10-11-09

My plan was to get to San Antonio, see The Alamo and head south to McAllen, my final destination. The Alamo opened at 10:00 on Sunday and I was about an hour away.
I’d been at the rest stop for a long time, so I decided to just make coffee and eat breakfast later, perhaps at the Alamo parking lot before I went in.
It was raining heavily as I got ready to roll. It continued to rain as I drove. It wasn’t difficult rain, just a thick mist of small drops.
I was glad to be going through San Antonio on a Sunday morning rather than on a busy weekday.
I was surprised at how big of a city San Antonio is and that The Alamo is tucked in right down town. I found the Alamo, but there was no place to park. The don’t have parking, not even for cars much less a motorhome with a trailer. It reminded me of Metrodome parking in Minneapolis where small businesses have signs, “Parking $8”. Most of them had signs specifically saying, “No Bus, or RV Parking”. Not that they were jerks, or anything, the lots really were too small.
I drove round and round up and down the old, narrow one-way streets in vain, unable to find anything even closely big enough for me to park in. I was about to give up and head south when I found a hotel parking lot that had some wide open areas. There were signs all over telling me that I couldn’t park there. One of the great side-effects of breaking down in South Dakota and getting towed was that I know how long it took to get my motorhome ready to tow and how big of a machine it took to do it. Bob, the tow truck driver worked quickly and efficiently and it took him an hour and a half to two hours to get it all ready. I know I can leave my bus for an hour and it will still bet there when I get back. I parked, snuck out the side door and hoofed it to The Alamo. Again I was glad it was Sunday morning, or it never would have worked.
The Alamo’s architecture, gardens and history are a sight to behold. It is hallowed ground. I walked the 4 acre complex and then went inside. I took a picture and was immediately, yet politely told, “I’m sorry sir, no pictures”. I apologized and put my camera away. The Alamo is a shrine and I learned of its importance. After quickly soaking it in I was eager to get back to the bus before they found an industrial size boot for one of my wheels. It was safe and sound. No one had cared, or even noticed. I fired her up and headed south on 218 for the border.
I stopped at a picnic area for the long over due breakfast that I had intended to cook in the Alamo‘s parking area. When I fired up the generator it was slow to start and made a clanking sound. The display on the microwave was so faint I could barely read it. I’m older than I look, but still from the computer age. All I know is to re-boot. I turned the generator off and on. This time it made a loud bang as it came to life, but was running smoothly. Again the microwave display was faint. I went outside and opened up front of the bus where the generator is. It was very wet inside from driving through the rain all morning, “Maybe it‘s just wet” I thought. One of the battery connections was loose too, so I tightened it. When I went inside it was now working okay.
After breakfast I headed south and drove all afternoon. When I got to McAllen I found a Wal-Mart parking lot and pulled in to check it out. I’ve found all extremes of RV friendly Wal-Mart’s. The best sign is when there is a group of RVs set up for the night. There are literal signs too. Everything from signs welcoming you to signs telling you to leave. I wasn’t sure of this parking lot. There were no RVs, but no signs telling me I couldn‘t stay either. I parked and flagged down the security guard’s car that was headed in my direction anyway. I asked him, “Do you let RVs park here overnight?” He said three sentences to me in Spanish and shrugged his shoulders. I wasn’t sure if he meant yes, or no, so I asked again. He replied and again I couldn’t understand his words, but somehow this time I read his body language. My interpretation was that he said, “Yeah, sure, who cares, there’s plenty of room”. Relieved I went back to the bus and called it home.
I walked to Chilies near by and felt so relieved that I had made it to McAllen. I had the giggles for over an hour. I hadn’t realized that I was stressed on the road until I had actually made it. As I walked back from eating the birds in the trees and on the wires were so loud it almost hurt. I remembered reading that this was the bird watching capital of the US. It felt very welcoming.

10-10-09

I was up at sunrise and eager to get rollin’ thru Texas. I spent all day doing just that,\; rollin’.
Texas has a speed limit of 80mph on the interstate. It’s marked at 70mph for trucks. I floated between 70 and 80 making good time. It was nice to have long straight wide roads to make up some time.
Texas rest areas have wireless internet. Last night my computer detected no signal what so ever. It’s okay because I have my air card and can get internet on my laptop anywhere there is a cell phone signal. I get 5 gigs a month which is a lot, but sometimes I like to get a good free signal and download a bunch of big pod casts. If I can get a bunch for free it stretches my wireless plan. I’ve gotten quite good at spotting cell towers along the road side and off on the horizon. I got up and drove right away and planned to stop at a rest area for breakfast later and to try to utilize the Texas free internet.
I did make coffee before I left. The drive was good. I felt like I was making good progress. I was now in the central time zone which made me feel close to home in Minnesota. It was much warmer in Texas though. It was in the mid 60s early in the morning. I put a bunch of miles behind me then pulled into a rest area. As I pulled in I was pleasantly surprised by an RV water dump and fill station. I’d been needing to dump and fill soon. Usually I have to find a campground and pay 5 to 12 dollars. This was free and right on my path.
After I dumped and filled I tried to log on to the Texas internet. It was better then last night. My computer could read a faint signal. I could get on, but it was so weak it was almost unusable. I ate, rested and took a little walk. As I explored I saw the satellite dish that caught the internet signal. I looked at where the wires went and on a pole there were two transmitters. They were both aimed at the car part of the rest stop completely in the opposite direction of where I was parked. I decided that at the next rest stop I would stop early and get out to see where the internet signal would be good, then move to a better spot. I can’t back up with my Jeep behind the bus and some rest stops are one way in, thru and then you’re back on the interstate.
I stopped for diesel and washed my windshield, well I washed the driver’s side of my windshield. There are a lot of big bugs in Texas. As I drove I kept seeing butterflies coming towards me. I swerved to try to get them to hit the still dirty passenger side of the windshield. It seemed reckless to be swerving in an attempt to keep my clean side clean, so I decided to just let ‘em hit where they hit.
After a long day’s drive I pulled into a nice rest area and picked out my spot. I had almost a perfect place, except there was one car in the way. I pulled up close behind it so when it left I could roll forward and get the spot. As I waited I watched people. There were several different guys who after awhile I got suspicious of. They would get out of there car, or truck, walk around, get in the vehicle, move it, get out, look around, walk a bit and look around. I started to think there was some sort of undercover sting operation going on. The car in front of me still hadn’t left. “Was he a drug smuggler? Where these other guys under cover DEA agents?” I thought. I decided to get out and walk around and watch what they were up to. I wanted to make sure I was parked in a safe place for the night. As I walked around, looking around, checking out parking places and cautiously looking at people, I realized I’m too one of the suspicious guys. They’re just trying to find a good safe parking place and sizing up the people at the rest stop.
I talked to the guy parked in front of me. Jerry was Puerto Rican and we struggled to understand each other. He’d been there for two days with a broken down car and was planning on staying again tonight. We talked for about an hour. He too was driving alone all over America. We had some good laughs about life on the road. He had a radio that he could plug in at the picnic shelter and at least listen to that. Much like me, everything he owned was with him, except he was living in a Honda Civic and I was in a 35’ motorhome. Life had thrown him a curve ball, yet he seemed happy and felt blessed to be free and living an adventure.

10-09-09

I got up at 6:30 to go check out the Albuquerque International Balloon Fiesta which coincidently was taking place while I was in town. I figured I’d be the only one there that early in the morning. I couldn’t have been more wrong. It’s the largest balloon event on Earth with over 600 balloons, the largest international event held in the US and also the most photographed event on Earth. About 100,000 people attend it each year.
Parking was $10 and admission $6. I found a strip mall parking lot about a mile away and parked my Jeep for free. The line up of cars for the $10 parking stretched back to where I had parked. For once my cheapness worked in my favor. I walked past the line of cars and got to Balloon Fiesta Park before they did.
As I walked in to the park, Dawn Patrol was taking place. They send up some balloons just before sunrise to get a feel of the conditions.
At 7:00 was the Special Shapes Rodeo, a launching of balloons that are anything other than the usual round shape. Almost anything imaginable took to the sky. Crowd favorites included; Darth Vader, The Space Shuttle and a beer mug.
It was fun for me to hear two local radio announcers call the play by play. One of them was a ballooner and had some great insight into what was happening. Of course they cunningly worked in a lot of plugs for local advertisers.
After the Special Shapes Rodeo was the Bean Bag Toss and Key Grab. Hundreds of balloons came over the horizon toward the park and attempted to drop their bean bag closest to targets and grab keys off of long poles that stuck up into the air. The skill of the pilots was very impressive. The crowd would watch with anticipation as a balloon would get close to a pole, then all at ounce shout, “OOH!” as the key would be inches out of reach, or “YAY!” when someone would grab one. One of the 5 keys had a certificate for a brand new hot air balloon. All of the keys were taken, so someone did win the grand prize.
I overheard a local woman in the crowd say, “There’s just no Albuquerque Box today, it‘s too warm”. I had to ask, “What’s the Albuquerque Box?” She explained that that’s why the fiesta is in Albuquerque. The conditions create a situation where near the ground the wind blows north, then up above that the wind blows south. A skilled pilot can go round and round over the field like a ferris wheel. She went on to explain a lot of interesting balloon knowledge. I said, “You should be up there doing play by play”.
After enjoying the amazing balloon display and thousands of smiling kids of all ages I walked back to my Jeep and drove to the bus to head south to Texas. As I left I felt sad to leave Albuquerque. It was such a wonderful city to stumble upon.
It took several hours to reach Texas. El Paso traffic was busy, but I made it through just fine. After El Paso, traffic thinned out to virtually nothing.
I stopped for the night at a small rest area just past Van Horn on Interstate 10. Before I went to bed I adjusted my fog lights. It was the first time I was parked in the dark with a long stretch of pavement before me, without anyone to disturb in the way.

10-08-09

The Wal Mart parking lot was surprisingly quiet for being right in the middle of Albuquerque and close to the Interstate 40, Interstate 25 interchange.
When I opened my curtain my RV neighbor was taking pictures of the sky. I remembered that I learned the night before on the internet that the annual Hot Air Balloon Fiesta was taking place. I grabbed my camera and rushed outside. It is a huge festival. Balloon Fiesta Park is even on my road atlas.
I spent much of the morning cleaning the bus and checking its mechanical systems. I planned to stay in Albuquerque for the day. Coincidently there is a man in town who is considering donating his motorhome to Los Caminos Del Rio, the program I’m headed to Texas to volunteer for. Being that I’m in town and familiar with motorhomes it would be convenient for me to check it out. Plus I could use a day to recuperate. After hitting 7 national parks and Hoover Dam in 8 days I could use a break.
I went into Wal Mart and stocked up on supplies. I hadn’t bought groceries for well over a thousand miles. Everyone in the store was cheery. As I put things in my cart I grew cheery too. Everything I got was about a dollar cheaper than I had ever seen it. When I checked-out, my total was low. I think it was the first time ever that I had gotten groceries and not felt bad about how much they cost.
I noticed an orange sign about a block from where I was parked. It said something “BURGER”. I walked down to check it out. It was Whataburger and what a burger it was. Not only was it the burger I had been searching for for miles, the people were all smiling, all of them, the employees, the manager and the customers. I looked around intentionally to find someone who was not smiling, but every last person was smiling. “Why is everyone in Albuquerque smiling?” I thought. “The balloons, the burgers, could it be the 320 days of sunshine a year?” James Brown was playing, “I feel good!” and I too felt good.
I went to go see the motorhome that perhaps would be donated to Los Caminos Del Rio to help them protect and preserve the Rio Grand. It was certainly not a camper, perhaps RV and motorhome were not good enough labels either. It was a motor coach. A 2004, 38’ Holiday Rambler Admiral in beautiful shape, with all the bells and whistles. I could tell right away that it was very well cared for. The tires were covered, the windows were covered. It was clean and shiny. I met the owners and learned that he waxed it each year which usually takes about a month. I checked it out, took some pictures and emailed them to Texas.

10-07-09

It was a pleasant drive to the Petrified Forest, about an hour form the rest stop that I slept at.
Interstate 40 runs along with the historic Route 66. There are a lot of cool 50’s themed shops and restaurants, some new, some original, some closed and deteriorating.
There are many great pieces of petrified wood lying on the ground in Petrified Forest National Park, ranging from small stone size fragments to full size trees. It is heavy and has a hardness of 7 out of 10 on the hardness scale. One woman even picked up a piece and pronounced that it is indeed heavy. Later I joked next to a huge piece, “I could pick up that one, but I don’t want to disturb the park”.
I drove from site to site and walked along the trails. It was a hot day, but very windy. I almost felt like I had the flu as I had hot and cold flashes.
Usually I’m barefoot, or wearing flip flops which make my “feet on hallowed ground” pictures easy to take. Due to the sometimes cold temperature I had on socks and shoes. I had to get a picture of my foot with petrified wood, so I took of a shoe and sock. A woman walked by and I explained, “I know its sill, but I have to get a picture with my foot”. She said, “I understand, I have a dinosaur”. Later down the trail I caught her taking a picture of a petrified log with her little plastic dinosaur standing on it.
I wandered through the park for hours, then got back on Interstate 40 and followed Route 66 off and on into New Mexico.
I made it to my goal of Albuquerque and found the Wal Mart parking lot that I planned to call home for perhaps two nights. I used to be a Wal Mart boycotter, but now when I’m driving late into the night and looking for a place to sleep when I see the sign it’s like nirvana on the horizon.

10-06-09

The Grand Canyon was fairly busy even in October. People from all over the world were excited to be there and see firsthand what makes the canyon grand. It is indeed incomprehensibly large. Even standing there looking at it in person it’s hard to fathom just how vast of a distance it is.
A woman from Asia joked to me while watching here husband and sons lingering close to the edge, “Get grown men here and they run around like children, I thought I had two boys, I have three”.
I spent all morning and part of the afternoon hiking and simply gazing at Earth and all her splendor. I felt truly blessed just to be alive and to live and breathe.
I drove to Wupatki National Monument. Honestly I wasn’t sure at all what it was, but it was on my way and my National Park Pass would cover the entry fee.
It was a quiet desert prairie. There were a few travelers there, but it had a much more natural feel than the touristy Grand Canyon.
I pulled into the first sight, the Box Canyon Dwellings and read the information. Wupatki National Monument protects 800 year old dwellings of puebloan people. I walked the trail to the remains of two pueblos. I was amazed that these structures were still somewhat in tact after 800 years. There were information signs that told of the people’s lifestyle and what the area was like when they lived there. Much of it remains a mystery.
It would have been a difficult environment to survive in. Water is very scarce and so are a lot of things that rely on water, such as food and fire wood. The scenery is stunningly gorgeous. I imagined what it would have been like to grow up there. I think it would have been wonderful to grow and play and gather food, not knowing what lied over the horizon. What animals, what places and people were out there? I can see why people of the past so easily believed in eccentric Gods, spirits and magic. It was such a wonderful place. I stayed until the sun began to set. I’m so glad I stopped.
I got back in the bus and headed for Interstate 40 to take east. I slept at a really nice rest area west of Flagstaff.

10-05-09

I still wasn’t sure if I was allowed to drive the bus over Hoover Dam, but I headed there anyway. Even if I couldn’t drive over it I still wanted to check it out.
On the way signs said, “No Trucks, or Busses on Hoover Dam”. The internet said RVs were okay, but there is a big construction project going on, they’re building a bridge next to the dam. The internet information could be out dated.
When I got to the dam I found that I indeed would be able to drive across. I had to go through a security check point. They are looking for explosives. If someone were to detonate something on the dam it could be catastrophic. Busses with luggage are not allowed to cross, busses without luggage are. I enjoyed the inspection as I had nothing to hide. The officer did ask me, “What’s up with the toenails”. I gave him the standard, “a girl made me do it” response which seems to get me out of trouble. In Yosemite, Rattle Snake Jack told of when he had woken up with painted nails and make-up on from his granddaughters. Apparently my excuse was acceptable and my toenails posed no threat to national security.
The dam was packed with tourists, but everyone was excited and happy to be there. I drove across, then parked and walked back across to check it out on foot.
After Hoover Dam I hauled ass across Arizona. After several thousand miles of curves and hills, the long straight flat road was relaxing. I had the bus rolling at 80mph most of the time.
I got to the Grand Canyon as the sun was setting. I was very tired and opted to pay and stay at a commercial campground for the first time. It was $37, but I got electrical and water hook-ups and didn’t have to worry about being woken up in the middle of the night and asked to leave.
I hoped out of the bus, barefoot in shorts and a t-shirt. It was surprisingly cold. I checked my thermometer and it said 40. I was at about 6000’ elevation. The campground host said, “it’ll be getting’ down in the 20s tonight“. I plugged in the bus, turned on the furnace and walked to a touristy, western themed restaurant to get a pizza.
Eating alone can be depressing, especially when you’re surrounded by groups of people and couples laughing and sharing their travels. I had a faint cell signal, so I text some friends back home while I waited for my food. No one was returning my texts. Then my sister did. She was at a football party. I knew the Vikings were playing the Packers on Monday Night Football tomorrow…right? It was then that I realized that it was Monday, not Sunday like I had thought. No wonder no one from Minnesota was texting me back.

10-04-09

The desert windstorm rocked the bus all night. I slept like a baby being rocked in a crib.
I got up early to go see the sights before it got very hot. There was a light dusting of sand on the hard surfaces inside the bus from blowing through the windows.
I drove my Jeep to Zabriskie Point to watch the sunrise. When I got there there were already about 30 people with their cameras ready, travelers from all over the world. I didn’t hear one word of English for at least 15 minutes. When the sun rose the wind stopped. The valley and mountains were spectacular. People hustled about to get good shots. I crawled out on a ledge and sat for awhile. When I crawled back up a man in a green sweatshirt said, “I took a few photos of you out there”. I said, “Thanks, now I’m a star”. He told me how he liked to get people in his shots for perspective. I’d been doing my best to photograph nature without people in my shots, so I was intrigued by his idea.
I drove to Twenty Mule Team Canyon, a short one-way gravel road through a canyon. It was a little rough, but not too difficult. The only problem I had was when I climbed up a hill on foot to get a picture of my Jeep down below. I started to slip. The sand gave way and I almost couldn’t stop. It took awhile to brace myself. Before I got to Death Valley I would worry sometimes when making slightly risky maneuvers that I would be hurt without health insurance. In Death Valley I caught myself worrying that if I got hurt I’d be dead, because I’m alone and exposure would probably do me in before I was stumbled across.
I drove toward Dante’s View, about a 20 minute drive. There was a sign that read, “15% Grade Last ¼ Mile”. The steepest grade I’d been on was 10% crossing the Tetons from Wyoming to Idaho. That was in the bus, this was in the Jeep, so I wasn’t worried.
As I got close to Dante’s View my temperature gauge was climbing, even though it was still cool outside. Just before the last ¼ mile and 15% grade I overheated and had to stop. I lost some antifreeze, but stopped before I had a major malfunction. I waited. It cooled. I still had plenty of antifreeze so I continued up.
The view was awe inspiring, definitely worth the trip. I stood looking down at Badwater Basin 5000’ below. The valley was vast and hazy. The highway I planned to take later through Death Valley was barely visible, just a thin black stripe on the desert sand.
I walked down a short trail to a lookout point and saw the man in the green sweatshirt. I joked, “Do you want me to climb down there to give you some perspective?” I was surprised when he very seriously said, “Yes, that would be great”. He just wanted my out on a ledge again, not 5000‘ below. I climbed out and shot some pictures of my own. He was from Pittsburg, originally from the Netherlands. He was writing about California for a travel magazine. I never asked which one, but was excited to get a picture of my cowboy hat into real circulation.
When I drove back from Dante’s View I realized why my Jeep had overheated. The whole 20 minute drive was an ascent, even the parts that appeared flat were a climb. I didn’t touch my gas pedal for at least 5 miles.
I went back to the campsite. In the time I was gone almost everyone had left. No one wanted to stay during the day, it was too hot. I hitched my Jeep to the bus, dumped and filled my water tanks and headed south.
I stopped at Badwater, the lowest point in the USA, 282’ below sea level. I walked out onto the basin. It was white, flat and went for miles. There is a small pool of water. A long time ago a man couldn’t get his horse to drink there, so he called it “Badwater” and the name stuck. The water isn’t poisonous, but it is very salty. If you dig down less than a foot in the basin you’ll hit water. Ironic that such a dry place has water underneath.
A tour bus of Italians showed up. I talked to the bus driver for a few minutes. They were doing a loop San Francisco. Next he’d be bringing them up the Tioga Pass into Yosemite. I looked at his massive bus and chuckled, “good luck”.
The drive through the rest of Death Valley was long, quiet, and serene. Although it was flat, the road rolled up and down, left and right over the desert sand. There were a few other travels, but not many. I passed a few bicyclists and their support vans. I stopped to talk to one crew. They were from British Columbia on a 500 mile ride.
I safely made it through Death Valley and headed to Las Vegas to find a good parking lot, internet signal and food. Vegas traffic was pleasant on a Sunday afternoon. I stopped at a small casino, ate at the buffet and slept in the parking lot.
I was about 12 miles from Hoover Dam. Signs said, “No Trucks, or Busses on Hoover Dam”. I’d wanted to drive over it, so I needed to do a bit of research to see if motorhomes were allowed. Either way I would check it out the next day.

10-03-09

I awoke at 9,500’ to what sounded like light rain on the roof of the bus. When I opened the windshield curtains I saw a dusting of snow on the hood of my Jeep. I packed up and left early.
The sun was just coming up as I drove down the Tioga Pass, another beautiful, yet tedious mountain road. We descended in elevation quickly. By “we” I mean me and the bus. I’ve noticed myself talking to myself lately in the absence of companionship. I even caught myself talking to myself about how much I’m talking to myself recently. I don’t think I’m going mad, I’m just sharing my thoughts with whomever is available; me, the bus, trees, whatever. The Tioga Pass is treacherous, but not very long. Soon I was on Highway 395, a major highway headed south.
I stopped in Big Pine and took on a bunch of diesel fuel and dumped and filled my water tanks in preparation for Death Valley, plus I got breakfast at a local restaurant. While pulling into the lot I rocked the bus hard and heard glass fall and shatter in my cupboard. I had lost water glass 2 of 4. I’ve now lost all 4 of my wine glasses and 2 water glasses. Plastic is so tacky, but I’m starting to consider it’s benefits.
I continued south on 395 next to Kings Canyon and Sequoia National Parks. I stopped at a scenic vista, hopped out of the bus onto the ground and yelped out a shout. I’d landed on some nasty cockle burrs. I sat on my step and picked them out of my feet. I grabbed my flip flops and did a bit of exploring. The burrs were so nasty that they even stuck deep into the hard rubber soles of my flip flops.
Eventually I turned east on 136 which my map classifies as an “Other Road”. Other Roads are not hit or miss. They’re both; a hit with the scenery, a miss for easy driving. 136 is no exception. The views were unexpectedly spectacular as it wound up and down the mountains with steep cliffs and drop offs just feet from my wheels.
As I got close to Death Valley I was descending rapidly. Unlike the steep descents I was used to where I was forced to go slow due to the curves, this one was a straight shot and my speed easily would get out of control. With the engine brake off and my foot off of the brake peddle I’d watch my speedometer climb 5 mph in 3 seconds. I needed both the engine brake and air brakes to stay under control. “8% Grade, Next 8 Miles” the sign said.
I was almost down to sea level and it was blazing hot as I approached Death Valley. I heard a warning alarm come on that I was only used to hearing when I was improvising in the kitchen. It was one of my smoke detectors. “Are my brakes that hot?” I thought. There was a short place to pull off, so I pulled into it going too fast. I had to brake hard to stop before I ran out of room. I jumped out of the bus and my right rear wheels were bellowing smoke. I wasn’t sure if my brakes were on fire, or if they were just extremely hot. I wanted to call Nolan or Terry from truck driving school for emergency guidance, but I was far from any cell towers. I thought about pouring water on my brake shoes, but was worried they’d warp, or shatter. I made a mental note of where my four fire extinguishers were just in case. I waited and the smoke kept rolling. Eventually it slowed. I waited a long time to be safe, and then continued my decent at about 35 mph with the engine brake on the whole way. Soon I leveled off at sea level.
When I entered Death Valley National Park I officially got my moneys worth out of the $80 Annual Park Pass that I had purchased at the Badlands in South Dakota. I had now gotten $98 dollars worth of national parks out of it.
I stopped near some dunes where tourists from all over the globe were taking pictures. I hiked around for awhile in the sweltering heat. A vague trail lead to sand dunes in the distance. It was only about a 10 or 15 minute walk, but I understood now the name Death Valley. I considered that if I were to fall walking down a steep dune, injure myself and couldn’t walk, I’d be dead. I looked at the mountain horizon way off in the distance in all directions. Even in the best of shape I could never make it that far in the heat. Even if I could there was nothing on the other side except miles and miles of sand and heat. I went to my home, parked on the side of the road and had a glass of water in glass 3 of 4.
I drove to Furnace Creek Campground to settle in for the night. There were two campgrounds in the area that were still closed, but would be opening in a few days to start the season. Funny that I just left Yosemite where the campgrounds were closing in a few days to end the season.
I’d started the day at 9,500’ in snow and ended it at negative 196’ in the heat of a desert sand storm. Flying sand stung my eyes. I squinted hard to see Death Valley’s sunset, like fire burning in the sky above the mountains.

10-02-09

It did get very cold during the night. I think I over prepared for it. I woke up in a pool of sweat in the middle of the night. I had bundled up and had my furnace running. I was plenty warm.
In the morning I made some scrambled eggs. When I sat down to eat them there was something kind of blackish gray in the eggs. I pulled it out with my fork and found that it was a feather. I threw it away and tried to forget about it as I continued to eat. I almost had enough mental strength to continue, but then I found another bit of feather. There was no way I could stomach the eggs any more and I threw them out.
I made some Malt-O-Meal and decided to take it outside and eat in the warm sun. It was a great moment that never would have happened if I hadn‘t had a feather in my egg. The Malt-O-Meal tasted great and it was safe. There was no threat of finding a beak.
I went for a morning stroll and talked to Jim and his friend Rattle Snack Jack for awhile. Rattle Snake Jack was as fun of a guy as his name suggests. There are old grizzled guys in the mountains that at first appear old, but at a closer look they are rock solid and very fit from running around in the great outdoors.
I decided to stay for another night. It was such a beautiful spot and it would give me time to try and install fog lights on the bus.
The fog light box was missing one long wire. I noticed now that the lights had been bought and returned. I needed a long piece of wire, but was far from any store. I went to my box of wires that I’ve been collecting my whole life. I took an indoor extension cord, cut the ends off of it and pulled the two wires apart to make two long single wires. Right now I need wire, not an extension cord, so I felt the sacrifice was justified.
I hooked up the fog lights inside to see if I had the wiring figured out. When I flipped the switch there was light, so I proceeded to mount the lights under the bumper and the switch under the dash board. Next step was to run one small wire through the firewall. I tried to get it through with some of the existing wires, but couldn’t get it to go. I decided to drill a hole in the firewall. “How important is the firewall when the engine is in the back of the bus?” I thought. The wire went through so I hooked everything up and once again there was light. I tucked the wires in nicely and was excited for nightfall to adjust the beams.
I worked on my headlights for awhile, but wasn’t able to improve them much. I wanted to take them apart to clean out the glass and the reflective surface inside, but could get them apart without risking breaking them. I searched the wires for possible shorts, but found nothing suspicious.
Enough work, it was time for a bike ride. I rode up a rough gravel mountain road that leads to hiking trails. The scenery was exquisite. I often use the Landscape setting on my camera. When I flip it to Landscape it shows an example picture of a snow caped mountain with a forest and stream in the foreground. When it switched to what was really in the view finder it was just like the example picture, but better. I was standing in it.
A jetliner flew over. If a plane is at 30,000’ and you’re on a mountain at 9,500’ it’s lower and louder. “I’m a third of the way up there I thought”.
I rode home and made a quesada. It was like I had been shot when I opened up my hot sauce. It made a loud pop and I was instantaneously covered in what looked like blood. I should know to vent my condiments at high altitude by now.

10-01-09

I got up early to leave before the businesses opened in the industrial park and to get out of Sacramento before rush hour. Traffic was bustling already by 7:00. I got through Sacramento, headed south for awhile then left Interstate 5 and headed east on highway 4 toward Yosemite National Park.
Immediately the scenery went from busy urban traffic to quiet orchards, then long flat ranch cattle country. Excellent for driving, but I had hoped to find a big breakfast somewhere.
As I continued east the sun rose in the sky. The flat landscape began to roll. I was climbing in elevation into the Sierra Nevada Mountain Range. The road grew curvy and hilly with narrow switchbacks and one-lane road construction like I had been on so many times in the past. It was a pleasant drive. Traffic was light, the bus felt great with clean oil and filters…and I could see.
Eventually I stumbled upon a little restaurant serving breakfast in Big Oak Flat. As I waited for my food I overheard two women talking about horses. Other than an old lady sitting in the corner we were the only customers. The whole time I was there their topic stayed on horses. For awhile they talked about mules, “A mule is a mule” one woman said as if it were well known common sense. My breakfast was excellent. They didn’t take credit cards, so I went out to the bus to get some cash.
As I drove I continued to climb. The trees thickened and it grew more mountainous. I used my annual National Parks Pass at the Yosemite gate. I drove into the park awhile, found a place to park and checked out the Yosemite Travel Guide that the park ranger gave me at the gate.
Much of the park would be closing for winter in a few days. Some things were shut down, or shutting down already. I plotted a scenic course through the park and started to drive. There were still a lot of park goers, but it was by no means crowded. While waiting in a lineup of cars stopped for one lane road work an emergency vehicle went by with it’s lights and sirens on. There had been an accident up ahead and we proceeded to wait for quite awhile. It was a beautiful spot to be stuck. People got out of their cars and chatted. The couple behind me was from Italy. Behind them were two bikers from California headed to Los Vegas. One unpacked his folding chair and teased his friend for deciding to leave his chair at home. They were fun and we joked around for a long time. After about an hour, traffic started moving. I knew there had been injuries because several ambulances had gone by and I had overheard on a ranger’s radio, “A girl was coming down the mountain to get a phone signal to call the parents of her friends that were hurt.” I saw the girl standing on the side of the road talking on the phone. She looked to be about college age. It put a face to the situation and I felt a sinking feeling in my gut and sad for them. The crash was impressive. The car had gone off of the road and directly into a tree. At first I thought, “What bad luck, they went directly into a tree”. Then I realized that no matter where you left the road you would hit a tree, there would be no way to avoid it.
I spent some time at Olmsted Point, a scenic overlook of a vast valley with tall mountains towering above it. In the distance people could be seen with strong binoculars climbing on Half Dome. There are cables to hang onto. It’s a treacherous climb. People have fallen to their death. Many trailhead signs throughout the park warn that people are killed each year. I opted for the .2 mile trail and headed out. My bare feet stuck to the granite like a surefooted mountain goat. I spent some time mingling with two young women who I had shared binoculars with at the scenic overlook. We wandered around taking pictures and looking for a lake that was supposed to be somewhere down below. None of us had taken the time to read all of the information on the plaques at the beginning of the trail.
Time flew by and soon it was late afternoon. I needed to figure out where I was staying before dark. I still had headlight problems. The campground that I planned on staying at had closed 2 days before. I found one campground that was open. Except for the host it was empty, but the spaces were all too small for my rig. Close by was another camp site that I could easily fit into. There were only two other campers there and the host. Jim was a nice older man from Washington. He had been there since May and would be leaving in 3 days when the campground closed. He checked me in and went to go take his sun shower. The sun had warmed his water well that day. It was a sunny and about 70 degrees. He told me, “Once the sun goes down it’ll get cold really fast. Last night it got down to 22 degrees. Tonight it’ll be that cold again if not in the teens. I’d never been in the bus when the temperature was below freezing, but I was confidant in my heater, besides, the real campers were sleeping in tents.
The park was at over 9,500 feet elevation. I dealt with swelling food packages and hissing shampoo bottles. The Tupperware lid on my taco meat had completely blown off in the refrigerator and was lying next to it.
Jim was right, it was already getting cold. I bundled up and headed for the historic Tioga Pass Resort
That I had seen back out on the main road. I could see it from my campsite and opted to try to cut through the brush by foot and find a way over the small stream to get there. It took a few minutes, but I finally wandered in from the back side of the camp.
There was a small lodge, restaurant and a cozy lobby, warm and smoky from a wood burning stove. A pretty young woman sat behind a desk smiling with not much to do. The resort was shutting down in 3 days and it was fairly empty. I was hoping to get a bottle of wine to enjoy my evening back at my beautiful campsite. I had two choices; a cheap bottle of chardonnay, or a $20 bottle of pinot noir. I’m a red wine guy and love pinot, so the choice was easy. I asked about the menu. They’d be serving dinner later in the evening, so I said I’d probably be back. As I bushwhacked my way back to the bus with my bottle of wine I considered it funny that I’d paid $14 for a place to stay and $20 for a bottle of wine. “If not now, when?” I thought, which has become a motto of mine of late. This was the first time I’d paid for a place to stay since I left Minnesota months ago and it was worth it. I hadn’t had any alcohol for several weeks and figured it was okay tonight to celebrate the beauty I was surrounded by.
Later I walked back to the Tioga Pass Resort and had the TPR burger. The resort was a bit busier and the conversation was great. Half of the patrons were from other countries as I’m finding to be the norm in national parks. The couple behind me was from the area and was celebrating. They like to “come up here the pie“. They teased me when I turned down my desert offer. I didn’t explain to them that sometimes unemployed guys have to forego pie. I talked with them for awhile, and then went home.
I was completely off of the grid, no phone, no internet, no connection with the outside world. It was good. I still need practice being detached and not lonely. I enjoyed my wine, read my Yosemite Guide news paper cover to cover, turned on my furnace, bundled up and went to bed.

09-30-09

I got a pleasant night sleep at the rest stop. I had been there for 10 hours. The maximum stay is 8 hours. I made coffee and hit the road.
Not only was the sunshine beautiful it lit the road in a way I greatly appreciated. I wound around the tight cloverleaf onto Interstate 5’s on-ramp. I pulled too many Gs on the cloverleaf for my portable French press coffee pot to maintain it’s vertical integrity sitting on the floor. By the time I saw it it had completely emptied onto the carpet next to my seat. I hit my hazard lights and stopped on the on-ramp. I thought about putting my safety triangles on the road, but that seemed a bit extreme for a coffee spill. Besides, I figured I’d have it cleaned up in less than 15 minutes, the limit for parking without triangles, at least in Minnesota, right Terry Bue? Thanks for the trucker training. I may not be making money, but I am safer on the road.
This was the second time I had lost my coffee to a clover leaf. I don’t know what upset me more, the stain, or the loss of my fresh pot of coffee. I soaked up as much as I could and drove away coffeeless.
I was headed south toward Sacramento through the Sacramento Valley. Mountains were on the horizon on both sides off in the distance. The valley is wide with ideal growing conditions. Orchards of fruit trees went on for miles. I wasn’t sure what sort of fruit tress any of them were. I wished that they had put up signs like the olive growers that I passed through proudly did.
When I got close to Sacramento I pulled into another rest stop to regroup. I needed to look up where some things were. I needed to get the bus an oil change. It was way overdue. I’d been having trouble finding a place to do it. There don’t have diesel motorhome Jiffy Lubes. I found an RV place that was booked for the day, but the commercial truck part of the business could get me in at 3:30. That would give me some time to take care of some other things before the appointment. I wanted to get fog lights that I could install myself so I had a redundant lighting system on the bus. That way I would have a back-up to my failing headlights. I located a Wal-Mart close to Sacramento Truck. I’ve learned through my time living in Wal-Mart parking lots that there is almost always a cheap haircut place next door, if not inside like the one in Billings Montana where I got my last haircut. Coincidently, Melanie, my old room-mate…best friend…and wife for awhile was now in living in Sacramento volunteering with Americorp. I sent her a text to see if she was free for lunch, but didn’t hear back. I made breakfast and a second pot of coffee and then headed into Sacramento carefully minding my precious black gold elixir
I found the Wal-Mart where I could park and take care of business. Priority one was to check out the In-N-Out Burger. I’d head of it, but never tried it. As a cownnoisseur I was excited and obligated. It was great. I give them an A+ for fast food, excellent customer service and fast. The double double was so good that my stomach was climbing up my throat, almost rudely impatient to devour the next bite. Euphoric with meat I headed to Super Cuts right next door to Wal-Mart. Henry Ngyun cut my hair with skill, precision and attention to detail. He even gave me headlight advice. I went next door and picked up a set of fog lights, then went to the bus for a well deserved shower.
I found the truck shop very easily. They seemed confused that a motorhome was on the truck side of the shop, but I told them that I was told they could do it. They said they could and I proceeded to wait. Eventually I got in. Waiting was easy. I was right at home, literally. They weren’t supposed to let me stay in my vehicle, but let me anyway. Dennis took good care of the bus. Times are tough; it was his first day of work since January. We talked of traveling. He’d been a truck mechanic for 30 years. He’d never been east of Colorado and was thinking about becoming a truck driver. He changed my fuel filters along with the oil and found a hornet’s nest in my air filter, so he replaced that too. I was in the shop for 2.72 hours according to them. That’s a lot of labor at a commercial truck shop. The bill was high, but it felt great having the bus ready for Yosemite, Death Valley and the Grand Canyon.
By the time I left it was dark and I still had bad headlights. I could have had them look at it, but for $119 an hour labor I opted to not bring it up. I hadn’t heard from Melanie. I believed she lived close by and was hoping to get a space in her parking lot. I decided to try sleeping near the truck shop. It was in an industrial area with many long empty roads. Most businesses were closed and it was very quiet. If it worked it would be a new addition to my “places to park for free” list. Rest stops, truck stops, large retailers, casinos, public land and now, industrial parks. I felt safe, but put the bus on maximum security alert just in case. I locked up tight, set my $1.98 Shopko clearance door alarms and ran the gun drill through my head. I left everything in the bus ready on ready to roll status. All I had to do was start the engine and drive away. I watched a little free, over the air digital TV and feeling right at home went to bed.

09-29-09

I accepted the position with Americorp Vista in the southern tip of Texas on the Rio Grand, the Mexican border. I want to see Yosemite, Death Valley and the Grand Canyon on my way so I’m headed out with more than two weeks to get to McAllen, Texas.
I left Port Orford on a cold, rainy morning. It had been a great stay. I’d been there for almost 2 months. It was an amazing summer. Corey was very nice to let me stay. Not many people would have gone out of their way like he did for me. I’ll miss him and all of the wonderful people and sights on the southern Oregon coast.
I drove south on the 101 into California. My fruit and fire wood was inspected at the border. The apples that Jutta picked in Port Orford passed even though they were not store bought and my firewood passed too. Apparently Montana is not on the list.
I looked for a place to stay in the Redwood Forest. One state park campground was closed and another was full so I just kept traveling. My lack of trip planning seems to get me further down the road as I’m never quite sure where to stop.
I had fish and chips in Klamath California and kept rolling. I turned east on highway 299. It looked as though it would be a straight shot to Redding California and Interstate 5 which I could take south to Sacramento.
Ever since Red Lodge, Montana I had been on curvy, hilly, treacherous roads. I was looking forward to driving flat and straight for awhile, not to mention averaging over 50 mph.
Highway 299 is not straight, nor is it flat. It does confirm my theory that the more difficult the journey the more spectacular the view. Highway 299 is beautiful. It goes up and over the Salmon Mountains, through Shasta-Trinity National Forest. Trinity Forest, Trinity Lake, Trinity River, everywhere I looked I was reminded of my good friend.
Miles ticked by slowly as the road switched-back through the mountains. Road construction slowed things down too. I felt far from anywhere, so I listened to my Lake Wobegon pod casts to feel close to Minnesota. I was a bit frustrated until I saw the best rainbow I’d ever seen. I stopped on a pull-out to get a picture. A young couple also stopped. I talked to Bradley while his girlfriend took pictures. They were from Boston and too were wandering. We agreed that without wandering we never would have stumbled across such an amazing rainbow. After we left we wound up leapfrogging down the highway honking as we’d pass each other. Thanks to Garrison Keillor, Bradley and the rainbow I now felt great and thoroughly enjoyed the drive.
As it got dark I turned on my headlights. I was a bit worried because when I was bringing the bus home from Florida the summer before, the headlights cut out a few times. I’d traveled during the day and hadn’t needed them at all since leaving Minnesota and wondered if they would work. They were very dim. So dim that several people flashed their lights at me. As is grew darker it was harder to see, then the lights went out completely. I was sandwiched between a rocky cliff and a drop-off with nowhere to pull off and unable to see the road. I turned the lights off and on and flipped them from low to high beam frantically in vein to try to get something to happen. The lights flickered on and off randomly. They didn’t seem to be doing it because of my actions. I came to a safe place to stop and eventually the lights stayed on so I proceeded. This scenario repeated itself over and over. I looked for a place to stay, but the best option was to try to push through to Redding.
It was very dark between the tall pine trees. I was afraid to go too fast in case the lights went out again. I know to not “over drive your headlights”, but now I was trying to not “over drive my NO lights”. Traffic would stack up behind me and I’d find a place to pull off and let them around. Even when the lights were on they were very dim. I tried driving with my high beams on, which were almost as bright as regular low beams. This seemed to make the lights shut off more often so I opted to keep the lights on low.
I can’t be certain, but it seemed like these were the tightest mountain curves I’d been on yet. It may have just been due to the circumstance, but there is no doubt that this was the most difficult driving I’d been through in the bus. I often wondered if I would seriously be plummeting to my death that day.
Patiently, cautiously I kept plugging along. Redding, just 60 more miles, 48 miles, 35 miles, 27 miles, 16 miles, 10 miles, it took forever. At the 3 mile sign I saw the bright lights of Redding. The road flattened and straightened and soon I was on lighted streets. I still had a mechanical problem, but figured I was no longer in a potential life threatening scenario.
I got on Interstate 5 heading south. I stopped to let my sweat dry and my nerves settle. I looked up the Redding Wal-Mart on my laptop and found that it didn’t allow overnight parking. The interstate was flat, straight, lit and had no on-coming traffic, so I headed south looking for a place to stay for the night. I pulled into a rest stop. The sign said, “No Overnight Parking”, but there were many trucks and a few motorhomes. I investigated a bit more. The official rules said that you can stay there for 8 out of 24 hours, so I decided to stay.
Rest stops are not supposed to be very safe places to sleep, but I felt safe tucked inbetween the semis. I was thankful to have had my trucker training and felt right at home. The diesel engines that kept me up previously on my journey now comforted me. Their gentle rumbling was like a lullaby which quickly sang me to sleep.

09-25-09

I started using my Rosetta Stone Spanish computer program. I’d had it for awhile but hadn’t gotten around to using it. With the possibility of moving to the Mexican border I’m eager to start learning the language. I also have a Spanish pod-cast to use.
After Spanish Class I went for a bike ride down the coast. My plan; go 10 miles and turn around to make a 20 mile round trip ride. I cranked out 10 miles. It was hot and I was sweaty, but I felt like I had just started, so I upped the trip to 30 miles by going another 5 before turning around.
I passed two long-distance riders. Not that I’m faster, they’re laden down with a load and have to ride a lot farther than me. I passed a hitch hiker and another bike rider. The Pacific Coast Highway is a long distance bicyclist Mecca and there is a constant stream of hitchhikers too.
I stopped for a break at the Prehistoric Gardens, a place I remember being at as a child and a young man. The two riders I’d passed caught up to me. I took advantage of the opportunity to ask them all sorts of logistical curiosities. They were riding from Washington to San Diego, not sure when they’ll get there, riding about 50 miles a day and sleeping in state parks for $4.
At the 13 mile mark I came across the entrance to the trail that Corey and I had driven my Jeep down on Wednesday. I rode over to it and kept riding up until I couldn’t pedal. I was halfway up. It only made sense to me to keep going. I would be able to ride my bike down an old detached part of the original Pacific Coast Highway, but I would be committed to riding even further.
The curvy mountain grade was not only worth it, it was one of the best bike rides I’d had.
I was at 17 miles when I got back on the main 101 and headed back north.
It was a long hall. There are two different hills that are each a mile long and a bunch of smaller hills in-between. As I got closer I knew the hills and was able to manage my energy better. I had to ration out my water. I didn’t plan on going that far, nor did I plan on the heat.
I live right on mile marker 301. It makes it easy to know exactly how far home is. Sometimes I call out, “5 more miles!” It was a 33.5 mile trip. I make sure to count the half mile…that was the hardest part.

09-24-09

I needed to scan and email my passport and driver’s license to the potential Americorp position on the Rio Grande in Texas. I’ve basically been offered the position pending budget approval. It’s a very exciting opportunity that I hope pans out. My old scanner wasn’t compatible with my new laptop, so I got rid when downsizing. I went to the Port Orford Library, which is new and modern, but didn’t have a scanner. They sent me to Downtown Fun Zone a small video rental / computer place. They were able to scan and email me what I needed for just $2.
Jutta had been wanting me and Corey to help her pick apples and pears from trees she had found near the neighborhood. She had some apples in her car, but said that she needed a tall ladder. She gave me some apples and we decided that we’d go back, but not today, it was very windy.
I wanted to get out and bike, or hike, but after about 10 seconds outside I felt like getting out of the wind.
I retracted the awnings to minimize how much the bus was rocking in the wind. It helped considerably. The angle at which I was parked was ideal for cutting the North West wind and the bus felt like a cozy shelter inside.
I spent much of the day working on trivial upgrades inside the bus. I re-Velcroed the booth seat cushions and vacuumed broken glass from the cupboard, etc. When I sprayed mildew cleaner on an old water damage stain on the ceiling carpet the stain completely disappeared in seconds. It was a miracle. I went around the bus and completely cleaned every ceiling stain. I even got a stain out that had been there from the previous owner. It felt great to remove stains that I had thought were permanent.
I rearranged some of my favorite toys in hopes that I would use them more if they were in my way. I got out my favorite Frisbee and hacky-sac. I thought about leaving my favorites packed up and putting out back-ups so I wouldn’t lose the good stuff, but then asked myself, “If not now, when?” and decided these toys needed to be in play. Back-ups are back-ups. I also got out my weight lifting dumbbell that I was so good about using everyday while my shower warmed up in my house. That system broke down in the bus. The weight was not quickly accessible. The bathroom is too small, there’s no warm-up time on the bus shower…and honestly I don’t necessarily shower as much while unemployed and on the road. I put the weight on the floor in the bedroom. Hopefully I’ll use it more often…and shower more too.
I sautéed wild jumbo scallops. I’m getting better at cooking seafood. They were pretty good. The best part about cooking my own seafood is that I get a lot. It was the first time I had almost too many scallops.

09-23-09

Still hungry I biked to Port and Starboard. I longed for the comfort of a cheeseburger from a good restaurant. All of the good places here specialize in seafood. It’s hard, and almost embarrassing to order a cheeseburger when the seafood is so good, but I’m a “Cownoisseur” and was in need of some turf. I went with Jalapeño Poppers and the Patty Melt. I chatted with the waitress and a couple of travelers, the only other people in the room. They were reading their paper placemat map and wondering what the Heads were. I was surprised when the waitress said that she didn’t know. I teased her, “Aren’t you from here?” “I’m a transplant” she said. She had just moved there in May. I encouraged them all to go to the heads, “the short walk is well worth it”.
Corey and I went for a drive down the coast to see his friend “Lucky”. When we pulled in Lucky was riding a mountain bike. I did a double-take because Lucky only has on leg. He rode up and stopped by leaning on the deck rail. Lucky is a smaller man probably in his upper 40s, with a long scraggly grey beard, tattoos and only one eye. He showed us how he was going to attach a sandal to the pedal so he could ride it better and how he would carry his crutches on the side that didn’t need a pedal.
The location was beautiful, secluded up in the trees in the mountains just off of the coast. There is a redwood tree growing right in the yard. It’s probably 100’ tall, the size of a typical adult pine, but young for a redwood. Lucky used to be a tree surgeon, so we learned some cool stuff about trees. Corey asked lucky about a different way to drive back to Port Orford to avoid a detour. Lucky told us of a way that didn’t make sense, but he was sure it would go through. “It’s part of the original Pacific Coast Highway” he said.
It was a great two lane road, a motorcyclists dream, curvy and hilly with great views of the ocean. Knowing it was the old PCH gave it a great feel too. Eventually we seemed to lose the path of the historic road. It went from two lanes to one, from good concrete to bad concrete to gravel to dirt. It got narrower, trees closed in on both sides and eventually over top. It started to get rocky and rutty, so I put my Jeep into 4 wheel drive. We came to a steep hill down. I stopped and said, “I don’t think we can do it”. Corey said, “but Lucky said it WOULD go through“. Nervously I slowly pulled forward and crawled down the hill. I was just coasting with my clutch on the floor and my foot on the brake. I let the clutch out in first gear for better control. I was worried if we couldn’t make it through we would have to back up and might not be able to make it over the big rocks and ruts.
Small tree branches and shrubs slipped around the Jeep like brushes in a carwash. We bounced down the trail. Suddenly it opened up, flat, wide, level, nice gravel and right on the highway. Lucky was right; it does go through. We noted where the trail head was on the main 101 so we could spot it again in the future. I want to go down it again and check out the feasibility of going up it. If that looks good we’ll try it.
Corey and I rode our bikes to Agate Beach. He wanted to try swimming in Garrison Lake, a fresh water lake on the backside of the ocean beach. It is much warmer that the ocean. He jumped in. “It’s like a Minnesota lake” he said. I threw him a little peace of driftwood and joked, “Here’s a floaty”. “Too small” he shouted, so I went down the shore of the lake and got a driftwood log. I brought it back and rolled it into the lake. It actually worked pretty well. I climbed up the steep bank on the backside of the lake then along the ridge and back down a driftwood covered sand dune. As I got to the bottom I came up on the back of a sign. I walked around it and found out that I had just walked out of a “do not walk on” zone.
We went to the ocean part to f the beach. It looked like high tide was just starting to recede. We kicked around in the gunk on the beach and found some really nice agates.

09-22-09

I was super hungry and walked to the Paradise Café for breakfast. I had the Chicken Fried Steak and Eggs. There was one waitress and one cook. The two young women had no trouble keeping up with the medium size crowd. There were two kinds of people eating; locals who all know each other on a first name basis and travelers just stopping once on their way through. The waitress made everyone feel like a local. The cook was pumping out amazing looking plates of food. Basic American stuff like pancakes and sausage, biscuits and gravy, Philly cheese steaks, regular steaks and onion rings. The entrees were all over the map, but amazing looking and huge portions . My food too was a sight to behold. She even made my hash browns brown enough. I like ‘em crispy.
I broke the front derailleur on my bike. The closed bike shop was a bout an hour up the coast in North Bend. I’d been meaning to take the bus for a drive to warm it up and give it some exercise, so Corey and I went for a drive. It was fun to drive the bus again. It took us awhile to find Moe’s Bike Shop due to my lack of pre-trip research. I should know by now the “try and spot it” method usually takes more time then it would have to get good directions in the first place. I parked, booted up my laptop and figured it out.
The young mechanic at Moe’s told me that they didn’t have the right derailleur. They had one, but it would be in the way of my second water bottle cage. After thinking he said, “I could switch your water bottle cages. If I cut this part off of the other one it should fit around the derailleur”. It was a genius plan so I told him to “go for it”. He did a great job and gave me a great deal. I saw on the wall that a regular derailleur installation was $10. He only charged me $8 for the custom install, plus he lubed my chain, put all new water bottle cage nuts on and adjusted everything back to the way I like it. That kind of bike love is hard to find and I really appreciated it.
I didn’t pre-tip my dishware in my cupboards before the trip. I made it awhile, but one dip on a corner into a parking lot sent everything crashing down. Sometimes glass falls, sometimes it falls and shatters. After the crash Corey said, “Something broke”. I lost one water glass. Other then that everything was just toppled over…everything. Once it falls I leave it down until I’m going to be parked for awhile. I used to set it back up whenever I stopped, but learned it rides better in a pile. That one corner toppled over anything that wasn’t secured very well. Canned goods, spices and the medicine cabinet were all hit pretty hard. It’s just part of the excitement of driving your home.

09-19-09

Trinity left. She wasn’t going to leave for another day, but found a cheap motel on the way and packed up and went. We had decided over a week ago that we should just be friends. The romance just wasn’t there. We are very similar and everything looked good “on paper”, but there was simply a lack of spark. I agree that it is for the best, for both of us to move on, but it’s still very hard. We both believed that we had found the love of a lifetime. It’s disappointing to say the least that it didn’t work out. I think I loved her more once she became a friend. We spent so much time together and saw so many cool sites. I quickly grew used to having her and Sebastian in my life. We lived closely in the confined quarters of the bus. Even when she was thousands of miles away we felt close. This time she was leaving for good and expressed that she would need some time without contact as part of her healing process. She and Sebastian drove out of my life around noon, leaving me cut-off and painfully empty.
Part of my coping mechanism is to clean. I cleaned and cleaned. I had to hide memories. I cherish the time we spent and all of the memories we created, but I want to think about them when I choose. I saw memories everywhere I looked. I threw out a perfectly good sweet potato that made me sad every time I’d walk by it. I almost kept it because it would be very good, but then I contemplated eating it and I knew I could never get through it without tearing up. The bus was spotless, but there was this one fly I couldn’t catch. It had been bugging Sebastian and I was trying to catch it for him. Now with him gone I didn’t know what I was supposed to do about the fly; let him live in the bus, kill him out of anger, let him go out of spite?
When I’m upset I don’t eat. It’s a real problem because then I get goofy in the head and that magnifies the depression and I lose focus on reality. I went to the store and bought some deli chicken. I was able to eat some of it.
Andrew came over and kept me company in the evening. We drank some wine and he showed me some 8 track tapes he had just bought with a player for $10. I recently broke the 4th of 4 wine glasses. I have to use glass dishes, but they don’t last very long on the road. We were forced to use my water glasses. They look kind of like the trendy stemless wine glasses, but when that fad is over in 2 years I won’t be left with dated dishes.

09-18-09

I was at the RV park, scraping dried dog crap out of the tread of my shoe when a man with a clip board and name tag came out of nowhere. “I’m the health inspector” he said. I was freaked out by the idea of a health inspection of the park having spent time cleaning and working on the trailers. They were a lot better now, but still probably not totally up to speed. “Do you know where the manager is?” he asked. I knew Corey was home, we we’re going on a bike ride. I pointed him in the right direction. As he walked away I felt like I had made a horrible mistake. I could have said the manager was gone or something to buy time. I threw my shitty shoe on the ground, ran inside, dove for my phone and called Corey. “Pick up, pick up!” I shouted. It only takes seconds to walk to his place. He picked up. I frantically warned him. He was very calm and not worried at all. I guess I was freaking out for no reason. Corey came out and talked to the inspector for awhile. I rode around the neighborhood waiting to go for our ride while they talked. I rode close up to the mural on the wall of the Savoy Theatre. I rode to the other side of the block and ate black berries.
When Corey was done we went for a ride. The inspector only had two small concerns; the sewer hoses and that lime be put on every sewer spill. He noticed that the place looked better since Corey took over.
We rode to Paradise Point Beach and hung out for awhile. Corey jumped off of a cliff.

09-17-09

Trinity and I got up at 5:00am to see the beach during the new-moon at a negative tide of .8 feet at 5:16. It was dark, cold and we were tired, but we got up and went anyway. We drove, and just like when I went to the full-moon low-tide there were deer standing on the road. The gate to the park that accesses the beach was shut. The park opens at 8:00. We parked and walked quietly around the gate. The park hosts are retired people in a motorhome. There’d been a switch in motorhomes recently. I assumed the hosts were new and that we were probably more familiar with the park than they were. We made it to the trail without incident. With no moon it was dark, very dark. We were going to bring flashlights, but forgot. My camera has an LED flashlight on it, so we used that to make it to the beach. It auto turns off and takes a few seconds to turn back on. We had to stop often in the dark while I held the button. We could hear the ocean long before we could see it. The stars were super bright. The beam from Cape Blanco’s Light House spun around and around cutting through the night. There was a brightly lit ship out in the ocean. Other than that there was no light. We stood listening to the crashing waves, watching the lighthouse swing around from the coast to the ocean and staring at the stars. Trinity pointed out two satellites crossing the sky in orbit. We wanted to hunt for agates at the extreme low-tide. It was too dark to see not only agates, but also the threatening waves in the rarely exposed agate zone. The sun wouldn’t be up for at least an hour, so we went home and went back to bed.
I woke up at 10:00am feeling refreshed. The sun was shining. It was a beautiful day. I mowed the RV park and soaked in the sun.
Trinity and I went back to the beach for the afternoon low-tide to hunt for agates since we were unable to in the morning dark. It wasn’t a negative tide, but it was still pretty low; .7 feet. We’re both mesmerized by the hunt and obsessively scanned and dug in the sand. We wound up finding a lot of agates. We of course also got hit by sneaker waves because we’d get too focused on the sand. After a couple of hours we were satisfied with our collection, and cold and wet, so we headed back. It took forever. We walked at a snail’s pace. We couldn’t get our brains out of agate scanning mode and kept stopping to sift through the sand. Eventually we made it back to our shoes. We left them at the trail head, far from the ocean, due to Trinity almost losing her shoes to the ocean recently. Odds are people won’t steal shoes. Odds are the ocean will.

09-16-09

I woke to the sound of rain and the smell of chili, an unintentional yet fitting pair. The chili had been slowly cooking for 10 hours and was perfect for a cozy, rainy day.
Trinity, Sebastian and I went to Humbug Mountain for a hike. We planned the trip the day before when it was sunny, but decided to go anyway in spite of the drizzle. We needed to get out of the bus. Long rain storms sometimes make me feel like a lab rat in a cage whose mental deterioration is being monitored. It’s pretty nice for a cage, but long periods of time secretly start to take their toll well before I notice that I’m teetering on the edge of madness.
The drizzle and fog actually made the trip better. The drive to the mountain was a different view of the ocean then I had seen. Clouds and fog rolled off of the ocean, over the road and lingered in the wet trees.
The hike itself was even more spectacular. The trail too had a different look and feel due to the weather. Like a tropical rain forest, the wet moss and trees glistened as water dripped off of them. The occasional snail and slug sightings were more frequent. What looked like a small twig wiggled on the ground at my feet. It was small salamander. I scooped it up and tried to get a picture of it in my hand. It wiggled a lot and I was having trouble holding steady while standing on the wet hill, but I got a few shots and let it go.
The trial is switch-backs up the mountain. Occasionally there are small stream beds that go straight up and down the mountain, sort of a shortcut from one switch-back to the next. I climbed one and told Trinity I’d meet her on the next switch-back. As I climbed my goal was to get there first and surprise her as I casually waited on the path. While I was struggling to maintain balance on the wet slope, on all fours, I heard her say, “Hey”. She was already there. Oh well. Later I tried another shortcut. I climbed and climbed. The terrain was almost impassable. The slope was steep. The ground was wet and unstable. Gravel, sand, leaves and pine needles made up a loose ground cover several inches thick. I couldn’t see my feet through the thick ferns. It was very unstable and often would start to slide with an avalanche effect. I kept looking up for a sign of the trail, but it never looked like there was any chance of it being near. I kept climbing believing I must cross it eventually. With each step up it was less logical to turn back. I stated shouting for Trinity so I hear where the path might be. She never answered. I kept climbing. Eventually she answered, “The trial goes around to the other side of the mountain, it doesn’t switch-back“. Now I had no choice but to go back down. I followed her voice back toward the trail. It was a tricky decent. I was certain I’d eventually fall, but took my time and eventually made it safely. My shorts were soaked on the bottom, progressively dryer toward the top. It looked just like when I’d been hit by sneaker waves on the beach. I was filthy, but loved the impromptu little adventure.

09-15-09

It was a perfect sunny day. Trinity and I went on a bike ride south on the 101. She rode my mountain bike. I rode my dad’s old Trek road bike that I rebuilt over the winter. I hadn’t ridden it much, so it was good to get on it and give it a good work out. It’s light and fast. I’d been over this path many times now and was able to feel the differences between the mountain bike and road bike. The road bike offered much less resistance. Hills seemed smaller. I got more distance for my energy. Ultimately it inspired me to push hard through the hard spots which eventually wore me out. I cranked out 5 miles then turned around and pumped back into town. It was a quick, but intense ride.
I made chili in the evening. It was the first time I’d made chili since I moved into the bus. I like to let it slowly cook for 10 to 12 hours in my crock pot. This can only be done when I have hook-ups. I could do it without, but would have to run the generator the whole time. The rule is: “no chili without hook-ups“. It should be good ‘n spicy. I put 4 serrano peppers, a can of diced jalapenos, 2 red bell peppers, red habanero sauce, crushed red pepper and plenty of onion and garlic in it. The “chili only with hook-ups” rule is an electrical thing, but may also come in handy later with the sewer hook-up.

09-13-09

Favre debuted in his first real game as a Minnesota Viking at 10:00am. Due to the hoopla surrounding Favre the game was on national TV and broadcast here.
I’m used to football starting at noon and 3:00pm back home in the Central Time Zone. I remember noon feeling a bit early for beer in the past. With the 10:00am kick-off I had to start with lite beer…and eggs. I made my eggs a bit firmer than usual in fear that runny yokes and beer might not sit quite right.
Corey barricaded himself inside his place to watch the game on his new TV. He left me in charge of the park so he wouldn’t be disturbed, but no one bothered me.
Trinity and I drove to Cape Blanco Light House. We’d been there before, but I wanted to take the $2 tour that allows you to climb to the top of the light house. The tour was well worth $2. The volunteer tour guides were fun and informative. A husband and wife team conducted the tour. He was on the main floor, she was up by the light. The view was obviously impressive. Cape Blanco is the western most part of Oregon. It sticks out about 6 miles into the Pacific. The light was a worthy focal point all on its own. It’s about 6 feet tall, crystal, old and constantly spins around and around.
After the tour we found a trail and hiked for a couple of miles. When we returned to the car it was gone…or wait, we came out on the wrong trail. We guessed west, walked down the road and found the car.
Since I got to Port Orford I’d wanted to eat at a seafood restaurant that I’d seen on the port. We went to Griff’s on the Dock. It is literally on the Port at Port Orford. It’s a small fish market and restaurant. The food and ambiance was exactly what I’d hoped. I’ve found the best seafood comes out off old shacks right on the water-front and had been searching for this exact scenario.
I had the Fish and Prawns. It was so good I almost teared up. I’ve paid twice the price for fish that was only half as good. Trinity had the Fish and Scallops. The scallops were to die for. Even the bottle of Lagunitas IPA from Petaluma, California was exceptional.
We left very happy.

09-12-09

Corey was busy and couldn’t help at Melanie’s garage sale so I went with Trinity in his place. It seemed early, but we got there by 8:00. We helped her get ready to open at 9:00. I walked down and put up signs on the 101. The wood stakes pounded into the soft coastal sand much easier than they would have back home.
Walking back I felt like I was being stalked. Cars slowly crept toward the sale from all directions. Bargain hunters waiting to pounce. We shut the garage door and finished setting up. The work was light and the people were very friendly. We stayed for a couple of hours. She was again very generous with her compensation and gave us each $35.
While at the sale I missed a call from Eric at the Americorp program in Texas. I got the impression from his message that they were leaning in my favor. I felt great. It was nice to have perhaps some direction in life.
Trinity, Sebastian and I went to the west beach. It wasn’t windy, but the waves were huge and crashing way up onto the beach. They were churning up some pretty good agate hunting spots, but the threat of getting hit by big waves was extremely high. I had come to the beach in shorts and barefoot with the plan of getting a little wet. We looked for agates as close to the ocean as we could get, but kept having to run frantically back up the beach from the monster waves. It’s hard to scan the sand and keep a lookout for sneaker waves. We both got hit hard. Several times I was almost swept off of my feet. Sebastian even got tagged by the waves for the first time. It was a laugh riot, an intense workout and we found thirteen agates.
When leaving we couldn’t find Trinity’s shoes. She had left them on the beach far from the oceans reach. As we walked, searching for them, it looked as though the waves had reached that far onto the beach. I noticed a shoe floating upside down in a tide pool at the same time Trinity spotted the rest of her stuff. Close one.
The Savoy Theatre gets one new movie a week. Last week it was a romantic comedy. This week it was a movie about Julia Childs. I like her, and cooking, so I thought it might be good, at least better than last week’s show. We walked to the theatre, located on the same block that we live on, and went to the 4:00 matinee. Since the theatre is so close I wore my slippers. As it started, the screen said something about, “Alien” and some teenage boy was hacking his grades in his bed room. I wondered, “Is this a movie IN the movie? How does Julia Childs fit into this?” It become obvious to us that we had no idea what movie we were at. Trinity leaned over and said, “That’s why there were so many kids in line”.
It was a kid’s movie. Trinity almost didn’t make it to the end. I reassured her that kid’s movies are short and much like climbing Humbug Mountain she endured it to the end.
When we left we were able to figure out from the movie poster in the front window that we had seen “Aliens in the Attic”. There was a hand written sign explaining that there had been a last minute problem with the other movie.
That evening we went to the store to get wine and after-hours discount deli chicken. After my cozy experience at the afternoon movie I decided to wear my slippers to the grocery store too. A trend I could all too easily get used to.

09-11-09

I’ve been looking into volunteer positions with Americorp and one particular program seems to be opening itself up to me on the Rio Grande on the Texas Mexico border. The program focuses on preserving the Rio Grande and its history, while growing recreation and tourism through things like water paddle sports and building bike trails. Another goal of growing outdoor recreation is fitness and fighting obesity. They are considering making the program mobile with RVs and have a “Donate Your Old RV” program. There are many aspects of the program that fit me well. The location intrigues me too. I would like to head south. This would be about as far south as you can get in Texas. I’d love to soak in the Mexican culture.
My contact in Texas wanted me to write a letter describing how I might fit into the program. Before I wrote it I went for a vigorous bike ride to gather my thoughts. There’s nothing to do on a bike, but think. I truly believe you think at a heightened level while the cardio is pumping, ramming the blood and oxygen through your brain. I rode south on the 101. It’s becoming a familiar ride. It’s nice to stay in a place long enough to start recognizing at least some of the bigger cracks in the road and the more unique road kill. For some reason I had had ABBA, “Fernando” stuck in my head for 3 days, probably from the “Rio Grande” lyrics. I started the ride listening to that song and wound up listening to ABBA the whole ride. The sun was shining, yet fog was rolling in off of the ocean. It seemed odd, but somehow this was the happiest I’d felt in Port Orford, chuggin’ down the highway next to the ocean, listening to ABBA, thinking about the Rio Grande. I rode out 5 miles and turned around. I just wanted to ride 10 miles, then get to that letter. The ride back was fast. The typical north west headwind was light. As I came down the hill into Port Orford I just kept cranking. I passed the 30mph sign going 32 and flew by the buildings, pedestrians and tourists at Battle Rock Beach. The last corner is usually a momentum killer as it opens up to the wind, but this time I just kept rolling. I took my left and shot right by the RV park. I didn’t have the heart to ruin all of my built up speed. I used the extreme slope of the road that goes up to the heads to slow me to a stop. Then turned around, coasted home and feeling euphoric went inside and wrote my letter.
That night while helping Trinity fold out the couch I found the $50 that I had sadly lost exactly 2 weeks ago. I had looked and looked everywhere for it, from the dumpster to the beach. I figured it was gone forever. Trinity had always said that I just misplaced it and would find it someday. When I saw it I started shouting, “I found it, I found it!” We jumped up and down screaming and laughing.

09-10-09

Corey knows a retired woman who he helps for cash sometimes. Melanie is in the process of moving form her home into an apartment. She’s getting ready for a garage sale and needs some help. We rode our bikes to her house at 9:00am. She had us move boxes from a garden shed and unpack them on her patio so she could price things for the sale. We also did some light gardening. It was easy and she paid very well. We worked for less than 2 hours and she gave me $30 cash.
Trinity and I drove north on the 101 to Coos Bay for some supplies, with a stop in Bandon to get good dog food for Sebastian. The small store we stopped at was an interesting mix of gardening equipment, guns and amo and animal supplies. We noticed a sign that said, “If you abandon an animal please leave a donation to help us take care of it”. They explained that people drop off animals there. They even had a cute little dog who had been left several days ago. Trinity offered to helps spread the word, but they said, “please don’t”. It’s kind of a secret thing they do. If it got out in the public they would be overrun with abandoned pets. It was interesting to see such wonderful care and attention for animals, from guys standing behind a gun counter.
That evening we watched the Space Shuttle cross the sky at 8:33, followed by the International Space Station several minutes later. They had just separated and were following each other in orbit. A very cool sight.

09-09-09

After riding around Humbug Mountain yesterday I wanted to hike the trail to it’s summit. The trial is a loop, about 3 miles up and about 3 miles down. Corey, Trinity, Sebastian and I drove to the mountain, then began the hike. Switch-backs back and forth, the trail ascended constantly. Corey turned back, Trinity, Sebastian and I continued on. Towards the top of the mountain Trinity seemed to want to turn back, but I coaxed her to keep moving. Sebastian, who is 63 in dog years, was full of energy. He’d run far ahead on the trail, then back to us, then back up the trail. He must have gone three times the distance we did. The forest was thick, with occasional views through the trees of the ocean. I could see Port Orford miles up the coast, with Cape Blanco in the distance miles beyond it. It took about an hour and fifteen minutes to get to the summit. The decent was a bit quicker, about an hour. It was a good work out, but we were glad to get to the bottom.
I grilled lemon pepper pork chops with mashed sweet potatoes and wild long rice. We ate big, guilt free and justified after our hike.

09-08-09

I rode my bike past Humbug Mountain, south of Port Orford on the Pacific Coast Highway. The highway runs along the coast, then inland around the back of the mountain. I’d ridden to the mountain before, but wanted to ride past it to where it rejoins the ocean. The road is windy and hilly on the back of the mountain. Often times I was sandwiched between a rock wall on the right and traffic on the left. Thick green trees tower above and over the road. The temperature fluctuates due to shade, sun, altitude, proximity to the ocean and wind. I had gone 10 miles by the time I rejoined the ocean. I turned around, into the wind and headed back home.
I spent some time on the internet looking into potential future plans. I have no ties and am absolutely free to pursue anything, but what to do? I’ve been looking into travel jobs like; working in national parks, tour guide jobs, cruise ship work, working in Australia, teaching English abroad in Thailand and volunteer work. Most of the travel jobs are seasonal and just wrapping up for the summer. I don’t think I want to go abroad yet. I need to embrace the RV life longer. Even though it feels like I’ve been on the road for 2 years, it’s only been 2 months. I’m not looking for money, but I do need enough to stay alive. Some volunteer positions do offer what might be enough money to live off of and the work could be very meaningful. Some jobs look fun, but don’t lead anywhere, or give you any training. Ideally I’d find something that would be a spring-board to something greater.