JM Roadtrips

End of the Road??

2011-10-07T12:30:00.000-07:00

Plenty of space as we arrived at Valley of Fire on Wednesday under threatening skies. Only 2 other rigs in the park, so we were able to get our favorite spot on the edge of the campground. We declared an official two days of rest with only minor sojourns within the park. We have seen all of it and done all the hikes in past visits, so rmoves the “we gotta do something” from the daily planner.

View from the 'front door'

We enjoyed good rains pounding on the roof and even a passing thunderstorm yesterday. The red rock formations here are every bit as beautiful as those in some of the more familiar National parks, and there are no endless lines of busses pulling in. We did run into one geezer tour bus at the visitor’s center, though. Most headed directly to the potty.

Flash flood followed by large drops the next day produced
an interesting pattern in a gully.

Julie and friend Tim arrive tonight. Contrary to park rules, we snagged a campsite for them, as the park is starting to fill for the weekend. Julie has a bike and run race here in the park tomorrow. Looking forward to a campfire this evening, as the clouds and rain have moved on.

Looking back on this trip, we have now seen all the major sites in the west, watching the price of gas fluctuate from $1.75 to the now $3.50+ range (we do remember the $4.40 spike a couple years ago.). Has us wondering about our future in the RV business. Do we downsize to a Class B, or bail altogether? This will be a winter of decision, methinks.

Will leave here Sunday a.m. with an ETA in Roseville sometime Monday, after an overnighter in Bakersfield. I have already given Janice instructions NOT to let me drive all the way home in one day, regardless of the compelling “smell’ of the barn.

Spaceship sighted!!!!! Occasionally RVers get a bit extreme levelling their rigs. The photos below show one ready for launch. I call 'em 'spaceships.'

Rather than putting the front wheels a foot off
the ground I would have moved to another site.

Balloon Fiesta 2011

2011-10-04T20:43:00.000-07:00

Balloon Fiesta 2011

Balloonomania kicked off unofficially Thursday night when Julie flew in…on a plane, of course The next morning we rendezvoused with Copper Canyon pals Bob and Marian King, and Jerry and Nancy Gayvert. We caravanned in from exit 143, rekindling memories of following each other through Mexico 5 years ago.

The Copper Canyon "6"

We arrived at the Balloon Fiesta RV park, a dirt and gravel lot about a quarter mile from the balloon field. Shuttle bus service made it pretty handy.

As previously noted, Janice and I had done recon on Thursday, visiting the park where we met ‘Betty’ walking her dog. She was an RVer and a veteran of many Balloon Fiestas. She encouraged us to sign up to be a balloon chase crew, which all of us eventually did. (Betty and her husband were the main recruiters in the big tent.) As chase crew we got free passes to the Fiesta, plus, Betty added, sometimes you might just get a ride, which otherwise would cost about $350.

The pictures speak for themselves. Balloons lighting up in the pre-dawn darkness and then hundreds taking to the air. Beautiful and amazing. This should be on everybody’s bucket list.

Evening glow

Dawn Patrol

The field is grass, about a mile long and a quarter mile wide. It is separated into grids covering the entire field, spacing the balloons all over. The public wanders among the balloons as they prepare for launch, little kids collecting trading cards from the pilots. This is a real public-friendly operation. Balloonists are provided hotel accommodations, a $200 gas card, unlimited free propane and three meals a day. Albuquerque knows how to entice the balloonists, knowing what draws the money into the city.

All shapes and sizes

We arrived at the field about 5:30 am on Sunday to crew. Our pilot and ‘first mate’, Mike and Becky Marx met us at station U-4 on the field as hundreds of balloons were being unloaded and then set-up for a 7:00 a.m. take-off. Julie, Janice and I did pretty well for rookies. Mike and Becky, from Prosper, Texas, were simply wonderful people, very skilled in the balloon business. The highlight for the weekend came when Mike turned towards Julie and said, “Get in, let’s go for a ride.” Her face lit up like the morning sunshine. In a matter of seconds she was airborne. We hopped in the chase vehicle and followed the flight to its ultimate landing, several miles away in a vacant lot in a residential neighborhood.

Julie takes off

Julie celebrates 'first ride' with Mike and Becky

We also worked for Mike and Becky on Sunday evening during the ‘glow’. Balloons aren’t launched during the evening but they are lit up en masses and provide quite the light show. Strong winds Sunday night curtailed the light show.

By Monday morning, we were whupped, having arisen at 5:00 the past two mornings.. Sleeping in to 7:00, as we readied to hit the road, we watched the morning launch sail over the RV park. A couple balloons even landed in the park.

Darth Vader lands in RV Park

Sandwiched during our Albuquerque weekend was a dinner Friday night (for 7) at El Pinto, a mega Mexican restaurant serving hundreds. Good food!. Also a visit to Old Town, a typical tourist mecca. Another treat was seeing former Mexico wagonmaster Larry (and wagonmistress Evelyn) Stark. He was leading a Rally at the Balloon Fiesta and was parked about 10 rows behind us at the park. FYI 2500 rigs came to watch balloons this year.

We decided to take it easy on Monday, driving only about 140 miles to Gallup. Hopes to visit nearby Canyon de Chelly were shelved as rain and clouds moved in. Leaving this morning, we covered about 300 miles to Kingman, AZ, crossing the entire state despite strong winds and a thunderstorm finale as we approached Kingman. Tomorrow, we are heading to Valley of Fire State Park northwest of Las Vegas. Hopefully there will be a space for us.

Arriving in Balloon-town

2011-09-28T20:26:00.000-07:00

Old Santa Fe Plaza

Spent the better part of yesterday in Santa Fe. The Old Town area is charming with lots of shops bulging full of inventory. A couple shops have gone under, while others are hanging on by the fingernails hoping for a good holiday season.

Old Santa Fe Street Scene

We didn’t contribute $$$ to the salvation of the place, but did enjoy a nice lunch at Tia Sophia’s that left us waddling after we finished. Visited the Georgia O’Keeffe art museum. She spent most of her productive years in this area. Unfortunately, the video projector broke just before we arrived, so we missed the full biography. They ‘rain-checked’ us for the next time in Santa Fe, which could be the twelfth of never, to use a Johnny ‘Mattress’ term. And that description of Johnny Mathis was passed on to me by my ‘best man’ and former law school roommate, now a Superior Court Judge. He claimed that Johnny Mathis’ tunes had a special effect, and I don’t think he was talking about narcolepsy. I digress.

Old Santa Fe

Was tempted again to buy a hat, but the one that was going for $32 the other day at the Indian flea market was being sold in Old Santa Fe for $47.50. Apologies to the Indian flea market.

"Chief, I'm ready to bury the hatchet over this 'hat' thing."

Storm clouds gathered during the day and rain began to spatter as we left the NM State Capitol building. Nice art exhibit there. Apparently their legislators were not in session, as security was lax, with the security personnel in crossword puzzle mode. No metal detectors, but then it is likely that most of the looneys have left NM for California.

"Jeff, why do you make me do these pictures?"

Leaving town, we stopped at Trader Joes to replenish dwindling provisions, noting that NM is a ‘three-buck Chuck’ state. Such is the price to pay for fine imported wine from the golden state.

Today found us headed down Hwy 25, cruising downhill at 70-75 to Albuquerque where we landed at the American RV Park on I-40. Very nice park except for the rumble of semis flying by on the highway. The park is packed (222 sites) in anticipation of the Balloon Fiesta, our home-to-be starting Friday.

We checked out the Fiesta grounds on an afternoon recon mission. Met Betty, a RV full-timer and balloon fan who encouraged us to sign up to crew for a balloon. Sounds like fun, even for geezers.. Crewing means unpacking the balloon and basket, assisting its inflation and then chasing it when it goes up, and then re-packing it when it comes down.

In the “I can’t believe I did that” category: When we arrived today, the park advised that the water would be off for about a half-hour while they made some repairs. We set up and then commenced a few hours of housework. At one point water began flowing off the roof and down the awning. A steady stream. I clambered up on the roof and noted that water was gushing out the toilet vent pipe. (Fortunately the water was ‘clear’ as I had dumped the tank this morning.) The culprit was the toilet tank back-flush line. When I hooked up, I apparently had accidentally hit the valve and knocked it to an ‘open’ position. Normally with the park’s water on, I would have noticed this immediately.

Instead it filled the ‘black’ tank with forty gallons of water and then headed up the vent pipe. We were fortunate that we had stayed ‘home’ cleaning rather than going out right away. We were more fortunate that neither one of us used the toilet while the water was going up and out the vent pipe. A ‘flush’ would have opened the potty valve and ’Old Faithful’ would have gushed upwards. It would have been like a fire hose bidet. The perils of the road.

New Mexico

2011-09-26T21:16:00.000-07:00

Our plans for a Taos destination changed suddenly as we looked at ‘things to do in Taos.' Didn’t look like a good place for a 2-3 day layover, so we headed for Santa Fe instead. We were advised to backtrack through Durango and then take the major interstate (I-550) to Santa Fe. Otherwise we would be risking the perils of a mountainous two-lane road.

Having survived the perils of driving Baja, such warnings fall on deaf ears, so we headed out the back way. What a beautiful drive through woods and meadows. Yes, it was hill and dale. Little traffic at all, save for some cattle transporters that were parked at roadside and backed up to corrals. Steers that were grazing all summer in the mountains were ready for the next step, whether that be finishing off as US Prime in a feed lot, or going direct to the Big Mac grinder.

We drove past herds of mountain cows. They lollygagged under shade trees or stirred up dust clouds while butting horns (apparently forgetting their earlier neutering). I puzzled over how they would get these critters to the waiting trucks. Not a cowboy in sight.When that dinner bell rings, it could be their last.

"Hey guys, if you hear the dinner bell, ignore it."

Arriving unblemished at the Santa Fe Skies RV Park south of Santa Fe, we set up camp and headed back up the highway to visit an Indian flea market that had been touted in one of the travel blogs I follow. As we pulled into the parking lot, signs warned ‘Absolutely No Cameras Permitted.’ This was apparently based on tribal beliefs. I holstered my Canon and left it in the car. This flea market had been running since Friday afternoon and a cadre of desperate peddlers remained as we neared the 4:00 pm shutdown. I was mildly tempted to buy a new hat to shield my barren pate from the scalding southwest sun, but the $35 price tag was too much. Even the hawkers cajoling would not move me: “They are made in St. Louis.” (Never heard of that Chinese town.) That was it for the day. We cruised through downtown Santa Fe doing recon and then returned to the rig for BBQ’d steak and potatoes.

This morning we headed for a day trip to Taos, checking first with the RV park owner as to the attractions that shouldn’t be missed. The drive up there took longer than expected due to roads that were poorly marked. On one wrong turn, we cruised through the dilapidated town of Truches. Folks in the street gazed in amazement and a dog sleeping in the street scurried out of the way.

A most potent memory of the drive was a sudden attack of flatulence by Annika, dozing in the back of the CRV. I assumed it was Annika, accepting Janice’s immediate denial and knowing that I would never do that. These were of ‘road-kill’ quality, requiring an immediate “windows down” drill. Annika was so overcome by her own hyper-flatulating that she hung her head out the window for several miles.

" No more burritos for me.......I'm sooo sorry!"

Arriving in Taos, we headed for the Taos Pueblo, rated #1 on places to see in Taos. We parked the car and approached the tribal ‘registration desk’ to pay our admission. Ten dollars apiece (plus tax! ---tax to whom?) for admission. There are no pictures of our visit though. They wanted $6.00 (plus tax) to bring a camera on site. Mine was quickly returned to the car. Let me see if I understand this Indian lore: You can’t take pictures at the flea market because of tribal beliefs, but all sins are forgiven for $6.00 (plus tax!). This must be hangover from the concept of penance taught to them by Catholic missionaries (before the local slaughter of the Padres in 1680).

"Six bucks to use a stinkin' camera? Ridiculous!"

Of interest, this site is the longest continually occupied site in North America. Dust, adobe buildings and Indians hawking their goods. “Take my picture for a dollar.”Gullible tourists wandering about with their green-tagged cameras shooting pictures that would soon be forgotten. We did buy a couple genuine Indian cinnamon cookies, though I don’t think Indians in these parts actually had cinnamon in the olden days.

Next stop on the must-see list was the Royal Gorge Bridge. At 500 feet above the Rio Grande, it ranks in the top 3 or 4. The fenced Indian lands prevented a good photo of the bridge, but standing in the middle with that ‘I might just throw up feeling’ looking down into the canyon, I snapped a quick photo.

Rio Grande- Royal Gorge-Taos

Finally we hit the downtown. The Kit Carson Museum was a hit with Janice, who is probably suffering museum withdrawal since the end of her writing ventures. Kit Carson was a ‘home-boy’ of many of her Oregon heroes, so she loved the brief oral presentation and the video.

Kit Carson Museum
Kit slept here...for 25 years.

With Annika in the car cooking like Indian fry-bread, we made a quick tour through the shopping area, window shopping with newly- purchased ice cream cones (paid for by the pueblo camera savings). I am grateful that Janice is not addicted to souvenir shopping. Yes, we did get an official Taos magnet done by a local artist. Number 216 in the collection---all displayed proudly in our home on the road.

Taos tourist strip

Finishing the day at 5:30 back at the rig, we enjoyed a couple of games of Scrabble. Janice is doing well this month.

A Colorado Change of Scenery

2011-09-24T19:48:00.000-07:00

"Jet-boat" and 1986 Bus - Colorado River

Finished up Moab with a jet-boat ride on the river and a late afternoon/evening sunset vist to Canyonlands NP and Dead Horse Point State Park.

The jet boat ride was a ho-hummer, the first 15 miles down the canyon done by bus to the launch site. Towering canyon walls (red, red-striped and light red) might have been dazzling to the new arrivals to the area on-board, but if you’ve spent more than a day or two exploring the surroundings, they are more of the same (spectacular, but.....enough is enough) The jet-boat was noisy and didn’t go all that fast. “Jet-boat” refers to a propulsion system and not the speed. No more dam tours or jet-boat rides!
One notable site: The cliff that Thelma and Louise drove off in their final scene.(see below)

Thelma and Louse's Final Ride
Their departure spot just left of the high point.

Canyonlands NP

Canyonlands was a top-down view of some pretty incredible canyons. Our real goal was a sunset picnic dinner at Dead Horse Point. We brought BBQ chicken and potato salad for the occasion. The view of a U-turn in the Colorado River is quite famous. I think the view from Horseshoe Bend we saw is more spectacular, in part because the river is green rather than buckskin brown. Can't help but thinking 'effluent' when you see that color. The ambiance of the visit was marred somewhat by a busload of Russians (or Slavs) who had set up their own private bar on the point. They brought every conceivable mix and booze, but forgot glasses, so they wound up cutting plastic water bottles in half. (Watch those sharp edges!) Their noise and cigarette smoke detracted from what is reputed to be one of the better sunset views in the west.

We enjoyed our dinner at a nearby picnic site, then returned to the point to bid the day adieu,

Dead Horse Point - Colorado River at sunset

Leaving Moab Friday a.m. we stopped at the tire shop for our new front tires. The owner, Chip, quipped, “Thanks for driving all the way to Moab to buy tires from me.” This guy had the only tire shop for 50 miles around. It drew a steady stream of customers every time I dropped by. A veritable rubberized gold mine!

Never saw any.

We headed east into Colorado and were soon pleased to see trees in place of red-rocks. The foliage is starting to turn. We are about a week early for the big show. By late afternoon we landed in Pagosa Springs, a town we drove through three years ago. At that time it charmed us and we tucked it away in our list of places to return to.

After briefly driving around last night on our way to dinner, we are trying to identify exactly what the charm-factor was. Thinking back, we had been in the Denver suburbs before coming here. As the wise sage once said, "Where you are depends on where you were." Had dinner at Bacces, an Italian joint. So-so food delivered to us by Michelle, whose interaction with us seemed pretty robotic. "How's your dinner?" "It's fine" "Awesome." Awesome???? How about "buon gusto?" She was probably pre-occupied with thoughts of how she was going to get out of this town before the snow starts falling. It's coming soon. This place is at 6500 feet and it was38 degrees this morning.

Today is a day off to catch up. Do the wash, hang the new refrigerator door, check the batteries, change the engine air filter and check for loose spark plug wires. Pretty exciting stuff.. Janice in town for haircut and pedicure. Annika looking forward to swim in the San Juan River. Headed to Taos, NM. (Late info: Janice's pedicure performed by a 45 year old local Roller-Derby wanna-be in training. Visited downtown for a gelato. Annika got her swim.)

Official mourning day proclaimed for the end of the Giants 2011 pennant drive, after their 3-1 loss to Arizona last night. Will stop wearing my Giants cap and possibly toast the season with either red or white wine tonight. Maybe both.. To Taos tomorrow. More rocks.

Photo for Grandson Jonas:

Aged movie extras from "The Birds"

Rocks in My Head

2011-09-21T20:26:00.000-07:00

Beauty and the Beast

When I was a lad, my mother would occasionally chastise me regarding some stupid activity I might have engaged in: “Do you have rocks in your head?”

I heard this when:

I rode my 24” Schwinn into a wall at nearby Parkmead school after viewing an episode of “You Asked For It.” (I did wear my football helmet, but it still knocked me out cold.)
I started a fire along the banks of a nearby creek to see how big it could get without going out of control. (An observant man on the far bank came to my rescue, likely saving me from a long stint in juvenile hall.)
I turned on the griddle on our stove one morning when ants invaded. (There are few things that smell worse than a 1000 sizzling ants).

Today as I spent my second day in Arches National Park, I was walking down a trail (The Devil’s Garden 8- mile trail), and it occurred to me that the last week of looking at southwest landscapes had indeed OD’d me on rocks. Beautiful? Yes, but the brain can only handle so much eye-candy before its like a Xerox machine out of control. Red rocks. Red rocks. Red rocks. Rocks in my head!! Reminded me of our 3 weeks in New England when we tired of the those %%##!! red leaves. Like eating too much chocolate or playing too much golf (did I say that??).

Janice wisely took the day off today rather than subject herself to the Arches version of the Bataan death march. I was not so wise, and I know that tomorrow morning I will be beyond the reach of Advil. Only a few sips of the fermented grape are saving me now. Janice did enjoy a few hikes with me yesterday checking out the Arches.

An afternoon driving tour took us 13.7 miles up Hwy 128 to the Red Cliffs Lodge. We agreed that this would be our Moab abode in post-RV days. Very classy western-themed place along the Colorado River. It features a museum of all the western movies (and others, e.g. Thelma and Louise) that were filmed in the area. But for the fact that Annika was beginning to sizzle in the car (87 degrees) we could have spent hours there. In the words of our now disgraced former governor, “We’ll be baccccck.”

Moab is a town of activity, catering to every outdoor adventure you can dream of. One could spend a lot of time (and money) here. Just west of us is a federal nuclear waste reclamation project---a left-over from the uranium boom days of the 1950s when yellow-cake created a modern-day gold rush. Folks in the Moab processing plant weren’t too careful with the tailings, so the feds came to the rescue in the 1970s. They created their own railroad to dispose of the stuff in who-knows-where. Between tourists and federal workers, the economic machine is humming here.

Tomorrow’s activity is a 1/2 day jet-boat tour down the river. Just the right sit-down activity for a newly crippled person like me.

Enjoy the pictures.

Windows Arch through Turret Arch

Broken Arch

Skyline Arch

Tunnel Arch

Pine Tree Arch

Landscape Arch
(Click on picture for full view - it's a masterpiece)

Partition Arch

Navajo Arch

Double-O Arch

Chipmunk- For Grandson Jonas

Trail crossed this spine for 100 yards. It was 300 feet down on the left, 50 feet down on the right.
No place for wusses.

Looking at Page in the Rearview Mirror

2011-09-19T20:15:00.000-07:00

Upper Antelope Canyon - Page, Az

Our final full day in Page was interesting. We opted for a slot canyon tour, led by Ryan of the Overland Tour Company. This tour company was aptly rated number one by TripAdvisor.com, our constant reference on what to do, where to eat, etc ANYWHERE.

Slot canyons have gained recent notoriety through Peter Lik, whose photo exploits are featured on the Weather Channel. These narrow, twisty pathways through solid Navajo sandstone are a major tourist attraction in Page. During our one hour tour, I snapped 181 pictures (no flash allowed). I am no Peter Lik, but the amazing colors and lighting even found their way into my camera. Over 2 million people visited the local slot canyons this year. Amazing.

Page was founded in 1957 when the Glen Canyon Dam began construction. For nearly five years, the workers stayed in 1000 mobile homes installed on a deserted desert flat spot (where they enjoyed dessert after dinner). No doubt the bars and hookers followed close behind, but savory details like this were not included in my dam tour.

Annika got a brief swim in Lake Powell, enjoying compulsive ball retrieving.

Annika at Lake Powell

On the road early, we gassed up the rig at the local Navajo trading post station, lured there by a tempting $3.72 per gallon, which was about 2 cents cheaper than other stations in town. It was a ‘pay in the office’ type of station. After pumping $90.00 worth pf petrol, I walked into the office.The fine print over the register appeared: “$3.00 surcharge for use of credit card.” This raised the actual cost of the gas purchase to about $3.84 per gallon. Is that snickering I hear from the Page wigwams?

Traversing through Monument Valley, mega monoliths rose out of the red badlands, like ancient ships roaming on land. We lunched in Monticello next to the local park. Annika enjoyed a nice roll on the lawn.

After 285 miles of driving (the last 15 miles because we overshot the runway) we settled into the Riverside Oasis RV Park, along the buckskin colored Colorado River. As I was completing set-up, I glanced at a front tire. Several small cracks appeared in the sidewall, precursors to a blowout, loss of control and a swerving head-on collision into a 70 mph semi. This meant an immediate visit to Chip’s Tire Shop. Chip and I will “consummate the deal” (his words) tomorrow morning when he finds out the shipping costs to have the tires delivered from Salt Lake City, 250 miles away. Fortunately, this is a 4-day stop…and we await the Fed-Ex arrival of the new refrigerator door. The meter is running…….

Tomorrow we visit Arches National Park where our $10.00 National Park geezer pass will once again give us a freebie entry.

On the Rocky Road

2011-09-17T21:24:00.000-07:00

Based on the first few days, we will be seeing a lot of rocks. So far, so good,but it hasn’t been smooth sailing.

The initial 550 mile leg from Roseville to Las Vegas was completed in one long 12 hour drive, punctuated only by a hot dog lunch stop at the Bakersfield Costco and a couple of whizzers for Annika at rest stops. Of course there was the ice cream stop at Peggy Sue’s, advertised on billboards along I-15 as a ‘50s diner.’ It was that and more, with a great collection of curios and gag gifts. We’ve passed this place by many times, but this time the ice cream siren lured me in. One scoop of mint chip and a new magnet for the collection and it was back on the road.

After parking the rig at the LV Oasis for the night, it was off to Casa Julie II for the night.

Rising early, we picked up the rig and headed up I-15, stopping briefly at St. George (Costco) for gas. Along the way, the Virgin River was flowing freely from recent thunderstorms, looking like weak tomato paste from the red rock sediment flushed down from the hills.

Zion National Park

Mt. Carmel Tunnel-Zion

We followed Hwy. 9 through Zion N.P., stopping briefly to crane our necks upwards and admire the towering mountains and cliffs. Also bought a magnet there. Leaving Zion we headed up the goat trail road to the Mt. Carmel tunnel. The sidewalls of the tunnel are only 11’2”, with the center being 13 feet. Given the 12’ height of our rig, this would normally be a challenge or a wreck. However, for the charge of $15 (‘escort fee’) they run one way traffic down the middle so tall rigs can avoid the shorter ceiling heights along the wall. Entering the tunnel first in the multi-vehicle convoy, I had no taillights to follow as it suddenly went from bright sun into darkness. My old eyes looked for a centerline and after about 150 feet my eyes adjusted and I found myself fortuitously in the middle going 25 mph, which I continued white-knuckled for the next mile. Janice followed me in the disconnected CRV, unaware of my personal terror and the dire wall slamming collision I had avoided.

Hooking up (that’s an RV term for us roadies) at the Mt. Carmel junction, we joined the rig and CRV together for the next 17 miles to Kanab. I miss my co-pilot when she’s not there.

Arriving at Kanab, a town founded in the 1930s as a bus stop going to the Grand Canyon North Rim, we sought out the Kanab RV Corral. This is where the fun began.

In extending the slide-out, only one end started to go out. Fortunately I noticed this and stopped, or the entire room would have been twisted catywompus. Outside I peered at the debacle and my new neighbor pointed out a stream of red fluid gushing under the rig, smoking stinkily on the hot muffler as it pooled below the rig. It was the hydraulic fluid from the slide-out drivers. (This fluid also ran to our jacks and the rear bedroom slide-out). We were up the creek.

We were able to pull things together enough to limp to the local all-purpose tow-yard and mechanic. Old Nick crawled underneath and confirmed the dangling hydraulic hose that had blown its fitting and drug on the pavement for many miles. (This was the ‘bang’ I heard half-way between Bakersfield and Las Vegas. Annika was awakened from dreamland.). Since it was just past Nick’s 5:00 quitting time he invited us to stay in his yard and he’d get to work on it in the morning. We opted to return to the RV Corall and set-up sans jacks and slide out. (No jacks and a main slide that won’t go out is just an inconvenience. If the rear slide won’t go out, it means we can’t get to our drawers (figuratively and literally), which would mean no clean underwear.)

Since this disaster was way beyond my Mr. Fixit capabilities, I slept fitfully, wondering whether Nick had ever worked on this kind of problem We were a good hundred miles from any regular RV shop.

As we were readying to leave for Nick’s in the morning, the door to the refrigerator fell off, spilling its contents on the floor and narrowly missing Janice’s foot as she stood mouth agape holding the handle. To make a long story short, the previous door fell off 2 ½ years ago (when I bought a 2 year warranty). The door has a plastic hinge mechanism and the refrigerator sits right above the bangety-bang rear axle.

Arriving at Nick’s garage, I looked for my cell phone that disappeared during the night, wanting to call the Norcold Company to tell them what I thought of their plastic mechanisms. About the time I was headed for a sure brain aneurism, the phone re-appeared. As I sat in the rig in Nick’s yard, I connected with Norcold, only to get a recording that they were out to lunch. My temples throbbed. Ultimately I connected with Norcold and they agreed to ship a new door (arriving in 6 days) to Moab. This would be a freebie due to my prior door failure. They assured me that they ‘beefed up’ the new doors.

By 10 am Nick and the boys had fixed the slide hydraulic system and we returned to the RV Corral, pondering how we would handle the next 6 days with a door that was now held in place by duct tape. I told Janice that we would just have to plan carefully when we needed to get into the refrigerator. At this point, I could see that the brain aneurism virus was starting to hit Janice too.

By divine inspiration, I conjured up a possible fix and headed back to the Ace Hardware store for parts. Modestly, I must admit that not even MacGyver could have beat me on this one. For $2.67 we were back in business. Janice beamed a smile my way. I just know she was thinking, “My hero.”

North Rim Lodge Overlook

North Rim Lodge

It was time (after noon) for fun so we headed to the North Rim of the Grand Canyon, about 2 hours away. After reaching the main lodge (built in 1937), we headed to the Cape Royal Road (new magnet in hand). This is a road that daughter Julie worked on last summer on a volunteer vacation trail fixing program. Though a long, twisting 23 miles, as we reached the final third, the vistas became progressively more spectacular, easily out-doing the South Rim. A thunderstorm rumbled in sending jagged streaks towards the far side of the canyon.

For those who might seek a place for quiet refuge, we would recommend the cabins at the North Rim lodge. The tourist load is much lighter than the South Rim and there is a sense of less hectic days of the past. Just pull up a chair at the rail and spend the days gazing at the canyon where the picture changes minute by minute as shadows and clouds paint new scenes.

View from Cape Royal Road

Today we arrived in Page, Arizona after a short drive. After setting up ‘camp’ at the Lake Powell RV Park, we headed to nearby Horsehoe Bend Overlook for a short hike. The view is one that most of us have likely seen before. Annika joined us on the hike, filling two blue bags along the trail as the many European visitors gawked aghast. (What? No dog shit over there?) I hung over the edge to get some pictures. It was a terrifying 500 feet straight down.

Horseshoe Bend - Page, AZ
Click on photo for full view
I risked my life for this one. JM

We rewarded ourselves with ice cream cones. I dropped off Janice and Annika (both trail-weary) and headed for the Glen Canyon Dam tour. Two minutes into the tour, I realized that if you’ve seen one dam tour, that’s enough. My Hoover Dam tour of a couple years ago was a near duplicate of this one. How many ways can you build a dam??

Glen Canyon Dam - Lake Powell, AZ

Back to the rig, it was time for a game of Scrabble (Janice won), a fine dinner and now blog-o-mania..

Oh, and thanks (I think) to Bob Lees, my brother in law who recently confessed that he missed my blogs---that he actually enjoyed them. He has inspired me to take up the pen and camera on this jaunt.

When one gets old and decrepit, these blogs help to jog the memory as to where we've been and what we did there. .

Day three: At the Top of Europe

2010-07-17T15:55:00.000-07:00

A day trip to Jungfrau---the "top of Europe", was the day's adventure. We reached about 11,000 feet taking a couple of cog railways along the route. Fog and clouds interfered with the view at the top, but sights along the way were classic Swiss alpine settings.

Picture taken by the most energetic tour guide in Europe.

One of hundreds of large Swiss cows snacking on lush green grasses along the tracks, each outfitted with a large bell. The purpose of the bells: To keep the cows from getting lost in the fog. While the group was grazing, it sounded like a cacaphonic bell-choir.

The Jungfraubahn train route to the top was bored through a mountain and glaciers, with a couple of stops to look out a bore-hole at the vistas.

.A view from the top.

Inside the Jungfrau Ice Palace...created for the tourists and as a promotional for a nearby Disney park.

Day 2 : Trip to Lucerne

2010-07-16T15:55:00.000-07:00

We headed to Lucerne (and adjacent Lake Lucerne) to escape the heat. The heat followed us---a heatwave that was sweeping Europe.

Complete with gable paintings, the covered, medieval Chapel Bridge forms the centerpiece of Lucerne’s townscape and is considered to be one of the oldest, covered wooden bridges in Europe.

City scene along the River Reuss that feeds into Lake Lucerne with Hotel Château Gütsch on the hill in the distance. We were unable to stay at this fairytale castle hotel built in 1888, because it is closed for conversion into a luxury boutique hotel. Had it been open., it would have been about 750 euros a night, which was way beyond Jeff's frugal standards.

Aboard a steamer for a cruise on Lake Lucerne. Would have enjoyed some narration. Met a young woman from Hungary who spoke impeccable English. (She took the picture.) Her current boyfriend was called back to Moscow on business, leaving her alone to enjoy their vacation here.

Along the shoreline of Lake Lucerne – the redeeming factor was that our last port of call before completing the roundtrip was Kussnacht ('Night kiss'). Possible place for a return visit.

Parked next to the train station in Lucerne were 100s of bikes---a common form of transportation. Missing: Bike locks. None of the bikes were locked--which says something about the Swiss culture.

First European Adventure

2010-07-15T15:52:00.000-07:00

Our first European adventure does not involve the RV. Nevertheless it is a "Roadtrip" for us.
Beginning July 15 in Zurich Switzerland, we eventually cruise down the Rhine to Amsterdam, then train down to Paris where we met daughter Julie. She has already blogged her adventure during this period at the Journal of Julie. This blog is being prepared a couple of weeks after our return to the USA, but it's a great place to store some of our pictures and memories----and not bore any of you with a 2 hour slide show.

Day one: Zurich

It was 95+ degrees when we arrived, so we headed for a cooling stroll by Lake Zurich. This city installed diving platform would never have been allowed according to US 'nanny state' rules. Of note were the lean, physically fit people here (except for touring Americans), a product of bicycles, walking and a lean diet. Nevertheless, beers by the lakeside were in abundance with the 25-35 crowd.

End of the Road

2010-05-07T09:12:00.000-07:00

Boulder City to St. George to Roseville.

April 29-May 5.

The Arizona adventure came to a close as we parked the RV in a storage lot in Boulder City, Nevada, where it would remain until we returned at the end of April. The intent was to pick it up, spend a few days in St. George , Utah for Julie’s Ironman adventure, then head to Utah’s national parks and other scenic vistas.

Things changed as Janice’s right knee started acting up after returning to the gym for a couple weeks. The diagnosis: mild torn meniscus and arthritis. The cure: arthroscopic surgery to remove the arthritis, the synovium and fixing the meniscus. This is scheduled for May 13 and pre-op appointments require us back by May 8. Thus, the Utah adventure will be cut short.

So we headed to St. George, arriving at the Temple View RV Park, a place we had last visited 4 years ago, suffering overnight 18 degree temperatures in November. This time the weather was mixed, going from very windy (with a slight rain and dust storm just after the car was washed) to high 60s and calm the day of the event.

St. George is a microcosm of what America used to be like. It reeks of wholesomeness, influenced by the Mormon families making up the majority of the population. One is never out of sight of a white LDS steeple. The steeples sprout in every subdivision and neighborhood. While Brigham Young probably directed the specifications for these steeples, the LDS should really consider hiring a new architect and designing something that blends a bit better with the surroundings. Especially among these red-rocked vistas. Oh well.

The concern for race day was rain and wind, which would be horrendous on the already difficult course laid out by sadistic planners. One story was that Ironman officials were responding to complaints about courses being too flat. This was an over-correction.

After going to the nearby Sand Hollow reservoir with Julie for a swim (her), we explored the 26.2 mile run course in the car. The next day we drove the even more harsh bike course, a 44 mile loop in the outskirts of town featuring hills so steep that some participants actually walked their bikes. (Julie indicated that she pedaled furiously just to maintain a 3 mph speed.

On race day, Janice and I drove 10 miles to the local fairgrounds, where we hopped a schoolbus shuttle to the swim start. The race started with the usual “school of sardines” frothing of the water as 2000 or so swimmers started at 7 a.m. After encouraging Julie as she left the water and began the bike-leg.

We waited and hour and a half until the last biker departed, hopping the first bus back to the fairgrounds. By the time we got the car and returned to town (leaving a developing traffic jam at the fairgrounds), Julie had biked through town and was headed out into the boondocks.
We intercepted her on the bike leg later, then caught her at the bike-run transition, once on the run course (with Annika) before cheering her across the finish line shortly after 9:30 pm. (Official time: 14:35.20) Julie was devouring pizza when we caught up to her in the post-race area. We headed to a nearby yogurt shop where Julie savored a late dessert. The place was packed with wholesome looking teens, politely enjoying the yogurt and each other, without checking phones/text messages every three seconds. It was a look at America’s past.
A final stop that night: picking up 20 lbs of ice for Julie to take back to her hotel room for an ice-bath (Yeow!).We returned to the RV where Annika greeted us with her usual happy face, despite being ‘left behind’ most of the day.

Sunday morning we hit the road for Valley of Fire State Park, 50 miles NE of Las Vegas, about 2 hours from St. George. Arriving at the camp-ground, we picked out a nice desert view campsite on the edge. Surrounded on three sides by red rocks/hills, this is as pretty a campground as we have visited anywhere, There are about a dozen water-electric RV spots (with a nearby dump-site). If it isn’t the hot season here, it is hard to imagine a more pleasant setting. Just the R&R we were hoping for. Likely will head back to home tomorrow, a two day trip. We will return to the reality of Janice’s upcoming surgery, but we were pleased how well Janice did chasing Julie around during the triathlon.

Julie visited us at Valley of Fire on Monday night, lured by the promise of BBQ'd salmon burgers and a campfire (she brought the fixins for s'mores).
The chocolate/marshmallow and graham cracker combo put Janice and I on a sugar buzz, making sleep fitful.

Nevertheless, we departed at 7;00 a.m., gassed up in LV at the Pilot station on I-15 and hit Bakersfield shortly after 1:00, where we dined on Costco hot-dogs. It was early in the day, so we continued north, expecting to stop at Pixley. Nearing Pixley, it wasn't even 3 pm, so we pushed further. The "smell the barn" vibes were kicking in, so we just kept heading north, arriving home at 7:30 after a day's driving of 655 miles, beating the previous one day drive record of 418 miles. And so ended our spring journey.

Farewell Sedona

2010-03-28T21:38:00.000-07:00

March 28, 2010

Sedona, AZ

We are finishing our last afternoon in Sedona---the reunion trip is winding to an end. I have been neglectful of the blog, in part because of my continuing skin condition, and in part because we’ve had a pretty busy schedule for the past 5-6 days. If I can remember some of the highlights----

After the Tuesday night shindig, Wednesday was a free day. Four played golf, which I had arranged but couldn't partake in because of my skin condition. Most of the rest headed for Jerome and other historic sites in the area. Janice and I hung out at the rig. The evening featured a fabulous pot-luck supper in the central camp area adjacent to our rig. Helena spruced up the tables with Mexican blankets and pottery pieces. Illuminated chili-peppers were hung from our awning; the first, and possibly the last time that we will ever hang lights. Just not our thing. This was followed by a campfire with caravan slides shown on a hanging tablecloth (dutifully ironed by Janice).

Thursday morning the piggery continued with a breakfast prepared by several of the rigs. Even though it had been a cold night, the breakfast temperature was perfect. Thanks to Lauretta Newman for organizing a great meal.

Next on the entertainment agenda was a group train ride on the Valley Verde RR. This was no different than most excursion trains. Generous food was provided at the beginning in our first class accommodations, but there were pretty-much ho-hum vistas all along the way. Leaving the station there was a purported ancient Indian dwelling in a cave on the side of a hill. It is likely that the chamber of commerce has an annual work party to keep this looking authentic.

The hostess for our car competed with the descriptive chatter being piped over the speaker system---to the point that neither was understandable. We craned our necks looking for circling bald eagles and other denizens of the surrounding sagebrush and adjacent woodsy riverbed. They stayed well hidden. I was glad when the ride was over some 4 hours later.

No time to rest, though. We returned briefly to camp and fed Annika, then headed back to Cottonwood for dinner and a western show at the Blazin’ M Ranch. Most amazing about this place was the efficiency with which they herded us through cafeteria-style assembly lines. It was clear that the servers were well-trained and no deviation from protocol was permitted. Every scoop of beans, dollop of applesauce and slab of meat (beef or chicken) was placed in precise locations on our metal plates as we were herded along. Not bad grub, either.

The entertainment consisted of a quartet who sang, played fiddles, guitar, banjo and bass, peppering it with corny, semi-humorous banter along the way. This was family entertainment at its purest, though there was nothing spontaneous. One of our group who had been there a couple times in the past confirmed that the act was exactly the same as before. “Every note and word,” he claimed. Won’t be seeing us at the Blazin’ M again.

Friday morning we broke camp, with some of the group heading for parts west, while the rest of us motored 20 miles up Highway 89 to Sedona, the red-rocked shopping mecca of the southwest. We stayed at the Rancho Sedona RV Resort, conveniently located within walking distance of the downtown shuttle and about a mile from a nearby trailhead up Schnebly Road.

Friday night six of us dined at Shugrue’s Hillside Restaurant, with a pretty nice view of the red mountains bathed in the setting sun. Saturday morning we were out in the rocks with the Red Rock Jeep company. This was a “do it once” event like gliding, and it also cured us of any future desire to buy a jeep. Saturday night found the group BBQing together as Janice and I sought to clean out our freezer.

Today began with a hike. Our first attempt failed when the road that was described as “accessible to passenger vehicles” turned into a goat trail after about 200 yards. Abandoning that, we returned close to camp and, with Annika, did an easy 2 miler. Annika enjoyed herself cooling off in a shallow creek. A final exploration of Sedona consisted of a visit of a “fancy pants” gallery nearby where some of the most beautiful sculptures, paintings, etc. I’ve ever seen sold for prices upwards of $100k.

A final farewell dinner for 14 was held at the nearby Javelina Restaurant. Good Mexican food at reasonable prices. This was the final farewell as all will be heading separate directions in the morning. Hope to see many of these folks in the future. This may well be our last trip to Sedona. The red rocks are pretty, but it is over-commercialized. Don't need to make a 4th visit here. Though this is a tourist shopping mecca, we spent exactly 25 cents here, excluding meals, park rent and the jeep ride. No tourist trash! This pittance will severely skew the per capita shopping expenditures for the week.

Janice's efforts to organize the reunion were very much appreciated. Lifelong friendships were re-united and rekindled. We head to Boulder City in the morning to store the rig, then bunk at Julie’s before heading home to Roseville. Annika’s food supply is on “E”, so we gotta go.

Worse than Waterboarding

2010-03-24T12:23:00.000-07:00

March 24
1000 Trails Verde Valley

We have moved to the reunion gathering spot at the 1000 Trails Park near Cottonwood. By 3:00 pm all 15 expected rigs had arrived and the party began. Hors’d’oeuvres were spread and we grazed and sipped for a couple hours until the planned dinner get together which was catered by the park. Not a meal that will be recorded in the Betty Crocker Hall of Fame, but at least nobody had to cook. The prepared video was a hit…as expected.

The morning walk with Annika revealed a day perfect for golf, and a foursome was dispatched to the local links at Cornville (true). Unfortunately, yours truly was still “confined to quarters”, as my father used to say in his army parlance. The skin on the face is still inflamed, but the top is looking more and more like the promised “baby’s bottom.” Cortisone therapy is helping. So, this will be a quiet day of catching up for us as the group disperses to explore the local historic spots. We've seen most of 'em during our previous visits to the area.

March 23
Dead Horse Ranch State Park
Cottonwood, AZ

We have spent the past couple days at Dead Horse Ranch State Park in Cottonwood, one of our favorites in AZ. We were joined by 4 other caravan couples (Sam and Jeanne, Bob and Cathy, Russ and Geri, and Brian and Debra). We’ve had 2 evening campfires and taken a group trip to Jerome, one of my favorite western towns. Another great lunch at the Mile High Grill, appropriately located 5280 feet above sea level.

The big story remaining is my inflamed face. The top and forehead are scabbed over, an appropriate reaction to the Efudex treatment. The ‘surprise’ is the inflammation of my lower face, forehead and below, which are having a secondary Efudex reaction, despite the fact that I did not apply Efudex to that area. My eyes are mere slits due to swelling of surrounding tissues. A call to the dermatologist’s yesterday brought no answer until this morning, and even then, it wasn’t too satisfying: “What’s happening is normal.” Hurting like hell is normal?
The response: Efudex is great medicine except for the inflammation and pain. It would be a great substitute for waterboarding. Janice has just been sent on a mercy mission to the drugstore to purchase some cortisone cream. Again, the blog censor has banned publication of close-up facial photos.

The scheduled golf for Wednesday is in jeopardy.

Am I just a wuss?

2010-03-20T09:26:00.000-07:00

(Today's pictures have nothing to do with the subject of today's entry.)

The pain and throbbing began about 3:00 a.m. as the Efudex burn was blazing out of control, and I was only 9 days into a two week treatment. It was as if a blow-torch had been applied to my scalp and forehead. One thing for sure---as if there was any doubt---there is zero chance that hair will ever grow there again.

I spun in bed until daybreak, the pain barely eased by a mega-tylenol. It was all I could do not to beg Janice for one of her real pain pills. (But I did do that the next night. ZZZZZZZZ.)

Looking at the mirror in the morning was a shocker! It was so bad that the blog censors have prohibited me from uploading a bird's eye view from above. Ugly! Researching the internet, all advice pointed in one direction: Call your doctor! And so I did. The verdict: “No more Efudex. The pain will subside.”

No doubt the blog audience doesn’t give a rip about my ailments, but in this case they defined our day: A quiet one out of the sun with Tylenol every four hours. It put the final kibosh on hopes to attend a Giants’ spring training game.

Janice celebrated a birthday. Thanks to those who remembered it. You made her day. Yours truly needed a reminder, such was the penetrating agony I was enduring. I will make it up to her…...perhaps when we get to Sedona next week.

The campground is chock full with lotsa families beginning their spring break. All well behaved, but one can sense a few teenage campground romances budding. Remember when???

Janice, ever the world’s most organized person, spent time working on last minute details for next week’s Mexico caravan reunion. This is a project that she has been working on since last May, despite some interruptions of her own. No stopping that lady.

The self-prescribed merlot supplement seems to be kicking in. I may actually make it through the evening. And, in case you were wondering, the wine-in-the box is gone. Kaput. Don’t know whether I squeezed the advertised 35 glasses out of it, but it certainly served as a post-burglary palliative. Here’s to Peter Vella! And thanks to JC the generous donor.

FLASH!
Janice announced this morning that,“I’m ready to go home!”

What??

Seems as though for the third day in a row, the hot water pressure was very minimal in the shower, as in “barely a trickle.” This resulted in a cold water shower for Janice---three days in a row. Not a good way to start the day.

A long, long time ago, Janice quit tent=camping under similar circumstances, declaring that she needed to have a motel/hotel shower at least every third day.

Today’s problem is fixable, based on an internet consultation with the Winnebago owner’s forum. Just a matter of removing the innards from a pressure relief valve on the hot water heater. Then m’lady will be happy again.

Happy St. Patty's Day

2010-03-17T21:30:00.000-07:00

Lake Pleasant, AZ

March 17, 2010

And speaking of leprechauns, Arizona has never been greener in the 4 years that we have been coming here. Early and late rains have hillsides almost green when they would normally be dirt brown. The cacti are showing new growth at the tips. Wildflowers are still pretty minimal. One local theory is that the early rains in December germinated the seeds and then they rotted in the ground. We’re saving our wildflower hike until the weekend to give the flowers an opportunity to appear. BTW, Janice did well on a short hike this morning trying out her old hiking boots.

In the meantime, we’re suffering through wonderful sunshiny 80 degree days and so far, the nicest evening yet. Looking forward to corned beef and cabbage---what else? Just chardonnay--no green beer.

This is our third year at Lake Pleasant, and each year we have cast an eye at the nearby glider strip, wondering if we should try it. Today it was up, up and away (click on lower left arrow on video slide at bottom of page--it may take a minute to load ) for both of us as we took our separate maiden flights. The consensus opinion was that the anticipation exceeded the actual flight (52 minutes for Janice, 32 minutes for me, but then it takes the gals longer.

Nevertheless, we can strike this from the ‘bucket list’ (if it was ever there). I will admit that if I was 20 years younger I would seriously consider taking lessons, as it was pretty fun during my few minutes ‘at the stick.’

On the not-so-fun side, I am in the middle of a chemical peel on my scalp, courtesy of my dermatologist and a tube of efudex. It is at the point where I must wear a hat so as not to gross out faint-hearted passersby. I did ‘expose myself’ to a lady hairdresser today as the pate was getting a bit shaggy. I warned her before doffing my cap and she handled the trim very graciously. Good job!

As we relax in the sun, posts from the homefront indicate a level of substantial concern has sprouted since our burglary (and a couple others nearby). The geezer-vigilantes are gathering, so scumbags beware! We understand that at least one politician going door-to-door to shake hands has been met with some suspicion, but then a certain amount of caution is appropriate when dealing with politicians. This country is finding that out…the hard way.

Annika looks forward to another swim in the lake to chase her ball. She was working so hard the other day that she was squeaking as she paddled. I called a time out. She was aided by a couple of lifeguarding labs who ventured by.

The Eagle Lands .........Again

2010-03-14T22:07:00.000-07:00

March 14, 2010
Lake Pleasant, AZ

Things were relatively normal until I returned a phone call this past Wednesday afternoon, shortly after our arrival 10 miles east of Temecula (where we were stopping overnight to visit Jeri and Zana—Mexico trip companions.)

Returning the call, I learned from Jon (aka JC), our house-watching neighbor, that our house had been burglarized. My first thought was that Jon might be kidding, since his humor occasionally takes unusual turns. However, I didn’t think Jon would want to be responsible for causing possible heart failure through a joke, so I listened intently as he described the crime scene.

When Janice returned from a walk, I gave her the bad news. We nevertheless joined Jeri and Zana (and another set of Mexico-mates, Jerry and Nancy) for a fabulous steak dinner cooked by Jeri. Janice and I returned to our rig after dinner, lights out at 10:00 pm. We awakened at 2:00 a.m., spinning fitfully, and decided to hit the road, taking the Honda to Roseville. We arrived home at 11:30.

To make a long story short, the TV and my computer were gone, and it appeared that the culprits attempted to load the TV in Janice’s car for a getaway. A crime scene investigator had been there (and returned while we were there). Her conclusion: No visible evidence of forced entry. We arranged for a locksmith to re-key the locks and engaged an alarm service to monitor our (until then—disconnected) alarm system. The horse was indeed out of the barn, but we bought a little peace of mind.

We enjoyed a nice dinner with son Jason, wife Lori and grandson Jonas at Original Pete’s, our favorite local bistro, then returned home, exhausted from the day’s ordeal. Waking up Friday at 5 a.m., we were on the road by 6:00, bought a couple of non-fat hazelnut lattes on the way, and arrived back at our Temecula abode just before 2:00. We had driven over 1000 miles in 36 hours. But we weren’t finished! We hooked up the motorhome, and drove another 3 hours to our campsite at Borrego Springs State Park.

In what has become somewhat of an unintentional but very special tradition, we met friends Greg and Jennifer Thompson at Pablito’s, a local mexican restaurant. The server was so appalled by my recitation of our plight (burglary, etc) that she conferred a free margarita on me (numero dos). The next day we enjoyed hanging out with Greg and Jennifer, seeing the sights of Borrego Springs (and the legions of wildflower seekers). We finished the day with a few games of Mexican Train and a nice chicken-onion-apple dish cooked in the microwave convection oven in the rig.

This morning, it was another early start, either 6:00 or 7:00, depending on daylight savings time, which changed during the night. After a petrol and propane stop in Quartzite. I was so road-weary and undone from recent events that I was unable to unscrew the gas cap on the motor home, after sitting in line at the gas station for 20 minutes. We pulled out of there, as I sensed that violence was brewing in the long line behind us. After solving this complex puzzle, we gassed up a mile down the road at the Chevron station, where more civilized folks queued up for 10 cents more per gallon). We continued on, finally arriving at our destination: Lake Pleasant, after covering 325 miles in a little over 6 hours of drive time. There was a perfect lakeview site just waiting for the weary road warriors. This will be home for the next several days. There will be a side trip to ‘town’ tomorrow to replace my kaput I-phone: everything works but the phone part. Publisher’s Clearing House is probably trying to call me to give me the good news about my million dollar prize.

While relaxing here this week, there will be at least some internet surfing to evaluate a possible replacement TV and computer.

We are glad that we returned home following the burglary, as it has allowed us to put that episode behind. We were really fortunate in that our loss was pretty minimal. No vandalism or damage to the house, either. Just gotta find the Houdini that snuck into the place.

After dinner we enjoyed a campfire visit from Karen and Bill O'Brien who we met 4 years ago at Casey's in Oregon. It was a short one evening meeting, but we have stayed connected since, mainly through Karen's blog. That's the way RVers do it.

Cooling It

2010-03-09T17:42:00.000-08:00

Dockweiler State Beach
March 9, 2010

After spending a night along the Rincon Highway, where the crashing of waves during the night was punctuated by Amtrak trains chugging by (or freight trains---I didn’t look), we continued down the coast, stopping for lunch at the side of Hwy 1 in Santa Monica.

We finally reached our destination, Dockweiler State Beach near Playa del Rey. The unique aspect of this park is that it is directly across the street from a major regional sewage treatment plant. The local lore is that as long as the wind is blowing in off the ocean, all is well. If there is a ‘downslope’ wind (known as a Santa Ana hereabouts), the stench can peel the paint off of passing cars. So far the palm trees are leaning eastward, which is good.

Also a feature of this park is that it is located about ¼ mile south of the end of the LAX runway. Virtually every 60 seconds a plane takes off, ceasing only between the hours of 11 pm and 6 am. I counted many flocks of sheep last night as thousands of air passengers flew overhead.

Today’s excitement was a visit to nearby Venice Beach. The ‘muscle beach outdoor gym’ was deserted as brisk breezes chilled us on our walk. It appears that the major business enterprise along the ‘stroll’ is medical marijuana smoking rooms. Hucksters continue non-stop pitter-patter: “Tylenol will kill you—it killed my mother*, “the doctor is in”, “hash lounge now open.” Even Annika was solicited to enter and partake of the devil weed, which no doubt would produce quick relief from that nasty kennel cough. I think that Janice’s arthritic aches caused her to cast more than just a curious glance.

This evening we are having dinner with Steve and Ardys. He was my law school roommate for a year and his father (also a judge---like Steve) performed our wedding ceremony in his living room—ironically 37 years ago today, with Steve acting as best man. Hence this bonus picture from the archives. (Look at those legs!)

Late Report:

Great dinner with the Van Sicklen's in Manhattan Beach.

Steve surprised us, giving us his (late) father's bound booklet that contained our actual wedding ceremony.

Steve had decided to present it to us the next time we all got together, unaware (until we told him) that this was our anniversary. One of those Twilight Zone moments.

"At Rincon...they're walking the nose..".

2010-03-07T15:56:00.000-08:00

March 7, 2010
Rincon Beach

Moseyed down the road (101) about 100 miles and decided to spend a night along
the Old Rincon Highway north of Ventura. This locale was made famous in a Beach Boys song (Surfin' Safari) in my youth, way too long ago (1962). We are about 50 feet from the ocean, 5 feet from the highway and 75 feet from the Amtrak tracks. This is a popular spot for coastal RVers where dry-camping can be had for $25 per night. When the sun isn’t hiding behind a cloud, it’s quite nice.

Along the way we stopped at Carpenteria Beach State Park to offload 5 days worth of black and grey dump tanks. ($10 to use their dump station.) Also uploaded about 50 gallons of water. The park was crawling with kids zipping about on bikes and scooters. Not my kinda place anymore, but if/when grandson Jonas is ready to hit the road with the geezers, we’ll do it!

I’d like to report that Janice is feeling splendid, but she really isn’t. Early in the day she’s pretty creaky and a minor mishap in the RV (I wasn’t involved in this one!) seems to have re-activated some of her shoulder pain. Still, she is diligent in her physical therapy and we are looking forward to warmer weather to loosen her up!

.

Coasting on the Coast

2010-03-06T17:13:00.000-08:00

March 6, 2010

Still at Avila Beach

A couple days of sunshine livened up the action. Annika the wonder dog enjoyed ‘surf-fetch’ to the max. Again and again she would chase the ball—over the sand or into the waves. The old girl may have lost her figure, but she has stamina.

The local golf course (Avila Beach) was soaked from recent rains, so golf was postponed until Friday. Played a steady round with nothing worse than a couple double-bogeys and finished with a satisfying 47-42=89, the first sub-90 round in several months. If I can just remember the 7 swing thoughts that carried me through the day…...

Our private campground-on-the-coast was invaded by several ‘weekenders’. They come prepared with portable firepits, propane heaters and a major supply of brewskis. Even though it was in the low 50s last night, they enjoyed the outdoors. We were cozied up inside with our “Mr. Buddy” propane heater.

Catastrophe struck this morning as the coffee maker died. The most important pieces of equipment on an RV are the coffee pot and the wine glasses. (In our case, the single wine glass, since Janice took up membership in the WCTU, thanks to her doctor’s directive to avoid imbibery.) While Janice stayed at the rig suffering coffee withdrawal whips-n-jangles, I dutifully drove to town (Avila Beach) where I scored a couple of our trademark non-fat hazelnut lattes for us. These won’t be the last ones on this trip.

After sitting in the warm late morning sun getting some rays on my you-can’t- tell-where-the-socks-end pale legs, we headed to San Luis Obispo for a replacement coffee maker. Toured the Cal Poly campus (Julie’s alma mater) where campus dorms looking like 5 star hotels were springing up. Oh, to be young again.

Returning to camp, we decided to have a late lunch at the local Fat Cat Café near the San Luis pier. It was 3:10 pm, which according to the waiter, was “a very lucky thing” for us--it was the beginning of the daily 3:00 to 5:00 happy hour. Normally I eschew adult beverages that early in the day, but one shouldn’t ignore such a clearly stated four-leaf clover event. Besides, what would go better with fish tacos than a margarita? Make that ‘dos margaritas’---and none for the Senorita por favor. The two gargantuan tacos, filled with cod, guacamole, shredded cabbage, cilantro and sour cream, were ‘deliciouso,’ as they say south of the border. No dinner for these two little pigs tonight.

The pitter-pat of rain on the roof plays in the background, hopefully signaling the end, or at least a long pause in the wet weather. We’re heading south tomorrow.

On the Road Again:2010

2010-03-04T10:22:00.000-08:00

March 2 Avila Beach, CA

The Eagle Has Landed

The first launch of 2010 ended semi-successfully at our favorite Avila Beach spot next to El Pacifico. Enroute, we foolishly listened to the directions of GPS-maven “Laura” who, while directing us from I-5 to 101, took us to Hwy 25 past Pinnacles National Monument. This narrow two-lane road went on for about 35 miles, snaking past about a half dozen ranches in a coast range valley. It was drizzling off and on, but this only freshened the glistening green fields and hills surrounding us. This was classic California springtime.
We finally connected with 101 at King City, cruising into the Costco at San Luis Obispo for the first ‘fill’ of the trip. Gas has crept up to $2.95. It always rises as we head off on a trip. Bon voyage!
When we arrived at our destination, Nobi Point at Avila Beach, our favorite spot beckoned us. It was about 5:30 pm. I took a deep breath---the driving was done for the day and we would soon be in total relax mode. Then the first gremlin struck. During the a.m. hook-up, I had forgotten to turn off the radio and the heater in the Honda CRV. Dead battery. After a ‘jump’ from the RV, the CRV was left to idle while we set up camp.
Gremlin number two appeared. The inverter was malfunctioning, which meant no internet and no TV (though we minimize the TV viewing while powered by the batteries). Day-light fading, I sat on the couch pouring through the manuals to trouble-shoot the inverter. Gremlin number three struck: All power suddenly off!
Now, this was getting serious. No power meant no lights, no water (pump) and no refrigerator. It was now near dusk as I donned my trusty headlamp, searching through the manuals for the miracle cure. I checked and refastened all battery connections for the four coach batteries. Nothing. Next I unscrewed the power panel searching for a loose connector. Zilch. I began to theorize that the inverter malfunction had damaged the converter. This could be a ‘big bucks’ repair job. Where the heck is the converter?? I unscrewed more panels, finding my lost headlamp from last year in the process, tucked in a recess under the refrigerator where I had been threading speaker wire. Dumb!!
I checked push-button circuit breakers for the second time, pushing them in with the screw-driver instead of my finger. As I was mentally calculating the likely cost and the trip interruption for the looming power system repairs, I clicked a final button, Providentially, the lights came on. All systems go!
By now it was past 7:00 and the wine-alert was clanging. I was ready to drink petrol strained through a dirty sock, so I opened the Peter Vella cabernet wine-in-the-box. It was a parting gift from Jonny Cat and his wife, KC (names changed to protect the guilty). Little did they know how well it would ease my pain in this early moment of need. It was also the perfect wine for the repast of sauerkraut and sausage prepared by road-pal Janice.
Gremlin four struck shortly after dinner as I sought to establish satellite internet connection. Though I had tested the system on Sunday before departing, the technical wizards at Motosat now advise that it is likely their satellite issue that hopefully will be fixed by this afternoon. Thus, this missive is being prepared in WORD for later uploading to the blog.
Mixed clouds today. The surf pounds away. On the road again. Life is good.

The End of the Road

2009-07-11T22:38:00.000-07:00

July 10, 2009

Diamond Lake, OR

This place is a gem. After arriving yesterday following a short

over-the-mountain drive from Oakridge, we pulled into the Thiesen View Campground, so named because one standing at the west edge of Diamond Lake next to the campground has a nice view of Mount Thiesen. In the campground, thick trees obscure any possible view. We pulled into a site, eager to try the around-the-lake bike-trail. There were plenty of empty spaces in this campground. But it was cheap--$11.00 per night.

The bike ride, all 12 miles of it, was fabulous.‘Number one’ now on our bike ride list. All paved, about 6 feet wide, mainly lakeside or lake-view. Ideal 70 degree weather. The only negative was occasional clouds of

gnats that went right up the nose, in the eyes and mouth. Ptooey! One lady even wore a burqa-style bike helmet to avoid ingesting them! One recommendation about this place: It’s probably best to come no earlier than late July. Besides the aforementioned (now there’s a ‘lawyer’ word) gnats, there are healthy, hungry mosquitoes looking for naked flesh. Our repellent was on ‘empty’, so we ponied up $9.25 for more at the Diamond Lake Lodge. (Got a magnet, too.)

This is a lodge with a history dating back to 1922. Early fishermen used log rafts to fly-fish and caught fish so large they could not get them aboard. Had to create a ‘slide” to ease ‘em up. Twenty pound trout were common. This is also a place my family visited in 1960 or so. I just remembered that I lusted after an opportunity to fish the lake (didn’t) and it was colder than bejeezus in our tent trailer, which we also hauled up to nearby Crater Lake for another night of sub-freezing weather.

On our second day, we broke camp and headed to the eastshore where glorious campsites abound on the lakeshore. Some are reservable, others, like the one we enjoyed are available on a first-come basis. This is dry-camping. We have carefully scouted the campground noting the primo spots. This is a place we will be back to someday, hopefully with grandson Jonas. We would rate this as the nicest setting for a public campground we have visited. No wonder it is rated the #1 family camping spot in Oregon.

Our attempts for a day hike went for naught as we drove several miles in the boonies to a trailhead that featured a tree that had fallen across the first 10 feet of the trail---not a good sign. It was obvious that the trail-fixers hadn’t got this far up the mountain yet, so we turned back to camp and just enjoyed our special place.

In the ‘good news’ department, we heard yesterday on the way that our house sale was a ‘go’, with the buyer due to sign today. We will affix our ‘John Does’ on Monday back in Sacto making it official. On top of that, today we were advised by the nice folks at Del Webb that a mistake had been made on our deal. The net result was that we wind up with a 4.5% loan. Wahoo, and thanks Del, wherever and whoever you are. Move date is July 25^th—

the date we begin our ‘new life.’ And so ends the ‘trip of limbo’.

As a fitting farewell to Oregon and the near end of this trip, we toasted the sunset with a glass of organic grape Bonterra chardonnay (you were expecting coffee?) sitting in our chairs looking at the rippling lake while the earth-mama camper next to us strummed her guitar and sang soft ballads into the dusk. It just doesn’t get any better.

We hit the road early tomorrow with the intent to visit Fred Meyers in K-Falls for a final tax-free shopping orgy in Oregon. Consider it our protest against the ineptitude of the California legislature, but we have been trying to buy everything we can in Oregon for the new house. Next, after a jaunt down Highway 97 and I-5, we hope to detour off onto Highway 99 into Chico for a final stop and a visit with my sister. Then it’s just a quick hop to the new RV storage lot in Roseville, where we will deposit the Suncruiser, full of Oregon goodies, and head south in the CRV for a last 10 days or so in Sacramento.

I am, as usual, grateful for the patience and hard work of my travel-pal Janice. We have settled into the ‘rhythm of the road’ and I wish this trip could continue, but there are more exciting things in our immediate future. Hopefully back in the rig by October 5 headed for the California south coast!. (Oh, and there is that Turkey-Greece cruise in September!)

July 11,2009

After about 300 miles, we pulled into Chico, parked the rig and then enjoyed a dinner with (Jeff's) sister Mya at her private nirvana 8 miles up Centerville Road, east of Chico. Looking forward to getting home to begin the final chapter in Sacto.

Oakridge, OR

2009-07-08T19:37:00.000-07:00

(I'll Photoshop those powerlines!)

July 7, 2009

Casey’s Riverside RV Park

This is a park we spent nearly a month at a year ago, so our 4 days this visit seems waaay too short. The winds have abated and it is just classic nice Oregon weather—the kind that central valley Californians like to escape to. There are a few returnees from last year, with a seeming profusion of 5^th wheels and trailers. What happened to the Class A motorhomes?? Were they all repo’d? Notable returness: LC with his aging lab, Honey. Bruce and Judy, who are suffering the ravages of cancer and age-related ailments, but remain of good cheer.

The activities here have included three10 mile bike rides over hill and dale as well as a visit to the local 9-holer for me. Not an official round as I played 2 or 3 balls on most holes. The course is a bit tired, so I had plenty of practice swinging off of semi-hardpan. Nice greens, though.

Gourmet activities are limited in nearby Oakridge, but we managed to return to the best Szechuan Chinese restaurant on the west coast. That would be Lee’s on the main drag. Lee (actual first name “Jeff”) remembered us from last year. Our picture (with hiking-mates Michael and Imkelina) was posted on their wall of fame. We’ll have to send them another one. Scrumptious prawns and chicken. I spent all day regretting that I didn’t order some chow mein. Be back next year. My fortune: “Be grateful for the great experience tomorrow (today).” Was that the clothes I washed?? Our bike ride? The 437 points I scored in Scrabble (Janice ‘lost” the last cumulative scorecard at Fritz and Dee’s. That one had me leading 150 to 33 for the year. We are now on a new ledger.)

Maybe the ‘experience’ is just sitting here, scratching Annika behind the ears, watching and listening to the Willamette River run by, perhaps accentuated later on by the whoooo-oooo of a train passing on the tracks across the river. And, thanks for the great chicken-cabbage-almond salad dinner, Janice. Life is indeed good.

The house-selling drama continues with the loaning entity wanting a bit more paperwork from the recent appraisal. Can we stretch this out some more? Is this the Obama plan at work? Hoping for some sense of finality by Friday. In the meantime we are lining up utilities, etc for the new digs. Oh, and there was the Eugene (no tax!) shopping day yesterday. Mastercard has to believe that our card has been stolen by vagabonds and is being used on awild spending spree. Alert! Alert!

Oakridge seems to be reaching the tipping point. Looks like somewhere between 30-40% of the houses are for sale. Many businesses are shuttered, others squeaking by hand-to-mouth. One local motel is inviting “inspections” as a ploy to generate business. Bring the flea detector and the UV light for this place, inspectors.

Along the Willamette River

2009-07-05T21:10:00.000-07:00

July 5, 2009

Casey’s RV Park by the River -Oakridge, OR

Having arrived at Oakridge, our spa for the next 4 days, I must first reminisce over the past 3 days, leaving Long Beach and then spending the weekend in West Linn, Oregon.

Janice’s first taste of oysters in Long Beach was likely her last. An early hint was when she abandoned any interest in eating them after 2 or three finely fried sea-morsels. This meant that I would get to devour 11 or so, which I did with glee and chardonnay. All was well until I was awakened at 2 a.m.by a barking harbor seal inside the rig!! At least, that’s what it sounded like. In fact, Janice was giving the toilet bowl a very close visual inspection---on her knees. This occurred 2 more times before sunrise. During one encounter, she advises that she momentarily blacked out at the kitchen sink and fell on the floor next to Annika, who licked her face like Lassie would. No more oysters for Janice. Never. Ever.

She recovered enough to consume a Chai latte on the way to West Linn, where we set up camp in Fritz and Dee’s back forty. An added feature on our stay was their 25 year old nephew Charles, visiting from Moscow, Idaho. Just a fine young man, former Eagle Scout, now a math major with a Masters Degree looking for a teaching job. I’d hire him in a minute, except I’m not hiring. Fritz hobbled well on a healing broken ankle. A couple of fine BBQ meals, first a half salmon that we imported from Ilwaco, WA, and then scrumptious steaks (with mushrooms and artichokes). Fine dining at von Tagen Acres.

Sat. morning we checked out the charming Lake Oswego Sat. market and visited Janice's aunt in the same town. For our 4th of July celebration, we drove up the street from the von Tagen's to the highest promontory in the area -- a $3 ½ million vacant 20- acre parcel, and watched the fireworks going off in every direction. Once again the Chinese were cashing in as their products were being consumed in enormous quantities. Janice and I vowed to be somewhere next summer where we can attend a fireworks show up close. Nothing like it.

On Hiway 58 into Oakridge today we encountered a steady stream of travelers returning from 4^th of July campouts in the mountains. Arriving at Casey’s, a hot wind was howling upriver, as it does from time to time. We set up camp and battened down the hatches, then headed to Oakridge for supplies. From our encounters in the local Ray’s Market, I’m certain that they must be filming a sequel to Deliverance here. The ladies?? sported tattoos that would do a sailor proud, and the guys, semi-toothless, carried out their 12 packs of Miller Bottled Draft, continuing their celebration of the nation’s birthday. We were glad to see that our favorite Chinese restaurant was still in business. Hopefully we can pay them a visit this week.

The latest news on the house is that the appraisal was ‘on the number’, but the “investor” (loaning entity) will review it next week. We should know for sure by Weds or Thursday whether limbo will end.

Long Beach,cont.

2009-07-02T20:40:00.000-07:00

July 2, 2009

Long Beach, WA

This area is a great place to visit if one is lucky enough to enjoy good weather, which has been the case for our stay, though the late afternoon breezes off the ocean drive us indoors. A tip-off is the fact that this is a tourist town and they don’t sell many souvenir T-shirts in the shops. Sweatshirts , long-sleeved T’s and jackets abound, though.

Yesterday we exercised the bikes for about an 8 mile spin between Long Beach and Ilwaco, all on a great curvy paved bike path along the beach. One of out most enjoyable rides ever,

though weekends would likely produce a few collisions on the 8 foot wide surface. Next, looked at the North Lighthouse, and the Ilwaco Harbor, scouting out potential purveyors of fresh fish.

Today we went up the peninsula to Ocean Shores, where Jack’s Country Store lived up to and perhaps exceeded publicized claims as having ‘everything under one roof.’ Groceries/games/hardware/ tackle---you name it. Wandering further north, we wound up in Oysterville (perhaps the longest continually inhabited place in North America), where we purchased oysters---what else. It will be a fried oyster gourmet delight tonight---Janice’s first taste of oysters.

Two days ago when we arrived, there were perhaps a dozen rigs in this Oceanside park. There are nearly 50 now, as rigs arrive for the 4^th of July. Along the beach there

will be fireworks and, for the only night of the year, camping is allowed on the beach (better to have the drunks sleep it off than drive home). Unfortunately (or fortunately) we will be outta here tomorrow morning, headed to the von Tagen Oasis in West Linn, Or.

Annika has enjoyed the stay here as she gets to chase her tennis ball on the beach, duly flung a mile by her ball flinger, which she dutifully carries to the beach herself.

Andersen's RV Park, though rated the best in the area, is no special place, and at $40+ per night, overpriced. If we return to the area, we'll try another place or the state park.

To the Washington Coast

2009-06-30T15:55:00.000-07:00

June 30, 2009

Long Beach,WA

We are now at Andersens RV Park in Long Beach, WA, about 100 yds from the beach. Beautiful drive from Sequim, mostly on 101. Of note were the zillions of firs blown over in Oct. 2007 by 120 mile an hour winds that lasted for 3 hours. Most of the fallen trees had been harvested---a ‘windfall’ for Weyerhauser who owned most of the treed properties.

Now for a little recent history-update:

Up early on Sunday, we headed to Seattle by the Bainbridge Ferry, Annika along for the ride. The highlight was Pikes Public Market, where just about anything could be purchased from the numerous vendors and shops. Mouthwatering crabs at the fish-market, well into the 2 lb range. Same price, $7.99 a pound, but these were truly fit for royalty. This is the fish market where the employees toss 20 lb Chinook salmon to workers behind the counter for filleting. A good show. Walked about a mile to Pioneer Square, which was a non-event. Annika remained in the parked car (beneath the freeway), wisely snoozing while we were pounding our sore feet. Next moved to a location near the new park with the artistic statues, gazing at the shipping traffic. Finally a drive through a residential neighborhood, winding up at an arboretum.

Headed to the airport where Julie boarded an earlier flight to Lost Wages. Janice and I returned with Annika on the ferry, about a 2 hour trip overall.

Yesterday was spent visiting Port Townsend and nearby Fort Worden, where parts of "Officer and a Gentleman" were filmed. Nice RV park at Fort Worden if the weather is OK. Port Townsend featured numerous tantalizing restaurants. We decided on Sirens overlooking the water for a bowl of yummy clam chowder.

Hopping the 2:15 ferry to Whidbey Island (by foot) with Annika on leash, we were met at the Keystone landing by Tom and Patti Heerhartz, transplantees from Sacramento, who hosted us for a fabulous scallops/prawns/pasta dinner on their deck next to Puget Sound. The best meal on the trip! After too short a visit, we were hustled back to the ferry landing for a 7:30 departure. Per ferry rules I spent most of the ½ hour voyage chilling outside on the upper deck with Annika, later to be advised by the crew that because she is so well behaved, it would have been OK to bring her inside. Next time, buddy!

Sequim crab dinner update: Pound for pound (and dollar for dollar) the worst crabfeast ever. The crabs were not only small (3 weighed 3 ½ pounds compared to 2 lbs each for the big succulent ones) but there was a stringiness in the meat in one of them. Janice quit eating after 2 pieces, leaving Julie and I to gobble up the rest. Of course we did! French bread, asparagus and chardonnay all OK.

On both sides of the Juan de Fuca...

2009-06-27T17:33:00.000-07:00

June 27, 2009

Victoria, BC

Butchart Gardens

Sequim, WA

That’s “squim” to those who have never been to or heard of the place. Arrived at Gilgal Oasis Park in the middle of town. Spotless park, very nice management. Free DSL which doesn’t seem to like our computers, so the dish is up.

Yesterday found us taking the 8:15 ferry to Victoria, BC for the day. A beautiful city, virtually untouched by the economic downturn. First stop, Butchart Gardens, on a bright sunny day. They were spectacular, but this is a place that is a thrill on the first visit, and just ‘colorful’ thereafter. Hope Julie was thrilled, though she loped along the paths like a gazelle, leaving Janice and me in the dust. Next stop, downtown Victoria, where we first gobbled a lunch (Julie needed a fish and chips fix—she has been eating like a palomino since the Ironman.).Window-shopping followed, with a few visits to the curio shops for postcards and the obligatory magnet. Can’t help but wonder who is going to buy all the crap in these shops, especially the T-shirts, which typically feature uninspired designs or phrases that would guarantee their placement in the bottom of a drawer. Nevertheless the nimble seamstresses in China and Honduras keep cranking ‘em out.

Just as I was getting over the passing of Ed ("Hi-Yo!") McMahon, Farah Fawcett expired. Before there was even time to shed a tear for her, renowned musical artist and child-molester Michael Jackson OD'd on Demerol (and a plethora of other uppers/downers and in-betweeners). As our tour bus returned from Butchart Gardens, we passed the municipal arena which sported a digital information board out front posting all the news that's fit to print. I glanced out the window to see a news headline on the board: "Michael Jackson dead at age 50". This was immediately followed by a banner that read: "Public urinal location approved." Gee whizz.

We stuck our noses in the Empress Hotel, but were quickly sent around the side to the hoi-polloi entrance. No high tea for us. Next to Parliament, where we enjoyed a group tour—it’s the only way to get inside the building now. A long stroll along the waterfront followed, ending with a folk-performer “Akron” who we donated a “Loonie” ($2) to. It was our last Canadian money--left over from a $20 bill we neglected to exchange at the end of our last trip several years ago.

We arrived home foot weary at 8:30, greeted by Annika who had been dog-sat all day by one of the park residents. She endeared herself to all and is a local celebrity.

Up early today, we began with blueberry pancakes, then headed west to Olympic National Park—specifically Hurricane Ridge, a 6000+ foot peak in the park with views north to Victoria across the Juan de Fuca Strait (bet Juan took a lot of ribbing as a kid, huh?). A short hike to the top of the mountain (without Annika, who is banned from trails in national parks) featured a family of mountain goats, who grazed on pine needles as the tourists clicked cameras. All in all, a very good stop with great views---though the presence of pollution hazed the view looking south.

Leaving the park we drove east to Lake Crescent, where we ate at the lodge—Julie snarfing a hamburger and fries, while Janice and I split a berry pie ala mode. Big crabfeast planned tonight, so we were saving room.

On the return leg we stopped at the fish market on Chicken Coop Lane where we purchased 3 barely legal Dungeness crabs at $7.99 a pound---well over our normal price point for crabs, but this is Julie’s final dinner with us on this trip. The crab will be accompanied by French bread and asparagus, and a splash of chardonnay. Can’t wait.

Signed up for 2 more days at Gilgal, having re-arranged our return plans somewhat. Will spend the day in Seattle with Julie before putting her on a plane at 6, then driving/ferrying 2 hours back to ‘camp’. The weather is beautiful, so we might as well take advantage of it. Much more to see around here.

Leavenworth 2 and Sittin' on the dock of the bay......

2009-06-25T12:39:00.000-07:00

June 25, 2009

Edmond, WA

On the way to Sequim, after a soaking ride over Stevens Pass (Highway 2), we arrived at the ferry slip in Edmond, WA. Despite our early start today with intentions to have a full afternoon in Sequim, the ferrymaster put on the brakes. The RV would not be allowed on the ferry until 2:30, due to a low tide. The ramp on the other end is too steep at low tide. Thus, we disconnected and Janice and Julie headed off in the CRV, leaving Carly and me sitting on the dock. Checking my trusty compass, it looked like I could get a satellite fix here, so I put up the satellite dish. Voila! Actually, this edition of the blog is being posted as I sit on the dock of the bay....

Good news. House negotiations appear to have concluded. Just waiting for the appraisal and loan approval. Getting tired of this life in limbo!

June 24, 2009

Leavenworth, part deux

The charm of the day was interrupted by continuing negotiations on the sale of our house. My blood-pressure skyrocketed—I could feel my face turning red, a fact confirmed by Janice. A quick infusion of chardonnay settled me down, but it was not a sound night’s sleep despite the gurgling river next to us.

Changing the day’s mood, we drove up Icicle Road until it ran out (actually it was washed out) and then hiked about 5 miles round trip up Icicle Gorge Trail along Chatter Creek, enjoying lunch and then turning around further up the trail at a waterfall. Annika enjoyed the hike, splashing in water at every opportunity, and twice starting a descent down the icy stream, saving herself by a frantic but effective dog-paddle. Good technique.

A stay in Leavenworth wouldn't be right without a visit to the local shops. High quality stuff. The MasterCard got a work out. Julie treated for dinner at King Ludwig's, the place most recommended for Deutsche-Essen. The fare included wienerschnitzel, sausage, ham (that looked remarkably like Spam), sauerkraut, red cabbage and red potatoes, plus a taste of beer. Those Germans really put the food away! Followed this up with a couple of scoops of gelato. Exercise to follow.

Ironman Results

2009-06-24T15:37:00.000-07:00

June 23, 2009

Leavenworth, WA

We are in Leavenworth with Julie recovering from the Ironman. Not so much Julie as us, as we spent about 15 hours in CDA catching Julie at various points in her swim-bike-run adventure.

The night before the Ironman was the celebratory carb-meal at Tony’s by the lake. I opted not to have meatballs when advised that there was a veal special on the menu. We had seen veal calves penned in 6x 6 enclosures on the drive into CDA. Janice admitted that she had never eaten veal, so she also had a veal selection from the menu. Somebody’s gotta eat those poor little critters. Julie opted for a basic spaghetti dish, which permitted the dinner budget to splurge on a bottle of nice Italiano red wine.

Julie finished the Ironman triathlon in 13:07.53, which was 8 minutes under her personal best time, but she was disappointed that she didn’t break the 13:00 barrier, which was her goal. Late in the afternoon, the temperature dropped into the low 50s and drizzle started. At the 17 mile mark in the marathon, the chill winds off the lake slowed her to a walk until a mylar wrap enabled her to regain sufficient body heat to get back in stride. A tremendous accomplishment nonetheless. (While Julie was out on the course running, we went back to the rig, put on long-johns and an extra layer on top, topped off by garbage bags to shed the rain. That’s how miserable the weather was.)

Monday we headed to Leavenworth on Highway 2 in separate vehicles---Julie and Janice staying behind in the Honda, so Julie could pick up souvenirs and photos. Annika and I headed through the wheatfields in the RV after a 7:30 start. As we approached Wenatchee, the by-then boring wheatfields gave way to rivers, lakes, canyons and woods. This is a beautiful area. Leavenworth itself is a made-over German-themed alpine town, and they have done a wonderful job rising out of the ashes.

Arriving at space 100 at the Icicle River RV Park 3 miles west of Leavenworth, we parked 10 feet from the river, the roar of the river so loud our most common word used was, “Huh?” Internet access was achieved by schlepping the laptop up to the office, as the park’s wi-fi signal didn’t reach our riverside retreat.

Tuesday heralded a definite break in the weather with blue skies and temperatures in the mid 70s. This was perfect for our afternoon of white water rafting on the Wenatchee River. It was a good 3 ½ hr ride covering 14 miles and several sets of class 3 rapids. Just enough action without fear of capsizing into the 42 degree snow-melt water. No pictures because the only ones available (taken by the vendor) were selling for $20 apiece! There are much better things to do with $20, especially when we haven’t even hit the Leavenworth shops yet.

Waiting for the Action

2009-06-20T12:58:00.000-07:00

June 20, 2009

CDA, cont.

It is the calm before the ‘storm’ (Race Day). The weather remains unpredictable for tomorrow, with forecast ranging from "rain all day" to "rain late in the afternoon." Doesn’t matter to Julie, who says, “It is what it is.” The town is crawling with tri-athletes and their ‘teams' (like us). Warm up runs. bike rides and swims are the order of the day. Janice and I hopped on our bikes and pedaled a portion of the race route as expensive bikes whizzed by us like we were standing still. Temperature today is about 70-75 with broken clouds.

Yesterday featured 9 holes of golf in the morning at CDA Muni. I abandoned intentions of playing 18 as the drizzle started on the 8^th hole. Later went to the movies (Pelham 123) to kill a drippy afternoon. Janice and I enjoyed dinner at The Cedar’s, a floating restaurant within walking distance of the park. Julie attended the athlete’s dinner. Janice enjoyed Copper River salmon, while I had slightly undercooked scallops. Table by the window looking at the lake. Chardonnay, too.

Dinner tonight at Tony’s, so Julie can do some carb-loading. I’m looking forward to some meatballs.

Because the reportage is a bit brief today, her's a couple 'bonus' pics. First, Grandson Jonas after his latest haircut. The next, a "Cadillac on a Stick" at Winchester, ID.

Arriving at CDA

2009-06-17T16:34:00.009-07:00

June 17, 2009

CDA

Though the rains have continued off and on, we traversed from McCall's Ponderosa State Park to Coeur d‘Alene (hereafter “CDA”) with a one night stopover at Winchester Lake State Park. Most of the drive was on Hwy 95 and provided some fabulous views of the Little Salmon and Salmon Rivers, plus the rolling hills between Winchester and CDA. The wheat (and whatever else, alfalfa??) was a lush green and it just looked like a gigantic golf course at times. Today’s drive featured blue skies for the first time in days, which provided a lift.

Have to comment on Winchester Lake, where we stayed only one of our intended 2 nights (thereby making a $20.50 donation to Idaho). It’s a nice campground, but no internet, and no phone service. The main activity appears to be hauling a lawn chair down to the lake, tossing a bobber and worm, and hoping one of those planted, pellet-fed trout jumps in the frying pan. Yum-yum!

Another diversion would be a visit to the nearby “Wolf Education and Training Center”, 2 miles down the road. This, I believe, is the modern version of the old “Stop here, Giant Gila Monster.” In the name of “rescuing” wolves that have been domesticated (and therefore could not be reintroduced to the wilds), this place was some do-gooder’s dream where these confused carnivores would spend their golden years. The “feature attraction” are purported to be two wolf packs, safely restrained in wire enclosures. Imagine if you would Jurassic Park with 12 foot high reinforced cyclone fences—topped with electrical wire. The fences run parallel about 20 yards apart, forming a several acre circle that extends through a meadow (where the “viewing platform” is) and then disappearing into the thick woods. There are two such enclosures. I was the only visitor on the premises, conducting a “self-guided tour” for five bucks! (Janice wisely passed on this side-trip.)

Despite diligent searching with binoculars loaned to me by the “WETC”, nary a wolf was spotted. I surmised that the WETC folks back at the ticket booth were guffawing that they had bamboozled another city-slicker. Upon my exit, I advised, “I think they must have been taking their afternoon nap in the woods” to which the freckle-faced red-haired young lady responded, “Probably…we fed them a goat this morning.” Goats are like a Sominex for those wolves. Maybe she could have told me that the chances were one in a million that I’d see a wolf that day BEFORE she grabbed my five dollars. I think that somebody is scamming the IRS on this one. A beautiful piece of mountain property that is supposedly harboring wayward wolves. Stupid tourists pay money that supports the summer job for the freckle-faced red-head, likely the daughter of the property's owner.. PT Barnum had it right. I was the “sucker” for that moment.

Upon arrival in CDA, we gassed up at Costco, anticipating a quick get-away on Monday after the Ironman. We were welcomed at Blackwell Island RV Park by a downpour. Weather looks like it might be improving, but the local soothsayer gas jockey at Costco predicted rain for the event.

We declared the afternoon a clean-up day today with me cleaning the bugs off the front end and vacuuming the Honda and RV. Janice headed to the park’s laundry room.

And finally, in the “ouch” department: While backing into our space at Winchester, I got impatient and failed to wait for the signal of the RQ, resulting in the first scratch to the rig in 23,000 miles. It was a rather minor scrape along the front fender, but sounded like the awning was being ripped from the outside of the rig. The park’s “space marker” was restored to vertical with a little persuasion.

Golf Game Scrubbed: Wet Grounds

2009-06-15T20:01:00.001-07:00

June 15, 2009

McCall Finito

(pictures are coming!)

The hoped for round of golf today was doomed overnight as a 3 a.m. drizzle (rain) steadily increased until about 5 a.m. It would be a sloggy round at best, so I stayed in bed.

As the day began, I headed down the road with Annika for her morning constitutional. Spying a newspaper rack, I plunked down 75 cents that was burning a hole in my pocket and bought a copy of the Idaho Statesman. My intention was to survey some local/state issues. Soon Annika signaled that she was about to leave a large deposit on the lawn.

I reached for the roll of doggie bags affixed to her retractable leash. Horrors! There were no bags left, a fact that should have been rectified by the last dog-walker (read “Road Queen”). I glanced over my shoulder and noticed a nearby RV resident watching us. This was not a pile we could walk away from. I searched my pockets for anything, but decided against using the 3 dollar bills---they were entirely inadequate. Ahaah! The Idaho Statesman.

I tore off a page of the classified ad section and attempted to make a grab. Groping carefully, I discovered that the Statesman was a “one-ply” newspaper. I tore off another couple pages, completed the grab and then wiped my hand on the wet grass. Yukk! Depositing the gathered glop in a garbage can, I reflected on the great start to this (again) rainy day.

Returning to the rig, the RQ and I enjoyed bacon/eggs/red-potatoes and coffee.

We followed this with a drive around Payette Lake, adjacent to McCall. It would have been prettier with a little blue sky. Returning to McCall, we sought out the obligatory magnet for the collection. Next was a departure from our usual dietary restraint---huckleberry ice cream cones for lunch. These things were monsters.

Returning to the rig, we were advised that our home buyer had “verbally accepted our counter-offer, paperwork to follow.” Let’s hope this one sticks!

As I started to replace the repaired tire with the spare that was still on the Honda, I realized that the flat tire was the gift that would keep on giving. Somewhere between Sacramento and here, the locking lug-nut key was lost. What this meant was that in the event of a flat tire (any of the 4), I would be unable to remove the tire. Not good. This meant a trip to the McCall tire shop here the gents there muscled off the locked lug nuts for the bargain price of $21.25. No more locking log nuts for me.

Returning again to the rig, there was a rare sun-break, so Janice and I saddled up the bikes and began a tour of the park. After traveling less than a quarter mile, the sprinkles started. We made a quick decision to head back, arriving at the rig just a few seconds ahead of a downpour. Time for Scrabble.

A final commentary on Ponderosa State Park, our residence for the last 3 days. The new “group camping” park is a first class RV park. 50 amps, full hookups. The rest of the campground is pretty ordinary. The town of McCall deserves another visit. Remember to bring raingear.

Tomorrow heading upstate to Winchester Lake, enroute to Coeur d’Alene, site of (daughter) Julie’s next triathlon adventure, coming up Sunday..

The Potato State: Rain, rain, go away.....

2009-06-14T19:23:00.000-07:00

June 14,2009

McCall, Idaho

It’s time for some major catching up.
We departed Winnemucca after a nice night’s sleep in the Walmart parking lot. Of note on the way out was the town cemetery on the main drag. It is split into large sections (prominently labled) based on the fraternal affiliation of the deceased. The Masons won’t be spending time in the ground with the Elks, or the Odd Fellows. And there is also a “Catholic” and a “public” section. Bet the local politics are interesting in this town.

Next stop was Ketchum, Idaho, where we visited a high school classmate of Janice’s—Rae Hirning. Enjoyed a dinner out with her and a dinner in (her place) plus a short hike with the dogs and a quick tour of Sun Valley. Annika and Zeke, a lab-weimariner mix, became great buddies. It rained off and on most of the time—something that is wearing thin on the locals. Makes for some beautiful green mountains, which would normally be browning by now. The Sawtooth Range surrounding Ketchum was gorgeous.Technical and mechanical glitches continued to plague us.
1. The flat tire that was fixed in Elk Grove as we departed went flat again just hanging on the back of the Honda.and was repaired for the third time in a week in Ketchum. Tire monkeys scalp us for $55. Debating whether to put it back on the Honda or just leave it on the back.

2. The chronic Motosat internet satellite fiasco continued---such that we have been off-line for most of the trip so far. Finally spent nearly 2 hours on the phone with the techies and it’s finally performing well, so the first blog-posting should occur today.

3. At some point during our stay in Ketchum, the power front (driver’s) seat went on the fritz, and it was stuck in the max-forward position. There were no obvious easy fixes, so the 250 + mile drive to McCall was accomplished with my knees smashed up against the dash, legs spread wide around the steering post at the crotch in a Taliban torture configuration. If we’d have been in a rear-ender, I would have split like a wish-bone. The seat was repaired today by yours truly, exercizing electronic wizardry, so my knees and crotch can begin the healing process.

The drive up Highway 55 from Boise to McCall was exceptional, most of it curling along the Payette River, which was roaring from the recent rains. (No global warming here, Mr. Gore.) This is not a drive for a beginning RVer, but my Mexican highway experience served me well, even as my crotch was being split asunder.

A little extra spice for our traveling pleasure---a call from our real estate agent yesterday advising us that (again) another buyer had bailed on us during escrow. This was the second Asian female who had done this to us in the last month, leading us to believe that our house may have feng-shui issues. The good news is that we have a new buyer already, thanks to agent Renee. This necessitated a trip to town this morning to download the docs, sign them and fax ‘em back.

While the fax counter at Ridley’s Market, the glowering black clouds outside began to empty. Leaving the store, cats and dogs were falling from the heavens—and a whole lotta rain, too. Janice, wearing a nylon windbreaker, was selected to retrieve the car lest my sweatshirt get wet. Gotta like that woman! Wading through ankle deep waters.

With the rain subsiding, we returned to our roost at Ponderosa State Park. We circled the grounds, me holding a compass, searching for a new campsite with a hole in the trees for a clear satellite shot. We broke camp and headed to a new motorhome section of the park (having been advised a couple months ago that this was just for groups) where we located an internet-friendly space.

Things are looking up. The seat is fixed; No flat tire; solid Internet and TV; and…a tee time at 8:00 am at the McCall Muni tomorrow. Life on the road is getting better, but rain----go away!

Back on the Road: Nevada to Idaho to...

2009-06-14T19:14:00.000-07:00

June 10, 2009

Winnemucca, NV

Here we are in the middle of sage-brush and rocks. Getting here was easy. A 360 mile drive, but the pavement in Nevada (compared to California) is so smooth you could perform brain surgery in the back of the rig, if you needed to. And I just might need it, having just suffered one of the worst Scrabble shellackings of my life, losing to the RoadQueen, 496 to 309. That was her lifetime best.

The day started under a black cloud, as we awoke to a flat tire on the Honda. The same tire that went flat and was repaired two days ago. No more tire repairs for the Shell Station on Riverside and Florin. Hey, what about my $15 bucks??

Instead of beating the Sacto commute traffic with a crack-o-dawn 7 a.m. start, we were delayed until 8:30, which allowed us to miss the commute on the other end. (Actually, it looks like the commute may be an endangered species due to the recession.) Fueled by the customary roadtrip-hazelnut lattes and a blueberry bagel, we were rocketing up I-5 to I-80. Aside from a cattle chute white knuckler just across the Nevada border (where we drove 4 miles in a 12 foot slot—barriers on both sides) the ride to Reno was uneventful, though we are glad that Caltrans is using some of that stimulus money to fix the California side of I-80---perhaps the worst highway we have driven on.

Reno was our lunch stop, thanks to Costco. The polish sausages with Cokes (and a double order of sauerkraut for me) ran the tab to $3.00. In addition, because www.gasbuddy.com gave me a tip, we filled the tank at $2.43/gallon, perhaps the cheapest gas west of the Rockies, and certainly a relief from the $2.89 petrol peddled in the Golden State.

Driving across the Nevada plains (very plain), Annika nuzzled under my arm for a few extra pats. I’d stop and then she’d nuzzle for more. This dog is a sponge for affection.
I was suffering the post lunch ‘slows’, and it was time for a break, Annika agreeing.

We pulled into Lovelock, Nevada for a break. Annika and I strolled the downtown—all 2 blocks of it, gazing at the garage-sale merchandise on display in most store windows. This town is teetering on the edge, but it won’t go down without a fight. Hanging from every pole and building are banners proclaiming: “Lovelock—Where your love remains locked.” Really!

Now that must have been some contest to come up with that slogan. After all, the burgs down the road (I-80) touted their virtues. Battle Mountain proclaiming itself as “half-way to everywhere” (but stuck in the middle of nowhere!). Then the metropolis of Winnemucca attracting tourists by the droves with its catchy “Where there’s always something happening.” (May not be much, but it’s happening.)

But I puzzled over Lovelock’s slogan: “Where your love remains locked.” Was this a tribute to a low divorce rate in this ramshackle desert stop-over? Or was this the mecca of spousal abusers practicing false imprisonment on their spouses. (“Lock ‘em up in Lovelock!”)? Maybe a reference to the nearby prison where a lot of folks are locked up and the city fathers are seeking to bolster the local economy as a way-station for fallen angels stopping by for a conjugal visit..

Looking at Annika, and then noting a bedraggled, but leering pit-bull mix across the street, it occurred to me that there was yet another possibility. Was the slogan inspired by a couple of the town’s canines entrapped in coital clampus? Definitely love-locked. This triggered memories from my childhood the first time I witnessed such activity. When I asked my Uncle Rudy why these dogs were stuck caboose-to-caboose, he hollered at me to “get the hose, Jeff!”, and he hurriedly poured a targeted stream of water at the dogs, to no avail. He shunted me to the backyard, seeking to shield me from the furry frolicking, but I peeked through the slats in the gate. To this day I can recall the “hang-dog” expression on the face of the male---my own dog, Daniel the Spaniel. Might have been the first time I saw a dog smile.....

So we find ourselves not just in Winnemucca, but spending the night with fellow RVers in the Walmart parking lot. The satellite dish is acting up, so this is being penned in Word, to be transferred to the internet when the technical glitches are resolved. No internet, no TV. Time to curl up with a book.

A Beautiful Sunrise Belies the Day to Come

2009-03-29T19:53:00.000-07:00

The day began with a beautiful sunrise, viewed at 6:30 a.m. as I readied the rig for an early getaway. We were eager to beat the folks leaving Las Vegas for LA on I-15, and we also heard that winds would pick up later in the day along the route to Bakersfield.

Having said our goodbyes to Julie, who spent a couple nights camping with us, we reflected on the nice hikes we had in the red sandstone of Valley of Fire, and remembered a couple of cozy campfires. Julie and I even attempted to enter the Atlatl World Championships, but our aim was errant.

Julie left ahead of us, as we had to hit the dump station and fill up with gas (bet that’ll be the last gas under $2.00 we see). Coursing through Las Vegas’ construction scarred main highway, Julie called on the phone. The water heater had leaked at Casita Julie, flooding the living room. We made a mid-course correction and took the 215 to Julie's.

A soggy carpet, likely sheetrock damage and a kaput water heater. Just great! We called the insurance company and they promised help ASAP. We were 5 years into a 6 year guarantee on the water heater, but at best there may be just a bit of pro-rata contribution towards the next water heater. The joys of long-distance property ownership. There wasn’t a whole lot we could do, so we left things in Julie’s capable hands and headed back onto the highway.

As we climbed the grade west of Las Vegas it got breezy. The further west, the windier it got, blowing a steady 40 mph head-on and gusting to 60 or so. I am expecting that this leg will turn out to be the worst gas mileage in our RVing travels, likely about 5 mpg. Most of the time it was tough to stay above 50 mph. The LA-bound traffic clogged the lanes, making our journey even more exciting. It was a white-knuckle ride.

How windy was it? At one rest stop I viewed a crow trying to fly into the wind. He was making no headway despite frantic wing-flapping, so he landed and tried to hop. Each time he hopped, the wind blew him backwards. He finally gave up, crouched down, his beak low and parallel to the ground and started walking to his destination. Now that’s windy. Annika even refused to take a whiz, balking as stinging sand hit her face. She would travel cross-legged instead for several hours.

Clouds of dust rose into the sky, obscuring the view of nearby mountains. It was an ugly day, the toughest day of driving the rig I had ever experienced. 200+ miles of hell. Finally at 3 pm we called it a day and pulled into the Orange Grove RV Park, east of Bakersfield. It’s an ‘old reliable’ for us, and scores of fellow RVers blew in.

No pictures of today’s excitement, except the ones Julie sent of the water damage, which don’t compare to the vistas of Valley of Fire. Our spring trip nears its finish with Annika having proved her worth as a camper and traveller. We’ll make sure the satellite dish is tuned up before our next major trip in June-August to Idaho, Washington and Oregon.

As ever, I am grateful for Janice, my co-pilot, campmate and Scrabble partner.

Blowin' in the Wind

2009-03-27T10:40:00.000-07:00

Our stay in Cottonwood ended with winds blowing up to 60 mph.

We hunkered down and departed early in the a.m., hoping to get some miles under our belt before the wind came up. It didn’t. We arrived in Kingman, AZ after a brief lunch stop in Seligman, AZ where Route 66 supposedly began (such is their claim to fame). This one-street town is saturated with Route 66 souvenir shops. Keeping with the spirit of the occasion, we detoured onto old 66 for the remaining 60 miles into Kingman.

Arriving in Kingman, we gassed up before pulling into the Ft. Beale RV Park, conveniently located near the intersection of !-95 and I-40. This park was spotless. A very convenient stopping place. We had a pull-through and didn’t even bother to unhook the Honda, as we wanted to get an early start to snag a nice site at Valley of Fire SP, NE of Las Vegas.

Proceeding up 95, we crossed the Hoover Dam and marvelled at the progress of the new bridge construction (this will be a tourist attraction itself) and also gawked at the ever-depleting Lake Mead, Las Vegas’ source of water. Took the 60 mile road along Lake Mead to avoid the LV traffic, and we followed another MH who absolutely would not allow us to pass, despite numerous turnouts. He, too was headed for Valley of Fire and apparently wanted to beat us there in hopes of getting a spot. As it turned out, we passed him going though the pay station. There were several spots available, and after a lengthy attempt to level our rig on a sloped site, we moved to another as it became available.

The satellite dish bug bit again and our controller froze up, forcing me to drive 8 miles to get a phone signal in order to call the techies in Salt Lake City. Final verdict: download some instructions and perform a tune up. The ‘download’ occurred the next day when we went to Mesquite, NV. (Bottom line: all is well now, but it ultimately required us to move again, as a nearby rock formation was partially blocking our signal.)

The visit to Mesquite was a recon trip to check out their Del Webb community. We took the complete tour and were very impressed. Liked a particular lot on the golf course (which will open this fall), and also picked out our favorite model. Still a lot of decisions left, though, and we will continue our Del Webb explorations, perhaps closer to Sacto. Hey, it’s time to move as we’ve been in our current house 12 years, our longest stay anywhere. .

With the winds once again shrieking (stinging sand pelting us on a walk), we left camp and headed to Las Vegas to meet with Julie and see a show (Jersey Boys at the Palazzo). Dinner was great—portions very large at the Palazzo Café. Highly recommend the seafood salad –best I’ve ever had. The Jersey Boys show was fabulous—great vocals tracing the history of the Four Seasons and Frankie Valli. (e.g. Big Girls Don’t Cry, Walk Like a Man, Cherie and dozens of others). We returned to Julie’s where Annika met us with wagging tail. After spending the night there, we are now back at camp. The wind is still blowing strong, but expected to abate later, when Julie will join us this afternoon for the weekend.

Valley of Fire is one of our favorite parks. The views are like having a ‘private Sedona’ with red rock vistas around. Since our last stay, they have added about a dozen new water/electric hookup sites for $24 a night. Very nice place, although some of the dry camping sites are really postcard spectacular.

Scenic Sedona

2009-03-22T10:24:00.000-07:00

What visit to the Sedona area would be complete without a hike?

So, with Copper Canyon friends Pam and Ralph Williams. We trudged to the top of Doe Mountain, a plateau SW of Sedona. From the top there are vistas of the whole area. Until we got to the trailhead, we didn’t realize that we had done this same hike 9 years ago, in our pre-RV days. This hike was recommended to us by a lady at the restaurant the other night as the best hike in the area. It’s a shorty, only .7 miles each way, but one can wander around the top all day (we didn’t).

The next big adventure of the day was a haircut at Walmart, since the local shops inexplicably closed at noon on Saturday. Betcha didn’t know you could get shorn at the Big “W”, but this was one of the exceptions to their usual low prices. My scalping cost $14.95, hardly a bargain compared to the $12.00 senior rate from Ray back home, and the $10.00 prices advertised at some of the local closed shops here.

Great BBQ’d tri-tip dinner with a bottle of fine Shiraz given to Janice by her friend Jan on our last stop in Oregon. We cut the tri-tips in half when we buy them, then freeze’em. When cooked, we usually get 2 meals out of them.

Expecting a breezy day today with predicted winds up to 50-60 mph, Staying here at Dead Horse Ranch State Park another day, so we don't get blown over on the road. Unlikely that we will venture into 'metropolitan' Sedona, thereby avoiding the 10% sales tax. Fool me once....

Weather update: The predicted winds arrived after we squeezed in a bike ride exploring this nice park. How windy was it? One tumbleweed the size of a VW rolled doen the road, stopping traffic. Another time, a herd of cow-sized tumbleweeds leapt out of the prairie and crossed the road in front of us. Annika had to eat her dinner inside, lest her bowl blow away.

Another Day in the Wild West

2009-03-20T21:02:00.000-07:00

Tonight, daughter Julie said in phone call: "Aren't you going to add to the blog?" Okay! Okay!

Having lost the battle to secure a lakeview site at Lake Pleasant, we hit the road, heading north to Cottonwood, AZ. First stop was a Starbucks for hazelnut lattes. Getting back on the road, I noticed a lack of acceleration on the I-17 on ramp. I puzzled over it, but the answer was apparent when we arrived at Deadhorse Ranch State Park.

After passing through the gate and being told “good luck”, and then being told by the camp host, “All full”, we snagged a spot and I left Janice and Annika standing guard as I left the campground to disconnect the Honda. I pulled to the side outside the campground and, voila!, the Honda battery was dead. The surge brake was frozen in full extension rigor. Fortunately, only about 50% of its power pressed against the brake pedal.

Thinking back to the poor acceleration, I realized that we had driven about 78 miles with the Honda brakes partially engaged. The rims were covered with the tell-tale powder of the brake pads. The smell of hot brakes was obvious.

After disengaging the Honda, I turned around the motorhome and jumped the battery, returning briefly to the campsite on a bicycle to reassure Janice that I had not driven over a cliff. Finally, Honda and motorhome were safely in place in the campsite and we began setting up housekeeping.

Despite this tightrope with disaster, we felt fortunate to have secured a campsite from among the hordes of Arizona spring-breakers. The evening found us celebrating Janice’s birthday at Nick’s restaurant in beautiful downtown Cottonwood. Janice’s Orange Roughy and my Seafood Special Pasta were enhanced by a bottle of Pinot Grigio. We started things off with a lobster-crab bruchette, all of which spun the dial on the scale this morning.

We headed for Jerome for some sightseeing and exploration, emboldened by an article in the local Chamber of Commerce publication that touted a road trip on an old narrow gauge road-bed. We found the road, but all present in Jerome denied knowledge of the “helpful historic guidebook available in Jerome to make this journey an adventure.” We took to the road anyway, going about 6 miles on a washboard, mountainside dirt road. There were occasional scenic glimpses, but all in all, it was just another dirt road in the mountains. Jerome is simply one of the most interesting places we have ever visited. That was our impression last year---and again this year, even though the state had closed down the Jerome State Park, a fascinating place.

Returning to Cottonwood, we visited Pam and Ralph Williams, former tailgunners on our Copper Canyon adventure, hatching plans for a caravan reunion next spring, likely here in the Cottonwood area. We'll hike with them tomorrow near Sedona. Our evening ended with a visit to the park campfire program. We listened to an Arizona cowboy and cowgirl sing songs and tell tales about the old west, finishing with the Dale Evans’ special, “Happy Trails to You.”

The evening ended with a photo received of grandson Jonas reading a post card we sent him. Bright kid!

Greetings on this first day of spring..

Very Pleasant

2009-03-17T09:06:00.000-07:00

“Spring break” is the ominous word that has brought hordes of campers to Arizona’s campgrounds. The kiddies and their teachers have swelled the numbers of outdoor-loving, fresh-air seeking Arizonan metropoles. Lake Pleasant, our most recent landing spot, seems to be especially targeted.

We arrived shortly before noon and managed to get the last campsite, just as its prior user pulled out. The dust hadn’t even settled. While we had hoped for a lake-side site like last year, our current view of the lake is partially blocked by other rigs. One camper is scheduled to leave today, and potential “movees” (us included) are circling the campground on foot (walking dogs!), bikes and in cars, looking for the first movement. There could be a donnybrook here today. (Flash Update: Janice just returned from recon mission and advised that a 40 ft motorhome 'snuck' into the spot. All this occurring in the hour since our last check. Darn! Must have been tipped off!)

Weather conditions are idyllic, with daytime highs of 75 degrees and a light breeze off the lake. If we can get a lakeside site, we could be in for a long stay.

These Maricopa County regional parks are becoming very popular, thanks to an article in an RV magazine last year. The three we have visited, McConnell, Lake Pleasant and Cave Creek, offer a great desert camping experience with campsites affording plenty of space and privacy. McConnell rates the highest for me, mainly because the interesting town of Fountain Hills is nearby. Lake Pleasant is my number two, but could be number one if at a lakeside site. Cave Creek ranks third, even though a robust shopping center is but 5 miles distant. All are winners for $20 a night.

Scrabble score for the year: 75-18, with Janice losing two close ones yesterday.

Signs of the Times, v.2

2009-03-15T13:14:00.000-07:00

Why buy the T-shirt if you can snap a picture??

Wrapping It Up at Cave Creek

2009-03-15T12:51:00.000-07:00

Our stay at Cave Creek ends tomorrow morning, then it’s time to move to Lake Pleasant, hoping that we’ll get a ‘view space.’

A big event was an early breakfast at the Denny's at the Hwy 17 junction where we met Copper Canyon pals Jerry and Nancy Gayvert, who were 5th-wheeling towards Tucson. Can't remember the last meal at Denny's, but this was good stuff. Of course we avoided the 'mystery sausage'.

Cave Creek activities have included a visit to the nearby burgs of Cave Creek and Carefree, the former being somewhat of a tourist stop, and the latter an upscale residential area with a smattering of nice shops and its trade mark Sundial Plaza.

We had lunch in Cave Creek at El Encanto, a very nice restaurant-cantina where the food was superb, notwithstanding bird feathers in the salsa. (But for the umbrella overhead, it is likely that the birds might have made other contributions.)

Annika enjoyed Sundial Square, especially the Gila Monster slide.

On our final hike, Janice bailed out after a mile or so due to back spasms, but Annika and I continued on, sneaking into the nearby state land trust, which was supposedly an enter-only-with-a-permit place. She was panting hard, so I didn’t want to do any more uphill. Finally as we neared the campground, we were forced to go under a barb-wire fence and traverse a gully. Hiding in the gully under a tree about 20 feet away was a snoozing javelina, which I surmise might have been the largest one in the state of Arizona. As it rumbled away from us, all I could view was a hairy back-side the size of a boulder. I tossed a large rock in its direction to deter any second thoughts it might have about returning. After we scampered up a hillside, we regained the main trail and returned safely to camp.

Our stay here has tested the limits of our holding tanks. We are on day 6 without ‘dumping’ them, having perfected techniques to limit input, including moonlight ‘cactus watering’ as Annika and I survey the desert each night before its time to turn in.

Visited the local Carefree Church this a.m. where a very talented preacher spoke for about 40 minutes, deftly mixing his message with some of the best pulpit humor I’ve ever heard. A very quick mind, this gentleman.

Greater Phoenix

2009-03-12T20:32:00.000-07:00

Yesterday began with a day-long, 190 mile tour of metropolitan Phoenix, first visiting friends, Jim and Karen Werner in their new Del Webb Festival home. We didn’t get there until we got lost wandering around ‘west’ Phoenix, where streets in ghost subdivisions appear and then disappear as if written on a map with a failing ball-point pen. The sub-divisions have 4 lane roadways with curbs and flood-canals, but nary a house in sight. It will be a long time before they are built.

Del Webb has the answer for 60-something geezers who aren’t ready to spend the twi-light years in a rocker watching the tube. Nice houses with access to fabulous facilities and activities. We are seriously interested in this, though not necessarily on the western plains of Phoenix. Oh, did I mention the golf course?

Speaking of golf courses, I’ve got to give Arizona a failing grade. Reasonably priced muni-courses are few and far between, and offer rates for AZ residents that are a bargain as compared to out of staters. Other public access courses are similarly stacked against non-residents, unless you want to play in the middle of summer or want to squeeze 18 holes in after 4 pm. Don’t know how I forgot this from the last time here. Note to Arizona: I don’t do $100 golf! Give me Oregon or California!

The visit to Cliff’s Welding produced a complete repair of our tow-bar at no cost in one day, thanks to the great folks at Blue Ox Mfg. I am a customer for life!

Today produced a short bike ride in the a.m., washing clothes in nearby Cave Creek at noon, and then a 3-mile hike in late afternoon. Annika demonstrated her trail skills -- failing only when snagged by a cholla cactus bristle.

Tomorrow a.m. promises a breakfast meeting with another Copper Canyon couple, then a long-sought day of ‘doing nothing’. We have decided to stay put here over the weekend, rather than gamble on finding a spot at Lake Pleasant on a Friday.

The Sun Also Rises

2009-03-11T09:35:00.000-07:00

The grey cloud passed as we arrived at Cave Springs Regional Park, just north of Scottsdale. After ‘holding’ for a half-hour in the overflow lot, a campsite opened up for us. Guided by Janice’s expert guidance, we maneuvered the rig into a space meant for much smaller units, but the desert vista was ours.

After setting up camp, we headed to Mesa, some 45 miles distant, for the purpose of getting the tow-bar fixed. I had called Blue Ox, the manufacturer, and they were extremely helpful (thanks “Linda”). Arriving at Cliff's Welding, “Jim” advised that he would cannibalize his display towbar, as otherwise it would take a week or so for parts.

The repaired towbar should be ready today, and it looks like Blue Ox will cover it under the ‘lifetime warranty’.

We’ll combine our trip back ‘to town’ with a visit to Jim and Karen Werner, former Copper Canyon pals who we visited last year in Yuma.

A 'Do-Over' Day?

2009-03-11T09:10:00.000-07:00

Tuesday was the kind of day that you’d like to be able to request a ‘do-over.’

The morning began nice enough with Janice whispering, “Happy Anniversary,” as I slumbered. If it was March 9, why did my $14.95 Timex say March 6? Busted! Walking into the kitchen, the ever thoughtful Janice had a sweet card for me. I really think this is the first one I've missed--in 36 years, even though we spoke about it last week. Is that ‘short term’, ‘mid- term’ or what?

With a grey cloud lurking over my head, I began to prepare for the road, noticing oil/grease stains on one of the RV wheel rims—possible evidence of a leaking seal. By the time we got to Quartzite shortly after noon, I was still thinking about it. After gassing up (for $1.89), we had a quick lunch in the same parking lot as last year, then headed out of town. Just as we approached the on-ramp to I-10, I advised Janice we were returning to Quartzite to see a mechanic. Two and a half hours later, we left town with a new rear wheel seal, installed meticulously by David the mechanic. In actual work time, it took him less than an hour, but his attention was easily diverted by the need to take personal phone calls and shoot the breeze with garage-monkeys. Fortunately, we were only charged for the hour, but our schedule was shot.

We headed towards Wickenburg, arriving there after 4:30. While traversing from one parking lot to another in search of taco shells and tomatoes, the rig bottomed out snapping one of the legs on the tow bar. As I looked in the rear view TV, I viewed the Honda swinging out to the side instead of dutifully following directly behind. We pulled in the Safeway parking lot and managed to avoid sideswiping a row of parked cars. Closer inspection of the pavement at the location revealed dozens of gouges in the pavement where past unlucky folks bottomed out. So many, that it was also evident that this pavement had been entirely replaced on another occasion. The mayor of Wickenburg will be receiving a letter from me in the future!

We would go no further for the night, and managed to grab the last space at the Horspitality RV Park, so named for the aroma of horse manure that wafts from nearby corrals and stalls. I backed the rig into a narrow space, guided by Janice in the rear, and a neighbor-geezer in the front, who waved directions to me like he used to work on an aircraft carrier. The only problem: A large palm tree directly in line with our internet satellite. There was no room to maneuver. We would miss “24” again. This park was one of the few in North America without cable TV!

So, tomorrow will begin with Janice driving the Honda apart from me as we head for Cave Creek Regional Park north of Phoenix where, hopefully there will be a nice campsite awaiting us and a few days of R&R. This missive will be launched into the Ethernet if technology allows. Annika remains ever cheerful despite our troubles.

(Yesterday we enjoyed a 10-mile bike ride to and around the Borrego Springs village, after which I visited the Borrego Resort, squeezing in 17 holes of golf in 3 hours. How does this place pay the bills? Only saw one other three-some, whom I leap-frogged, thereby missing a hole.)

Signs of the Times, v.1

2009-03-08T17:49:00.000-07:00

On the road, there are glimpses of humor to be found on bumper stickers, signs and yes, even church marquees sometimes. Here's the first one, found in Morro Bay, Ca. This is dedicated to Tim, who slathers mayonnaise on everything! He's a condiment user, for sure.

Desert-ed

2009-03-08T12:59:00.000-07:00

After a long drive through SoCal traffic and a winding road into, over and down mountains, we arrived at Borrego Springs State Park. The mountain road was reminiscent of the Baja “Road to Hell” (Cuesta del Inferno) in terms of steepness and curves. We did have guardrails this time and the roads were probably 10 feet wider. Nevertheless, there were a few flashback moments as we crawled downhill, often in first gear. An old auto carcass lay down one steep slope. This is not a road to take with an RV on the way out of Borrego Springs, but it’s OK on the way in.

Our first space was sloped, so we canted the rig a bit into the adjacent desert flora campsite, being careful not to disturb any growing flora or fauna. Nevertheless, Ranger ‘Ruth’ rapped on the door the next morning and lectured me about the “rule” (written no-where) that requires at least two wheels on the pavement. Since we were scheduled to move to another site, she only gave me a “warning.”

Subsequently, as we waited for the new campsite to open, we were again “warned” by Ranger Ruth for enjoying a picnic lunch in a vacant campsite with our friends, Greg and Jennifer Thompson.

One more warning and I think I would have been hauled off to the desert slammer, or wherever they lock-up campground ne’er-do-wells.

This official intermeddling didn’t spoil a perfect day of wildflower viewing and a hike up to Palm Canyon. Hordes of hikers were on this trail, many of them (apparently) enjoying their first exercise in years. Three packs of Cub Scouts meandered up the trail, proudly carrying handmade troop flags which they were likely going to plant, Iwo Jima-style, for a photo op. Digital cameras were everywhere. Some of the kids were outfitted to the max for this 2-mile hike. When I was kid, it was well worn out Keds, jeans with patches, a ratty T-shirt and last season’s little league BB cap, duly festooned with sweat-stains. The day marked the annual first unveiling of my ivory legs, which hadn't seen the sun since last October.

Also part of the day's touring was a viewing of several metal sculptures scattered over 1000 acres of desert property. The creator thereof had a lot of time on his hands.

We finished off our time with the Thompsons, giving them an afternoon Scrabble seminar and then hustling over to the Red Ocotillo restaurant for dinner (thanks again, Greg). This place was a ‘sleeper’. I’ll go for the spaghetti and meatballs any day.

Back on the Road in 2009

2009-03-06T08:06:00.000-08:00

Day number 4 on the road finds us in Prado Regional Park in Chino Hills. This place is a gem, although we had some difficulties with the internet satellite dish. (Original location had us aiming into a tree. Had to spin the rig around.)

But then, the theme of this trip so far has been: "That friggin "satellite dish."

When we first arrived at Avila Beach on Monday (landing in our favorite spot!), attempts were made to get online, but the dish just kept spinning on the roof, looking, looking, looking. I was convinced that our sought after satellite was the one that collided with the Russian satellite a couple weeks ago. After futzing for a couple hours, I called technical assistance at Motosat, only to be told they were closed.

This also meant no TV reception, which meant we missed “24”—a 2-hour episode.

Tuesday a.m. I connected with Motosat in Salt Lake City. I was advised that new software (actually firmware for the dish controller) had been released. Because I had no internet connection, we had to schlep to the local library and download the file plus the 3 pages of installation instructions.

After a wonderful lunch at the Bayside Café in Morro Bay with Michael and Imkelina (pals from Casey’s in Oregon last summer), I returned and began the installation, spending 2-3 more hours until I hit a wall. Getting as far as I did was a feat of sheer technical wizardry, probably qualifying me to work at Mission Control on the space shuttle.

Following a good night’s sleep with waves crashing nearby and rain pounding on the roof, the next day began with my new techno-buddies in Salt Lake City. Another hour or so later, we resolved the remaining glitches and we were ‘good to go.’ Because we were dry camping (batteries only), electricity was at a premium, so we left the TV off (but recorded a favorite or two for later viewing when we have ‘shore power.’ (electricity)

Other than this nightmare of technology, it has been a good trip. Janice is decompressing from seemingly non-ending book duties. Our new travel-pal, Annika, has proven to be roadworthy and fun. A later edition will chronicle the discovery of this wunderhund and the futile attempt to get a badly needed tummy tuck for her.

Travels around Avila Beach found spring-green hills so ‘alive’ you could almost hear the Trapp Family singing! Morro Bay State Park was added to our ‘must stay there’ list, due to its proximity to the Bayside Café and the adjacent Morro Bay golf course. Another golf course in the area worth checking out would be Dairy Creek on Hwy 1. Alas, I did not golf due to weather and the aforementioned demands of technology.

Every trip requires something that has been forgotten. We brought the bikes, but left the helmets at home (Walmart supplied new ones for about $18 apiece. At that price, I think they are designed for very slow crashes. An older gent at Walmart railed, “When I was a kid, we rode bikes all day and never thought of a helmet, and I banged my head plenty.” Well, me too….on both counts, but now we live in the great Nanny State of California so put on the helmets!)

Also forgotten—my calendar /address book that contains all of my internet passwords (in secret code, of course), and Annika’s shot record (no biting and no trips to Mexico!)

Today’s intended destination was Point Mugu State Park, but we detoured inland on Hwy 126 after a lunch stop at Faria Beach County Park north of Ventura. This is also a good place for a dry-camping overnight stop. The ocean on one side and the Amtrak tracks on the other. As Janice pointed out—just the same set-up as the nearby pricey beachside bungalows along the ocean shore.

End of the Oregon Trail

2008-10-03T16:25:00.000-07:00

We left left the Rising River RV park in Roseburg this morning after spending three nights there. Our space was on the bank of the Umpqua River, but it didn’t have the serene Riv-r-vu feel to it. Perhaps it was the logging trucks pounding over the nearby bridge that tanked the ambiance. We were the only short-timers in this park (one other the first night), as most of the fols appear to be permanent or seasonal.

In between Janice’s book commitments, we managed to squeeze in a rainy drive up Hwy 138 to the colliding rivers (just a trickle now, so it’s more of a fender bender), then to lunch in Oakland (Oregon!) at Tolly’s. This is one of the coziest dining spots on the Oregon Trail, and the gas fireplace on a rainy day was a real cockle-warmer. A superb Rueben sandwich—open face because the sauerkraut was drippingly delicious. The “Fish Viewing Stop” near Winchester saw but a single bewildered Chinook salmon.

A visit to the driving range with my three wood, 7 and 10 irons produced hope that my game will be coming back. And, onl; 6 weeks ago, it was spectacular.

Speaking of looking back, some retrospective is appropriate at this juncture, as I sit in Yreka at the new Yreka RV Park, listening to the steady drumming rain on the roof.
By the time we return to Sacto, we will have gone through approximately 300 gallons of gas---just about what was estimated. Prices fluctuated from $4.39 at the beginning to $3.29, averaging about $3.75. So, that’s where our economic stimulus check went, but it doesn’t look like the economy was too stimulated, given the bail-out shenanigans in Washington this week. Crank up those money presses again.

Janice is, of course, relieved to be done with the ‘tour.’ A lot of pressure on her to be ‘on’ with a bunch of strangers, never knowing how many might show up. She tweaked her slide show for every ‘performance’, making it as 'local' as possible. In spite of the pressure, I think this has been pretty satisfying to her, to be recognized and appreciated for the hard work and exceptional book she produced.

We’ve met many nice people on this trip, and even spotted a few more places we’d like to return to.

High on the list are:
Dry camping at Florence at the Suislaw Port Campground.
Return to Casey’s, of course.
Diamond Lake
Von Tagen Vista.

And, assuming the golf game in fact returns, I missed Myrtle Creek, Sutherlin (now the Umpqua Golf Resort) and the new Centennial Course in Medford. Maybe next year.

There will be plenty of time to plan future travels over the winter. Most of all, we are looking forward to spending some time with grandson, Jonas. Oh...Scrabble??? Me 85, Janice 22, one tie.

Adios Geezerville

2008-09-29T08:24:00.000-07:00

We made an early morning escape from Geezer-ville, abandoning the WIT rally and heading northeast to Silverton on Highway 22. I suppose I should halt the snickers, as we really got a preview of what our life may be in 10 years. After a game of bean-bag baseball ("Yer out!" if you run.) the folks enjoyed many guffaws last night as an 80 year old country western singer entertained. Lotsa group participation, including everybody wearing pie-plate chicken hats and doing the chicken dance.

Priot to dinner the sponsoring Winnebago dealer hosted wine and cheese. As a sign of the times, the wine was poured from Franzia wine-in-the-box, even though we were deep in the heart of Oregon’s most fertile vineyards. The wine was poured in 4 oz paper cups---some less than half-filled---an amount appropriate for communion maybe, but not to kick off happy hour. We retreated the rig for Scrabble and 3 buck Chuck.

Arriving at Silverton’s Silver Spur RV Resort (a good one) by 9:30 a.m., we set up camp and then had an early lunch before biking to he nearby Oregon Gardens, a horticultural oasis last visited a couple years ago on on a hot day with Carly—as we recalled. Hopped on the tram for a quick once-over and then rode the bikes through Silverton and then north to Mt. Angel. I spied a peleta vendor peddling his goodies in front of the local church (see lower left of church photo), and was able to treat myself to a cocoanut peleta---first one in about 10 years. The return trip took us through hill and dale of rolling farmlands and finally the Gallon Bridge, so named for its location on the route of former moonshiners. A 15 mile ride. More Scrabble upon our return. It’s a cozy warm evening. Dinner outside.

Not a geezer---yet!

2008-09-25T20:54:00.000-07:00

I pen this ‘issue’ risking my long-term membership in the Witasca Travelers (WIT) , an organization made of Winnebago and Itasca motorhome owners. We are currently attending the Oregon State Witasca Rally, where approximately 80 rigs from Oregon, Washington and California are gathered at the Polk County Fairgrounds (i.e. gravel parking lot with electricity and water hookups).

Janice is presenting information about traveling through Oregon in 2009, as Oregonians celebrate their 150th anniversary of statehood. This is not just a noble undertaking, but done in the hopes of promoting interest in (and perhaps selling a few of) her new book, Oregon 1859. The book is doing very well in Oregon bookstores, and appears to be a mover in Oregon’s Costco stores as well.

The folks attending this event are graciously described as senior citizens, with most in the 70+ range. It is a ‘blue-hair’ event. With the exception of one other couple, Janice and I feel like kids here. We passed on tonight’s entertainment---a barbershop quartet—since they were arriving ½ hour later than scheduled. Didn’t want to spend the waiting time hearing the old yarns.

One of the mysteries---how did many of these folks get here with their 40 ft rigs? Is there a driving service for geezers that I haven’t read about in RV magazines??? One frail gent, hunched over and steadying himself waveringly on two canes, announced to a friend, “I’m 93, but I may have to give up driving the rig this year.” I thought, “Just let me get on the road before you leave the lot!”

These seniors own beautiful motorhomes and no doubt have golden memories of cross-country trips, and these events allow reconnection with old friends and old memories of the road.

Tonight’s dinner: baked potatoes with chili sauce filling. Oh boy! I am fearing a post-midnight flatulence attack that will have the blankets hovering over the bed. Hopefully they put a few drops of “Beano” in the chili mix, or Janice may be a non-show in the morning’s feature event.
The dinner contrasts with our 'night out' last night at the Joel Palmer House, a converted 1860 residence now a restaurant in nearby Dayton. Simply the best restaurant meal we have enjoyed. Janice's scallops were scrumptious (I got a meager bite). My duck was super. The soups, mine a Japanese -wild mushroom medley and Janice's, a lobster bisque, were rich and satisfying.

If she does show for the 9:00 a.m. event, I warned her: These folks don’t appear to be early risers, unless their yappy dogs are threatening to pee in their 40 ft rigs.

Photos are coming.

The Final Leg: Back in Oregon

2008-09-23T13:50:00.000-07:00

We returned to Fern Ridge Reservoir yesterday, making the 520 mile trip from Sacramento in about 10 hours, which included 2 pit stops, a gas stop at the Medford Costco (where we enjoyed a $1.50 polish sausage and diet coke), an ice cream cone stop at Peggy’s (Rice Hill) and an sight-seeing excursion around Cottage Grove. We were relieved and thankful that the rig was intact and that all systems were ‘go’. No break-ins---the case of three-buck-Chuck was safe. During our few days away, the early footsteps of fall have crept in, with night temps in the 40s and some foliage change. Lotsa rigs on I-5 heading south.

During our time away, Janice spent her time in Sacramento sorting the mail and ‘balancing the books', in addition to preparing a new presentation for this week’s stay with the Oregon Witasca group (these are folks who own Winnebago-Itasca RVs).

I spent my time at the 10th Annual Men’s Mountain Golf ‘Retreat’ in McCloud, where I enjoyed my re-connection with the fellas, but performed horribly on the golf course. It was so bad that I have declared a golf vacation for this last leg of the trip, leaving my golf bag in Sacramento (though I brought a few clubs and a putter in the event I need a ‘fix’ at the driving range). I am in need of a lesson to put my swing back together.

After returning to Sacramento, I enjoyed a visit with grandson Jonas and his parents, Jason and Lori. Janice and I both enjoyed a BBQ flank steak dinner with neighbor Liz.

Janice is in Eugene today doing a book signing at bookstore. A day off for me!

Catching Up---again

2008-09-15T20:47:00.000-07:00

Circle Creek RV Park offered up a few good adventures: A hike in Ecola State Park up a steep mountain through lush green forests. This was a path that Mr. Clark of Lewis & Clark once trod; a round of golf at the Seaside Muni Course, which was halted after 9 when an onslaught of teens entered the course (to play). It was obviously the first round for many of them, so Seaside owes me nine holes—next time. Janice met the Cannon Beach historians.

After a mandatory stop at the Tillamook Cheese Factory, it was a one nighter in Lincoln City where we missed a sunset due to the staffing shortage at the restaurant we dined at. Slow to serve us and slower to get us the check. This was the replacement bistro for the now burned Dory Café.. Chowder was good, though.

The next day I departed in the rig for Florence, while Janice remained to inform the folks in Lincoln City. I had a date with Sandpines Golf Course, (over) rated as one of the best public courses in the state. Fortunately I downloaded a discount coupon on the internet and saved $40 off the standard $110 price. Nice greens, but a fairly boring course. The last 6 holes were gale-force conditions as the sea breeze moved in. Won’t be back to this one.

Finally meeting Janice after golf and filling the rig with $3.43 gas, we set up camp at Harbor Vista campground, a lane County Park (water and electricity). Good internet fix down a slot in the woods, but no TV ,which probably saved us from endless “Huuricane Ike” disaster videos. After visiting downtown Florence the next day, we decided to move out and dry camp along the waterfront, where we would be adjacent to the action at the Old Car fest over the weekend. For $22 a night, we were parked at the shore of the Siuslaw River and enjoyed watching the salmon trollers working the river. Of course, there was the matter of the $40 we had already paid at harbor Vista, but we reckoned that the crab dinner “in” would save us that much over a dinner “out.”

The car show was great, as old souped up hot-rods meticulously restored cruised the main drag Saturday night. Many geezers were reliving the good ‘ol days.

We purchased a couple of crabs and enjoyed a crab-fest in the rig, with French bread (and Chardonnay, of course). Later we sat in the front seats and just enjoyed the night-time river view as the moon rose. Janice did a gig in nearby Reedsport while I enjoyed the campsite and went for a bike ride. Very nice neighbors—Chuck and Betty Kaiser from Cottage Grove, who were also Suncruiser owners. They were battling the dead-batteries-no refrigerator blues that we suffered once in Mexico. As they departed, they were headed to Coos Bay to buy 6 volt golf cart batteries, the only way to go.

Traveling Highway 126 to Fern Ridge reservoir outside Eugene, we again enjoyed the canopy of trees covering the roadway. I commented that “Carly liked this stretch of road” to the amusement of Janice. Just one of many moments on this trip where the old yellow dog entered my thoughts.

Fern Ridge is fairly deserted except for a group of (apparent) mental patients on a camping outing, some walking the streets talking to themselves. We hope that all stay on their meds while we are here. This is also a Lane County Park, and we were credited the 2 days we abandoned at Harbor Vista. Wahoo!

Getting ready for a brief hiatus Wednesday, with Janice dropping me off in Mc Cloud for the 10th Annual Mens Mountain Golf, while she scrurries to Sacramento for a reunion with grandson Jonas.

Oregon Coast

2008-09-08T21:17:00.000-07:00

Starting off, I owe the Vernonia bike trail an apology. The leg close to town is no big deal, but it stretches all the way to Stub Stewart State Park (old RR bed) and beyond. Easy grades, trees, ferns, green, green. Might be worth staying in this park and hopping on the bikes.
And speaking of Stub Stewart S.P., Janice had a nice campfire turnout and peddled a few books. By the next morning, it was drizzle, but this gave way as we drove to Ft. Stevens SP on the NW corner of Oregon. (This is a former miltary post dating back to the Civil War!} After another campfire presentation, we did a day trip to Astoria which was radiant in 80+ degree weather. Janice sold books for the Maritime Museum, while I cruised unsuccessfully looking for a driving range or a golf course. The only driving range was a 5- acre cow pasture and about 25 cows huddled in the driving stalls. No bull. I paused briefly to stop next to some apartments where I pirated a wi-fi signal, since our campsite was buried under a canopy of trees—no satellite view. We followed this with a bike ride along the Astoria waterfront (good ride—where were all of the other bikes??) interrupted by a beer stop at the Rogue brewery on the waterfont. $5.00 a beer!
We finished the day at the Baked Alaska, our ‘former‘ favorite restaurant in Astoria. Located on the Columbia riverfront, we had railing seats on the water, and a glass of Pinot Gris (Janice) and good ‘ol Chardonnay for me. The table was set, so to speak. Unlike three years ago, when we were attended by a charming waiter dividing his time between us and the TV, where Oregon State University was winning the college BB world series, our waitress this time merely flopped our food in front of us. Just doin' a job. And dessert—where the only choice of cheesecake was peanut butter-chocolate, well, we headed into the night searching unsuccessfully for an ice cream cone, but Astoria had rolled up the sidewalks.
We sped back to the beach in time to see the sun dropping out of sight, next to the corpse of the SS Iredale.

A new day, heading downcoast, we landed at Cannon Beach RV park, where again, trees blocked our internet access. However, we have tapped their wi-fi signal, which is somewhat diluted by the 100 other rigs. After setting up camp, we headed back up coast to explore Seaside.
We hopped on our bikes and cruised the promenade along the shore. Beautiful day. After securing a souvenir magnet, Janice went to work, visiting the town’s two bookstores. She was advised at the second one (Beach Books) that her book was selling very well, and they gratefully accepted her offer to sign the remaining 2 copies in the store.

The best $3.00 we spent this trip was for admission to Ecola State Park. Stunning beach views and we are planning a return for a coast-cliffs hike. Final stop of the day was Cannon Beach downtown. It had a Carmel feel to it, and we were stunned by the prices at the local grocery store and at the fish market. The local folk must have some kind of code they use at the cash register to get a ‘local’ discount, while the merchants stick it to the tourists. Crab for $7.99/lb and salmon for $17.99/lb? Where are the fishermen on the Oregon coast? How about some cheap, fresh fish? Looking forward to our next stop at Safeway.

Early morning flash: We bailed out of the Cannon Beach Park due to the poor quality of the wi-fi signal and have moved to the Circle Creek RV Park. Janice scooted to the Safeway in nearby Seaside to escape the extortionate grocers in Cannon Beach..

Leaving von Tagen Vista

2008-09-05T11:57:00.000-07:00

Our final day at von Tagen Vista found us heading to Portland for lunch. Janice with her editorial director and me with Larry Remmers, a college fraternity pledge brother who has apparently discovered the fountain of youth. During our short lunch (and thank you, Larry), we remembered stupid things we did in our college days and expressed gratitude and amazement that our sophomoric adventures had not derailed us. Other serious folks in the restaurant (Higgins), obviously power-lunching, may not have understood the peals of laughter from our table.

In the evening, we treated ourselves to a reading/book signing by Garth Stein, author of The Art of Racing in the Rain. Julie sent us a copy after Carly’s passing and it was helpful in the grieving process. Even if your dog is not dying or dead, this is a good read. Dinner followed at the nearby Broadway Grille and Brewery where we chomped down turkey reubens—first time for those, but certainly not the last time. Arriving back in camp, Fritz had a campfire going in the back forty, and we enjoyed some stargazing and chatter over the embers, joined for awhile by Fritz’s brother Bill and his wife, Linda, visiting from Idaho.

We’ll be missing Fritz and Dee, our hosts off and on for the last 3 weeks. Hopefully our weekend departures kept our visit fresh for them and did not violate the ‘fish’ rule (i.e What goes bad after 3 days? Fish or a visit from friends/relatives). They are a joy to be with. Can’t wait to see them next time, whenever that is.

This morning we headed west to Stub Stewart State Park, Oregon's newest park, where Janice will be the campfire 'entertainment.' This is located on Hwy 47, about 7 miles from Vernonia.

Went for a bike ride there---a 5 1/2 mile out and 5 1/2 mile back flat track, likely an old railroad bed. This is not a 'destination' ride, i.e., don't drive a long ways for it. However, if you are in the area, it's worth a try. Bring a bag for berries along the way. We forgot ours.

And Vernonia--it's one of those towns that got stuck in a time warp, circa 1955, likely when the old mill next to 'Lake Vernonia '(former mill pond) closed. The kids leaving high school as we biked by looked rather unaffected by the world 'out there.' A well endowed young lady was surrounded by a herd of lads, revved up by hormone overload. Friday night football was on the school marquee, and these fellas were already dreaming about the dance after the game, hoping---well---just hoping. Remember? The hardware store owner chatted up local happenings with a couple of spinsters seeking a replacement belt for their Hoover vacuum, and the local grocery store seemed the social hub for this little town. Nice place-clean as a whistle. If the tumult of the modern world is dragging you down, Vernonia might be THE place for you. And it even has a cozy 18-holer on the outskirts of town.

An Oregon Collage

2008-09-03T10:02:00.000-07:00

Our weekend in the Mt. Hood area found us attending the (pioneer) Foster family picnic in Eagle Creek, where Janice held court in the tack room of a barn. That’s authentic. The next day, a trip to the Timberline Lodge on Mt. Hood, where 36 degree weather greeted us (they received 2 inches of snow later in the day). Lunch there consisted of ham and bean soup, which was perfect to take the chill off. Hiking was cancelled.

Returning to the rig, including a few games of Scrabble, we enjoyed a roof-thumping downpour that lasted over an hour. Fellow campers in tents waited out the deluge huddled inside tents, filled with cranky little kids and stinky-wet dogs as the temperature dropped to 51 degrees.

We headed to dinner at the Rendezvous Restaurant (at milepost 40) near the Wyeast Bookstore. (Bought our third book there, a new Garth Stein novel). Dinner included crab and shrimpcakes (Janice) and fried oysters (me) complimented by the requisite chardonnay.

Returning to von Tagen vista, we set up camp again and then headed to downtown Portland for an 11 mile bike ride around the waterfront with Fritz and Dee. A beautiful and interesting ride on level paths.
Janice got her plane ride with Fritz as he shot some photos of nearby sites. Of course, the flight started out with them buzzing our camp at low altitude. I signaled them with a ‘snow angel’ in the grass. While they were flying, I headed to the driving range to do a little sand-trap work. Golf is on today at Stone Creek with Pete, a friend of Fritz’s, who accompanied me last week during my golf relapse.

Up, up and away....

2008-08-30T12:47:00.000-07:00

This week’s big adventure was a aerial photography trip with Fritz in his Cessna that took us through southern Oregon, northwest California (to Sacramento) and then back up to Crescent City, then up along the Oregon coast. Some notable sights: Crater Lake, our former house in Yreka (better water that front lawn!), Mt. Shasta, nearly bereft of snow, the still smoldering mountains above Trinity Lake—all the way to the coast, and the spectacular coastline of Oregon all the way to Florence.

Our overnight stop was Sacramento Executive Airport, a mere 3-4 miles from our home, so we rented a car and drove over to 1039 Eileen Way. We picked up a Burger King double-burger along the way and, once there, tried to watch TV, but I had initially forgotten the proper sequence of buttons, etc., to turn on the sound. Finally hit the right button by sheer luck. Also included was a visit to Liz’ across the street, who treated us to a glass of wine (it was just one glass, right Liz?) as I caught up on the local news. Sacramento was sweltering at 100+, and I had been in the usually mild climes of Oregon too long.

Waking early in the morning, I cut the back lawn, which was ready for hay-baling. Next stop was a visit to barber Ray, who had a 7:30 opening, thus averting another road-job haircut. Then I headed to West Sacramento for a quick visit with new grandson, Jonas, who had grown a bit in the last (nearly) 2 months. Grandma Janice was quite envious of this stop along the way.

Fritz and I were in the air again by 10:30, and after shooting a few locations in the Sacto area, headed north. We arrived home at 10:30. Janice had just left for a presentation in Portland.

We are now at the Mt. Hood RV Park as Janice fulfills commitments in the area. Limited internet access through Tengo Wi-Fi, confirming our purchase of the satellite internet system (currently blocked by trees). (I actually had to plug the computer into the car and drive over near the office where there was a decent signal in order to upload this). Though there is golf nearby (three 9 hole courses), I have opted to avoid the Labor Day golfers. Maybe next week.

In the Vicinity of Portland

2008-08-26T22:00:00.000-07:00

Accommodations at the von Tagen rated 5 stars. BBQ with nice wines on the deck as the temperature hovered in the mid-70s. We were joined by Memphis, the yellow (white) lab belonging to Fritz and Dee’s daughter, Tina. A few days here was ‘camp’ for Memphis, who though 10 years old, would chase a leather Frisbee non-stop. Memphis’ resemblance to Carly was spooky.

Our next stop would be Memaloose State Park, on the Columbia River, between Hood River and The Dalles, sites for presentations by the author. (We were provided 2 nights camping in exchange for a campfire presentation by Janice. As a bonus, they threw in a couple of nice T-shirts.)

However, as we left the von Tagen Park, misadventure struck. Fritz commented that one of the rear tires on the rig looked low. It did look a bit low, but tested OK. Further examination revealed that the inside dual felt ‘soft’. So soft that barely on the rim. Flat tire! A call to the roadside service brought an offer of a 15 mile tow and a new tire. No thanks! The tow would likely damage the rig, and a new tire wasn’t needed. Just fix this one. Fritz and I decided to get his compressor (mine was in the garage in Sacto) and try to get enough air in the tire to go 3 miles to the nearby tire shop. Putting air in the tire, there was an unmistakable air leak, but it was coming from the valve stem extender. This was the cause of the flat. Disconnecting the extender, we were able to get full pressure in the tire. Disaster averted for now.
We couldn't help but wonder when the tire actually flattened? In the driveway or on the road? This could have been a major disaster! We counted our blessings and stopped at Camping World for a replacement extender. Next purchase: Remote tire pressure monitor.

But that wasn’t all. The final ‘light check’, a ritual we perform just before leaving, revealed no right turn signal or brake light. An examination of the fuses showed one blown, which was replaced only to blow again. We were running out of time if Janice was going to make it 80 miles upriver for her 3 pm engagement, so we departed, promising to be extra careful making right turns or lane changes. En route, things got worse, with the left turn signal also failing and the ABS warning light coming on. We plodded on, sphincter tightening. Arriving at Memaloose, we set up camp and Janice headed off to Hood River. I located another blown fuse and a likely short in the pig tail between the RV and the toad.

At Memaloose, we enjoyed a great bike ride up the old Columbia Highway, and it was indeed ‘up’ for about 6 miles. Turning around, I was able to coast the entire way back to the town of Mosier, stopping once for a photo op.
We returned to the Grand River restaurant in Mosier for a great Sunday night dinner, Janice dining on Ahi tuna, with my plate (actually a large bowl) full of scallops, clams and pasta. Good grub! We finished off the evening at Mike’s Ice Cream in Hood River, both of us selecting a single scoop boysenberry cheesecake sugar cone. Only $2.00 apiece, a great bargain.

During the night, we heard the unmistakable pitter-patter of rain on the roof again. Having been without internet and TV here, because tree cover blocked satellite access, we were surprised. This continued for several hours and we lamented the poor tent campers if it didn’t break by morning (it did). The pitter-patter and the sugar in the rich ice cream stirred up insomnia for both of us. I see a nap in our future.

Rain in Oregon????

2008-08-22T15:48:00.000-07:00

The story at West Linn has been the weather. After arriving in a sizzle, there were two days of continuous drizzle, interrupted by occasional drenching. Even the Oregonians felt rain-slogged by this un-summery weather. Fritz and Dee returned from Crater Lake, and it was great to re-unite with our friends from the north who allow us to stay at Camp vonTagen. We’ve even got a 50 amp plug-in this year.

One cannot help but be blown away by the immense multi-million dollar enclaves that are so abundant in this area. I have never seen such a concentration of spectacular houses, commonly located on parcels ranging from 6-20 acres. Lush landscaping is the rule. One even sported twin polo fields (reputed to be owned by a ‘dot-commer’). Many are ‘for sale’ in case anybody wants to ‘move up.’ Where did all of this money come from?

With the rain finally departing, Fritz and I went airborne in his Cessna last evening while Janice and Dee attended the Oregon City “Oregon 1859” presentation by the author. After buzzing the ladies and then a winery-owner friend at an altitude of a couple hundred feet, we headed east and south, exploring rivers and riverbanks for favorable locations for Fritz’ future riverside retreat (which will include a concrete RV pad). Gorgeous country from the air, with (again) sprawling estates abundant.

Janice also gave a presentation at world-famous Powell’s Book Store in Portland, an event that was attended by folks from her Timber Press publisher. The book is doing very well, with 2200 copies sold in a little over a month.

A golf ‘practice round’ confirmed that recent low scores were not flukes. The driver even came alive again. If I can just remember how it happened…but that’s golf and the nature of multiple swing thoughts.

Today we met for lunch with Cousin Anne and her mother, Janice’s Aunt Helen. Helen could be a twin for Janice’s late mother--- which was apparent looking at Janice as they greeted one another.
Steak dinner (did I hear ‘red wine’?) is on the evening schedule before we depart in the a.m. headed up the Columbia Gorge to Memaloose State Park near Fort Hood.

Interesting figures: 7.8 mpg for the last 400 miles. Gas now at $3.66. Scrabble: 51-13, one tie.

Salem to Champoeg to West Linn

2008-08-18T18:41:00.000-07:00

This is why it's called Wheatland

Golf at the Illahe Country Club with high school classmate Denny Young, followed by dinner at the club with spouses Janice and Jan. Nice day on the course and an excellent dinner. Later went to the Young’s house to pay our respects to their 20 year old cat, who though getting rickety, is still able to jump up on the couch. The jumper still works---a good sign. When a cat’s jumper goes out…well, never mind.

Janice presented at the Mission Mill Museum as a heat wave descended on northern Oregon. Her room was without air-conditioning, so the gathered fans deserve credit for even showing up. Next a.m. we rode out to the Willamette Mission S.P. and biked the area, crossing the Willamette River on the Wheatland Ferry with our bikes—a first. Nice bike trails.

As the heat continued, we headed to Champoeg, one of our favorite state parks in Oregon. A bike ride along the river under the trees to the Butteville General Store was remarkably cool, but back at the rig, it was A/C time as the heat exceeded 95— a regular Oregon cooker. The author spoke to the gathered ‘campfire’ crowd, who didn’t need a campfire, ‘cause it was still over 90 at the 8:00 ‘showtime.’ As Janice wrapped up, the bats swooped out of the trees against the full moon.

A nice 11 mile bike ride the next a.m., then Janice went solo to the Butteville store for a 3 p.m. talk and booksigning. Nice group gathered indoors to beat the heat. After dinner, we returned to the campfire to see a “post-1861 flood” interpretive performance by docent volunteers. Maybe when we are older geezers we can do the same. A thunderstorm rolled in about 11p.m., beginning to break the heat-wave.

Sunday we headed to our private park at the von Tagen’s in West Linn, where we jockeyed the rig in their front driveway, trying to get a bead on the satellite while remaining close enough to the power outlet. Took a quick trip back to Wilsonville to Camping World, Target and Costco for supplies.

Rain started during the night and threatened the planned golf game in the morning at Stone Creek (near Oregon City). Reaching the parking lot at the course, the cats and dogs were still falling out of the sky. A look at the weather radar indicated that the systems would pass to the east and west of the course, so play began at 9:15. A minor deluge hit at 11:30, but I finished dry and happy with an 85...beat a couple of 30-somethings, who were regularly driving the ball 280-300 yards. Janice graciously finished the wash on her day off. Fritz and Dee (the von Tagens) are at Crater Lake for a few days, so we are performing security guard and cat feeding services at their home.

Sleep Deprived

2008-08-13T11:52:00.000-07:00

Our first night at the Hee Hee Illahee RV Resort was unforgettable. Approximately 7 p.m., the 5th wheel rig next to us suddenly left the park. Couple plus 3 kids. Unusual time to check out. We speculated what may have triggered such a quick departure at that hour. We would find a plausible explanation later.

I awoke about three in the morning to the sound of truck engines and crashing metal. At first I thought it was a dumpster pick-up, but when the sounds repeated dozens of times during the next hour or so, I realized that our Fed-Ex neighbors were the cause of the commotion. Adjacent to the RV park is a central loading/transfer facility for Fed-Ex. Double and triple semi-trucks pull into the yard, are separated, and then backed into the main processing plant to load/unload. The process is then reversed---again and again and again.

Sleep was impossible with the crashing, banging and occasional horn blast. To top things off, a nearby train track carried a whistling train past, as well. Great place to put an RV park!

Janice located earplugs for me and eventually I went to sleep. The translation of “Hee Hee Illahee?” It means “We laugh while you try to sleep.”

In the morning, we headed off to McMinnville, site of the Evergreen Air and Space Museum, which houses Howard Hughes’ Spruce Goose. We had been here two years ago, but were somewhat rushed then, as Carly was snoozing in the car in 95 degree weather. The new Space Museum had just opened in June, so we opted to pay our $12 apiece just to see that part. While there were many nice displays of space capsules, near-space planes like the X-15 and SR-71 (Blackbird), it was obvious that there was a lot of empty space (hence the name “Space” Museum). We were advised that there were “truckloads more on the way” and one local merchant informed us that it was likely that they would get a Space Shuttle. Now that would fill the space. Janice is hopeful that future displays might also feature some of our women space pioneers. Sally Ride was an obvious omission. Our daughter Julie would have been very disappointed as she and a friend did an annual history days project on Sally in 4th grade.

McMinnville is a cozy burg. After stopping by the local book merchant, Janice made contact with a high school classmate, Patty Erends DeRoos, who just happened to be in town from California to assist her brother-in-law in her sister’s absence from the gift shop the couple owns on historic 3rd Street. Very nice place. We lunched at the Wildwood Café, home of the best Rueben sandwiches in the state of Oregon. This was a return visit from 2 years ago. On the way home, we stopped for some wine tasting at the Four Graces, where we purchased a very nice bottle of Pinot Noir for some future special occasion. These Oregon vineyards are every bit as beautiful as their counterparts in Sonoma-Napa.

Back at the rig, it was, of course, Scrabble-time before BBQ salmon and salad. Janice’s win in the first game gave her a first-ever four in a row over the Scrabble-meister, who was obviously afflicted by Fed-Ex sleep deprivation. The win streak was snapped in the night-cap.

Received word that my sister returned safely from Alaska. The bears there won't be welcoming her back soon.

Kowabonga!

2008-08-11T14:54:00.000-07:00

Since leaving Waterloo Park, we “weekend-ed” at the Benton County Fairgrounds RV Park, another past residence of the JM Roadies. Not a 5-star park, but it was convenient to our activities for the weekend, so we moved in, with a background of whinny-ing horses calling from the nearby barns.

Saturday night we were treated to a spectacular wild Chinook BBQ with friends we met on the road 2 years ago. The story goes like this: We were visiting a historic fort location west of Corvallis as part of Janice’s research. Our pooch, the late Carly, began trading sniffs with another dog (Rosie). Apparently their noses were the right temperature, as they became instant friends—both of the mature dogs who had long ago given up puppy antics. As the sniffing continued, we talked with the folks at the end of the leash, finding out they were Corvallis residents, but were formerly from the SF Bay area. The group consisted of a daughter, Jan Roberts-Dominguez, somewhat younger than us, who is a talented food editor, author and artist. She was accompanied by her parents, probably in their 70s, who were Rosie’s meal ticket. Over the next 2 years, Janice kept in touch with Jan.

The food was amazing, but what would you expect from such a gastronomical maestro? Other guests included a vintner (Tyee Wines) so there was no shortage of social lubricant. I suppose the least we could have done would have been to toast Carly. But for her sticking her nose in Rosie’s rump, this Corvallis soiree would never have occurred.

Sunday morning we were up early and headed west to Toledo, where the combined aromas of the local pulp plant and the mud flats of the local river produced an aromatic stench that was unforgettable. Toledo was the site of the City Café, pre-arranged meeting place with Zana and Jeri, fellow roadies from the Mexico caravan. Previous meetings with them occurred in Yellowstone Park and Laguna Seca, near Monterey. Exceptional omelettes in this hole in the wall. When we left, the wind had cleared the air, and we headed for the next stop, the Nesika Illahee Pow-Wow (aka Indian Jamboree).

There were probably more vendors than attendees at this event, and every Indian-related trinket known to man were being offered. I wore my "Cowboy Café" T-shirt from Dubois, Wyoming, but none of the Indians present held any cowboy grudges. Various ceremonies were held in a central “ring” with a parade of fully dressed Indians in costume that went on and on and on. The dazzling display of feathers was a fly-tyers’s dream. The author conferred briefly with Robert Kentta who reviewed the Indian portions of her book for accuracy, thanking him personally. We managed to escape the premises without making a single purchase---the morning’s omelette sat in my stomach like a sack of cement---there would be no squaw-bread snacks.

We wound our way home along Highway 20, over hill and dale, often through tunnels of tree-canopies. Arriving home, we set up the Scrabble table, splitting the evening’s double-header. Running trip score: Jeff 43, Janice 10, one tie.

Before leaving for Salem this morning, we enjoyed a bike ride. Wonderful bike paths in Corvallis. Worth spending a night or two at the fairgrounds. Coincidentally, we ran across our Saturday night dinner hosts, who were out walking Rosie, who was prolifically filling blue plastic bags. I enjoyed giving Rosie a final scratch behind the ears and a pat on the rump: “This one’s from Carly.”

Blog Filler

2008-08-07T20:08:00.000-07:00

Occasionally, as we travel the highways, stopping for rest and respite at various RV parks and/or campgrounds, the conduct of fellow campers detracts from the enjoyment of the moment. Way up there on my list of annoyances are “yappy-dogs”. The most recent offense occurred this morning as I stepped outside the rig to greet the new day.

A rather rumply lady was rummaging in the area of the garbage bins at the Mallard Creek RV and Golf Resort. In the background, piercing through the still morning silence was the unmistakable call of the “yappy-dog.” As it increased the volume of its serenade, the lady near the garbage bins repeatedly hollered “No!” in the direction of the offending pooch. (“Pooch” is really too nice a word to use for Y-Ds, which typically resemble large furry rats.)

These “No” commands had zero effect. In actuality, the lady at the garbage bins knew it wouldn’t. This was her mutt, and her commands were but an attempted subterfuge to simply blame it all on her dog. The fact that she had never spent a moment training the dog, choosing instead to empty bags of potato chips in front of the TV, was the real cause of the miscreant mutt. Listening closely to the bark of this dog, it was apparent that it was a chronic Y-D violator. There was a certain hoarseness to the bark. The human condition mirroring this tonal deficit can often be heard emanating from the pie-hole of a semi-toothed, long-term smoker-lady, habituated to frequent evenings of cheap bourbon and/or generic beer.

As luck would have it, the Y-D disappeared within the hour, heading down the road with the rumply lady in her somewhat rumply old rig. Undoubtedly another will arrive soon. Y-Ds are everywhere.

Changing the subject, Janice drew a large crowd at the Corvallis Public library for her Oregon 1859 presentation. “Large” hereabouts means 67 people, many of whom returned home with a copy personally signed by the author..

We moved from the Mallard Creek RV Park to the nearby Waterloo County Park, where we are paying the geezer rate of $15 per night for water and electricity. The ‘savings’ over the $30 Mallard Creek rate served to defray golf fees today, the second round at the Mallard Creek course. We’ve stayed here before and found it to be a good way-station.

We are about 100 feet from the Santiam River (via a bushy, tree covered trail.) Enjoyed reading on the beach yesterday to beat the heat, which was hovering around a muggy 90 degrees.

Hopefully, some pics will be forthcoming.

Crooked River Ranch

2008-08-03T18:07:00.000-07:00

The final night at Casey’s found several of us sitting around a campfire, sipping a little wine and talking about where the roads of the future would take us. Dog tricks by Honey (companion of "L. C." ) provided entertainment.

Next, leaving at 7:30 a.m., we headed east up Highway 58, stopping briefly in Oakridge for the obligatory hazelnut non-fat latte, seeking to contribute our final shekels to boost the economic recovery. “Good lattes,” my co-pilot advised. “Nice and hot!”

We arrived at the Crooked River Ranch RV Park about 11:30 a.m., considerably ahead of schedule. This allowed some relaxation before heading to Sisters for an Oregon 1859 presentation by the author at the local bookstore. Approximately 20 wandered in for the 6:30 start, including a nonagenerian (90+) who sat in the front row and interjected comments and questions throughout the presentation. “Whazzat?” “Is that right?” “Isn’t that something”, etc. It was good practice for the author in case she gets a real heckler on the tour.

Saturday featured two presentations by the author in Bend and Redmond. At the Des Chutes Historical Center in Bend she was surprised to see a high school teacher of our kids, Mr. De Gusta, who strongly influenced daughter Julie in her selection of DNA as a career field. Also present was the couple from St. Louis that we met at Crater Lake. When we arrived at the Saturday evening event in Redmond for a 6:30 event, the sign on the door announced Janice’s presentation for July 19 (two weeks prior) and at 4:30. Nevertheless, thanks to a blurb in the local fish wrapper, about 30 showed.

Today was a free day, and we enjoyed downtown Bend (along the waterfront), finally sitting on the green at the amphitheater to enjoy some bluegrass in the afternoon from Crooked Still, out of Boston. I slathered myself with SPF 50 while the sun tried to bake me at 85 degrees.

The big news for this stop was the round of golf played at Crooked River Ranch course, resulting in a personal best of 78. No double-bogeys and no three putts. I am now hoping that Janice will forget the promise I made 10 years ago that I would quit golf when I broke 80. Admittedly not the toughest course, but I was consistent throughout and never did hear the little voice that sometimes says, “Jeff, you’re just not this good” during a hot streak.

A near tragedy occurred when our wine cork screw broke. This is the most frequently used tool by RVers, and we are certainly no exception. A successor tool was acquired in Sisters and appears to be sufficiently stout to last at least the duration of this trip.

Can’t stop without a comment about the RV park here. Gravel sites, close together, not level and our neighbors on all sides were holding a family gathering that began Friday night with a keg party that went well beyond midnight. I guess that is what the RV park review means when they say “this is a family park.” Internet reception required me to lasso branches of the birch tree adjacent to our sight and pull them out of the way of the satellite dish. OK, so I snipped a few branches, too. They are hidden in the weeds behind the rig.

This is a good place to bring the kids and grand kids, especially if they like keggers. Nice swimming pool, too. But for geezers like us, I think we’ll take this one off the list, even though the golf course is exceptionally well manicured and was quite ‘user friendly’ for me.

Heading west in the a.m. across the Cascades on Hwy 20. Gas is under $4.00 there so we will pass on a fill-up here at $4.15. It’s downhill on the last half in case we run short.

Sighted today in Bend:

Farewell to Casey's RV Park

2008-07-31T12:46:00.000-07:00

We enjoyed our dinner gathering last night, and chatted among visiting mosquitoes until after 10. There are some mighty fine folks RVing, and we have been fortunate to meet many of them. ‘Back home’, there just aren’t the opportunities to meet people like this. Folks on the road welcome the contact by fellow roadies, and pretenses quickly disappear. It’s just a matter of walking up to somebody sitting in front of their rig and saying,”Where are you from?”, or similar ‘opener.’ It usually flows from there, with discussions of common travels, etc. It’s reminiscent of the friendships formed many years ago in summer camp.

Despite a somewhat ‘slow’ start, we are again fans of Casey’s. I think it was a matter of simply finding our ‘road rhythm’ which takes about a week. Can’t imagine a more beautiful park setting, and sleeping with the music of the rolling river playing in the background is hard to beat. Don’t even hear the half-dozen freight trains that pass through the night across the way. There is hiking, biking, and beautiful drives to last the summer, if one chose to do so. There are really no touristy destination spots close by to suck the money from your wallet (excluding, of course, occasional rounds of golf). Most special this year have been the people we have met here.

We’ll be back next year, but probably not for a month. Nevertheless, we’ll likely stop by the park office today to make some reservations for next year---forcing us to do some early planning.
Apologies to the residents of Oakridge who may have been maligned by previous blog entries, especially those who can read. We all view the world through unique prisms, and I was just calling ‘em as I see them. And, if you ever visit Oakridge make sure to visit Crystel’s Exquisite Boutique on First Street next to the Corner Bar. Bring wads of cash!

Next stop: Crooked River Ranch north of Redmond.

More Days of Miscellany

2008-07-30T16:47:00.000-07:00

A delayed report, but we found one of Oregon’s finest Chinese restaurants located in little ‘ol Oakridge. Owner Jeff Lee, formerly of Park City, Utah and Vail, Colorado, established his eatery on the main drag 6 months ago. Exceptionally fresh vegetables, large prawns and succulent beef. “No buffet…cheap food,” Lee says. He’s a hard-working guy, and guarantees that you won’t find a lick of MSG in his place, Lee's Gourmet Garden. If you like that throbbing MSG headache, you better pass on this one. We enjoyed our waitress, whose banter was quick and humorous. Imka and Michael shared this nice meal with us.

Time for some sightseeing, so we headed down to Crater Lake, some 100 miles south. Arriving there, the smell of California forest fire smoke was in the air, casting a grey-brown haze, and somewhat spoiling the view of the lake. There would be no world-class snapshots on this day. Some tourists from St.Louis gaped their first peek at an overlook and were stunned. Didn’t mind the smoke. “There ain’t nothin’ like this in St. Louis,” they commented. We had been at Crater Lake before on pristine days, especially so 2 years ago in April when it was surrounded by snow. It's always a spectacular view.

We were determined to get some exercise, so we hiked down to the lake…about an 800 foot drop in a little over a mile. The excursion boat departed from the beach there, but they were sold out for the day. Get your tickets early for this cruise---looks like a good one, hazy or not. Not many folks have actually stuck a toe (or finger) in Crater Lake, but I added this to my list of accomplishments. We split a sandwich at the Rim restaurant, saving room for our treat a few hours later. Would we drive 50 miles for pie ala mode? Not on your life, unless it was from Beckie’s Café near Prospect. This was our third visit in 3 years….and we normally don’t do dessert. Got a boysenberry pie for the road, too, for sharing with campmates. On the way back, we glimpsed at Diamond Lake, which might be a future sojourn. Many waterfalls nearby on the Umpqua highway.

Played a round at the Emerald Valley GC in Creswell, some 10 miles south of Eugene, while Janice paid a few visits to bookstores (note, IRS). It was also time for us to visit Trader Joes for replenishment of the three-buck Chuck wine cellar, as well as classier vino for the author. Whether it’s two-buck or three-bucks, such grape-swill will not touch her lips. Even gave a bottle of three-buck to camp-mates Enno and Kathy, who were otherwise likely to go blind drinking Crane Lake Chardonnay, purchased for $3.99 at Ray’s in Oakridge. Could be a life–changing experience for these cheap wine connoisseurs.

Power outage last night at dinner time when a nearby tree fell on power lines, causing a transformer to explode. No problem for us, as the fridge just switched over to propane. Not so for the mega-bucks 42 foot coach next to us, whose fridge is electric only. The owner remorsely advised that he would have to run his (stinky) diesel generator to save the filet mignons no doubt in his freezer. His exhaust outlet was next to our boudoir, and we feared sure asphyxiation. Rather than hang out at our rig during the evening, we declared a ‘diesel fume alert’ and schlepped a few glasses of vino upwind at Enno and Kathy’s rig. The power came on after a couple hours, and we were able to sleep healthfully through the night back at our rig.

Today was declared an official cleaning day, so we spic and spanned the rig, inside and out, and I even did the laundry, after a false start when the power went down again. The place is show-room clean again, and the author is ready to begin her visits to bookstores, libraries and other history-focused venues beginning Saturday.

Scrabble update: Jeff 34, Janice 8, one tie. New personal high for Jeff: 535 points.

Catching Up

2008-07-26T17:56:00.000-07:00

Sometimes life on the road doing nothing gets a bit busy. Hence the blog has been deferred in favor of other activities, which, at the particular moment, were more compelling. Only history will tell whether this chronicle of posterity has been given short shrift.

The week's highlight was Janice's first official book tour presentation in Casey's clubhouse, attended by perhaps 20-30 fellow RVers. This was a good shake-down for the weeks to come.

Complete with power-point type projector, she dispensed an interesting dose of Oregon history. Good book reviews continue with the Oregon press.

Thursday, sister Mya whistled by us on Amtrak on her way to Alaska, pursuing her wildlife adventure trek. In broad daylight! Had we known of her passage through this region (the tracks are just on the other side of the river), we would have held up appropriate signs as she passed by: “ Don’t feed the grizzlies!” “Smoke some salmon!” She would have been the toast of the train in her high perch in the Vista-dome car. Instead, she snuck through here stealthily, preferring to travel anonymously. Oh well. Have a nice trip.

A bike ride on Friday found us heading up the Aufderheide Highway again. Janice faltered at the 11-mile mark, while I pedaled in a zombie-like trance for 13 miles, before returning to rejoin Janice for the downhill leg home. She subsequently visited the local bike shop for a $10 tune-up, a new kickstand and a mirror. Her old kickstand was a couple inches short (thanks, Costco!)---might as well just drop the bike on the ground.

Nice chaps at the Oakridge bike shop. (Did you know that proper seat height can be determined by multiplying your inseam x .883? The resultant number should be the distance from the center of the pedal crank to the center top of the seat. No charge for that valuable piece of info.)
Today found us heading to the hills with park-mates Michael and Imka, full-timers from Cambria, CA. They picked a great hike to Lillian Falls and beyond, chauffeuring us to the trail head, no less. (Paid 'em off with a Dairy Queen cone!) At the turnaround (3 miles and 1400 ft. elevation gain), we were blocked from traveling further by Nettie Creek. No bridge or other crossing. Janice’s grandmother Nettie used to volunteer as a camp cook in this area for a mountaineering group 75 or so years ago, so we have concluded that this creek was named after her. Not many other Netties have passed this way. Wahoo, Nettie!

Scored golf rounds at the local nine have been 91 and 93. Likely the final round here tomorrow as a tune-up for a Tuesday visit to Emerald Valley GC in Creswell.

Ah, yes, we visited the Oakridge boutique, having met the proprietor in the local mexi-food bistro. Very nice pieces of imported German glassware and porcelain Santa Claus figurines, many priced in the +$1000 range. (Glassware in Oakridge means paper cups, and porcelain only exists in the bathroom.) Clothing included knit sweaters and denim jackets embedded with rhinestones and other baubles ringing up in the +$100 range. As much as we found this lady charming, we left her shop without a purchase. She has thousands of $$$ in inventory that will simply never sell unless she pays somebody to hi-jack a tourist bus from LA. Ya gotta love her optimism, though. Someday, Oakridge will boom again---in a parallel universe.

A Licorice Buzz

2008-07-22T14:30:00.000-07:00

After 12 pieces of black licorice today, I am on the verge of licorice intoxication. Hard to stop after just one piece. This isn’t ordinary licorice, or that gummy “Swizzler” variety. It is ‘Red Vines’ finest ‘black licorice,’ purchased last week at Walmart for $1.29 a pound-sized bag. Good licorice is like a good red wine, though. It needs to breathe a bit before consumption. If the bag can be ripped open and left on the shelf at least a week, the licorice takes on a taffy-like toughness that chews for a long time. It also needs to be nipped off in little chunks no longer than ½ inch. When driving the RV down the highway, it can instantly restore alertness---it sells by the case at truck stops.
Truckers never use red licorice—the kind that secretaries keep on their desks in those one-foot diameter licorice tubs from Costco. Just too wussy.
Can’t write about it without snagging 2 more pieces. Hanging out of my mouth like a good cigar. Now you know the basics of licorice.

Today’s morning exercise consisted of a walk through the woods behind the nearby USFS headquarters, followed by a stroll along Highway 58, returning to camp. The latter segment was anything but refreshing, as we had to share the road for a couple miles with mammoth trucks zooming along the 2 lane roadway. We occasionally hopped over the guardrail to escape certain pulverization, hanging on as the post-truck “blow” nearly sucked us off our feet.
Quite a collection of detritus along the roadway. A roadside collection of America on the go: Soft drink cups and bottles, gum wrappers, slabs of tire tread, gas caps, empty cigarette packs, and a paper-thin lizard that tried unsuccessfully to get to the other side of the road. Very surprised that we didn’t see some old pedestrian fragments. They need a Saturday work-day by the local inmates, or is that, too, “cruel and unusual punishment” now?

While dining the other night at the local Mazatlan Mexican Restaurant (good chow), we met an Oakridge couple in the booth next to us. She, a German- accented fraulein in her 70s and he, a spry octogenarian, were engaging. They had obviously been eavesdropping on our conversation, and she interjected over the booth top when our dinner-mates told us they had almost gotten lost in Oakridge, “Achtung! You can nicht get lost in das Oakridge.” This led to a full-blown meeting in the parking lot where she extolled the virtues of Oakridge, likely trying to convince herself (again) that there was a sane, logical reason to move here. She owns an upscale clothing and glassware boutique in one of the most dilapidated sections of town, next to the Corner Bar, in case you’re looking for it. Driving by her store later, we saw little evidence of her claim that the town will be rejuvenated….soon, and she will be riding the crest of the boom. ‘Upscale’ around here means new polyester seat covers for the pick-up truck..

The local press heralded the opening of a boat manufacturing plant at the site of the old Oakridge mill. 12 to 14 locals would be hired to make fiberglass boat hulls, at a time when RV plants and boat builders in Oregon are pulling the plug. Having lived in a struggling burg once before (Yreka), we are well aware of the drunken optimism that attaches to any inkling of economic development, only to have hopes dashed when the phoenix fails to rise out of the ashes. This phoenix won't fly---mark my words.

Cloudy and cool (60s) today. Wearing long pants (jeans) for only the second time since arriving in Oregon..

We have befriended "Honey,"one of the RV park dogs, and look forward to her daily walks through the park. She's an eleven year old female lab.

Finding Waldo

2008-07-19T16:47:00.000-07:00

Thursday we went down the hill to Pleasant Hill for dinner at the Sunrise Café, meeting Janice’s cousin Ron and his wife Judie. Surprisingly good food (lobster raviolis) for a hole-in-the-wall joint along Highway 58. A little thin on ambiance—fluorescent lights overhead and a few flies buzzing about. We were out of there shortly after 8:00 when they began rolling up the sidewalk.

Today’s great adventure began with a haircut—always a risk on the road. The barberess advised me that she once cut rocker Curt Cobain’s hair, along with “all the other rockers in Seattle.” She was now the head scalper in Oakridge. And speaking of scalping, when she asked “How short do you want it, bub?”, I replied, “I’m on the road, so I’d like this one to last a while.” Judging from the results, a “while” hereabouts might last me until we return home in October!

Following my shearing, we headed east on Highway 58, in search of Waldo---Waldo Lake that is. This had been the intended destination of an overland snow-trail hike a little over a year ago, when our dog Carly stumbled into an energy-field vortex and inexplicably took off running hucklety-buck through the woods while Janice and I hysterically yelled for her to “Come, Carly”, despite the fact that she was stone deaf. She eventually returned, but never did find Waldo---Lake. That was her last major hike as she became a doggie geriatric soon thereafter.

Well, we did find Waldo Lake, with intentions of a nice hike and lunch along the shoreline. As the forest service maven explained to us, there had been record snowfall at the lake (6000 ft) and the campgrounds were not being opened until next week. Too many downed trees, etc. One of the other by-products of record snowfall was a bumper crop of mosquitoes, who have been enjoying a breeding frenzy in the little pondlets left by the melting snow. We slathered up with repellent, but we soon discovered that the Waldo Lake mosquitoes regarded repellent as a marinade sauce. Our intended lunch along a tree-lined shore was abandoned in favor of a rock jetty where a breeze off the lake kept the critters at bay.
After lunch, we relaxed, reading and (Janice) snoozing. The hike was delayed until our return drive when we stooped at Salt Creek Falls, one of Oregon’s finest cataracts.

For those who might be interested in my golfing exploits, I have yet to record a scored round at the Circle Bar course, instead using this former cow pasture for practice, since the closest driving range is 40 miles away.

More Potpourri

2008-07-17T13:17:00.000-07:00

Today’s exercise consisted of a drive into Oakridge, then unloading the bikes for a run up Salmon Creek Road. Nice ride through trees/ferns (what else) along Salmon Creek. Fairly gentle hills until the 8 mile mark, where a looming monster hill convinced us that it was time to turn around. The Salmon Creek Campground (USFS) was nice. In our next incarnation when we return as tent campers, we’ll be there for sure.

It’s a small world… A few days ago we met fellow Casey’s RV-guests, Bill Brown and Susan Dona, current full-timers who lived in Sacramento, less than a half-mile from our home, as the crow flies. (Actually the crows aren’t flying there much anymore—West Nile Virus is knocking them out of the trees—aerial spraying is underway!). And don't worry, they're not shacking up in that motorhome--they are married! We shared a dinner together and then “campfired” (without a campfire—just the wine) last night. Discussions were curtailed at 10:30—we could have easily gone into the wee hours. Much in common. Like us, both are former CA state employees. We know his sister, whose son used to hang out with daughter Julie at our former church. Bill and Susan are road warriors. (http://www.CoolJourney.net). Their RV travels have taken them to many of the spots we have visited. Plenty of fodder for campfire chatter. They departed this morning. Hope to cross paths with them again. Sure get to meet some nice people ‘on the road.’

Yesterday we drove the vaunted Aufderheide Scenic Byway, a 65-mile drive through the woods north to Hwy 126, the McKenzie River Highway. We listened to a loaner CD that provided information about the route (from the USFS) as we drove through miles and miles of Jurassic Park-like greenery. So much greenery that I longed to see cactus before it was over. In the course of advancing the CD, we missed about 20 miles of narration. It was a yawner anyway. Lunch at Cougar Reservoir.

Weather has moderated a bit after hitting the mid-nineties earlier this week. Will be meeting Janice’s cousin (and wife) for dinner in Pleasant Hill, a burg 30 miles distant on the way to Eugene.