“Gosh, I miss my cubicle!”

Said Nobody. Ever.

This is one of the things we oftentimes say to one another, when there are no other words to describe how incredibly grateful we are to have this kind of freedom.  And we said it to each other again just the other day while we were enjoying a picnic lunch on some huge flat rocks alongside Clear Creek, near Camp Verde, Arizona.  It was one of those moments of intense gratitude for our good health and the financial means to be out seeing this big beautiful country.

After dry camping in Quartzsite for two weeks, I was weary of sea showers and having to be constantly conscious of our water and electricity usage.  I was ready for life’s little luxuries like long, hot showers and unlimited electricity so we made reservations in an RV park in Camp Verde.  This would be our base camp while we struck out and explored Sedona and the surrounding environs.  We ended up staying there two full weeks, and probably could have stayed longer. 

When we were camping in the desert at Quartzsite, we literally had acres and acres of unoccupied land around us.  After a while, it began to feel like it was all ours and anybody passing through received the same kind of intense scrutiny that somebody would who walked across your front lawn.  In contrast, living in an RV park is just the opposite.  More cramped quarters, more people, more rules.    At the place where we stayed in Camp Verde, there was this one fellow who, amongst the long-term residents, had been there the longest and his place was right near the office.  Dave had gone over one evening to check for an Amazon delivery, and this guy was standing in the shadows nearby, chain-smoking, when he says, “Hey, Dave.” This kind of freaked Dave out as he had not met the guy previously and had no idea how he knew his name.  Maybe he called everybody Dave; who knows?  They got to talking about the park and the guy says to him that there aren’t a lot of rules, but there was just one.  Dave says, “Well, what would that be?”  And the guy says, “Well, Dave, just don’t do anything stupid.”  Um, well, okay then.  I guess that is good advice just about anywhere you go.

Another of the long-term residents actually had a hearse parked in his space with a decal of a skull and these words in the back window “Don’t Let Your First Ride Be Your Last” and “DeadEnd.” Kind of ironic because in that park there was very little television except for reruns of old sitcoms which were aired constantly, including “The Munsters”, with their hearse and all.  You get to meet all kinds of people when you are traveling like this.   People are for the most part very friendly and want to socialize and, of course, everybody has a story.   For many, long-term living in an RV park is a way to avoid homelessness when living on very modest incomes.  We learned that in some cases, people had retired and intended to travel full-time and then simply ran out of adequate funds or they got too old, or too sick, to continue traveling and just ended up in an RV park.  You see a lot of this in Arizona, where the weather is so pleasant much of the year that the living is easy.  No shoveling snow, no hauling firewood, no high utility bills.  No rain jackets! I get it.

 

Sedona’s Red Rock Country, part of the Coconino National Forest, was our destination after Quartzsite.  There is fabulous hiking there, and we had a guide book which listed 135 hikes.  We only got to do four of them, but they were each fabulous in their own way.  We did the Airport Loop our first day out, which afforded us an awesome view of Sedona from up above town.  We hiked the fabulous Lost Canyon trail up to some old ruins another day.  The first part of that trail was pretty tough, and for some of it we were literally on our hands and knees as we climbed up 450 feet of very steep terrain.  Once we scaled that, however, and got up onto Brins mesa, it was wonderful.  From then on, it was pretty much flat hiking and the best part of the day was that we saw only two other people throughout the entire hike.  They were older than us and as we got to talking with them discovered they were from Washington, DC, both still working full-time and not wanting to end their visit to Sedona to return to jobs.  Another of those moments of intense gratitude at not having to worry about the calendar or, really, what day it was.

We also hiked the Doe Mountain trail which was quite steep from the outset but then, once you scaled the Mesa, turned into great flat hiking with incredible views.  On this particular day, it turned blustery and a little rainy and we fortunate once again to have the place virtually to ourselves, likely attributable to the weather.  Those days when you can find solitude and quiet in such breathtaking scenery are absolutely priceless.

There is a beautiful little Catholic church in Sedona – called the Chapel of the Holy Cross – which is literally built right into the rocks.  It is an extraordinary architectural achievement, and the architect – Marguerite Brunswig Staude (who designed it in honor of her parents) – searched for decades for the perfect location for it.  It took many more years to gain the permissions necessary to build it on public land.  Listed on the Department of Interior’s National Register of Historic Places, it is not to be missed when visiting Sedona, no matter what your religious inclinations are.

 

 

 

In Clarkdale, near Camp Verde, a fun thing to do is to take an excursion on the Camp Verde Historic Railroad, which runs between Clarkdale and Philipsburg through the beautiful Verde River Canyon.  We decided to splurge in honor of Valentine’s Day and bought first-class tickets for this 4-hour train ride.  Our guide was a retired schoolteacher from Chicago who went West 37 years ago, found the old mining town of Jerome, Arizona, and never felt the need to return to Chicago after that.   Our first-class coach more resembled a living room than a train car, with comfy couches and love seats and, of course, a full bar.  The ride began with a champagne toast and during the ride we were served some delicious hors d’oeurves of chicken wings and deli sandwiches which were a great accompaniment to one of the best Bloody Mary cocktails I had ever had.  The bartender said she could make it “melt your face off” spicy which I of course had to try. 

 

The town of Philipsburg, where the train turns around, is where some of the scenes for the movie “How The West Was Won” was filmed.  Our guide shared with us that the original water tower had been blown up during the filming, but the scene had ended up on the cutting room floor during editing.  All that’s left of the old water tower now is the structure which was used to support it.

We visited the old mining town of Crown King, which is accessed by about 40 miles of rough unpaved roads.  The road is actually the old railroad grade which has now been pulled up.  You can still see the switchbacks the train engineers used to negotiate the steep, rugged terrain.  Just a few people live there now but it is a destination for many as it is quite unique and has a great little Saloon and General Store.  The gal running the General Store spends two full days each week making the best fudge I have ever had, and she told us that whatever she makes each week sells out the next weekend.  I can believe that, as it was wonderful.  We tried her Sea Salt Fudge as well as a white fudge which was absolutely heavenly.  They ship worldwide and just gained two new customers.  We wanted to explore the pioneer cemetery there but we never did find it.  There is the cutest one-room schoolhouse there (painted bright red, of course) which also houses the town’s library.

 

After our two weeks near Sedona, we headed way up into the northeastern corner of Arizona to Canyon de Chelly National Monument, near Chinle.  We did a driving tour of the canyon rim one day and then hired a Navajo guide to take us on a jeep tour inside the canyon another day.  Canyon de Chelly and its sister canyon, Canyon de Muerto, are unique in that they are on the Navajo reservation but comprise the Canyon de Chelly National Monument which is managed jointly by the Navajo Nation and the Park Service.  Canyon de Chelly is the nation’s second largest canyon.  Reflecting one of the longest continuously inhabited landscapes of North America, the Monument preserves ruins of the early indigenous tribes that lived in the area, including the Ancient Pueblo Peoples and Navajo.  Once inside the canyon, one can almost feel the spirits of the people who once inhabited it, and it is a true treat to visit this magical place. 

 In order to preserve the ruins and archaeology of the canyons, visitors are only allowed within the canyon with a permit, and must be accompanied by a licensed Navajo guide.  None of the ruins can be entered.  Our guide, Howard Smith, owner of Talking Rock Jeep Tours, was born and raised on the very piece of land on which he now operates the Spider Rock Campground and his Jeep Tour business.  Howard had a “Navajo Hot Shots” decal on his dashboard, which Dave noticed and asked him about it.  He shared with us some of his firefighting experiences when he had been one of the elite firefighters known as Hot Shots.

As it turned out, he had fought the Yellowstone Fire in 1988 and we shared with him that we had both also fought that fire as US Forest Service employees and is actually where we met each other, and returned later to be married along the banks of the Madison River near North Fork Campground, where our fire camp had been located.  We spent a wonderful afternoon with Howard as he drove us through the canyons and pointed out to us petroglyphs and pictographs and attempted to explain their meaning in Navajo culture.  He told us that Navajo children were prohibited from entering or playing around any of the ruins, as had been their parents, and grandparents, and so on.  The elders still talk about the Massacre of 1864 as though it were just yesterday.  There are about 1600 discovered ruins, and it is estimated there are 1200 more that have been located but never excavated nor explored, and never will be, due to a United Nations Treaty protecting the rights of Indigenous Peoples that was passed in 2008.

 In 2009, Canyon de Chelly National Monument was recognized as one of the most-visited national monuments in the United States which is impressive as getting there is no easy task and there are few amenities.  We had no cell phone coverage and the only wi-fi available was at one of three restaurants which were several miles away, and even that was spotty at best. 

The irony of us needing permits, and a Navajo guide, to enter the canyon was not lost on me when coupled with what I perceived to be disregard for the otherwise pristine beauty of the place.  There was widespread littering and accumulations of old metal, tires, and other junk along the roadsides and in some of the home sites.  For miles and miles, the roadsides were littered with cans, bottles, plastic bags, and other debris.  There was even a liquor bottle in the canyon itself, right along the path that all the jeeps and horses must follow in order to see the sacred ruins. 

We left Chinle a couple of days ago and drove through some hellacious winds to reach Las Vegas, where we will stay for a few days.  We are in a huge RV resort and hope to take advantage of the pool and hot tub here before we begin the long trip home in a couple of days.  We have now been on the road, living in less than 400 square feet, for 52 days.  We have settled into a routine and, other than the days when we have been traveling from one place to another, our days have mostly been free and easy.  It has been wonderful.

 I am of course hoping our trip home is uneventful.   I am fortunate to be traveling with “Mr. Fix-It” as we have had several instances where Dave has been able to save our bacon.  While dry camping, we have been reliant upon our solar system to supply our electrical needs.  During this trip, we have had two brand-new solar charger controllers fail and Dave has been able to troubleshoot the situation and order and install replacements.  The clutch hydraulics also went out on the Toyota 4x4 pickup we tow, and he replaced that while lying under the truck on a piece of cardboard, using only cheap Harbor Freight tools.  Had he not been able to make the necessary repairs, we would not have had a tow vehicle and we would have had to abort our trip and return home early.  Gotta love this guy.

More later.

Diana

 

One of the coolest places on earth...

One of the coolest places on earth, plus a disclaimer!

First, a disclaimer!  I apologize if this post is not as humorous as the past two have been.  Dave – the source of much fodder for my past two blog posts – has been behaving himself and hasn’t had any “Hey, watch this!” moments lately.  That is both good, and bad.  Uneventful is good, but it also means no good belly laughs at Dave’s expense this go-round. 

 Now, one of the coolest places on earth…

 

We left Patagonia Lake after seven glorious days.  We got in two most excellent days of kayaking during our stay, and would certainly go there again.  Our next destination was to the Whitewater Draw Wildlife Management Area, near McNeal, Arizona, where we were fortunate enough to experience one of the coolest things either one of us had ever seen.  Up to 20,000 Sandhill Cranes roost there every year, some coming from as far away as Siberia.  The birds spend the night standing in Whitewater Draw’s shallow waters to evade predators, and then each morning fly out to feed and socialize in the surrounding fields.  They return to the draw in the late afternoon and early evening hours. The sunsets and sunrises at this 1500-acre preserve, set to the cacophony of thousands of Sandhill Cranes jabbering with each other, is really something quite special.

We got up before sunrise each day to witness the incredible sights and sounds of these cranes, and made sure to plan our days around being out at dusk when they returned for the evening.  They make a constant chortling noise which is incredibly loud when multiplied by the thousands of cranes present.  Sandhill cranes are beautiful, graceful birds and it was truly breathtaking to experience this place and these birds firsthand.  Beautiful sunrises and sunsets just put the frosting on the cake!

 

 

 

We also visited Tombstone, famous for the shootout near the OK Corral between the Earp Brothers and the Clantons.  While there we visited the BootHill Graveyard, where the five victims of the OK Corral shootout are buried.  Tombstone was a roaring mining town in the early 1880’s and there were many violent deaths.  Outlaws, and their victims, are buried in the BootHill Graveyard as well as suicides and hangings (legal and otherwise), along with the hardy citizens and refined element of Tombstone’s first days.  There are about 250 gravesites, many of them marked “Unknown.”  When authorities could not identify a person who had died, they would lay the body on a piece of sheet metal, with ice underneath, and prop it up in a store window.  If, after two days, nobody had recognized and identified the body it would be buried at BootHill in a grave marked “Unknown.”

 

We had burgers and fries at Big Nose Kate’s saloon whilst listening to an old cowboy and his country western music, and then toured the old Courthouse.  Tombstone was the county seat of Cochise County from 1881 to 1929 (when the seat was moved to nearby Bisbee) and the original Cochise County Courthouse has been restored to its former glory.  The Courthouse was built in 1882 in the shape of a Roman cross; the two-story Victorian structure still stands tall and proud.  The building stood vacant from 1929 to 1955, when it was rehabilitated and developed as an historical museum that continues to operate to this day as a state park.  Fascinating exhibits, including a replica of the original gallows, and thousands of artifacts tell the story of Tombstone. 

Our stay at Whitewater Draw was memorable not only for the sunrises and sunsets and fabulous birds, but also because of the cold and, once again, the fascinating people we met.  The last evening we were there, the temperature dropped down to 27 degrees, and the wind absolutely howled.  We were packing up to head out when a fellow camper came over to chat.  He and his son had spent the previous evening in a tent, and another fellow’s motorhome pipes had frozen.  It had been a very cold evening!  We got to talking with him, and learned he was Chris Decker, a retired school principal from Maine who was providing chase support to his son, Corey Decker, veteran of the 82^nd, who is riding his bicycle across the country to raise awareness and support for the war against veteran suicide.  They began their journey in San Diego and it will end when Corey reaches Fort Bragg, North Carolina in a few months.  Chris shared with us that he was blogging their cross-country journey and how the school kids back home were following his blog.  Corey’s cause is called Mission22, which is representative of the 21.5 deaths from suicide amongst veterans each and every day in this country. There is a facebook page – “Decker – The Ride” where you can follow Corey’s trip across the country and you can support the mission at www.mission22.com.  Chris’s blog is http://www.campahedu.com.

After three days at Whitewater Draw (the maximum; and it was free!), we headed to Quartzsite in search of warmer weather.  Quartzsite is a small town in western Arizona, just 20 miles east of the Colorado River.  With a population of only 3,677, it attracts more than 2 million visitors a year and January and February are the prime months, when the temperatures are typically in the 70s and the sun is full on fabulous.  It may very well be the “boondocking” capital of the world.  There are thousands of acres of BLM land open for long-term visitors and you can literally park wherever you want as long as you are self-contained.  We paid only $40 for a 14-day stay and for $180 you can stay six months although I don’t think anybody does that.  After March, the temperatures are categorized as “extreme heat” and some of the businesses close down from March to September.  Summer temps in excess of 120 degrees are not uncommon. 

One of the advantages to this kind of RV’ing, living “off the grid” is that if you don’t like your neighbor, no problem.  Easy enough to move!  We had a great spot and had been there a couple of days when some yahoos moved in nearby, commencing to run a very loud generator almost constantly which unfortunately was not quite loud enough to drown out their voices.  We put up with that for a day or two, and then we just packed up and moved to quieter environs.  Easy fix!

Many retirees come here each winter for the huge RV show, swap meets, and a 2-month long gem and mineral show.  The Sonoran desert setting, just 879 feet above sea level, holds its own mystique.  The surrounding Dome Rock Mountains on the west and the Plomosa Mountains to the east add a mystic beauty to the landscape as well as playing an Oscar-worthy supporting role in the fabulous sunrises and sunsets.

Quartzsite is the burial place of Hi Jolly, an Ottoman citizen of Greek-Syrian parentage who took part in the experimental US Camel Corps as a camel driver.  The US Camel Corps was a mid-nineteenth century experiment which was abandoned when it was interrupted by the Civil War and the camels were sold at auction.

Situated on the Arizona Peace Trail, Quartzsite will be a major hub in an OHV trail which, when completed, will link Quartzsite with Bullhead City to the north and Yuma to the south, and will be one of the longest signed and mapped OHV trail systems in the country.  Immediately surrounding Quartzsite there are old mines to explore, petroglyphs to wonder at, and miles and miles of trails and roads perfect for Off-Highway vehicles.

When we first arrived here in Quartzsite, the entire country was experiencing colder than average temps and Quartzsite was no exception.  The wind was howling so hard one day it was insane.  We were over browsing at the RV Show, trying to find refuge from the wind, and had taken a break to enjoy a quick hot dog lunch.   While I was waiting for Dave to return with our lunch, I had observed a fellow nearby wearing only a shirt and no jacket at all.  I was in a down jacket and was still cold so I thought to myself that this must be one tough guy from Minnesota or somewhere equally frigid.  Dave was wearing a BPA jacket and on his way back with our lunch, this gentleman walked up to him and said, “I know you!” The fellow was Jim Nelson, whom Dave had worked with for many years when they were both PSC Craftsmen at BPA.  It is a small world!  Jim and Dave got to catch up on all the folks they knew in common during their careers and we plan to meet up with him and his wife to go do some desert exploring nearby.

The cold weather has passed and we are now enjoying the weather Arizona winters are so famous for.  Yesterday we got in a nice long bike ride on dirt trails, in shorts and t-shirts.  It was a fine day under beautiful blue skies with a few wispy clouds.  I believe the high was about 75.

 

This is just one of the sunsets that God had painted the sky with for us.

Life is good.

More later.

Diana

 

 

Make new friends, but keep the old! 

Some are silver, others are gold!

That’s the way a song went that my sisters and I used to sing at a summer camp we were lucky enough to go to a few times as youngsters.  That little jingle seems appropriate when reflecting upon the new friends we have met on the road, as well as those back home who are clamoring for updates on our travels, watching our place, watering our houseplants, and keeping us up to date on the crazy weather the Pacific Northwest has been enduring.  It’s probably not much consolation to folks back home who have taken the brunt of severe weather, but we have had our share of weather here in Arizona also.  We have had rain, and hail, and snow, and serious strong winds.

At the Havasu Balloon Fest, no balloons were able to take to the skies the first three days of the event, which was extremely discouraging for the event organizers as well as the pilots, chase crews, and spectators like us.  It was so windy and rainy that even the carnival rides and vendors were shut down for much of the long weekend.  Dave so wanted for us to ride the ferris wheel and we were never able to.  The very last day of the event, however, dawned calm and clear and beautiful and we were up before sunrise, with hot coffee in tow, to finally share with everyone else in the delight of watching dozens of fabulous balloons take flight.  Whether you are a morning person or not, you cannot help but be happily in awe of a sky full of fabulous balloons and you have to get up at before sunrise in order to experience this.

While we were parked on BLM land north of Lake Havasu, before moving down to the Balloon Fest, we met a couple from Northern Minnesota who are full-time RV’ers, living in a beautiful 41-foot American motor coach.  Steve was a farmer and Jeannie owned a flower shop prior to giving all that up and escaping Minnesota winters for the opportunity to see this big beautiful country from the comfort of a home on wheels.  We had some great conversations with them and as a parting gift they gave us a bag of wild rice Steve had helped grow while working on a wild rice farm.  I am looking forward to making some of my turkey and wild rice soup with it as soon as I get a chance.  They shared with us their plans to visit Alaska this summer, and then perhaps work their way down the Washington and Oregon coasts and into Northern California.   Of course we told them of all the fabulous places in the Pacific Northwest that they must visit, and we sincerely hope they stop along the way and visit us also.

 We brought along Dave’s new Suzuki DR650 so he could tear up some of the great dirt-bike terrain here in Arizona and one morning after we returned from a hike with the dogs he decided to take advantage of a free afternoon and go tear some stuff up.  So he tells me he’s going to go down the road just a few miles and get gas and then he’ll toot his horn as he goes by again so I will know he made it back and is headed to a trailhead he had already pointed out to me.  So I also decided to take advantage of the free time and got out a sewing project to work on.  A considerable amount of time passes, and no Dave.  More time passes, still no Dave.  He finally shows up and I watch him get off the bike and start brushing himself off and inspecting the bike.  This doesn’t look good at all and I see that the side of the bike is kind of scraped up.  I realize that he had crashed somewhere and was just then assessing the damage.  As it turns out, he had made it to the gas station but then on the return he saw a hill that he couldn’t pass it up.  It was apparently one of those “hey, watch this!” moments that guys fall prey to except in this case there was nobody there to say “hey, watch this!” to.   He had broken the cardinal rule of always telling somebody exactly you are going and when you are plan to return.  He had climbed a very steep hill, but when he got to the top and looked down he realized how steep it really was and also knew by then that the gravel was more like loose marbles and quite treacherous.  He had started down the hill but this particular bike he was on was not the best choice for that terrain and, despite his considerable skill, he biffed it and the bike continued on down the hill for a few yards with him no longer in the saddle.  He had been slowly inching his way down the hill when the back brake locked up and the bike skidded out from underneath him.  He had to upright 360 pounds of dirt bike by himself on this very steep hill, while it was leaking gas.  My goodness! He managed to get it upright, get back on it, and to get down the hill and back to our campsite.  The outcome was that he no longer has to worry about putting the first scratch on the bike and he just got a little bruised up.   Boys!

When we got to the Balloon Fest, we were fortunate enough to get a great spot right on the lake with a great vantage spot for balloon viewing.  Pretty quickly after getting set up, a beautiful Tiffin coach pulled in next to us with Washington plates.  Most RV’ers are very friendly and like to socialize with each other and one of the first questions is usually, “where are y’all from?”  As it turned out, this couple was from Battle Ground, where we lived for twelve years before moving to Ridgefield in 2003.  Not only just from Battle Ground, but their home had been only a couple of miles away from our previous home just east of town.  Dennis and Vivian were also full-time RV’ers and had lots to share of their experiences on the road so far.

 It was the first weekend of the NFL playoffs and they invited us to watch the Green Bay vs. Dallas game with them on the television on the outside of their beautiful motor home.  Vivian made some great snacks and we shared adult beverages while enjoying a hard-fought football game.  I’m sure there were some Dallas fans there, but the Packers fans had a much greater presence and were unashamedly enjoying watching their team play so well that day.  The game came right down to the final three seconds, when Green Bay pulled out the win.   At that very moment, all the Packers fans who had air horns, including us, literally tooted their horns in celebration.  It was a moment to remember.  We are now much further south, just a few miles from the border town of Nogales.  We expect to watch Green Bay play Atlanta tomorrow on one of the two stations we get here, which are both Mexican stations.  We have been watching so much Mexican TV that we are beginning to somewhat understand what is being said.  It’s quite interesting to hear their version of current events in the States.

After we left Lake Havasu, we traveled to the Phoenix area where I was fortunate enough to meet up with an old college friend from Humboldt State whom I had not seen in thirty years.  She had been a zoology major, while I was a forestry major, and she went on to spend many years working in progressively higher positions in various zoos around the country while her husband pursued his career.  John and Anita now live in Chandler where Anita teaches in a Catholic school.  We had lunch in Old Town Scottsdale while Dave was preoccupied with getting a tire issue resolved, which he did.  A big shout-out to Redburn Tire; they diagnosed and resolved a vibration issue we had been struggling with for many more miles than we care to remember.

We spent a night in a Casino Arizona parking lot before departing the Phoenix area and used the opportunity to stock up on provisions before continuing our trek south.  Dave battled the infamous Phoenix traffic which appears to be challenging no matter the time of day, only to arrive in Tucson just in time for the evening commute which was equally tricky trying to maneuver this big thing through one construction zone after another. 

 We finally made it to where we are right now, parked on the banks of Patagonia Lake in southeastern Arizona.  We unfortunately arrived here after dark the other night and, believe me, when it is dark here it is REALLY dark.  You know how entertaining it can be to watch people set up a tent for the first time?  I’m sure it was equally entertaining for everyone already here watching us get this thing backed up into our spot in the pitch black darkness.  We were trying to disturb the peace as little as possible, so we were trying to communicate with each other via cell phone as I tried to help Dave back this thing up.  Not a great idea, in retrospect, since when you are behind a diesel engine all you can hear is the diesel engine and not much else.  We got it done, after only three tries (!), and were so glad to not be moving for a glorious seven days.  This is a beautiful spot in the middle of the desert and our time here has been enjoyable and relaxing.  Patagonia Lake is about 2 ½ miles long, encompasses 250 acres, and teems with birdlife and wildlife.  It was formed by the damming of Sonoita Creek back in the 1970’s and is a popular spot for boating, fishing, and kayaking.  We have an inflatable Sea Eagle kayak which has been great fun to have here.  We were out on the lake one day wearing t-shirts, shorts, and sunscreen. The next day, we were wearing down jackets and scraping ice off our windshield.  It has been a crazy time, weather-wise.

 Yesterday, we took a day trip to Bisbee where we visited the Bisbee Historical Mining Museum and walked all over a very unique and interesting town.  More than 8 billion pounds of copper were mined here, in addition to copious amounts of lead, zinc, gold, and silver.  Copper mining shut down in 1975 but the history of mining in Bisbee’s heyday is much celebrated.  The history of copper mining is interesting and the magnitude and scale of the mining operations are difficult to fathom until you see it up close and personal.  Bisbee might have fallen the way of so many other old towns in Arizona whose heyday has come and gone, and become a ghost town, but it is a thriving artist’s colony and is becoming increasingly popular with retirees seeking a fabulous climate.  Many of the structures are literally built into the side of a mountain and one is left wondering exactly how it is that they don’t just slide down the hill and disappear.

 We learned upon our return from Bisbee that not all RV’ers are friendly, nor do they want to socialize.  What looked like an old hippie couple had pulled in next to us in a unique RV which we had not seen the likes of previously.  We observed from their plates that they were from Austria, and they had some vintage motorcycles aboard.  This piqued Dave’s interest and he really wanted to chat with them about their coach and their motorcycles, being the motorcycle enthusiast that he is.  Every time he went outside, however, they drew their shades.  I’m not sure if he had sprouted horns visible only to them or not.   Never did figure that one out.

 Today, we went caving!  Kartchner Caverns State Park is the jewel of the Arizona State Park System and is considered to be one of the finest caves in the country.  We took a tour which took us ½ mile underground where we marveled at the many strange and colorful formations.  The cave is a constant 72 degrees with 98% humidity and very much feels like you are in a sauna.  When we exited the cave, after being underground for an hour and a half, we were greeted with snow and hail as we raced to the parking lot.

 Today marks the 17^th day we have been on the road.  We have had some challenges along with lots of laughter, fun, adventures, and new friendships.  All is well.

 More later.

 

 

See ya later, Oregon and Washington! We have headed south!

After many months of planning, preparation, and anticipation, we escaped the Pacific Northwest in the midst of a pretty brutal January ice event five days ago today.   We had been getting slammed by a series of snow and ice events in late December and on into early January, with more winter storms predicted.  Despite the snow and ice, we managed to get out of our driveway in Ridgefield, Washington, and to head south before the next storm could delay our departure any further.   Destination – sunny Arizona! 

After four nights on the road, we arrived at Lake Havasu last evening and were thrilled this morning to wake up to blue skies, sunshine, and t-shirt temperatures.   We have already taken our two Schnauzers out on a pretty good hike this morning and they are now schnoozing on the floor while I write this.  We will be here for the Lake Havasu Balloon Fest which is truly a sight to behold.  We were here for this last year also, but the circumstances were different.  This year, we are both fully retired and with open calendars.  Not having commitments of any kind really frees your mind and soul and permeates one’s existence with a sense of freedom which is hard to describe.  We are independent and self-contained in our motor home, with our two little dogs in tow.  All is good.

We did not get here, however, without a few adventures along the way. 

Our first stop was at Costco in Portland, where we stopped to top off our diesel tanks.  Having accomplished that, we pulled out and at the first red light a fellow motorist pulled up alongside us and hollered out, “hey, your fuel tank lid is open!”  Not only was the lid open, but the cap to the fuel tank was unfortunately still sitting on top of the diesel pump back at Costco and there we were, having sloshed diesel all over the roadway since we had left Costco.  We were very grateful to the motorist who alerted us to our mishap as we were able to swing back around, retrieve our fuel cap, and probably only lost a gallon or two of precious diesel.  At this point, I made a mental “note to self” to always be vigilant and to keep an eye on Mr. Coburn.  All joking aside, traveling like this really does take two people and requires constant vigilance. Having averted a situation which could have ended up much worse, we shared with each other how much this RV’ing lifestyle does require both of us always being aware and attentive.  “It Takes Two” is the reality of driving something this big (38’ long, plus the Toyota Pickup we tow, for a total of about 50’) down the road and away from our home for what we hope is a trip lasting two months or more.  By then, the Pacific Northwest will have warmed up and we should arrive home in time to catch the tulips blooming in our yard.  Or, we may stay longer!  We have escaped to Arizona a couple of times before, but never with the newly-found freedom we’re both so grateful for.  We can literally stay gone as long as we want, or return home as soon as we feel the need to.

We had a planned stop in Grants Pass, Oregon where we were scheduled to get some alignment and suspension work done prior to the long journey south.  We spent that first night in the business’s icy parking lot, awakening early so as to get in and out and then over the snowy Siskiyous before the next storm could cause us any grief.   We happened to be there for their weekly staff meeting, which they graciously invited us to.  The week’s topic was leadership and the owner shared some videos of George Washington at Valley Forge and the leadership George demonstrated and the consequent love and respect George inspired amongst his soldiers during that long, brutal, deadly winter.  We were also invited to a lunch of clam chowder the owner’s wife had made from scratch, followed up by her homemade lemon meringue pie.  It was really quite a wonderful lunch on a frigid cold day and we were grateful for the kind treatment we received from Robert and Barbara, owners of Henderson’s A-Line.

It was close to nightfall by the time we were on the interstate again, determined to get over the Siskiyous and into the Sacramento Valley where temperatures would hopefully rise above freezing.  Along the way, we had a good laugh with the Inspector at the Agricultural Inspection Station at the Oregon/California Border.  First, she asked us if we had any fruit.  Dave replied, “Just a couple of bananas.”  She says “bananas are okay” and then asked if we had any exotic animals.  Dave says “Just a couple of Schnauzers” which just struck us all as funnier than hell as we looked at them sitting there, wearing sweaters, seriously the furthest thing from exotic you have ever seen as far as animals go.

We got through the Inspection Station, and continued on to Anderson, just a little south of Redding, where we finally parked our coach at close to 9:30 in the evening.  It had been a long, cold day, and all we wanted was a hot meal and to be able to call it a night.  Not wanting to drive anywhere beyond the WalMart that was home for the evening, we ventured over to a Panda Express that was across the parking lot.  Although the doors were open, the gal that greeted us said the lobby was closed but we could go through the drive-thru.  Well, we were on foot and were not about to go unhitch our tow vehicle so we could drive through their drive-thru.  There were no other food options at that late hour, so Dave decided we’d just walk up to the drive-thru window and place our order.  I told him they wouldn’t let us walk through the drive-thru, but they did, after a little angst from the manager, who then made us wait in the lobby while they prepared our order.  Go figure!

Finally, with food in tow, and a bottle of wine, we had a nice evening and enjoyed much great conversation with each other, both of us looking forward to our upcoming adventures.  We took wonderful hot showers, and all was well when we headed to bed.  We slept soundly, with seemingly not a care in the world.   We had made it over the dreaded Siskiyous, we were heading South, and we believed we had escaped the snow and bitter cold of the upper Sacramento Valley.  It had been 14 degrees when we passed through Yreka, and every window on our coach had been coated with a layer of ice.  The next morning, when Dave so graciously got up to take the dogs out, the first thing I heard was “Oh, my gosh, it’s snowing! Not a little, but a lot!”  There were probably 3 – 4 inches of snow on the ground.  That was when we realized why it had been so quiet and peaceful the night before.  And it was still snowing hard!  We knew we weren’t going anywhere soon, so we stocked up on a few necessities and then waited a few hours for the temperature to rise and the snow to begin melting.   The snow did turn to rain before too long, turning the snow into slush.  About mid-day, we headed south again, trying to get past Sacramento before nightfall.

We made it to Madera, just an hour or so north of where I was raised in the Central San Joaquin Valley, and once again called a WalMart parking lot home for the evening.  We plan to do a fair amount of what RV’ers call “boondocking.”  That means living off the grid, with our own source of electricity and therefore not dependent upon RV parks for their amenities.  We have our own, and carry them with us.  We have a full-size shower in our motor home, as well as a fully-stocked and spacious kitchen, and we can carry ample amounts of fresh water.  We have a solar system which generates and stores enough power for us to be independent out in this big beautiful world for days on end.

Just north of Fresno, we stopped for diesel and I spotted the Sunday Fresno Bee, with the headline news story being the closure of Yosemite Valley the previous evening due to the Merced River expecting to crest and flood the valley on Sunday afternoon.  There was another story about how all the non-essential park employees had been temporarily relocated to Red Cross shelters in Oakhurst.  Having been a Yosemite Park employee myself in my younger years, and also recalling how my parents and my siblings and I always enjoyed reading the Bee, I bought the last copy the newsstand had and enjoyed reading it as we continued on through the San Joaquin Valley.

Our last night, before arriving in Lake Havasu yesterday afternoon, was spent at a Flying J Auto/Truck Center in Barstow, California where we were unfortunate enough to get caught up in what we are calling “parking lot rage.”  We were moving forward towards their RV dump station area, where we were going to empty our tanks and take on fresh water.  We were only about 20 feet away from the concrete barriers around the dump station, when some dumbass in a small car comes out of nowhere and cuts right between us and the concrete wall, narrowly avoiding colliding with us on my side of the motor home.  Dave, of course, gives him the benefit of our air horn which is loud enough to cause some people to need to go home and change their underwear.  This guy’s response was to give Dave the infamous middle finger.  I, meanwhile, have let loose with my lack of affection for this kind of rude and uncalled for parking lot behavior.  The guy was apparently in such a rush to get to the gas pump that he almost ruined our entire trip.  Dave, against his better judgment, but in the heat of the moment, goes over and asks the guy if he would like to flip him off again.  This started a heated exchange, with a few choice expletives.  Dave did have the good sense to back off after the guy rejected Dave’s offer to “give him one” behind the truck stop and a potentially adverse situation was avoided.  I like to think this dumbass might think twice before flipping off the next person he almost collides with due to his own bad behavior. 

So now, here we are, just outside of Havasu City, Arizona parked on BLM Land.  We are not alone; there are probably 50 or more motor homes, 5^th wheelers, toy haulers, etc. dotting the landscape here.  Tomorrow we move down to the Balloon Fest grounds, where we will stay for five nights, enjoying the beauty and grace of hundreds of hot air balloons taking to the skies each day.

More later.