Cape Cod tested their patience and rewarded it. Campgrounds fill fast in summer, so Doug booked a shoulder-season week at a family-run RV park near Wellfleet. The Basecamp’s low profile slipped under oak branches that taller rigs would have clipped.

They biked the rail trail, ate fried clams wrapped in paper, and walked Race Point Beach at dusk while gulls argued over scraps. A park ranger told them about the historic lifesaving stations dotting the dunes—stories Marla later read aloud by lantern light.

One rainy afternoon they drove to a cranberry bog tour and learned why Massachusetts harvest photos look like floating red carpets. Doug fixed a sticky window latch with a dab of silicone; Marla called it “Basecamp surgery.”

Silver Trekker verdict: Classic New England beach camping—book early, embrace seafood, and bring a good rain jacket.

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