We're Here!

God knows where that is though.

We are heading South on I-5, parked in a RV campsite, nestled behing a gas station in the middle of freaking nowhere. And glad to be here, because there was no sign of civilization for miles, and miles, and miles, when we saw the RV sign. The next spot was about 150 miles down the road, and it was getting dark. So here we are!

We have electricity, and water, and two happy-ish campers. The third, Scott, is one more bitch, moan, or whine from being euthanized. It will be quick, no worries.

Las Vegas is next on the GPS. We are hoping to recoup our expenses, wish us luck!

Checking in

I just thought I should check in.  Somehow this trio of goofballs trying to get across the country has attracted a few followers. And some of you actually start to worry about us if we have been quiet for too long. With good reason.

The Sausalito Arts Festival is in full swing, Scott and I have been staying in San Francisco in a beautiful apartment.  And we have added a newcomer the story, Rebecca.  "Becca" is David's daughter (our niece) and has been living in San Francisco for about three weeks now.  She is in a one room apartment not too far from us.  David, however, is staying in the motorhome with Mitzi, the pug. The motorhome is parked about an hour away from us in an area I'll call East Jesus.

East Jesus, in case you don't know, is a southern expression for some place far removed from civilization.  In this case East Jesus is apparently not far from San Quentin Prison. David and Becca discovered that due to a little operator error with the GPS.

David has rented a car while we are all here. It is a Chevy something or other, and is a little bit larger than a gnat. And this is where I really have to take my hat off to David. He has been driving the gnat into "the city" from East Jesus every morning to pick me up and deliver me to the show, take Scott to run errands, pick up Becca, and return to pick me up at the end of the day. Driving us all back across the Golden Gate Bridge just so he can turn around and drive back across the GGB to East Jesus again.

The switch from a 30 ft motorhome to a gnat was fairly significant, David had to demonstrate the "snappy" steering, on the highway. I only screamed out loud for a minute.  But that little car has been great to buzz up the hills of San Francisco in, even with all four of us in it. Becca has been his co-pilot, which means David ignores her and the GPS rather than ignoring me and the GPS.  A vast improvement.

We have one more day just like this, then on Monday it gets complicated again. Bringing the motorhome down to the show site to tear down and load it up with panels and artwork.  I am trying not to think about it actually. If you know any collectors in San Francisco, send them my way, each painting that finds a new home doesn't have to ride back to Georgia.

And that would be a very good thing.

Motorhomes can kill you.

Traveling in a motorhome with two family members is a whole lot funnier when you aren't actually there. I highly recommend it. 

Reading about the trip? Funny. Hearing about it on the telephone? Funny. 

Brushing your teeth in a bathroom marginally bigger than the ones available on an airplane? 

Not so funny. 

The good (?) thing about a rental motorhome is they point out all the obvious, and not so obvious dangers. Scott actually tested one of these possibilities as he and David were driving down the road. Walking in a moving motorhome is significantly more difficult than say, a ferry boat, or an airplane. My personal rule is, if you aren't actively hanging on to something while standing, you make sure your butt, or belly is leaning hard into whatever wall or ledge is available. 

Scott was walking to the back of the motorhome while David was driving, I'm not sure if there was a corner, or a little over correction, but *wham!*  in that split second, Scott lost his footing and slammed up against the motorhome door. The one that wasn't actually locked with the deadbolt. The door held, and Scott is sleeping quietly beside me right now. I can hear him breathing.   But holy snapping hoohaa's. This stuff ain't for sissies. 

There should probably be another warning label printed up. Something like...

Spending time in this aluminum box with people you don't share forks, beds, or occasionally a toothbrush with may be hazardous to your mental health. 

Or probably more to the point, 

Occupants of this traveling cracker box should undergo psychological evaluation before embarking on a journey of 50 miles or more. 

But I did wake up this morning right about here...

Which was pretty awesome. 

And tonight?  Tonight I just had a great dinner in the Castro section of San Francisco in a restaurant named after and frequented at one time by Harvey Milk. And I am sleeping in a sweet and incredibly stationary bed in a beautiful apartment. Thanks to some wonderful friends. 

The road rash is wearing off my sense of humor, the Sausalito Arts Festival kicks off tomorrow evening. And I am set up and ready to go. 

Bring it on San Francisco. 

Highway speed

I've been everywhere man, in my underwear man.

Somehow that juvenile song has wedged itself into my brain today. But we have covered some territory.  Buzzing down US 101, the day began foggy and misty, but the sun finally broke through.  We saw spectacular beach after spectacular beach.  Cliffs, sand dunes, sea lion caves, before heading inland to Crater Lake. 

Crater Lake, in case you haven't heard, is essentially the crater left from a major volcanic eruption that occurred about 7,700 years ago. The lake is fed only by rainwater and snow runoff.  And just off center in the lake is the cone of a later forming volcano. 

And I'd love to show you photos. I have wads of photos. But I am in the middle of the land of zero cell phone service, and close to zero Internet service. In fact there are hardly any gas stations, which had us clenching our teeth just a bit this afternoon. 

Actually my teeth were clenched for much of the afternoon, two lane roads, highway speeds, a rattling motorhome, and once we got to Crater Lake, a complete lack of guard rails was a bit of a stretch for my central nervous system. I spent some of that time on the back bunk with my head under the pillows. On several occasions my body became completely airborne. Add a little sideways motion, and I didn't even necessarily land in the same spot I launched from.

But that seemed better than looking out the windows.

I did however discover the perfect antidote. Did you know you can drink an icy cold vodka and tonic in a warm shower?  Better than therapy.

Until the smoke alarm went off while I was cooking dinner, there is no antidote for that.

Tomorrow morning I need to find my big girl panties and see how all my artwork is faring in the storage compartments. (Also in the back of the motorhome.)  If you see a mushroom cloud in the West, it didn't go well.

Fingers crossed.

Day One

Somehow it happened, Scott and David found me in Portland, and my loot from the trip north was transferred into the motorhome in the roomy expanse of an Ikea parking lot. My loot, by the way includes my grandparent's 150 year old grandfather clock.  So now the passenger list includes two full sized men, me, a pug, a grandfather clock, and and entire art show.  

Stepping into the motorhome, I came across Scott and David's solution for crap rolling off table tops etc.

Below are two photos.  Two un retouched, un staged photos. 

In case you can't really see what is going on here, the solution is masking tape. Note pads, pens, pill bottles, etc have been taped to the table tops. I am sure that faint sound I hear is my Dad, the lifelong camper, laughing his ass off. 

Today was relatively uneventful, we only got turned around a couple times.  The weather turned rainy and blowy, hardly unheard of on the Oregon Coast. I practiced my excellent sleeping in motion skills and curled up on a bunk while David drove, and Scott told David to slow down, and keep between those lines they paint on the road.   We did stop a couple of times to see beautiful places like this.  Cannon Beach, the wind was almost enough to blow you over, but well worth it. 

I understand that last night's dinner was something like ice cream and wine. Apparently the boys went to a grocery store and bought a frozen pizza. Which was a perfect solution, if you have an oven. But, this motorhome doesn't actually have one of those. It has a microwave, not a recommended cooking method for frozen pizza. 

I was told early on that my job was going to be cooking and blogging. Here's the blog, and here's dinner. Not quite "gourmet" but a good step above ice cream and wine. 

We will be continuing down the coast tomorrow, David is an early riser, so that's it for now. We will see what tomorrow brings. Feel free to send more masking tape. 

Yellowstone

Hey!  I'm back, sorry about the delay. With one of us north of the border, and the other in Yellowstone National Park, communications have been pretty spotty.  Yes, the boys have been in Yellowstone. And so far it's been the highlight of the trip. They drove through the park, seeing all kinds of geysers, including Old Faithful. Wildlife sightings include bear, (I'm not sure if that was singular, or plural), a mama elk and two babies, buffalo, and "wild" cows. I have never heard of feral cows, but it sounds like a good name for a band.

They were also driving across an 11,000 ft high pass, and witnessed a hail storm while seeing a wildfire in the distance. Sounds pretty dramatic to me.

Speaking of dramatic, they also secured one of the last spots in a campground the other night. It was probably still available because it had a bit of a slope to it. Our slightly more seasoned travelers didn't have anything to level up the motorhome with, so they just made due. Scott said he woke up several times in the night after sliding halfway off the end of the bed. That slick leatherette mattress cover wasn't helping. He said he just got up, pushed all the bedding back on to the bed and tried again, and again.

I, on the other hand have been bombing around Vancouver Island trying to catch all the sights and squish in short visits with family. I am currently sitting in a ferry line up waiting for the next boat to Vancouver, because even though I got here over an hour and a half before the sailing, I missed it by three cars. Three. And the next sailing is two hours away.

Son-of-a-bitch. That's the nicest thing I can think to say.

The good news though, is Scott and David seem to have a good working knowledge of all involved in dumping the holding tank in the motorhome. A very good thing.

I meet them on Monday, that's the plan anyway. Keep your fingers crossed.

Incoming!

The boys are somewhere. Of this I am sure. They just drove past the KOA campground they were heading for last night. It became pretty clear they weren't going to be able to get as far as they had hoped, and they actually stepped back a bit and rethought their plans.   They had a good night wherever they were, both getting into long discussions with fellow campers.  I understand that Mt. Rushmore, or the Badlands are on today's itinerary.  I'll let you know where they end up.

Scott's favorite story from yesterday was Mitzi's latest trick. She sits in David's lap while he is driving and fiddles with the power windows and locks. Up and down, occasionally punctuated with a good honk of the horn. I don't know exactly how she honks the horn, but she barks every time she does. I feel like I should apologize to anyone in their path at this point. Being honked at by a barking pug has got to be annoying.

David has been promising me "really bad photos" to entertain you all with. He was going  to email them last night. I received this email instead...

I can't figure out how to send them! How unusual is that?

Shocking. 

But the news is, I'm on my way. Blogging from Dallas /Ft. Worth. I'm not sure if this is good news or bad news. But it is news. I kissed Freda and the kitties goodbye this morning. And left before the sun came up. Kisses to CC for the ride.   I'll land in Portland tonight, and start heading North to visit my family, before I turn around again to head South to meet the boys. 

Between pet sitters, house sitters, and delightful neighbors, I have am sure all will be fine back at the ranch until I get home, whenever that may be. And if you have less than honorable intentions, you may want to notice that little white car in the drive. I have two words for you, Ex Marine. No shit.

Now if you have a burning desire to cut my grass, we can talk.

And if you really think I'm going to be able to save the day when I meet those two, you may be disappointed. My toothbrush is sitting in the holder at home.  Where else would it be?