Totally Ticked Off

Benson, Ariz., Feb. 29 -- Ugh! This morning we found a tick on Charlie’s ear and had to remove it. I’ve never dealt with ticks before and it was gross. Blech! Jeff was a huge help in removing the little monster. Don’t know where Charlie picked it up, possibly even back in the Cottonwood/Sedona area because he hasn’t been off-leash here and barely been outside. But I would think I’d have noticed it yesterday while driving and stroking his head and ears.

I can’t decide if this place is just austerely beautiful or just pain ugly. The rv park is all rock and gravel and cactus. No place for a dog of distinction like Charlie. I have been so worried about him getting stuck with a cactus thorn or bit by a spider or snake or stung by a scorpion it never even occurred to me to think about ticks. Wonder what else I’ve forgotten to worry about. Obviously worry doesn’t help, does it?

This morning we drove down to Tombstone to explore for a bit. Turns out, Charlie IS afraid of gunshots, especially when he’s sitting watching a series of shootouts. I ended up missing most of the 1/2 hour show that depicted several real events in Old Tombstone in the 1880s that resulted in people making their way to Boothill Cemetery. But maybe he was just traumatized from the tick this morning.

We also toured the cemetery and saw the little grave markers indicating who got shot, who was murdered, who committed suicide, etc. Very few died of “natural causes.” Those folks fought over the littlest things and had hair-trigger tempers and big guns. Don’t like the color of my shirt? So shoot me. So they did. Life was cheap. But this isn’t the kind of place I’d choose to live so if I had to live here I’d probably be drunk most of the time and looking for ways to shorten my lifespan. I talked to a young man who was born and raised in Tombstone and he seemed . . . well, kind of normal.

I did, however, find a necklace I absolutely fell in love with. I saw it in the window of the shop and was completely smitten. It is silver and a beautiful piece of turquoise; I’ve never seen anything like it. It was crafted by a Navajo woman. So, in spite of my parsimonious Irish-Scottish heritage and a slightly ridiculous price, I bought it. One of these days I’ll dress up and wear it, along with my cowgirl hat from Sedona, and post some photos.

This afternoon we decided Charlie needed a time-out so we left him in the Mo while we drove back to Tucson and the Saguaro National Park East, the Rincon Mountain side. Wow! Because it is early spring, everything is quite green. The winter rains have swollen the Saguaro and they are all fat and sassy. Unfortunately I’m just a bit early for the cactus bloom. Dang! Story of my life: a week or two early for the prime fall color in New England, a week or two early for the bloom in the desert.

We took the 8-mile Cactus Forest Drive, which is paved, and took tons of photos. Also on the route were a number of bicyclists and one walker. Oh, and several cottontail bunnies but they were just crossing over. Now Charlie would have liked that part. We also walked on a fairly short paved trail with lots of information on the desert.

This is part of the Sonora Desert that covers much of Southwestern Arizona, parts of Southeastern California and a good part of Baja Mexico and parts of Mexico east of the Gulf of California/Sea of Cortez. It apparently has more cactus than other deserts in the west. Very interesting and informative. Again, very beautiful in an austere, sharp way. Nothing soft or soothing or cuddly about this landscape. Even the Teddybear Chollo cactus, though it looks soft, is covered in spines that I’d prefer not to touch Thank You Very Much!

So since it is Lent, it is somewhat appropriate to spend at least a little time in the desert. This is an authentic life: one false move and you’re eaten by a cougar or bitten by a rattlesnake, stung by a scorpion or die of thirst. There’s no messing about in the desert; everything is purposeful. But even in this very harsh place, there is plenty of beauty. The Fairy Duster wildflowers were in bloom. They are a very delicate, airy flower, deep pink or purple in color.

It is quite hot here already. I’m guessing in the 80s. It was uncomfortable being in the car without the air conditioner running. Jeff and I both have little sunburns from the last few days being in the sun. In the later spring and early summer it climbs into the 100s fairly regularly until the summer rains in July and August come. Very interesting country. But again, not someplace I’d chose to live.

Tomorrow we pull up stakes and head on east to El Paso in West Texas. Wonder what kind of interesting and exciting things we’ll find there . . .

TravelinLady

Adieu, Beautiful Sedona

Every morning when I am planning to travel, getting the Mo packed up and ready to go, I have a conscious decision to make. This morning it is weighing on my mind some. Do I want to push forward, continue on this road before me, or do I want to scurry back to the safety of known places, of loved places and beloved friends and family?

Today we head for Benson, Arizona, just a few miles from Tombstone and a few more from Tucson. After a couple days we head southeast through New Mexico toward El Paso, Texas. I’ve never been east of Tucson so once again I find myself entering land that is a mystery, virgin territory for me. There is comfort in being places you’ve been before; there is just a little fear and trepidation heading to unexplored places.

Knowing I have people who are following my journeys, traveling with me in spirit, expecting to hear of my next leg keeps me going, along with my own desire to see the rest of the country. That and knowing I have some mail to pick up in Florida next month when I visit a dear friend there.

Driving around Sedona (which, by the way, is named after a woman who was one of the early families here) these past few days I have rekindled a love for this high desert country, a love that first ignited 27 years ago when I saw it for the first time. I could live here -- happily, I think. But it isn’t home. Perhaps better to keep the pictures of it in my mind -- and on my computer -- than to live here and maybe become disenchanted or even grow to hate it.
The beauty is amazing; the people are amazingly friendly. The air is clear. Driving out into the Coconino National Forest, which surrounds the city, it is desperately quiet. Only the occasional car passing through breaks the silence.

People here in this area are friendly, helpful, seem to be good people. I wonder how much is expectation: if I am open and expect people to be friendly, maybe they are more so. Or maybe there’s something special about this place: the smallness -- you’re a long ways from anywhere (Phoenix is the closest place of any size) -- or the beauty, or maybe a special spirit that pervades this area. Maybe those metaphysical groups that tout the vortexes and other natural phenomena have a point.


Interestingly, we are just a couple miles down the road from the turnoff to U.S. Sen. John McCain’s Arizona ranch. It is quite remote. Residents at the rv park joked about how things would change in the “neighborhood” if McCain is elected president with all the Secret Service around whenever he is home. Is there an Arizona White House in our future?

The only unpleasant experience was getting some photo cds back from the film store. I had taken two rolls of 35mm film to supplement my digital camera. Unfortunately some of the pictures saved to the cd had a series of lines through them. I hope it was just in the processing of the cd and that the lines are not on the negatives. I was VERY disappointed. However, I think I have plenty of good photos from Sedona!

Wednesday was an eventful day. I had made arrangements for a mobile rv repair person to come look at my electrical system. Buck managed to figure the problem out with his electrical equipment and replaced the apparently-defective GFI plug we had installed. Now all my electrical outlets work again, and that means the little tv in my bedroom also works, as do the dvd/video players. Buck did a great job and was more than fair in his charge. Just another of the really nice people we have come to know here.

Then last night was a potluck dinner at the Paige Springs RV resort just outside Cornville. I made German potato salad which was quickly gobbled up. In spite of the very negative first impression of the resort, in the few days of staying here we have come to love the place and it’s people. It is quite small -- probably less than 25 rv’s at any given time during the five nights we stayed there -- but warm and cozy and beautiful. Like Sedona, but even more so, everyone was very friendly and helpful.

The couple sitting across the table from us at dinner talked about seeing me driving in and thinking it was some “teenage girl driving that big bus in.” They travel from Idaho (east of Couer d’Alene) for the winter. They had lived in Phoenix and then retired to Sedona but after only two years found it was too small, too remote for them.

Before dinner we talked to a man from this area who likes to go to the Oregon and Washington coasts every summer to escape Arizona’s heat.

Jackie, the artist whom I’d talked to earlier, showed me some of her artwork. She is 47, never married. She bought the motor home about 4 months ago and has been living at Paige Springs and she says it has been a relaxing, healthy, healing time for her.

We have seen a number of vehicles from Oregon, Washington and Idaho but it’s likely many are getting ready to head back home in the next few weeks, Unlike me. My journey’s barely started and I have many, many miles to go before I can head back home.

TravelinLady

No. Arizona: Beautiful, Naturally

Sedona, Ariz., Feb. 24 -- We thought we’d lost the rain when we dropped down into the Imperial Valley of South Central California and drove across the desert country into Arizona. Unfortunately, it found us here in Sedona.

As we drove through the desert yesterday the Saguaro cactus made their appearance. These tall sentinels look like huge deformed hands reaching up to the sky, as if they are trying to grasp the sun. I hope we are able to spend time in Tucson and visit Saguaro National Park. We have been seeing prickly pear cactus since California, ocatilla, teddy bear and other cactus, as well as yucca, creosote, acacia, cypress and other desert plants.

We arrived at this campground (rv resort supposedly), outside of Cottonwood and about a dozen miles south of Sedona, around 1 on Saturday. I was disappointed in the quality of this park. Very small spaces, the “lodge” is a portable building and the manager claims he’s landscaping but everything is covered in red mud. Yes, mud. They’ve had quite a lot of rain the past week or so and that has made things relatively green even here in the desert. But the weather was beautiful when we arrived.

After hooking up to electric and water (no sewer . . . again, only 30 amp electric, and no internet service at all), we drove into Sedona to find the library for internet access and scope out the town. We ended up taking quite a few pictures.

Sedona is extremely picturesque with its red rock monoliths and cliffs of limestone, mudstone and sandstone. It is part of the Colorado Plateau that apparently formed the west coast of this landmass millions of years ago when the continent was emerging. Sedona was recently voted the most beautiful place in America by readers of USA Today Weekend. It is breathtaking; awe-inspiring. Especially with snow on the upper mesas and blue sky and sunshine. It’s an embarrassment of riches for photographers and all those who delight in visual beauty.

I first saw Sedona 27 years ago when Kristin was not quite two. John and I and Kristin and my mom flew down to Tucson to visit my maternal grandparents. While there we rented a car and drove to Flagstaff and the Grand Canyon, via the Oak Creek Canyon and Sedona. We fell in love with the area immediately. If only we’d bought property here! Needless to say, about the only thing that looks the same are those red rock formations. Then 11 years ago when John and I were in Phoenix for a conference we again rented a car and drove up to Sedona for one night’s stay. So being here again reminded me of being here with my late husband and my late mother. There is some bittersweetness there.

Sunday morning we awoke to rain showers, some quite heavy. Oak Creek, which runs just below the campground, was already swollen; an angry, muddy river. The rain, coupled with the snow on the upper areas of the surrounding mountains, threatened to fill the creek even more. Frankly I was a little worried about flooding so got up early to make sure I was ready to go if we need to make an emergency exit from the campground.

After deciding the creek wouldn’t rise enough to float the Mo away, we drove back to Sedona this morning. In the process of finding the visitors’ information center, we also saw Tlaquepaque, an arts and crafts village and I talked Jeff into visiting. This is a collection of 45 galleries, shops and restaurants that I remembered seeing when I was in Sedona before. I’m pretty sure it was here in 1981, though admittedly my memory isn’t that great. But I think it was much smaller then. We spent much of the rest of the morning exploring shops and galleries and probably only saw half of them. I found a really neat wool cowboy (cowgirl, really) hat and bracelet, and we saw some beautiful art: bronze and wood sculptures, glass, photography, paintings. I think we may go back. In fact, I’m sure we will!

This area also seems to be very plugged into spirituality, new age, and psychic “arts.” One whole wall of the information center had brochures for vortex tours, labyrinths, retreat centers, meditation, holistic healing and treatment places, massage and reiki, among other offerings. You certainly do feel the presence of a benevolent Creator when you are among such surroundings.

Later the rainclouds cleared and we saw the sun. Tonight the stars are amazing -- so huge and bright. Desert stars. Now if we can just keep those clouds and that rain at bay we can do more exploring tomorrow.

TravelinLady

Rainy Days in the Sunny South

Gila Bend, Ariz. Feb. 22 -- California sent us packing this morning with cold rain and blustery winds. But yesterday we managed to squeeze a very pleasant day between two rainy ones and spent several hours at the San Diego Zoo. It was an enjoyable day and a delightful surprise that we didn’t get rained on. Of course, that’s because I had my umbrella and it only rains if I don’t carry one.

I’ve seen the San Diego Zoo twice before. It is considered one of the best in the world and always high on my list when I’m in this area and have the time. My friends Donna and Dave are members of the Zoo so gave us passes to get in so it was a great bargain to boot. We enjoyed seeing the Malayan tiger and the gorgeous black-velvet jaguar, the orangutans and the gorilla and all the many other animals. My favorites are the koalas. The Zoo also has a new baby Giant Panda but we did not see it. Not only are the animals and plants fascinating, but all the information provided about animals that are threatened and endangered -- most because of loss of habitat -- and what the Zoo and others are doing to protect these species is very educational.

Last night at the Pio Pico preserve the frogs were in full voice. A bit later, as we were watching a movie on my computer, I heard coyotes. There must have been a large pack and they must have been very close to the campground. Charlie was very interested. He had been antsy all evening and I think perhaps he had been hearing or sensing the presence of these wild dogs. Earlier in the evening we saw a deer up on the top of the ridge. In the mornings the birds -- especially the redwing blackbirds -- fill the air with their beautiful music. So for being fairly close to the city, there is plenty of country at Pio Pico.

Because it was raining so hard this morning Jeff suggested I just let him drive the Saturn so we didn’t have to hook it up. It was a great idea and driving just the Mo was much easier. Plus Jeff enjoys driving the Saturn so it’s more fun for him, too. We may do that again from time to time.

We headed east toward our next destination, Sedona, Ariz. The rain continued over the Santa Rosa mountains and the three 4,000+ foot passes that Interstate 8 traverses were wreathed in clouds. This area is part of the Anza-Borrego Desert and is normally quite dry but rain was running down the edges of the highway in small torrents. In some places visibility was just a few hundred feet. The wind wasn’t too bad much of the time but occasionally it was very challenging.

Once over the mountains we dropped quickly down to sea level in the Imperial Valley, another huge, very productive agricultural area. We also managed to find the sun here. Farther east we were back in desert country with vast expanses of flat, dry country and off in the distance high ridges of sharp mountains like the bony backs of large, prehistoric monsters.

One of the things we noticed on the road to Pio Pico was the large number of Border Patrol vehicles at all times of the day. All along 8 we also saw them at various places, including at a couple of checkpoints where there were numerous officers, vehicles and dogs. I’m not sure how dogs are used but they were certainly present. Near the state line we were very close to the Mexican border and could see the fence that runs through this section from the freeway. Clearly this is an area where border protection is taken seriously but the reality is our borders would be impossible to close off completely.

After driving 7-plus hours and losing an additional hour to the time change, we pulled into a funky little place in Gila Bend just before 6. This is a large gravel parking lot with 50 amp service and sewers, a combination which we have not had since Coos Bay, somewhat connected to a Shell gas station (with diesel), a Subway and mini-mart. Very convenient and less than $20. Unfortunately there is no wifi but we’ll survive. For the first time since we entered California I don’t have to worry about using the electric heaters and the toaster at the same time.

Tomorrow it will be a fairly short drive to Cottonwood in the Oak Creek Canyon, just a hop and skip south of Sedona. Right now we’re scheduled to stay there a week but that’s flexible. I would like to try to get some repairs done on the electrical system so if there’s a place near us that we can get into that may affect how long we stay. Also whether we have wifi access and cell phone and 50 amp service and other amenities. You’d be surprised how much you appreciate those things when you don’t have them. Even more than sunshine.

TravelinLady

Sunny??? Southern California

February 20, San Diego, Calif. -- We left Rancho Oso fairly early Monday morning, knowing we had a long road of likely heavy traffic ahead of us. It was completely a stroke of luck that we were going through LA and surrounding territory on a holiday Monday so traffic was probably significantly less. Still it’s never easy driving through the maze of freeways and plethora of on and off ramps in Southern California.

Though we left Santa Barbara with nearly a half-tank of fuel, I wanted to make sure we filled before we hit LA so we kept watching for gas stations with diesel. There seems to be a shortage of them. We finally saw a diesel sign in Ventura and followed the indicated direction for what seemed like miles of city streets. We finally found a Chevron station with diesel but it looked a bit tricky to get the Mo into.

Turns out it was very tricky and we ended up having to unhook the car to get the Mo in close enough without hitting something. On top of that the diesel was $3.66 a gallon. So $150 later we were able to get the Mo out of the station. Jeff followed me in the Saturn and we found a wide, level area a few blocks down to hook it back up. It was one of those experiences that would have been much more difficult to handle alone and I was very thankful to have Jeff there to help unhook and then rehook the car and help watch my backside as I maneuvered the Mo in a very tight spot.

Three blocks down the road we found a station with wide spaces that would have been much more easily accessible. And the diesel was 10 cents a gallon less. Oh well! It’s a good metaphor for life, I think. Don’t get too anxious because something much better might be just a couple blocks down the road. Then again, it might not.

We arrived at the Pio Pico Thousand Trails preserve in mid-afternoon and got parked and set up camp. We are almost out of groceries so I did my best at putting together a meal.

On Tuesday I drove into the closest shopping area, about seven miles away, to get cell service and run a couple errands. I especially needed to connect with my friend, Donna, who lives in San Diego. She and I worked together for the Senator for several years and I haven’t seen her in ages. We made arrangements to get together on Wednesday for a visit. I also called my sister and my daughter for a chat and made reservations for an RV park near Sedona, Ariz. for Friday.

Then in the afternoon Jeff and I took Charlie north to Oceanside to the Mission San Luis Rey. It is known as the King of the Missions and is the largest of the 21 California Missions. It was founded in 1798 by the Franciscans.

On the way to the Mission we decided to find a beach and let Charlie have a run. He loved it, as can be seen by the photos. At one point he got hold of one of my shoes and shortly thereafter dropped it in the surf. Silly goofball! Only after we returned to the car did I see the sign indicating dogs were not allowed on this beach. Charlie did absolutely no harm (except to my shoe) so I’m thinking no foul.

Wednesday morning we woke up to rain. Because we have no sewer drain at this preserve, I had to unhook the Mo and go to the sewage dump, and then rehook. So, no sewer, no cell service, wifi up at the lodge. Convenient? I think not. But I was planning to leave Jeff and Charlie at the Mo while I spent the afternoon and evening with my friend Donna and her husband. That way I don’t have to worry about finding my way back in the dark and Jeff will get a little time alone taking care of Charlie and the Mo. I didn’t want him to have to deal with full black- and gray-water storage tanks. So tonight I am sleeping in a condo in downtown San Diego after spending the afternoon walking around -- sometimes in the rain -- with my friend Donna.

I am finding with writing this blog, writing a separate blog for The Oregonian (http://www.oregonlive.com/travel/) and writing a full article every three weeks or so, that I sometimes forget what I’ve already written where. So sometimes I might say things twice, and sometimes I don’t include things I meant to. It is good for me to write more but it is sometimes a stretch to get everything done, especially with wifi so difficult.

Also, while it’s wonderful to have someone to do my exploring with, it gives me much less time for reflection and writing. It also adds a whole new dimension to this trip: trying to consider someone else’s needs and goals and tastes and personality and still meet my own needs, still be true to myself and my original reason for doing this. There have been some rocky moments for sure and we are still sorting out how to handle conflicts and issues that come up. But for now we’re trying to take it all one day at a time.

And tomorrow is another day. Let’s hope the lovely weather we’ve been blessed with up until now returns.
TravelinLady

From Farm Country to the Wild West

Santa Barbara, Calif., Feb. 16 -- It was either sheer genius or a stroke of great luck that we decided to make an abbreviated trip on Thursday and thus shorten the drive to Rancho Oso Thousand Trails Preserve. The three-mile road into the preserve is narrow, torturous and twisty like no road I’ve ever had to drive the Mo on. Just before getting to the preserve we met a UPS van and had to hold our breath as we squeezed past it. I would hate to have tried driving this road in the dark.

This is a lovely, hidden place, tucked away next to the Santa Ynez River and surrounded by the steep hills of the Los Padres National Forest. The preserve has it’s own stables and pastures and there are accommodations for people who want to bring their own horses and ride the trails.

We decided to splurge on an hour-long ride on Saturday morning. They squeezed us in with a group of young Boy Scouts from Ventura, their fathers and leaders. They were out on their winter campout. Winter campouts here are a far cry from those in Oregon or Washington. It’s sunny, reasonably warm, and dry here. It was a very slow, leisurely pace with ample stops; not exactly what Jeff and I would have preferred but sometimes you just take what you get.

My horse, Tennessee, was a thoroughbred chestnut who had retired from being a polo pony. It reminded me of the days when, as young girls, my sister and I and friends would walk the hot polo ponies -- bet you didn’t know there was a polo field in Yakima -- after they’d competed in matches, just to be close to horses. This was a little more fun, to be honest; but it would have been better if we’d been able to take the horses out on our own and move a bit faster. For those who don’t know, I have raised and trained part-Arabs, my avocation before my children came along, so walking in a single file is not really my idea of riding.

Jeff on Tank was right behind the wrangler, Emma, and I was behind him. A long line of Scouts on horses followed us. Emma is an immigrant from Germany. She’s been in the U.S. for about seven years -- though you’d never know it; she speaks with just the slightest accent -- and has worked at Rancho Oso for about three. However, being German she did insist that everyone follow the rules and wasn’t shy about reminding us.

Emma mentioned that the weather had been very dry up until just recently. In fact, one of the Scout fathers said that last year they’d only had four inches of rain all year in this southwestern part of California. Two years with virtually no rain. No spring wildflowers. No green grass on the hills. You wouldn’t know it to look at the landscape this weekend. And truly, I have been in California a number of times and have never, ever seen it so green. Right now it could be called the Emerald State.

It was a productive day. We did laundry, a little “Mo”keeping, and took Charlie on a couple good walks, one along a clear stream filled with cascade and small waterfalls. He, of course, enjoyed wading in the water and drinking from the stream. We even found time to sit in the sun and read our books briefly.

Yesterday following Highway 101 out of Morgan Hill we drove through the broad, fertile Salinas Valley. It stretches -- seemingly forever -- between the Galiban Range, covered in soft green, on the east, and farther east the Diablo and Coastal ranges. Higher hills -- the Santa Lucia Range -- enfold the valley on the west. This is the country where John Steinbeck was reared and forms the location of many of his stories. In Travels with Charley he spends quite a lot of time talking about how much the area had changed since his youth. That was in the 1960s. I wonder what he would think of the area now.

But then, I wonder how much it has changed. Field after field of crops, rows so straight they must have been laid out by engineers, still require extensive hand labor. Already men are out in the fields, moving irrigation pipe, hoeing weeds. Certainly over the years our country’s immigration laws have affected and been affected by the labor force required to produce the crops that have earned this area the title of the Nation’s Salad Bowl.

Farther south the land is planted in vineyards. One wonders if there is any part of California where grapes and wine are not critical to the economy.

Tonight we are going to a barbecue at the lodge. Maybe we’ll see the folks we met yesterday who are visiting from Hillsboro, Ore. Tomorrow we will explore the coast north of here. Jeff wants to see Big Sur again and possibly the Hearst Castle. That’s what we’re here for -- to explore. There’s always so much to do and see that we have decided we need to take turns picking what our next adventure will be. Tomorrow is Jeff’s turn.
TravelinLady

Loosing the Shackles of Schedules and Plans

Morgan Hill, Calif., Feb. 14 -- Plans were made to be broken. We decided Santa Barbara was too much of a stretch for one day so we are parked at one of my Thousand Trails preserves in Morgan Hill, just a bit south of San Jose.

We set off mid-morning heading south on 101. Just south of Novato we cut east on Highway 37 towards Vallejo where we connected to Interstate 780 which folded into 680. It took us quite a ways east of the Bay area but I think we avoided most of the congestion. I would rather drive out of the way and avoid the heaviest traffic when possible. That might be tricky when we head through LA, however. Already it is clear we’re in California: drivers are very aggressive. People fly past you and cut over three or four or more lanes to get to the off-ramp and maybe save a few seconds or sit five feet off your bumper at 60+ mph when there’s a completely open lane to the left. NOT my favorite place to drive.

From 680 we reconnected to 101 and will probably stay on 101 to Santa Barbara. But we decided at the rate we were going it would be well after dark before we got to Santa Barbara. So we pulled over -- if there were rest stops along this route I certainly didn’t see them -- and I called the Morgan Hill preserve. They had plenty of room and we were able to change our reservations for tonight. Tomorrow we can get a fresh start down 101. There’s a Safeway on the way back to the highway and there’s a Trader’s Joe’s back up at the last exit so if we need to stock up, this is a good place to be.

It’s nice to just be here on a quiet, sunny afternoon with no huge agenda items. This is very rural country. There are several horse farms within walking distance: Arab, Thoroughbred and others. There are also a couple wineries very close. We did so many side trips while outside of Cloverdale that it will be nice to just sit this afternoon.

I have my windows open in the Mo and am sitting in shirtsleeves. I got a couple chairs out so we can relax in the sun for a bit. Driving down we passed many flowering fruit trees. It is amazing how quickly the climate and temperature can change. We’re really only a couple days’ drive -- or less -- from Portland but it feels like we’ve shaved a month or two off the calendar.

The photos I've posted are of San Francisco, of course. Except the lower one is of a vineyard with a mustard cover crop. They often plant cover crops to hold the soil and keep other weeds out. If I recall, grapes are very sensitive to weedkillers and cover crops that can be plowed under for green manure both enrich the soil and keep other, more noxious weeds out (though I always though mustard was a fairly noxious weed).

With a bit of free time, Jeff attempted to replace the GFCI that has decommissioned several of my electrical outlets. However, despite valiant efforts on his part, it didn’t seem to fix the problem so we’ll probably have to take the Mo into a service place and have it worked on. Maybe they can help us install the television, too. Probably around Phoenix it will be easy to find a place that can service my Monaco. More money but it goes with the territory, I guess.

So tonight we will have a relaxing dinner at home, I’ll walk up to the lodge and post my blogs (no wifi in the Mo is a nuisance but it’s par in the Thousand Trails preserves), and then we’ll try to get an early start tomorrow. Santa Barbara here we come -- at least that’s the plan tonight.

It is so touching to read the comments people have sent on my blot posts. It appears I am doing something that appeals to a number of people: the freedom of the open road and following wherever it pulls you. Looks like I may have gained a few more readers. Thank you all who are joining me.

It is hard to be as reflective a I want to be when I have to walk up to the lodge to post to my blog, check email and take care of business. It doesn’t feel private, there are distractions and I am feeling like my writing is getting short shrift right now. But I’ll get back into it. This traveling with a partner is also new for me. I love the companionship but it doesn’t give me nearly as much time for quiet, thoughtful processing of things. And that is very important to me -- a major reason for the traveling beyond just the exploring and seeing the country. I want to think about what I see and hear: roll them around in my head and see what comes out. Harder to do when you don’t have alot of alone time. But we’ll work it out. For now, it’s time to get back to the Mo and head south again.

TravelinLady

California Sunshine Through the Redwoods

Mendocino County, Calif., Feb. 13 -- What a delight it is to wake up to sunshine streaming into your window!!! Weary of what has seemed like a very cold, rainy winter, it feels good to have left it behind in Portland and Seattle. We are enjoying sunshine and temperatures in the low 70s this week in Northern California. Little golden buttercups dot the roadways, Scotch broom is blooming along the coastline, and today we saw a flowering cherry in full bloom. It’s a reminder that winter does end. But if we don’t have the patience to wait for it, we can always head south.

However, there are also signs that winter is just barely gone here. Landslides being cleaned up in the coastal mountains, flood warning signs still up, and an occasional sign warning of ice. Luckily we saw nothing more than the signs Tuesday as we drove across 128 from just north of Cloverdale across to Highway 1 on the North Mendocino Coast. We passed scores of little wineries in the Anderson Valley, though didn’t stop.

The highway is excruciatingly twisty and poor Charlie -- in the back of the Saturn -- had a difficult time keeping his footing sometimes. I tried to explain to him that if he were sitting or lying down he would have a better chance but he ignored my suggestions. Jeff drove and it’s hard to know if he had the more difficult job of guiding my little sporty Saturn through the turns (I rather think he was enjoying the challenge) or if I had the more difficult job of keeping Charlie out of the front seat and my own breakfast down. Charlie would stand on the transmission hump and lean into me or Jeff, depending on which way the car was turning, using us as human crutches to help get his balance.

These roads make predicting driving time very difficult. If the mileage signs indicate it will be 30 miles to the next destination, you can count on it taking between 60 and 90 minutes, depending on the number and severity of the curves. What looked like a few hours’ tour turned into a full and very tiring day.

We stopped in the Hendy Woods State Park and took a brief stroll through huge redwoods that have been growing here hundreds -- if not thousands -- of years. Imagine what these trees have witnessed in their time here on earth. We drove roads that were cave dark from the huge canopy of redwoods overhead. Sun filtered down through the trees, emphasizing their height and girth and beauty. These trees take your breath away with their majesty.

On the coast we stopped in Mendocino. Mendocino seems to be an eclectic mixture of expensive galleries and shops frequented by tourists and humble cafes where colorful earthy characters in cotton fatigues meet over organic vegetarian food and fair traded coffees. Jeff and I explored a gallery where he checked out some gorgeous sand-blasting-etched vases and I checked out some opal and diamond earrings. We both decided $800 for each was a bit out of our range.

Charlie remained in the car with the cookies we’d bought at the bakery. But what a good dog! When we got back to the car he hadn’t touched them. So of course we had to give him a piece of the peanut butter cookie.

At Caspar Beach we saw old VW vans parked next to Toyota pickups whose drivers were out with their surfboards looking for the perfect wave. Charlie and Jeff walked up the beach a ways to explore while I tried to take some photos.

Wednesday morning we decided to drive the car down to San Francisco but since Charlie had had such a stressful riding day on Tuesday we left him in the Mo. We spent a little time on Fisherman’s Wharf, bought some crab for lunch and sat on a bench along the bay to eat it. Another glorious, sunny day -- shirtsleeves weather. No fog in San Francisco on THIS day! And virtually no tourists.

We took the longer route home on the Napa Sonoma Highway through wine country. Everything is a delightfully soft, rich green color. If I understood the people we spoke with, they’ve had more than 100 percent of their annual rainfall already. But all of this lush grass will become a serious fire hazard as the weather dries in the next few months.

At one place we had some excellent wines and a very long conversation with the tasting room host about politics, wine, immigration and other issues. He had liberal opinions on some things, conservative on others: fairly typical, I think, of most Americans. We also met and chatted with a young woman who is attending Santa Rosa Junior College studying enology and viticulture while working at a winery. There wasn’t much going on in the wine tasting rooms on a Wednesday afternoon in mid-February so lots of individual attention and time to chat -- or listen, as the case may be.

Tomorrow we are scheduled to land in Santa Barbara for three nights. We are trying to figure out the best way to avoid the traffic congestion around San Francisco. It’s nice to have a navigator with me so I don’t have to read maps while driving!

TravelinLady

A Rocky Start

Cloverdale, Calif., Feb. 12 -- In my last post I related my decadence lying in bed with my coffee. It was a lovely morning oozing spring-ness. But that turned out to be the high point of the day. I took Charlie out for a long walk-jog and we were enjoying the bayfront and the sunshine -- until Charlie found a dead bird to roll in. I promptly put him back onleash and ended the walk shortly thereafter.

A bit later I was making coffee and something happened to the GFCI outlet in the bathroom that also shuts off the outlet in my kitchen. It wouldn’t “pop” and after some research I determined the outlet itself needed to be replaced. What I didn’t realize is that it also controls two of the outlets in the bedroom and the outlet for the larger television in the front of the Mo. So half my outlets and both tvs are completely out of commission.

Since I had broken the sewer connector elbow while in Portland, I went out to buy a new one as well as some electrical components I thought I would need. While hooking the sewer up, however, I misjudged my distance and raised up from a crouching position into the corner of the slideout. Excruciating pain! A few minutes later I realized I had hit it hard enough to break the skin and I was bleeding from a cut in the crown of my head. Actually it still hurts today, three days later.

And since Charlie was so smelly, I decided I had to give him a bath, or at least hose down those smelly parts. For the first -- and last -- time I tried using my shower on him. It has a long hose that worked okay but it’s such a tiny space and he was not very cooperative. But that was one of those unexpected projects I really didn’t have time for so I probably didn’t show him as much tender loving patience as I should have.

Then Jeff called from south of Eugene to tell me there were problems with the bus transfer and he wasn’t sure if he would be able to get back to the depot and catch the correct one. He found some of those “angels” on the road who drove him back into town in time. But the bus suffered two mechanical breakdowns so was 45 minutes late getting into Coos Bay. Jeff’s phone battery had died so he had no way to call and let me know.

It was just one of those days, y’know. But we made it to the restaurant in time for our reservation and met my daughter and son-in-law. We had a wonderful Italian dinner -- my butternut ravioli was mouth-wateringly delicious -- and an excellent visit. In memory of our trip to Italy for Kristin and Ryan’s wedding in the summer of 2005, I even ordered grappa (a "beverage" made from fermenting leftover grape stems, seeds, etc. with grain alcohol that smells like turpentine). It’s every bit as bad here as it was there. Then they came back to the Mo with us and Ryan helped do a little more work on my new cupboard door (pictured), although the tv still isn’t installed. However, since there is no electricity there, it really doesn’t matter right now anyway.

So on to Sunday and the first big step of the journey. I have only had passengers in the Mo -- besides Charlie -- on a couple of short trips and no one has ever driven it but me. Jeff wanted to learn to drive -- and I welcome assistance in that area -- so I turned it over to him just south of Crescent City, Calif. Lucky Jeff, he got all those sharp curves through redwood trees and steep hills. I admit I’m a bit of a mother hen so Jeff was very patient with my bossiness. It was so nice to have someone spell me with the driving, and I know after he has driven a few more miles we’ll both be able to relax more.

We were both impressed with how green California is this late-winter. Apparently the rains just stopped in time for our arrival and everywhere you look there is a beautiful green glow. Much of the year these grasses are tan or golden; some say that's why California is called the golden state.

We arrived at the Thousand Trails park after about 6 so it was already fairly dark but we managed to get set up in a nice spot. The stars were absolutely magnificent in the clear skies of Northern California. A wonderful touch to end the day with.

On Monday Charlie and I walked down the trail to the Russian River, and then Jeff and I went into Cloverdale to the visitors information center. We came away with enough material and ideas to stay for three weeks and not be bored. However, we only have three days so will have to make some tough decisions.

A building next door to the information center had piqued our interest, especially since we’ve both been reading about the Celts. It was the Druid Temple. We were very curious and went to check it out. Of course, it was closed. But we went to a little cafe next door and talked to the woman behind the bar and a guy who had dropped by. Neither of them knew anything about the Druids and what they do but were pretty sure they don’t do virgin sacrifices there. At least not any more. A little something to Google when I have the luxury again of having wifi in the Mo. At this park I have to go up to the lodge to use the internet.

Then we went back and collected Charlie and drove to my sister’s home in Potter Valley, north and a bit east of Ukiah. She and her husband (also a Jeff) took us to Frey Vineyards , one of the -- if not THE -- first organic wineries in the country. The pictures show one of the Mrs. Freys, Jeff my brother in law, my sister Colleen and Jeff my traveling partner in front of the vineyard offices. The other other picture is of Jeff and Jeff sitting in hand-carved redwood chairs with one of many of the family dogs inspecting them. It is a very earthy kind of place. Jonathan Frey, the eldest brother of this family-run venture, poured us samples of some nice Sangiovese and a bio-dynamic chardonnay. He gave us a tour of the farm, much of which is powered by solar energy -- and lots of information on organic farming and carbon credits and other strange and exotic topics. As we headed back to Potter Valley for dinner, the sun was setting over the hills above Redwood Valley; altogether beautiful.

Tomorrow we will set out for the coast perhaps, or find a few more wineries to visit. So much to do, so little time.

TravelinLady

One Last Leisurely, Lonely Morning

Coos Bay, Or, February 9 -- For more than four years I have woken in the morning as the goddess of all I survey, and for the past few months that has been pretty much my whole house as I can see most of it from my bed. That is about to end since after tonight I will be sharing my very small abode with another person, probably for the next several months, anyway.

So this morning for the first time I decided to have coffee in my bed, try to act the part of the spoiled, decadent queen of the realm of Mo. To luxuriate in aloneness for the last time in quite awhile. Having coffee in bed is easy to do since my bed is, literally, six steps from my kitchen. I heated up coffee left over from yesterday. Now I enjoy good coffee but I am not a coffee snob. I’ll drink Seattle’s Best just as readily as Starbucks. Right now I am drinking Peet’s because it was on sale at Safeway. Tucked away in my pantry I also have a couple bags of a wonderful Brazilian coffee that comes from the family farm of one of my friends from church. I still can’t deal with instant, however, or the really weak coffee you often find in restaurants any distance from the West Coast.

So after heating my coffee I crawled back into bed to enjoy the sunrise -- a luminescent golden glow slowly rising above the motor home parked next to me. Horizons are in the eye of the beholder.

Today I need to go to one of the RV supply stores here and try to find another sewer connector since mine broke as I was trying to get it out of the drain in Portland. When I kicked it to try to loosen it, the plastic was so brittle from the cold that it broke. Then I couldn’t even get the remnants out. So guess the next inhabitant of Space 35 will have to deal with it.

I also need to find some snaps or locks to put on my little cupboard door so maybe I can finally finish installing my new television. My son got that very well started on Tuesday night but we just ran out of time. Hopefully my son-in-law will be able to give me a bit of time and a drill and screwdriver to finish the project.

Monday morning I found a cupboard door -- I think it’s maple so it’s not a perfect match to the oak but close -- at a liquidator’s store that fits the opening that used to hold my large old tube-type television. The idea was to cover the space but still have access so I could store remotes, dvds, cds, etc. That would also give me access to the electric plug and the cord for hooking up the controller unit that feeds the tv signals from the antenna, or cable, or the VHS/DVD player.

The first idea was to hang the door from hinges on the side but it was just a bit too wide to accommodate hinges. So my son installed the hinges at the top. We added a large strip of oak backing for added stability. We drilled a hole to feed the cords through. He installed one piece of the wall-mount unit. So there’s just a bit more to do to actually install my new flat screen hdtv and then pray that the hinges hold as we go over bumps.

One of the problems, though, is that the front of the built-in box that held the old tv slopes down and back so the bottom is a couple inches shorter than the top. This makes it difficult to completely close the door without stressing the hinges. So I think I will install another piece of wood -- kind of a stopper -- and put the snaps or locks on it. With a motor home nothing is ever easy. I know this is hard to envision so I will add a couple photos later for all you people who need a picture.

This evening I pick Jeff up at the bus station and we take the kids out to dinner at a new restaurant in North Bend -- the chef used to work at Genoa in Portland, a highly regarded Italian restaurant. Reviews for his new place, Porta, are very positive. That will make Italian three nights in a row since I ate leftover vegetarian pizza last night after doing laundry at my daughter’s.

After playing on the beach with the dogs yesterday, we ate a late and large lunch at a seafood place in Charleston -- a commercial fishing harbor. We ate so much petrale sole fish and chips with some excellent clam chowder that I wasn’t really hunger for dinner. The very fresh seafood here is one of the benefits of living in Oregon’s Bay Area. My daughter and son-in-law often go out and catch fresh Dungeness crab, which in my mind is every bit as delicious as lobster, or buy fresh tuna off the docks in Charleston.

As I think about it, maybe I’ll go down to Charleston and pick up some fresh fish or crab for dinner Sunday night. And more of the excellent canned tuna or smoked oysters one of the little shops carries. It’s expensive but well worth the price and great to have on hand for quick throw-together meals on the road. For right now, though, it’s time to take Charlie out to visit the pet area so he can investigate who’s visited during the night and leave a reminder to all other dogs that he was there.

TravelinLady

The Long and Winding Road, Take 2

Coos Bay, Ore., February 8, 2008 -- Thursday morning, after a restless night with wild winds and heavy rainstorms in Portland, I rose to intermittent sunshine. There was enough dry weather that I was able to reposition my bike on the bike rack and add the bike my son had brought me on Tuesday night. Charlie had one last romp with Nick out on the 40-mile-loop trail. Then I got all the “shorelines” unhooked (water, electric, sewer) and hooked the car up to the towbar. We hit the road by about 12:30.

The weather was spring-like: squalls of heavy rain and wind, followed by sun. All around as we drove we saw standing water and creeks and rivers spilling over their banks. We headed south on I-5 to milepost 162, the cutoff to State Route 38 that would take us through Drain, Elkton, Scottsburg, and eventually, to Reedsport and Highway 101.

Along much of that route we followed the Umpqua River, which was continually testing its banks and, in many places, winning the contest: covering the roots of the vegetation that clings to its banks, leaving trunks and branches surrounded by water. Pale sage-green lichens hang from the branches of the alder, oak and vine maple, mimicking early spring leaves and further contributing to the illusion that winter is finally over.

In the pastures along the highway we saw new lambs exploring the world on shaky legs. Yet more signs of spring.

The we, in this case, is once again Charlie and I. Jeff was delayed in Seattle waiting for some tax documents so will meet us in Coos Bay later this weekend, most likely taking a bus from Portland.

It didn’t take Charlie long to remember his favorite place: sitting right next to my driver’s seat, leaning on me or resting his chin on my right knee, or being just close enough (always touching if he can help it -- velcro dog) so that I can reach out and rest my hand on his head or stroke his ears whenever the traffic and road conditions and wind allowed me to hold the wheel with one hand.

It did take me a while to remember the intricacies of driving a large motor home. After driving my little toad or dinghy -- as the cars RVer’s tow are called -- for a couple of months, it took a bit to readjust to driving a 36-foot, 20,000 pound vehicle. For instance, instead of taking curves confidently at or above the posted speed, with a large motor home I need to drop down at least 5 mph below the recommended speed. Otherwise the Mo drifts and the load is apt to shift some. Usually I have things tucked away sufficiently that there isn’t much to move around, but occasionally doors will unsnap or drawers will come loose and slide in and out. And 38 has lots of curves: 45, 40, 35 mph curves, and even one 15 mph curve in the middle of Drain.

We arrived in Coos Bay just before 5 p.m. after stopping for fuel and at a rest stop for Charlie to rest and for me to check a wiper blade that was doing a less-than-adequate job of keeping the rain off the driver’s side of the windshield. I think we are parked in the same site we stayed in last December; the one with the streetlight that shines right into my bedroom window. I took Charlie out for a brief run on the bay walk, a paved trail that parallels much of the waterfront. Well, Charlie ran; I mostly walked.

Then my daughter Kristin and her husband Ryan brought dinner to me, accompanied by their two very cute little dogs, Lilo and Stitch, my grandpuppies. Dinner was manicotti stuffed with spinach, basil, Italian sausage and cheese, along with salad, homemade Italian bread and a nice cabernet. I added dessert of frozen pie from the nearby Safeway. My daughter who showed few signs of being interested in cooking when she lived at home has become a very accomplished cook.

Friday morning I had coffee with a friend who used to work for the Senator and moved to Coos Bay several years ago. We had a good visit and she showed me the home she and her husband have been fixing up.

Then my daughter and I will took the dogs to the beach. The tide seemed incredibly high to me -- there was really no beach on what is normally a huge expanse of sand. The waves crashed over the jetty that protects the entrance to Coos Bay. It would not have been a good day to be trying to enter or leave the bay.

On Saturday Jeff should arrive and we'll meet Kristin and Ryan for dinner. Then bright and early Sunday we head south again.

In my moments of free time -- in between trying to take care of a television that stopped working in the middle of the news and getting everything stocked and ready to go -- I have been reading Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert. What a nice gig: traveling to Italy, India and Bali and getting paid for it. If there are any publishers reading this, I’m available to research and write about an alternate opinion of the best places to eat, pray and love.

So far I am loving the book, which was recommended by Kristin, and am intrigued by the things the author and I have in common. A very traumatic, difficult life marked with depression, anxiety and struggles followed by the joy of seeking your own heart.

I told a friend the other day that I’m just about as happy as I’ve ever been in my entire life. In spite of broken televisions and all the other drama that goes with owning a moving home that seems to hit all the bumps in the highway of life. Just a few years ago I was dealing with serious depression that threatened my safety and completely sucked out what little joy was in my life. I felt hopeless and broken and broke. I marvel at how much my life has changed and especially since I decided to retire, sell almost everything and reduce the clutter and responsibilities in my life. Ahhhhh, freedom is a good thing and comes in surprising packages just as slavery sneaks up on us if we’re not careful.

TravelinLady

As the Days Dwindle Down

February 1, 2008, Portland -- With less than a week till blastoff I am getting lots of little things done. I have finally received a couple of my tax statements -- at least they’ve arrived in my P.O. box. I should have them Monday or Tuesday.

This morning I met with the travel editor for The Oregonian. My first article -- in what will be a series tracking our travels -- will be published on Sunday, February 10. It is a summary of what’s gone on before and hopefully will be enough of an appetizer to intrigue readers to stay tuned for subsequent courses every few weeks. This will be incredibly fun, I think. The photographer came out yesterday afternoon. The weather even cooperated. She took scores of pictures of Charlie and I and the Mo. Hope she got at least one that will be good of me -- I’m sure they’ll all be good of Charlie.

Spring seems to be making its way here, despite cold weather, lots of snow in the mountains and a little snow and ice here in Portland over the past week. This morning Charlie and I heard a frog hidden away somewhere, singing its ratchety-ratch greeting. A few days ago we stood and listened to redwing blackbirds -- or maybe they were starlings mimicking redwing blackbirds -- and saw killdeer in the open field near here. There is a subtle shift in the temperature and light that signals we are edging into the downhill run towards better weather.

In anticipation of Charlie getting his picture taken and wanting him to look his very best for his brush with fame, I took him in for a bath on Wednesday. He was so soft and fluffy and cute afterwards. He’s even more fun to cuddle with when he’s clean and smells good.

Last week Jeff came to visit briefly and we took an impromptu drive to the Oregon Coast. Unfortunately, because it was so impromptu, I didn’t have my camera with me. We did, however, have Charlie, who enjoyed a wild run on the beach. It was sunny with no wind and just a little cooler than it often is in the summer there. Earlier this week, however, they had snow at the coast, which is rather unusual. Driving into Cannon Beach on Highway 26 we saw the devastation from the windstorms in early December. Whole hillsides had been denuded, trees snapped off half-way up the trunk, their tops lying scattered and jumbled below. It reminded me of the aftermath of Mt. St. Helens’ eruption 25+ years ago. It was beyond anything I would have imagined from wind and far worse than news photographs showed because when you’re there you get the big picture; something photographs can’t truly replicate. The locals said their power was out for days. Those who had experienced the 1962 Columbus Day Storm said this December’s was worse because it kept blowing for three days straight, with little or no break in the wind. Although the gusts weren’t as strong as in 1962, they took a huge toll.

My little electric heater that I bought a week ago seems to be working well. I’ve barely made a dent in my propane usage this week. I will have it filled tomorrow anyway to make sure we have plenty when we hit the road on Thursday. Diesel prices continue to drop, down about 40 cents a gallon in the past month, so that will be helpful. Jeff has found someone to housesit his condo for him, which will help him and help his housesitter who was losing her apartment. Things are working out, all the way around it seems. This always gives me more confidence and encouragement that I am doing the right thing.

Another example of those substantially-less-than-six degrees of separation recently happened that concerns the space I am parked in at the rv park here in Northeast Portland. I have good friends who have told me about a friend of theirs who is doing what I’m doing. He has been in Arizona most recently. My friend Patty gave me his name and webpage. Then a few days later I was telling the young woman who manages the park that I would leaving soon and she told me that the man who had formerly parked in this spot who is now in Arizona will be so happy to have HIS spot back. I put two-and-two together and came up with a crazy coincidence: it’s the same guy. Apparently he is coming back here later this month and will be happy to have HIS spot to park in again. I sent him an email through his web page telling him I was going to let him have it back but that he needs to vacate when I’m back here in July. He hasn’t responded yet.

This time next week I should be in Coos Bay and then head south from there. Reservations are made through the 21st at this point. I’ve reserved 72 degrees and sunny for our days in San Diego. I have a list of special spiritual places to visit from a Jesuit friend, and suggestions of “must sees” from other friends and acquaintances. So the pilgrimage is about to recommence, a reminder that we’re all on journeys and that they never truly end. A poem that often pops into my head as I contemplate my journey and seems appropriate is by J.R.R. Tolkien in The Lord of the Rings Trilogy:

The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
And I must follow, if I can,
Pursuing it with eager feet,
Until it joins some larger way
Where many paths and errands meet.
And whither then? I cannot say.

TravelinLady