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.