, but so far, nothing too out-of-the-ordinary.

We arrived Sunday, March 29 in the late afternoon. As we drove through the day-use areas, we noted how picturesque the park was. It had an adorable playground, picnic tables with water views, and a pond surrounded by Spanish-moss-covered trees. We stopped at the office to grab our check-in info. Site 49.

Then came the tight campground roads. Not the worst we've ever had, but we needed to be cautious. Worse than the roads was the signage. Someone at some point decided that the most efficient way to guide RVs was not to group site numbers together ("Sites 13-40") but to list every individual site in font so tiny that we had to creep close to the sign, stop on the narrow road, and read through the numbers to make sure there wasn't some strange omission.

And then finding our sign, which listed our site number clearly, but we couldn't help but wonder, what happened to 52 and 69?

We chuckled at the poor signage and thought it would end up being a quick anecdote for us to share with our fellow RVers, who would get a kick out of the unnecessary confusion. But as soon as we approached our site, we realized this would not be our main anecdote.

The site was tough to back into. The narrow road already makes maneuvering tough, but we had obstacles to contend with: trees, branches, posts, poles, and an excavator.

Wait, what?!

Couldn't ask anyone about it right then – the office was closed and we were blocking the road. A pull-thru site across from us was vacant, so we chose the lesser of the maneuver-evils and used that site to line us up and back us in. Once in, we met our new neighbors: Mr. Excavator, and the thousands of no-see-ums that flocked to our trailer like a bunch of tiny narcissists that wanted to see their reflections in our aluminum siding.

Surprisingly, we've never encountered no-see-ums in all our travels, but RVers have warned us that they're little nuisances that can ruin a camping experience. These little monsters swarm and bite. Just in the 10 minutes it took to level the RV, I got several bites on my leg.

As I unpacked our stuff, I kept looking out the window, concerned.

What's the best case scenario here? The excavator stays there, no one operates it, and we just have this eyesore as our view? Worst case, someone does come to operate it, and then what? We get woken up by noise? Worse, we risk damage to our RV if it gets too close?

I hung up our check-in materials on our fridge, furrowing my brows at the letter from Management that reeked of Southern hospitality but certainly seemed like a lie:

Our site and site #47 next to ours were in disarray. The back of our site was cleared of trees, and behind #47 was a lot of tree debris. What could this be? Storm recovery? Some other construction project?

I had the distinct feeling that everything I was unpacking, I'd be packing up again real soon. There's no way staff won't move us. But I made a decision then and there. If we need to move, we're not just changing sites. We're leaving. I've done too much travel to put up with this nonsense. I have no more Fs to give.

There was nothing to do but wait until morning. Might as well try to make the most of our time here, no matter how short it ended up being.

On our way in, we noticed a woman crouched down in her campsite, attempting to feed some animal that was obscured by her vehicle. As we made our way past her site, we saw it: a bunny rabbit! A BIG bunny rabbit! Was it hers? Wildlife? A furry campground resident like the cats at Devil's Den?

As we settled into our construction site, we saw another one. Did you notice it in the photos above?

We dove into our welcome packet. The bunnies are domestic and live at the park. They used to be owned but were then released. They usually spend their time near the office, where staff care for the babies when they're born. Sometimes, though, they'll make their way into the campground. Humans are allowed to feed them veggies. I immediately grabbed our carrots and headed over to make a friend.

I patiently got the bunny to warm up to me, with my "I come in peace and bring you food" approach. I threw some carrot pieces in order to breadcrumb him closer to me. After a few minutes, I noticed that every time I stood up, he would tentatively approach me. It wasn't long before I had him eating out of the palm of my hand. Literally.

How fun! Maybe this place wasn't so bad after all. But then again...

As we spent more time outside, we realized, it wasn't just the excavator. We became overwhelmed by a pungent, sewage-like smell. Since we were near the bathrooms, we assumed it was coming from there. "I'm not using those bathrooms at all," I said to Anthony. But then after bunny time, we took our campground exploration walk, and the odor persisted.

"Maybe it's some sort of organic matter in the pond," I reckoned.

We went back to the RV and tried to proceed with our evening routine as usual. But as I began to settle into the bedroom, I kept getting whiffs of that smell. Every time Anthony turned on a sink, it got worse. Oh no. Was there something wrong with our gray tank?!

But then it hit me. Not the smell, the revelation. Whatever was permeating outside must be somehow coming in through our gray tank vent! Perhaps there's a pressure shift that occurs when one of us turns on the sink, and that causes the smell to worsen. We set up our air purifier in the bedroom, but that only helped so much. I'm extremely sensitive to smells and wondered if I'd be able to sleep. But I had to sleep! We might get woken up at dawn by the revving of an excavator!

Surely, there had to be some explanation for this odor most foul. Then suddenly, it hit me. Not the smell, the revelation.

"Oh my God," I said to Anthony. "Remember that industrial-looking building we passed on our way here, and I said it looked like an amusement park for pigeons?" I went into Google Maps to see what it was.

I asked Gemini, "What does the Georgia-Pacific Paper Mill smell like?"

The second description stood out. Yes, boiled cabbage and garbage! No wonder I worried that something was up with our gray tank. I was thrilled that it wasn't a problem with our rig, but it was certainly a problem with our campsite.

How did I miss this when I went through the campground reviews? And HOW is this place rated a 9.0/10?! Turns out, I did read a review that mentioned this mill smell, but I wasn't logged in so could only see the first couple of sentences: "There are many positives to this campground, and a few negatives. First, the interior roads are difficult to navigate..." and that's all I could see. I logged in to read more, and sure enough, there was my fellow RV Lifer, warning that when the winds are just right, the smell from the paper mill wafts across the river. We weren't getting a lot of wind, but when I checked my radar app, I noticed that there was an easterly ocean breeze sweeping right through the islands. We theorized that more wind would have dissipated the smell, and less wind would have not blown the smell far enough. But this wind was juuuust right.

I checked the wind forecast to see when it would switch directions. Noon the following day, but only for about 12 hours, before it would shift directions again and return to its westward motion.

I started feeling sick to my stomach from the smell. How disappointing! We came here for the nature. We wanted to smell plants, not plant!

I turned the air purifier up, sprayed some essential oils, and lit some incense. All that did was mix the good smells with the bad. But we needed sleep. We didn't know what we'd encounter the next morning, but we needed to be ready.

At the crack of dawn, it started.

Oddly, it was the quietest construction we've ever heard, but we had more than just the noise to worry about. He started off to the side of our site but then got closer, and closer, and closer. Once he was within 6ft of the back corner of our trailer, we realized this wasn't just an annoyance, it was a liability. Our worst nightmare could come true. We might actually end up damaged by this excavator!

It was too early to go to the office, so in the meantime, we focused on something just as important: the fact that this was turning into some prime blog fodder.

When I'm out of Fs to give, I tap into deep reserves that are only accessed in the most dire of circumstances, when things are going so wrong so fast that they venture into absurdity. There is only one way to deal with them, and that's with humor. Remember the hotel customer service guy?

I went outside, PJs still on, hair unkempt, face unwashed, to snap pics for the blog (and hopefully not insurance or a lawsuit). This is what the excavator dude saw when he turned around. Scary, I know. But it makes a solid point.

He did look scared when he saw me, but probably because he thought I was going to yell at him. But we were in the South! "Hellooo," I said, as I continued snapping pictures.

He was very nice, actually, and he said he told the office to keep Sites 47 and 49 empty, and when he showed up this morning, he was like "Oh, crap." I told him I understood he was just doing his job, and that we were in his way as much as he was in ours. I also told him we'd be going to the office as soon as it opened, which luckily was now in 15 minutes.

I went back inside, made myself slightly more presentable, and Anthony got more information. The guys were digging up the entire area to put in a whole new septic system. That's a huge job and something the campground staff definitely knew about. We needed to get to the bottom of this before our trailer ended up in the bottom of the septic ditch. We walked over to the office...but not before saying a "good morning" to the dirt truck that showed up, hoping to park in our site but discovering that, alas, he could not.

I don't exactly know why I thought walking was the right choice, considering the Pungence of Coastal Georgia still "reeked" havoc on the entire campground, but I needed to blow off some steam. And by the time we reached the office, I was ready to fight...in a southernly way, of course.

The staff lady was on the office porch, talking to a couple of gentlemen.

"Can I help you?" she inquired as we approached.

"Uhhhhh" was the only response we could muster as we all made our way inside. We needed to speak with her in private, just in case "southernly" turned into "Bostonian."

We explained to her that we came in yesterday and were assigned site 49, but when we got there, we discovered an excavator right next to our hookups. Sure enough, this morning, a guy started excavating our site. We spoke to him and he said that that site was supposed to be kept empty.

"He's full of crap."

Southernly → Bostonian (but Anthony said I did still keep a touch of Southern accent).

"Well frankly, I don't care who's full of crap, because it's not us. And we don't just want to move sites. These roads are hard enough to navigate. If we're going to need to pack up and move, we want to leave. We want a refund for our remaining 2 nights so we can get out of here. And by the way, if I have to guess who's lying, it's not him, because that site is very obviously under construction."

I expected her to turn defensive on us, especially when she hit us with, "It says right here in my computer that we were supposed to keep Site 70 open, and that was it." But then, an impressive softening.

"What I can do for you is send you a refund in the form of a check to your mailing address, but it might take a few weeks because it needs to be processed through financing."

"That's fine."

"And I'm gonna refund you for your whole stay. I apologize."

"Oh, that's so nice of you. Thank you so much."

[Proceeds to confirm our mailing address and we talk about how we're full-timers and haven't spent a lot of time in Georgia."

"Well I hope this doesn't deter you from coming here some more."

[Finishes processing our refund request]

"Again, I do apologize for this. I hope you decide to camp here again."

̶"̶W̶e̶ ̶w̶o̶u̶l̶d̶n̶'̶t̶ ̶c̶o̶m̶e̶ ̶b̶a̶c̶k̶ ̶u̶n̶l̶e̶s̶s̶ ̶w̶e̶ ̶g̶o̶t̶ ̶b̶o̶t̶h̶ ̶o̶u̶r̶ ̶n̶o̶s̶e̶s̶ ̶r̶i̶p̶p̶e̶d̶ ̶o̶f̶f̶!̶"̶ "Thank you. And please make a note that Sites 47 and 49 should be left vacant."

"Thank you. I will."

We walked back to our campsite, where we found Excavator Dude sitting in the machine, engine turned off. I turned back to Anthony and put my finger to my lips: "Shhh."

We went around to the back of our trailer.

"You know what? We've actually decided to stick around, and we're gonna put our patio down."

You should have seen the look of panic on that poor guy's face.

"No, I'm just kidding!"

April Fools came early.

In the interest of comedic relief, I followed my joke up with, "And just so you know, the lady at the office said you were full of crap."

"I'm full of crap?"

"She said you never requested to keep this site empty and instead requested Site 70."

For the record, on the way back, we purposely took a longer route so we could find Site 70, and it was the site cornered to ours, where Excavator Dude had his truck currently parked – aka, the next best site to ours. As close by as it was, it made no logical sense that he would have requested only that site. But he didn't know we knew that, and what can I say? The only fun I had left that morning was from rabble rousing.

I continued rambling on about what the office lady said, and Excavator dude came over with his phone. "I have the text right here."

"Ooh! Proof!" I exclaimed.

Sure enough, "Site 49" was right there in the text. He continued, "In fact, I requested that all these sites stay empty. There are plenty of other sites to put people in."

He motioned to the group of 5 sites in this area: ours, #47, #70, and two occupied sites. How those campers were tolerating the chaos, we'll never know. I guess the same way they tolerate the smell?

I told him that we assumed he wasn't the one lying. But who was actually lying? The text wasn't specifically to the office lady. Perhaps there was a miscommunication. But what was a lie was the implication that staff checked our site before we arrived. "Everything is taken care of?" Really? I think not.

We told Excavator Dude that we were heading out and wouldn't take long to pack up. We didn't expect it, but he actually stayed out of the way until we left, which was very cool of him. Then again, maybe he was just waiting for the dirt truck to return. By that point, the ditch was looking quite...dug.

We scrambled to pack up and leave as quickly as possible, hitching up this time not just in the swarms of no-see-ums, but in swarms of giant black flies, too. The bugs, the smell, the ditch. Can you imagine if we were crazy enough to put down our patio here?!

We had one final stop to make on our way out of the campground. Remember our welcome packet? It also came with a Satisfaction Survey. We filled it out and I hand-delivered it to the office lady. I know. I threw more shade than the campground trees.

It was a fair survey, though. Also, you can tell I was extremely flustered, because I fully meant to put "Bunnies" in the "best part about our stay" section, but accidentally put it as the worst and left the best part blank. But I figured, it's almost so sarcastic that it seems intentional. And so, it stayed.

We headed out the park exit, still laughing, flabbergasted at the turn of events. But now what? It was 10am and we had nowhere to go, nowhere to stay the next 2 nights, and I had a full work day that now needed to be squeezed into a travel day. We had a lot to figure out.

To be continued.