Date:                           September 29, 2007

Location:                    Chimacum, WA

0930:

            Our home has wondered up the north western coast of this country and now about as far north and west as you can get with our going to Alaska.  If we are not at the furthest point, we did actually pass a road that said it would take us there.  We are near the border of Canada and secluded in the woods of a small retirement community.  As of this writing, we have not explored the area much, but you can bet that is at the top of our agenda.

            As we left Seaside and meandered up route 101 we could not but think about the first American explores that explored this area.  We could not help but think about them because everywhere we look there is a Lewis and Clark Trail sign posted along the highway.  We tried to explore as much of the history of the expedition as we could while in Seaside and camped near Fort Clatsop in Oregon.  It is the second time that we have been in this area, only this time our teen age companions are on their own and raising their own families.  I guess that is a good thing.  It did, at times, make it much more peaceful.

            The drive along the Oregon and Washington coast could be a chance to see some very pristine views of the Pacific Ocean; only someone planted a bunch of trees between the road and the beach.  We could smell the ocean air and hear the breaking waves, but every time I tried to catch a glimpse of the ocean I could only see forests of pines and green out my window.  I must admit that I did have to spend most of my time watching the road.  It is enjoyable to drive up the coast of the northwest, but it is a chore that demands your attention.  I have a 40 foot bus with  20 foot of tow vehicle snuggled up to my rear and the road is very twisty and serpentine as it disappears in to the woods.  It is not a bad drive, nor did I regret it.  It was, however, a drive that actually took some effort and concentration.  It was not just a travel video playing on the big screen in front of me.

            On our exercise of bus meandering, we did find a pull off where we could have lunch.  It was located on a cliff over looking the ocean with a small island with a light house just out our window.  It was a chance for me to move my old bones and get a rest and a chance for us to fully enjoy the beauty of the area.  One of the wonders of this life is finding the ability to enjoy a small lunch over looking the Pacific Ocean and listen to the waves breaking on the shore as you sit in your home and enjoy the beauty of nature.  There was actually a break in the forest and we could enjoy the oceanic vista right from our dinning table.

            At the end of 300 miles and 7 hours of travel we were entering the SKP Park in Chimacum and that is where we find ourselves now and for the next week or so.  I am sure that we will find many places to explore and enjoy, but I must first relate a story about the attitude of the people here. 

            Our first site was quite adequate for a transient visitor.  It was a pull through with the normal RV hook-ups.  It looks straight at a propane tank, but if you were to raise your eyes just a slight bit we had a fantastic mountain of woods to enjoy.  All things considered, it was going to be a fine place to spend the week and it was to cost us just a bit over a hundred dollars. Things were good.  Then we noticed that our house batteries were showing a red alarm light. This means that they are getting a bit low, but we should be plugged into AC.  Connie had used her small electric oven; that may explain why batteries are low.  I investigated the situation and found that our AC breaker had operated and we were indeed on house batteries.  To quickly get to the point; our AC receptacle was defective and causing our cord to heat up and draw too much current.  A little rigging and we managed to fix it so we could limp through the night and prepare for a visit to the office the first thing in the morning.

            The problem was quickly addressed.  Actually by the time I got back from walking to the office the repairman was at our site.  He needed to refer the problem to the resident electrician, of course.  It is here that the story exemplifies the attitude of the people at this park.  The solution for the problem requires that the receptacle be replaced and the gentleman was willing to cancel a doctor’s appointment for his ill wife to accommodate us.  Needless to say we did not allow that to happen, but thanked him and the campground for even offering.  We decided that we could take our home and move 2 sites down the road and be very satisfied.  The electrician could take his wife to the doctor and I would have an example of the kindness in people to relate in my blog. 

We now have a new view out our front window which does not cause us to look over a propane tank to see the forest;  We have a good electrical connection, at least at last checking;  And there are a lot of caring and compassionate people in this world if you just have a desire to look for them.  For one morning in the north western corner of Washington I would say we have accomplished and discovered a lot.

Date:                           September 23, 2007

Location:                    Seaside, OR

0900:

            We have been exploring the coastline and area around Seaside, OR and enjoying the fellowship of a group of Fulltimer Newmar owners for the last week.  In a short sentence I have pretty much summed up our days and evenings since we arrived at Seaside.  We were not aware of the rally that was going to be here when we made our plans and reservations, but sometimes good things happen just because they do and for no other reason.  After spending a summer as “workampers” and trying to fit in with the mentality of a minimum wage society it is comforting to reconnect with a bunch of wondering souls that think a house should have wheels and understand the possibility of traveling directly from Houston, TX to Tampa, FL and finding that the route runs right through Buffalo, NY. I guess you could say that Connie and I are reorienting our heads and we choose the perfect place to accomplish the chore.

            The rally has been great on some levels and quite cool and uncomfortable on others.  Meeting our friends, both old and new, from Newmar has been a welcome relief and enjoyment.  Trying to socialize after sunset in a section of this country that is lingering in the low 60’s during the day and dropping quickly into the low 50’s or 40’as soon as the sun disappears is a bit problematic.  The rally does not have a building in which to have the lengthy after sunset chat sessions, which means that as the onset of dusk arrives the multitude of chilled rally participants tend to retreat to their collective private and warm homes.  We do gather most evenings for our 4:00 pm happy hour and bull session, but as the sun disappears so do we shivering, chilled and pampered fulltimers.

            One enjoyed plus of our serendipitous joining of this rally is that we are finding that geocaching is becoming more and more popular with fulltimers.  It is a simple hobby that allows us to get off our duffs and find a reason to take a hike through some very beautiful country.  Yesterday we had an entourage of 5 couples all with GPS in hand trekking along the very rocky coast of Seaside to find a cache hidden under a “slightly leaning” tree on Tillamook Point.  The waves along the Oregon coast, here, are very active and roll into the shore making very bright white curls and crashing explosions of mist as they sweep on to the sandy shore.  The section of Tillamook Point that our cache was hidden on was a long spit of land that protruds into the ocean and was covered with rocks.  I was expecting our mile plus walk on the beach to be “on a beach” and not up, over and through a rock pile.  We could stand on our pile of stones and boulders and look back at the Seaside beach and see expansive stretches of sand spreading north and south along the shore line, and yet here I was, with nearly a dozen other people, walking through a collection of rocks.  There were little rocks, medium sized rocks and some that were nearly boulders.  Throw in a few seagulls, a couple of washed up driftwood trees and logs and the beauty of a sunny day highlighting the jewel like glistening ocean waves and you have a description of our hike.  You must also punctuate this scene with an off shore swimming sea lion that bobbed and floated as he watched us watching him search for his lunch.  Yes, we found the cache, but more importantly we saw a view of Seaside, Oregon that few visitors adventurously venture forth to observe.  I feel sorry for them.

            Connie and I managed this 2 mile stony beach hike and still did had energy enough to do another cache that took us on a 2 or 3 mile walk along the promenade in Seaside.  I guess that we do not yet have to worry about “not working.”  We were afraid that we might find ourselves falling into a sedentary existence after we left Santa Cruz.  So far we have not had enough time to allow that to happen.  If we are not taking 8 to 10 mile bike rides we are taking 4 and 5 mile hikes.  I guess that sedentary is not an option, and that is a good thing.  Today we are going to a small sea side town down the coast for another couple of mile stroll to find another cache. Again, it is with friends and fellow fulltiners.  Is this a good life or what?

Date:                           September 19, 2007

Location:                    Seaside, OR

0900:

            Language is such a feeble means of communicating and yet we are left with our lack of verbal expertise to explain what and how we are living our lives.  There are, I am sure, many levels of communication and verbal proficiencies and I am sure that some people feel that they can covey some sort of information from themselves to anyone that might be within ear shot, or today, within internet accessibility.  Yet I feel that in reality it is a feeble and failing attempt to transfer ones thoughts from their inner emotions and feelings to another person in such a manner that the true experience is truly shared.

            I could expound for hours on how angry I am with the media’s exercise in faux news as they spend hour after hour telling us about a robbery gone bad in some sleazy hotel in Los Vegas and yet have for over 6 years allowed a government of the people and for the people to trash the constitution that they have sworn to up hold.  I could yell and scream and yet when I am tired and decide to quit I will have not conveyed anything to you that you already do not feel or know other than to show my “liberal” tendencies and my discuss for anything labeled politics.  I will have communicated nothing.

            I could relate to you the pleasure that Connie and I experienced when we arrived at our new home in Seaside, OR and found that a Fulltimer Rally was being held here at our park.  The Fulltimer Chapter of the Newmar Kountry Klub had chosen this park to hold their fall west coast meeting and we just happen to pick this park to spend a few days as we venture up the coast of Oregon.  It might be an interesting story, but one that I am sure you might as easily forget as you might turn a page in a book or change web sites on the internet.  Again I would not have communicated the personal pleasure of being able to reconnect with like minded nomadic travelers, some of whom we have actually met previously.  It might prove to be an interesting anecdotal experience, but will I have really communicated anything?

            I could also make an attempt to explain the few exploratory drives we have already taken form our new home base. I would then be called on to make an attempt to explain the beauty and charm of the Oregon coast and to attempt to communicate how the vistas and beauty of ocean waves crashing against the rugged sea shore has etched a memory in our souls.  It is from this perspective that I feel the largest pains of failure.  My lovely wife asked me, the other night, to help her brainstorm some new phrases to add to her literary exercise of postcard writing.  It is a fun game that we play periodically and good exercise in the manipulation and use of the English language.  It is, however, a trip into the realization that we really do not know how to communicate.

            We have said that this sight or that view is “breath taking” and we have tried to paint pictures of the “glistening jeweled waves” of the Pacific Ocean crashing on the long sandy beaches.  We have tried to paint these verbal pictures, but I feel we have failed miserably in conveying the true experience.  I have gone on and on about this restaurant or that epicurean delight enjoyed at a gourmet dinning, but how do I differentiate the experience enjoyed at a very small family owned eatery in a tiny seaside village hidden in the rocky cove of the Oregon coast.  A small restaurant called Roseanna’s that served an artistically presented lunch of fresh fish cooked in fresh herbal accents.  How do I verbally describe the pleasures of the palate that were accentuated by the full panoramic view of the Pacific Ocean?  How does one communicate emotion and pleasure to someone else’s mind?

            Maybe it would be easier to explain the excitement and adventure of finding a state operated interpretive center on the Lewis and Clark exploration.  It is not just the knowledge available at the center, but the feeling of adventure and wonder of these brave men that were standing at the opening of the mighty Columbia River as it enters the Pacific Ocean.  How do I explain how I feel about trying to understand the excitement and accomplishment of these explores? 

            It is now that I have found an answer to “how do I more efficiently communicate my experiences.”  These men forged out across a country that was not yet explored.  They managed to, through their bravery and adventurous sprit, to draw attention to the wonders that this country had to offer to a new nation.  They magically communicated this to generations that would follow and in a very short historical time span a new nation has been formed and stretches from one sea to the other.  Now I stand where they stood and can only imagine the wonder that they felt, but I do now have an experience from which to try and interrupt their communication of discovery.

            Maybe communication is not about telling someone about a discovery.  Maybe it is about whetting their appetite so that they will find the desire to retrace your exploratory mission of discovery. Be it in travel, education, or political understanding of history, communication should be about whetting another’s desire to learn and experience more of life.  If I ever am able to cause a person to intellectually, or physically, travel to a place I have experienced, in thought or life, I guess I will have succeeded in communicating just a bit of what I have lived.  Maybe verbal communication is as much about listening and receiving as it is about telling and writing.

Date:                           September 15, 2007

Location:                    Seaside, OR

1000:

            Our bus is again a home in a small coastal town in northern Oregon.  We are very close to the Washington state border and I am sure that we will explore the southern portions of that state from our new home base.  Since we have departed our work camping experience at Santa Cruz we have been using our bus/home just as she was designed.  On days when we need to move we start our big noisy diesel engine and move across this wonderful country and when we decide we have driven far enough we park our bus, push a few buttons, take out a couple of nick-knacks and change her into a home.  So far, Aurora has been performing admirably as we have challenged her to pull us and our car up over and through the Cascade Range and through some of this country’s northwestern beauty.  To say it has been a pleasure would be a gross understatement, it is more like an experience of a life time.

            Leaving the awesome beauty of Crater Lake might have been a reason for depression.  How could we possibly find a place more beautiful and awe inspiring?  Instead we roamed through the wooded subtle beauty of Oregon’s forests.  It gave us a chance to return to the level of normal life and leave the realm of God’s creation and Mother Nature’s evolutionary art exhibits.  To say that we were returning to normalcy might be a slight miss statement.  The forests of Oregon are as beautiful as the travel brochure promises.  They may not be as shockingly breath taking as our first glimpse of Crater Lake, but there were no complaints as we again sat mesmerized watching the travel video being displayed on our somewhat dirty windshield.  There were a few “Whoas” and the sound of sucking wind as we careened down the twisting and winding mountain roads coming from my co-pilot’s chair, but I could not really pay too much attention because I was gripping the steering wheel and clenching my eyelids closed so I did not have to watch the next sharp curve rising up to meet our 50,000 pound mountain dropping motorhome.  It may not have been nearly that bad, but, it sounds good in print.  Thank God for a good exhaust break and a very fun driving RV.

            On our trip over and through the Cascade Range we found a new element to our year’s excursion.  We had spent the last 4 or 5 months on the sea coast of California and had forgotten what it was like to have weather.  When we awoke in Santa Cruz, if we could see across the street it was a beautiful bright blue sky day.  If we awoke and we could not see across the street it meant that the Marines were still on shore and it was going to be a beautiful bright blue sky day as soon as they pulled back to the depths of the off shore horizon.  We knew that the temperature was going to rise to 75 or so and there would be a gentle breeze to remove any possibility of discomfort.  On our preparation for travel through the Oregon forest we noticed a slight change in our surroundings.  It was actually cool and as the day progressed it got cooler.  I actually had to change from my ill advised choice of shorts to long pants.  As we traveled along the windy mountain roads we also noticed something in the sky we had not seen for nearly half a year.  There were actually clouds.  At first there were just a few but as the day unfolded the sky became full with these grey depressing things that I kind of remembered from New York.  For the first time in nearly half a year we were having a cloudy day and it lasted all day long.  Actually as I sit here in our home catching up on my mind meandering it is a normal New York morning, still.  It is grey, funky and cloudy with a definite chance of a thing they call rain.  I think I remember that phenomenon but it has been so long I would really like to not be reacquainted.

            Our first few days in Seaside are not to be too exciting as we investigate the information bureau and restock our homes larder.  There is always Sunday football and maybe a big bowl of Connie’s homemade chili to brighten the possibilities of the immediate future.  We are here to relax and explore and I think that our first objective is to re-supply and relax.

Date:                           September 9, 2007

Location:                    Redding, CA

0900:

            We drove to see Mount Shasta, yesterday.  She was not home, or at least we could not see her.  The fire of Moonlight Mountain was offering her aurora of smoke and placing the whole area under a very hazy covering.  As the day progressed we noticed that the haze became even thicker and better hiding the distant offerings of beauty.  To put it a bit more efficiently in words, “It was hazy and hot all day and got worse as the day grew older.”

            We did get to see Lake Shasta and the second largest dam, by volume, in the world.  Both are awe inspiring manmade creations of beauty.  The dam for its engineering and construction magic and Lake Shasta for the breath taking setting in which it was created.  The Sacramento River was held back by the placement of the dam and it created a pristine lake stretching back into the canyons and mountains of the Northern California.  The lake was down some 150 feet, which we were told was kind of normal, so the green laden hills sides flowed into the blue glistening waters with a ring of sandy red shore line ringing the whole area.  If an artist were to draw the picture, I am sure you would not believe its contrasting beauty, but Mother Nature, with the help of a few engineers, eloquently offered the scenic beauty to us on this hazy summer afternoon.

            The visitor’s center was located just off the dam and offered a full wall of windows to overlook the lake and Mount Shasta in the distance.  Remember, Mount Shasta was playing a good game of hide and disappear.  The informational movie was actually quite enjoyable, if not overly informational.  After our popcorn-less movie and a beautiful view of the dam we started our walk to the dam center and closer view of the lake.  On the way out of the building our camera was noticed by one of the workers behind the desk and a short conversation was started about cameras, camping, early retirement, kids and the meaning of life.  It was just one of those simple Celestine Prophecy moments where you know that one of you is caring a message for the other and it really does not matter who is the carrier and who is the receiver, it only matters that you take a few moments out of your life to enjoy the meeting of unfamiliar souls.

            From Shasta Lake we drove through the back streets of Redding to Whiskeytown Lake. Yes, that kind of whiskey.  It was founded during the gold rush days of California and named after a mishap of one of the miners.  It seems that his donkey dropped his pack of supplies on the way from the unnamed boomtown to his mining area.  Now in his pack he had all of the necessities of any ruff and tuff miner; food, tools, clothing and a barrel of whiskey.  It seems he saved all but the barrel which burst open and flowed in to the creek. Yes, it is now Whiskey Creek.  As the inhabitants of the newly forming camp were at the creek gathering water they seemed to notice a sparkling taste to the slightly discolored water.  It was not only wet, it was very refreshing, in a drunken sort of way.  Needless to say, from this accident grew the clamor for a new name for the mining camp.

            At Whiskeytown there is also a dam; So what you ask.  It is part of the effort of California to divert some of the northern California water to the southern California farming lands;  Again, so what you ask.  In the lake, formed by the dam, is a large plastic sheet that separates the cold water from the warmer waters to protect the salmon breeding area; Maybe neat, but again kind of so what.  At the southern end of the lake is a large manmade “glory hole” that is 17 miles through solid rock that was made to help divert the water to the Sacramento River basin;  Now we are getting somewhere, at least that is kind of cool.  And near this “glory hole” is a monument to JFK. Why you ask.  This dam was dedicated by him in September of 1963.  It was one of his last official dedications before his ill fated campaign trip to Dallas.  Now put all of this together and it is kind of a cool place.

            All of this and what I will remember is a picnic lunch on the shore of a very well loved gathering place for locals and we lucky visitors with a view of two sail boats silhouetted against the hillside as they effortlessly glided across the lake.  White sails against a green mountainside punctuated by crystal clear blue water, it was scene to remember and enjoy.  The rest of the stuff was kind of neat, but the memories are often visual and thus more likely to be etched in my soul.

            After lunch the winds from Moonlight were more pronounced, that is to say it was getting hazier, so we headed home and stored in our experience library the beauty of the day and wonder of man’s engineering skills.  Mount Shasta will remain, for the day, a mystery.  We enjoyed the beauty that was presented to us and will not linger on the beauty that was hidden behind a veil of distant smoke.
 

Date:                           September 8, 2007

Location:                    Redding, CA

0915:

            We are continuing our adventure up the wine valley region of California and are now enjoying the reality of a summer.  While in paradise, known as the Monterey Bay Region, we did not realize what summer was like.  Each day would climb to a high of near 75 or maybe even a degree or 2 higher and in the evening it would drop into the 50’s.  In the real world of a California summer it is more like a normal climate experience.  During the day it approaches and even passes the 100 degree mark and may cool off to the high 60’s at night.  The “at night” part is great, but I must admit that the 100 degree days are not on my wife’s list of most wonderful moments.  The heat is not a, stifling experience in humidity and oppression, but hot is hot and there is little truth to any one trying to say it is not.  Air-conditioned cars and homes do make it much more acceptable.

            We are learning a new phrase or situational experience as we travel up the fertile valley of north California.  While in the Monterey Bay region we learned that fog is called “the marine layer” and it tends to fill each morning with a reality check.  While we head north into the deeper mountains of California we are experiencing the reality of the news broadcast about brush fires and smoke.  As we headed out of the Napa Valley we thought that the horizon was in a haze and were not too alarmed. We did notice that it seem to get a bit thicker as we proceeded on our way, but it is hot and humidity and air dirt can cause a summer haze to appear.  At home it means that soon a thunderstorm will roll through the area and clean the air.  In California it means that there is a hillside on fire someplace and the wind is blowing the smoke in your direction.  I guess that this is another reality check in the land of paradise.  Our fire is called the Moonlight Fire and is a multi-thousand square acres of woodland that is burning some 100 or so miles from where we are.  Depending on where Mother Nature decides to send her winds, most of northern California is being affected somewhat by the smoke laden air.  It is not affecting our breathing, yet, in the Redding area, but it is causing some respiratory concerns in other towns and areas.  I guess this is just another reality check in paradise.

            Our sojourn through Napa Valley was decent and worth the effort, but we seem to carry a bit of baggage that clouded our appreciation.  Or, maybe we had more knowledge and experience than is felt by most visitors.  It is a beautiful grape growing region and most different in comparison to the sea coast or the inner mountain region.  Thanks to irrigation and fertile volcanic soil there are more grapes growing than a person could imagine.  The valleys are much wider than we are used to from back east and the vineyards stretch from horizon to horizon with row after row after row of grape vines.  This is a picture that would be breath taking to most people.  The slight glitch in the scenario is that we come form the Finger Lakes Wine Region and in that 4 word phrase is a world of description.  Our vineyards may not be as expansive but they are punctuated by the pristine beauty of the valley lakes of Keuka, Seneca, or any of the other glacial carvings of God.  I have always felt that we lived in one of the prettiest parts of the USA, and I have again found reason to support that belief.  The view of a shimmering lake in a glacial valley from a wine tasting patio is beyond compare and only enjoyed from our home region.  That is not to complain or dissuade someone form visiting Napa Valley, but the Finger Lakes Wine Region is actually quite a bit more beautiful.

            Another small imperfection I found in this region is Disneyland.  Yes, Disneyland and its unbelievable success.  The wineries in Napa Valley charge you to sample their wines, take their tours, and breathe their air, almost.  The Napa Valley has become a wine snob’s Disneyland tour of grapes.  This attitude has taken totally away from the enjoyment of small family wineries and sharing of Mother Nature’s nectar.  I realize that this opinion is probably my problem and my problem alone. The parking lots were somewhat filled with cars and we had to wait our turn to lay down our money for a few small sips of the “well wine” being offered on our visit. We did not visit many wineries, and that was our decision.  I am not a wine snob, nor do I posses the knowledge nor the desire to become one.  I have learned 2 very profound lessons in wine tasting and enjoying. One at the single wine tasting and tour we took: “There are 4 types of wine, red wine, white wine, the kind of wine you don’t like and the kind of wine you do like.  A smart connoisseur of wine will drink only the latter.”  And the second wine rule we learned at Copia, “If it taste good to you with what ever you are eating it is the perfect wine for the meal.”  So swirl your glass, gaze at the legs of the wine, engulf your olfactory nerves with the bouquet, but the real pleasure and value is hidden in the senses of your own palate.  Bon Appetite.

            I think that this philosophy may apply to a lot more than wine and pasta.  It may apply to our sojourn through life also.  My unsolicited advice would be for everyone not to spend too much time looking at life though the confines of a glass or preconceived opinion, take a sip of each experience and let your own soul value the bouquet and body of each and every moment. 
 

Date:                           September 6, 2007    

Location:                    Vacaville, CA

0845:

            We spent our first day in Napa Valley exploring and discovering just how much we did not know about wine, eating and cooking.  We were very lucky, in some perverted way.  We found out just how ill informed we were at one place.  We visited Copia, the American Center for Wine, Food and the Arts in Napa, California.  It was a perfect place and fantastic experience with which to begin our all too short visit to the wine region of California.  There is not time enough, nor were we there long enough, for me to fully explain all that is offered from this culinary school and art studio that just happens to tie everything into the fact that they set at the beginning of the Napa Valley and amongst our country’s largest producers of grapes.

            While at Copia Connie and I attended 2 classes, one on preparing pesto and pasta and one on pairing wine with food.  Both classes were extremely informative, fun and delicious.  They did, however, teach me that I did not know how to boil water, cook pasta or serve a sauce and that I am not very aware of the abilities of the thing in my mouth called my tongue.  They did all of this is in a polite and fun way, so my pride was not too damaged. They also served wine which helped deaden the pain of ignorance.  I am not sure that I have graduated to the level of appreciating a 30 dollar bottle of wine 15  times as much as a bottle of 2 Buck Chuck, but I at least now know that some people really think they know why one is better than the other.  It might surprise you to know that the most expensive wine is not always the best for every situation.  It can often depend on wehether you are trying to impress your dinner guest or your palate.  Our final and most precious rule of wine tasting and food preparation and the pairing of each was that; “If it taste good to you it is perfect.”

            With wine knowledge swimming in our heads and new pesto recipes stored in our memories we ventured into the city of Napa for a tour through central California history.  We had a couple of virtual caches to find and enjoy.  This is always a great way to explore a new region and neat way to find that little know out of the way place.  Today we found the origination of the loudspeaker and a very pretty and well maintained cemetery.  It seems that Magnavox started in Napa and that another geocacher likes to do research on historical grave markers.  Both caches managed to take us to off the beaten path to places in Napa and allowed us to explore the none tourist areas around us.  The thermometer was lingering near the 100 degree mark so our walks were slow and warm, but there was quite an adequate supply of trees for shade and a gentile breeze for comforting.  The higher then appreciated temperature did cut the number of caches we found down a bit, but it also allowed us to take a ride in our air-conditioned car through the some of the back canyon roads in the Napa Valley.

            As we drove through the canyons and valleys it was it was difficult for us to remember that we were in the fertile valley of wine and produce.  The stresses of a very warm and dry summer were very evident as we enjoyed our cool ride.  It is very easy to now understand why wildfires are such a problem in Californian.  We felt as if we were driving through a tinderbox just awaiting a spark of any kind to ignite a ground fire from one horizon to another.  In many fields and on some hill sides we saw just that evidence of a spark and the charred remains of it influence.  Still with the magic of man’s ingenuity and the ability to transport water for irrigation we did drive through many fields of produce and crops.  The contrasting picture was that surrounding each field of irrigated vegetation was a dry example of Mother Nature’s punishing lack of that same precious element.

            Today we are planning on returning to some more in depth research in the Napa Valley.  We will be able to see if our lessons on tongue sensitivity were of any value as we sample some of the wine grown n this region.  This is one class in education where I think we will really enjoy the homework.

Date:                           September 5, 2007

Location:                    Vacaville, CA            

0830:

            It was with a mixed set of emotions that we started our bus and moved our home from Santa Cruz on to new adventures.  I have already expounded far too much on our opinions and failed expectations, so I will not bore myself with “rehashing the hash.”  I will attempt to remember that this experience is another glaring example of the truth of the Shelanskey rule of life number one.  That rule is that; “The road to depression is paved with elevated expectations.”  Will we ever learn?

            Leaving on an announced schedule and after the stress filled summer ending week-end gave us a chance to say goodbye to many of our fellow camping workers at the Santa Cruz KOA.  What ever happiness and or frustration we take from this experience we will file away in our memory chest.  The wonderful people that we were honored to meet, for such a short time, will be stored in our hearts as we hope to cross paths with them again on a future adventure.

            Our extremely long day of travel on our first day of our new life lasted nearly 3 hours and covered over a hundred miles.  I know that does not seem too exciting, but we are on vacation and we are most definitely not in a hurry.  I had no problem keeping my bus at the posted speed limit for towing vehicles and I am sure I irritated most of the rest of the California drivers that all seem to be half an hour late to an appointment yesterday.  Connie and I just positioned our home in the slow lane and enjoyed the scenery while most of California passed us by, all most all cars with 1 passenger each. 

Our travel itinerary took us toward the central portion of the state and through the warmer valleys.  We are no longer on the shore of Monterey Bay and the thermometer notices the difference.  It said that we were enjoying a 100 plus degree day.  We were actually enjoying a cool afternoon as we relaxed in our air conditioned home planning our next day’s adventures through Napa Valley and California’s wine country.  It was a nice day to shift gears from working at a campground to enjoying the benefits of a campground.  We are now the customer.

            Our travels took us through the Santa Cruz Mountains and away from the ocean.  It was a trip that displayed the true climate and terrain of California.  Once you leave the moisture of the Pacific Ocean you are transporting yourself to a dessert landscape, or at least on the edge of same.  The lack of rain is very evident on the brown hill sides and barren stretches of unfarmed land.  Once you get away from the irrigation pipes you realize how dry a state can be if it does not get rain for months at a time.  The fertile land quickly turns to sand and hardened brick with the stress of a long summer causing the dried vegetation to cry out for rain.  It becomes very easy to understand the fear and trauma of wildfires as you drive through this kindling box of fuel awaiting a spark, either by nature or a careless traveler.

            The vistas and scenic horizons are still breath taking and beautiful albeit the are in colors of brown, and hues of stressed pallor green.  The mountains still explode from the dried floor of the horizon and reach sharply into a crystal clear blue sky.  The shadows of the noon day sun play across the mountain slopes casting a purple haze over the views all accentuated by dark, deeper shadows of crevices in the hill sides.  The views are still pictures from a travel brochure and a few times on our trip through San Jose we actually saw a cloud or two in the sky, just to add a little perspective to Mother Nature’s art display.  On the coast of Monterey we saw very few, if any, clouds.  We either had deep, crystal clear blue skies or we could not see across the street due to the invasion of the “Marine Layer.”  I guess we are heading back to reality.

            By the way, we have 9 geocaches loaded into our GPS, a picnic loaded into our coolers and adventures to explore.  Heading back into reality is not a bad thing.  I have to go sample some wine now.

Date:                           September 2, 2007

Location:                    Watsonville, CA                   

0900:

            Days will come and days will go, this is the rhythm of life.  It is with this in mind that Connie and I prepare for our last day’s work at the Santa Cruz KOA.  We have been here for over 4 months and it is time for us to start our big diesel engine and move our home on to new adventures and experiences.  We felt an obligation to remain here until after the Labor Day influx of campers and today will be the final day of that weekend.  The campground has been full to over flowing and we have been working at full effort for most of the last week. Connie even stayed at the reservation desk past closing time on Friday to help elevate some of the pressure that would have been left for the night security team.  There were still over 50 campers that had not arrived by closing.  We are in California, after all. The state where a 20 minute distance can take over 2 hours to travel because of all of the parking lots they have placed in the middle of the freeways.  6 to 8 lanes of traffic all parked bumper to bumper for as far as the eye can see does not equal a fluid flow of families.  It is interesting how a person’s temper is always inversely proportional to the speed of his vehicle.

            If I were to say that we are leaving with a full sense of satisfaction and appreciation I would not be exaggerating; I would be lying.  We did a lot and accomplished as much as we were allowed.  We did not accomplish a level of achievement that either Connie or I would call a success.  We may be too critical and maybe we were working in a wrong environment.  Trying to go from a 6 figure career to a minimum wage job is an almost impossible chore and we found it extremely difficult.  It had nothing do with the financial rewards; perhaps a 6 figure mentality. It did have to do with the professional work ethic Connie and I are burdened with and the poor management skill and philosophy we were expected to work under.  Connie and I are both very service oriented, both in our careers and life styles.  KOA is a commercial corporate enterprise that can not spell camping.  It is not “C” OA it is “K” OA.  We were told on an early conversation with one of the senior employees that “KOA” stood for Keep On Adding”.  A joke we found all too real as time passed.  “If it is not profitable, it is not worth doing” is not the type of philosophy we work well under.  This was a fact we learned very well this summer.

            Connie and I will venture north and eventually south and east as we return to the nomadic life we enjoy.  We may need a week or two to mend our bruised pride and re-orient our heads.  Feeling sorry for yourself is such a waste of time and we have a beautiful northwest section of our wonderful country to explore.  We will, I am sure, spend a few weeks just enjoying the fact that we are free and have no obligations.  We have beauty to explore, friends to see and family visit.  We will take with us a new lesson of what we really want from life and what we want to give back to life.  I am sure we will find a new way to serve.  We will, this winter, go from a minimum wage job to one that pays a much higher wage.  We will be paid in appreciation and gratitude.  In the past we have often been paid much more than we felt we deserved, but heart fully appreciated the gift.  It may well be that volunteerism through the NOMADS has spoiled us beyond redemption.  How do you compare a meaningful thank you and hug to a cold dollar?  We are learning where we belong and it is “in service” and not as “servants” that we feel the most comfortable and appreciated.