Date:                           October 21, 2007

Location:                    Deming, NM

0900:

            Connie and I had made arrangements to meet our friends and venture to Mexico for lunch at the striking of the noon bell.  At approximately 11:00 we met our friends and gathered right outside our rig and decided to pass a little time of day. It was easy to find Don and Kay because they are parked right next to us in the Dream Catcher SKP RV Park, otherwise known as a parking lot in the desert.  It was such a nice New Mexico day that we all decided to enjoy the pleasant late morning weather and sit outside and continue our catching up on our lives since last we had been together.  At some time after 1:00 we decided that it must be close enough to noon to head for lunch.

            Since the first time we met Don and Kay in a parking lot in Nappanee, while our homes were being serviced at the factory, we have enjoyed greatly the opportunities to just chat and share each other company.  Chatting right through our appointed time to leave is not abnormal for us and not a bad thing.  As a full time RVer you are never on a schedule as normal people understand.  We were heading to Mexico for lunch/dinner and it really does not matter exactly what time that is as long as it is.  So at a little after 1:00 in the after noon we headed out for our noon meeting.

            The little border town in Mexico is not a major tourist attraction, but it does have its share of mandatory venders and very small shops.  The main drawing card to this small Mexican town is the dental clinics and opticians.  I will no go into my opinions on how a person can go to a small town in Mexico and get 3,000 dollars of dental work done for 2 or 3 hundred dollars.  But that is what draws a lot of people across the border.  For us the draw was a rather large building called The Pink Store.  Yes, it was pink and it was a store with all of the prerequisite Mexican stuff that crazy Americans want to bring back across the border.  We did not need a ceramic turtle planter, nor a large very colorful jug to tote around in our motor home, so we just looked at the artifacts and decided to not purchase.

            The Pink Store is also a rather large restaurant that offers a free margarita to anyone that decides to enjoy their native culinary offerings.  Since this was our lunch/dinner we were hungry and since we are in the desert we were thirsty.  A few margaritas later and with a full tummy feeling we all stumbled out of the Pink Store and tried to find our home country.  That may be a slight exaggeration, but it sounds good in print.  The food at the Pink Store was extremely good and not a single plate at our table was in need of washing as it headed back to the kitchen.  We had all devoured as completely as we could the delicious offering we had been served.  The Mexican tradition of not rushing you through you meal is practiced at the Pink Store and we fully enjoyed our very leisurely repast.  The check for the meal does not appear on your table until you are ready to leave.  Unlike the typical American food emporium where they shove the bill under your plate long before you have had a chance to taste all of the food.  Our noon lunch which started after 1:00 lasted until nearly 5:00.  I guess it was a very typical Mexican relaxed experience in enjoying what you are doing at a very relaxed pace.

            On our way home, Connie and I decided to purchase some drugs and smuggle them into the country.  Again I will not expound on the feelings I have about having to leave this country to purchase what should be over the counter drugs at a price that does not bankrupt the normal financial institution, or family budget.  It is apparently not illegal to spend a normal amount of money to purchase health insuring drugs in Mexico and bring them back to this country.  It is only really stupid to not do it.  The border guard quickly scanned our passport, chose not to inspect our brown bag that contained the “American prescription” drugs and wished us a good day.  Our hundred dollars worth of prescription drugs that are little more than aspirin and antibiotic cost us less then 20 dollars.  If you read my blog yesterday, this may well be another answer to the leading question that titled my blog.

            Let me recap. If I may, my day; We enjoyed the company of some dear friends, we traveled to a foreign country, albeit just a 30 mile jaunt down the road, we had an excellent meal prepared and presented to us in a friendly and relaxed atmosphere, we resupplied our healthcare cabinet of medically preventative drugs and we did it all from the comfort of our home which just happens to be parked in the desert under a star lit beautiful sky.  It was a pretty good day, and not so abnormal.  Being a full time RVer does have its benefits and pleasures.

Date:                           October 20, 2007

Location:                    Deming, NM

0900:

            Why would anyone go to Deming, NM?  Well it might be that it is on our way to Houston, but then we think that Buffalo is on our way from Houston, TX to Tampa, FL, so what would we know.  We decided to stop in Deming because it was a place where we could reconnect with some friends and it was kind of on our way to White Sands National Park where we are going to reconnect with some other friends.  So in some convoluted way there is a reason to be in Deming, NM and we are enjoying it so far.

            Our trip through the Painted Desert and Petrified Forest was, as should be expected, a voyage through geological education and the beauty of Nature’s art.  Mother Earth is a volatile manipulator of this planet and in the wake of her efforts is left some magnificent and beautiful examples of her explosive and erosive nature.  In my simple brain I am not sure that I can fathom the time frames of what we saw.  The rocks, that were once trees, range in ages over 250 million years and are only now exposing there beauty over the recent timeframe of merely a few million years.  The concept of a quarter billion years is beyond my comprehension.  The ability of enjoying the colorful beauty of the petrified elements from within the trees was and is totally within my realm of appreciation.  I will let the astronomical amount of years rumble through my brain and eventually settle in the back some place.  The beauty of petrified wood and stones that look like and were once trees will, for the present, be more pleasantly stored in the recent memory section of my simple mind.

            When we left the area of the Petrified Forest we decided to follow a bit more rustic route and evade the rush of interstate traffic.  Simply this means we took two lane state highways and let the rest of the traveling humanity fill the four lane parking lots known as interstates.  We found that, not only, was the drive less stressful and more enjoyable.  It was much more beautiful.  The older state roads tend to meander through the country side and allow you to see a truer example of Americana as you wonder through the small towns and back country areas of our nation.  As we drove through rural America we found that most of the time we were the only ones on the road and found the drive extremely pleasant.  It was so calm and relaxing that my wife actually allowed herself to get behind the wheel of our bus and drive it down the road.  Yes, Connie is now an RV driver and can, after nearly 7 years, say she has driven our motorhome.

            There was little question in my mind that she could do a fine job once she got past the fear of climbing behind the steering wheel of our bus.  It was the re-positioning of me nearer the right hand side of the road that I most feared.  I am not used to being on the passenger side of the bus and I was a bit fearful that I might have a small coronary setting that close to the bridge abutment as it rushes toward my new side of the rig. I found that this was no problem at all and that my wife can do a fine job of keeping this huge vehicle right in the middle of the road.  Gee, I am not the only person that can drive this bus and realizing this monumental fact was not damaging to my id at all.  The next step is to see if my lovely wife will ever drive in an area where there are other cars and traffic.  That is a question to which we will have to wait to realize an answer but we have made great steps forward and that is a wonderful thing.  She even used the air brakes, the exhaust brake and made a left hand turn onto another road.  Quite a progressive move forward..

            Today we are getting ready for an international excursion.  We will make sure we have our passports and all of our important travel documents as we prepare to leave this country and venture on to new adventures in foreign lands.  Just incase you have not deciphered this jumble of ka-ka.  Connie and I are traveling 30 miles south to have lunch in Mexico.  Maybe that is another reason a person would come to Deming. 

Date:                           October 13, 2007

Location:                    Bryce Canyon, UT

0950:

            Our visit to Bryce Canyon has been an excursion into mistakes and misconceptions.  I am not alluding to the fact that this may be a bad thing, but it is what has been and what most simply has described our visit.

            We arrived here a day early because someone behind the wheel of our bus did not seem to want to stop.  It was the end of the season and in the middle of the week, so that same person figured that there would be no problem showing up a little early and checking into an expectedly empty campground.  Well, that was mistake number one.  When we arrived at Ruby’s Campground we found out that the rest of the world had arrived just before us.  There was even a Newmar Rally going on here.  It was nice to see a collection of Newmar vehicles, but they were all parked in the sites that we could have used.  The people at the registration desk were more than friendly and were very pleasant at trying to handle us, even though we were not supposed to be here.  We were finally directed to an employee camping area as an overflow arrangement.  This worked out so well for us that we decided to stay here for the full time of our visit.

            Mistake number one was that this place is ever, not busy.  Ruby’s Inn is quite a resort and is frequented by world travelers all year long.  Why I would have thought differently is a mystery now that I reflect on my error.  This is Bryce Canyon, after all.

            On our first day of exploration we ventured into Bryce Canyon expecting to see some of nature’s more exotic art work.  This was to be an under statement, but most definitely not a mistake.  We had seen many of the geological examples of nature’s art that are here at Bryce Canyon and expected to see, pretty much, the same thing again. Carved rock walls of red and rust, painted cliffs of layered pastels and beautiful vistas of undulating terrain were what we expected and that is quite what we found.  It is, however, nothing like we have ever seen before.  It is as awe inspiring as the travel books try to make it and yet it is a scene that must be personally seen to fully appreciate.  Bryce Canyon is advertised as a place like no other on this earth. That may be a slight exaggeration and a Madison Avenue phrase, but it is also pretty accurate.  Bryce Canyon is not a canyon, but it is a special place on this earth.  Each view is not only a venture into awe and wonder it is a view that will, and does, change as you try to drink in all of the beauty.  The colors are muted and exaggerated as the cloud’s or sun’s movement changes the quantity and quality of light.  You truly never do get the same view from the same spot.  Not that one view is better or more majestic than another it is just not the same.  Mother Nature is truly still working on this artistic display both in natural erosion and weather modification but also in the way that she decides to present her efforts of beauty.

            Mistake number two was expecting to see the travel book pictures of Bryce Canyon and be impressed.  Instead we were to experience Bryce Canyon and to be forever affected.  There is a reason that world travelers make this an important stop on their sojourn though this country and Connie and I are learning that first hand.

            Our second day in this area was to be a journey into “Sight Seeing with a Purpose.”  This is my wife’s new, and very accurate, well turned phrase to describe Geocaching.  One might have thought that two old duffers would be caught in the expectations of finding the easily hidden caches and the simple virtual caches that take little more effort than reading your GPS and driving your car to the assigned point and reading the sign to discern the required information.  We did log a couple of these caches and we are not ashamed to admit there ease.  We also discovered some very ingenious hides and managed to log them also.  And to prove that old age is often misunderstood as chronologic advancement of years, we climbed up the extremely steep face of a a red wall of stone to find a cache hidden under an arch that towered some 300 feet over the floor below us.  Connie had to use “bottom power;’ to descend the steep loose rock trail that led to our find.  While atop the world we did manage to take a few pictures that will, I am sure, not due any justice to the unbelievable beauty we were privileged to experience.  The contrasting deep, dark green of the Ponderosa Pines against the deep red walls of the canyon are truly breath taking.  The fact that we were doing our mountain climbing at nearly 9000 feet helped accentuate the experience.  But, we did not let the elevation in altitude nor years deter our desire to enjoy and experience the artistic beauty of Mother Nature.  A decision that will forever be rewarded in the memories we will treasure from our visit here.

            Mistake number three was thinking that getting old has anything to do with years.  Getting old is getting lazy and complacent with the station in life which you may have chosen.  Climbing eroding rock mountains to sit under a red arch of Mother Nature’s carving is not an example of aging nor does it allude to the fact that aging may soon affect your life style.  The desire for adventure and the insatiable quest for knowledge is the elixir of youth and as long as Connie and I have that, and a modicum of health, we will think of aging as simply a reason to have birthday cake once or twice a year.

            As I alluded to in the opening, this has been a journey of mistakes. Mistakes that I would wish on only the people I love and admire the most.  Bryce Canyon is so much more than a place to visit.  It is so far beyond beautiful and awe inspiring.  And it is certainly never a mistaken destination, but one that I would quickly recommend to anyone with a desire to experience youth at any age.

Date:                           October 9, 2007

Location:                    Declo, ID

1030:

            Our meandering and exploration as brought us to a small bump in the road in Idaho that is so comfortable that we have decided to spend an extra day here and play catch up.  That means that I get a morning to play in front of my computer and Connie gets to play in the laundry room.  After our assigned chores we may take a stroll along the Snake River, because that is what we have out our window and just down the lane from where we are calling home for the next day or so.  The RV park is quite large and laid out very nicely for big rigs like ours and has the parking lanes lined with tree.  Thus, the park name of Village of Trees.  Sadly the trees did not prevent me from seeing my football team lose as the game clock ticked to zero last night.  After such a fantastic and hard fought performance to let it slip away like that is a heart breaker, but that is Buffalo.

            We are making some head way toward Texas as we venture from the very wet and cold dampness of the northwest.  If we travel much over 300 miles in a day it is a big travel day.  It has made the trip very low key and un-stressful, which is exactly what we wanted to do.  We found the travel days up and around the Pacific Peninsula to be very pleasant and we actually saw some blue sky peaking out from behind the clouds.  We did not happen to see much of the evidence of blue sky while we were stationary in Chimacum.  By the way, this was supposed to be an area that was in the “rain shadow” of the Olympic Range.  The only shadow we experienced were the ones cast by the constant grey funk of clouds that filled our sky.  The area is extremely beautiful and lush with forest and flowers, but, as you might expect, that means that they get a lot of moisture and we got to experience that first hand as we lived in the valley of “mizzle” for a week.

            Our visit to Seattle was on Connie’s birthday and the Gods were kind enough to make it a rather pretty day.  We actually got to stand on the observation deck of the Space Needle and see something.  It was a bit cool and windy, but we did get a 520 foot high panoramic view of a very beautiful city.  The constant availability of moisture makes this area very lush and the city of Seattle is pristinely positioned along the forest laden coast.  The city planners have wisely allowed Mother Nature to prosper and grow.  Even the main streets of the very metropolitan city center are lined with mature beautiful trees.  Being a much lived in city, Seattle exudes a feeling of warmth and welcoming to its visitors and citizens alike.  I am sure that the feeling of warmth is very welcome to the people that stroll the tree lined streets, because the weather seems to be anything else but warm, or dry.  As I said the day we visited was quite wonderful.  The day was filled with blue sky, albeit also punctuated with a very sharp cool wind.  It was a jacket and ear muff day, but a great day to stroll through the public market and buy fresh produce.  On our way back to the car we quickly sought shelter in a coffee house for a cup of Seattle’s Best Coffee as the required daily rain storm blew through the city.  But what else could one expect on a visit to Seattle.

            We left the moisture of the far northwest and headed south and east looking for warmth and dryness.  We found neither at Mount Saint Helen.  We actually are not too sure we found Mount Saint Helen.  We could see the enormous devastation of the 1980 snit that this mountain threw as it, literally, blew its top.  But, the mountain itself was in a very definite fog and cloudy mood.  It was actually snowing at the visitor’s center.  The clouds did make an attempt to part slightly for us.  We did see what we were told was the sight of the mountain collapse and the evidence of the eruption.  Having never been there I took them at their word and pretended that I could see the spot where the top of the mountain used to be.  It is quite thought provoking to see how much damage Mother Nature can bring on this earth in such a short time.  I was then in awe of how quickly and efficiently she has rebuilt and repaired the scars of her temper tantrum.  The stark devastation of that morning in 1980 is now covered in lush vegetation and the rebirth of forests and lakes as the local plants return to again gain a foothold and rebuild the majesty of this earth.  To visit Mount Saint Helen gives you a faith in Mother Earth to continue to grow and nurture herself, no matter how devastating any single event might be.  She might even be able to repair herself from the effects of a self center, self serving species such as man.

            As we left the lush and rainy northwest we traveled through a lesson in the extreme variations of the topography of this nation.  It is almost as extreme and sudden as turning a page in a book. We traveled from the forested coast of the Pacific to the inter mountain region of the Oregon and now Idaho.  We went from densely forested mountains to barren hillsides and high plateaus that stretch from yesterday into tomorrow.  All of this happened in the span of minutes as we rode in our bus and watched the travel video playing for us on our windshield.  It is an education to see what effect terrain and weather have on the earth’s ability support vegetation and life.  It seemed that we turned a corner and the green of Pacific forest was replaced by the brown and beige of a high desert.  Where man had not irrigated and redirected the rivers stood miles of desolate, unforgiving land.  Where he had used the moisture of nature to his benefit and direction were lush jewels of green and healthy vegetation.  Standing against desolate hues of a barren terrain are fields of green and productivity.  There is a beauty in the muted hues of brown and rust of a high desert floor, and in the purple auras of distant mountains on the horizon.  There is a beauty, but there is also a feeling of desolation and unforgiving as you ponder the possible thoughts of the first early nomadic travelers as they ventured into this region.  I ponder this as I ride in my bus with tank of water, a refrigerator filled with food and a satellite dish atop my roof so that I can watch my football team snatch defeat from the jaws of victory.  We are a much softer society today than the heroic forefathers that blazed the trail I now drive my bus along.

            Times do change and men do evolve, sometime for the better and sometimes they just evolve.  Connie and I are actually following the Oregon Trail as we head east and south, much as our forefathers did in reverse.  We may be using a slightly different form of transportation, but we are reliving some of our history.  I guess it is time for me, now, to go to the river and see if I can find the rock that Connie is using to do our laundry and then I may go shoot us some dinner.  Actually, at this park, they deliver your dinner right to your rig if you choose.  I guess times have changed just a slight bit.

Date:                           October 3, 2007

Location:                    Chimacum, WA

0830:

            Some days you just can not win.  It is one of those little mysteries of life that you are never taught, but you still seem to find a bunch of ways to learn as you progress down life’s little weed lined path.  Yesterday was another day in the “Life Experience” class room.

            If you read my blog you are miserably aware of the fact that I was feeling sorry for myself and not fully enjoying the weather in the Northwest.  I may have made some veiled attempt at making light of the constant “mizzle” we are living in while here at Chimacum, but I think it was quite evident that we were not having a weather friendly time while enjoying our sojourn.  It was kind of my idea to proceed all the way up the Olympic Peninsula and for go the meteorologist warnings and I was beginning to have some reservations as to the value of that decision. The fact that we had to cancel our trip to visit some of the San Juan Islands and small sea villages did not help in elevating my mood.  It was a rainy miserable day and I was regaling in the fact that my mood was just a bleak and grey as were the clouds that were’ literally, raining on our parade.  It was a sucky day and I was wallowing in a mood of self pity.  If it has to be lemons, I can be just as sour as the next person.

            We decided to spend the day at Wally World and pretend that we were actually getting something accomplished while it rained and pouted on our day.  The drive to Poulsbo was wet, miserable and gloomy and I was feeling very comfortable in my self pity stupor.  We were doing something, but I was not going to have fun and that would show them, whoever “them” are.  On our wet trek to Wal-Mart my lovely wife thought it might be nice to investigate some of the small towns along our path and we wondered up and down some streets along the water. But in reality, almost all of the streets are along the water here. At least there is a body of water between where you are and where you want to be, almost all of the time.

            This was kind of a good thing. It allowed me to think about what I was seeing and not what I was feeling, which was a self pity.  It was while we were trying to get lost and still find a place for lunch that the most miserable event happened to me. I was in a very comfortable mood of self pity as the clouds surrounded us and rain pelted our car.  But sometime between Chimacum and the Olive Garden the clouds started to disappear.  By the time we had finished a very good lunch of soup and salad that was served by a very friendly and attentive waitress we ventured forth into a thing I think they call sunshine.  Not wanting to trust the fickle temperament of Mother Nature we still spent the day wandering around a mall and enjoying the atmosphere in a Barnes and Nobles, but the sun had made an appearance and it was having a marked effect on our mood.  We spent the day doing nothing important, yet enjoying every second of it and when we left the mall and headed back into the world outside we were not feeing sorry for ourselves at all. Connie had a new book and I had a new attitude. Sun is a wonderful thing.

            On a day when I was ready to suffer loudly in a pit of self indulgence and pity I was treated to a glimpse of bright sun and warmth and the dramatic artistry of clouds against the peaks of the Olympic range as we drove home.  I had been deprived of my chance to feel really sorry for myself.  On some level I had lost my misery mood, yet it did not seem to hurt or bother me as much as one might think it should.  We may not have made pure lemon aide, but it was not a sour drink of reality that we enjoyed today, it was more of pleasant day of spending time with someone that you love, and a great bowl of pasta fagioli with never ending bread sticks. Did I mention that we shared a tira misu for dessert?

            It may have rained on our way back home, and it may have turned gloomy again as we neared our campground, but we had seen the sun and our tummies were happy.  I had been deprived of the pleasure of feeling really sorry for myself, but I was handling that quite well, I thought.  Into each life a little rain must fall, especially if you live near Seattle, but for my opinion the Sun is a wonderful thing.

Date:                           October 2, 2007

Location:                    Chimacum, WA                   

1000

            Having a lot of opinions is a fate that I have long suffered and, at sometimes, enjoyed. Anyone that has spent much time either listening to me or reading my drivel is very well aware of the fact that I not only have opinions, but that I am very willing to share them with just about anyone.  This I do with great pleasure because these valued opinions are all mine and I spend much time evaluating them to assure every one that, indeed, these are valued insights to the human spirit and my personal beliefs.  As I said, this is a trait of which I normally take some pride in exhibiting.  That is unless the opinion comes back to bite me in the posterior.

            It is from that sore prospective that I ponder what it is I should share with all 1 or 2 of my blog enjoyers this damp and miserable morning in the northwest.  Being in the “rain shadow” of the Olympic Mountains is not working as we had been made to believe.  The shadow is quite wet this morning and has been most of the time that we have been here.  But, this is the northwest and wet Seattle is but a short ferry ride away and I should have known and expected nothing more or less than we have received, in the form of weather, since we arrived in Chimacum.  There have been a few spots of blue in the skies, but they have been very few and very far in between.  This morning the weather has gotten a bit more serious and it is pouring out our window.  We have two colors, maybe three, to enjoy out our front picture window; there is the lush green of the forest that is just across our little street and the grey funk of a rainy sky to accentuate that vibrant vegetation. The other color is possibly the red ire of frustration as we try to make lemon aide out of rain water.

            One of my favorite opinions is that we do not have to grow up, we just get chronologically older. I brag at the fact at I am not now nor do I plan on ever being a grown up.  I will address my responsibilities as they need be attended, but I do not ever have to be sequestered in the rut of “acting my age.”  I was to find that opinion to be a bit of a pain in the back side yesterday.  Connie and I decided that we would use the Maya Angelou philosophy of “If you can’t change it, change the way you think about it” and venture forth into the “mizzle.” 

By the way that is a new weather word, like “marine layer.”  In the northwest, “mizzle” is a cross between “mist” and “drizzle” and is very accurate at describing the weather we have been enjoying.  I am learning so many new weather words that I might be able to write this vacation off as an opportunity to expand by education in meteorology.

            As we headed for Hurricane Ridge and a view of Mt. Olympus we were determined to make as much out of the day as we could, mizzle or no.  The visitor center was, as would be expected at a National Park, fantastic and had a very good movie on just what the Olympic Peninsula was and how it differs from almost every place  else on the earth.  The ranger told us that the drive up Hurricane Ridge was not the greatest today and that maybe we should investigate lower level adventures.  An offering of advice that we greatly appreciated and valued, but also ignored.  There was a tiny patch of blue fighting through the mizzle and we “proceeded on” up the 5,000 plus feet of the twisting and narrow road with hopes of majestic vistas.  It is here that my valued opinion started to pain me a bit.

            As we were climbing and venturing up into the mountains the glaciers kept playing “hide-n-seek” with us.  First they would hide behind thick grey clouds and pretend that they did not exist and then they would peek ever so slightly out from behind some thick mizzle to entice us to proceed ever higher.  Now, if I remember, when I was chronologically younger playing peek-a-boo was a fun game and one that could keep me entertained for minutes at a stretch.  If I have not grown up, I should still regale at the chance to enjoy this simple fun filled game.  Someone sound the buzzer, because that is wrong.

            We did make it to the top of the ridge and we did get to see what we think was a glacier of in the haze of some very thick mizzle.  We did not fully enjoy the childish pranks of the mountains as they played a lot more hide then seek.  The parts of the mountains that we could see were beautiful and lush.  They should be with all the rain they get.  I can not say that I fully enjoyed being a child and playing peek-a-boo-hoo with Mt. Olympus.

            As an adult I should realize the benefit and need of this weather, but as a child I want to see the views.  I should realize that not everything is just for my enjoyment, but I wanted to enjoy the excitement of viewing glaciers atop a majestic mountain.  Come to think of it, I guess I have not grown up very much after all.  I may not have enjoyed the childish game of hide-n-seek, but I did not enjoy it in a very spoiled brat childish manner.