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.