Stephanie is one of those persons who can fit a lot of words onto a standard size postcard -- usually by writing sideways, around corners, and even upside down if she can find some extra space. Most of these go to family and friends. But some of them -- those which document our RV adventures -- find their way onto this portion of our website.
Postcard: Border Crossings
February 18, 2010
When we left for Australia, we had no idea what our plans would be on our return. Would we be so “jet-lagged” that all we’d want to do was head back to Florence? Or, perhaps, just hang out in Borrego Springs for a month or so? Or, maybe, jet lag behind us, take off for spots as yet this year unvisited?
We opted to continue on. It did take a while to get our internal clocks rewound, and we enjoyed the sense of humor of the university rep from KU. She sent everyone a picture of a kangaroo, sleeping on his back and looking more dead than alive. She described how she felt in terms of that picture. But, after a couple of days, we found we were waking up when it was morning, California time, and not becoming sleepy at 4 in the afternoon. It’s still only mid-February. Time to head east.
We spent one night in El Centro, at the Desert Trails RV park. Every year this park seems to increase the number of its park models at the expense of RV sites. The people who winter here must love it, with a small 9 hole golf course tucked into the middle of the park, and planned activities galore. However, if you're staying only overnight to catch up on supplies at the local Costco and Wal-Mart, it’s a somewhat different story. No improvements have recently been made to the 10 overnight sites or to the laundry rooms, and, this time the spa was closed, “pending parts”. Also, each year we’ve found the price a bit higher. $48 a night is a bit much for narrow sites with cracked pavement under your wheels. However, it’s a matter of location, location, location. This small city in the Imperial Valley is a good spot to stop and restock the larder.
From El Centro, it’s only a few hours to Ajo, Arizona. Drive 175 miles east on Interstate 8, and turn south on Highway 85, where the sign directs you to Mexico. 40 miles later you’re in Ajo. Ajo was once a mining town, although the Phelps Dodge company stopped operations here in the 1980s. You can still take a tour through the old mining operation, play golf at the Ajo Country Club,or, as we love to do, drive the surrounding desert. Go east and you’re on the Tohono O’odham reservation, en route to Tucson. Go south and you’re in the Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument. West lies the Cabeza Prieta National Wildlife Refuge, and the Barry Goldwater Gunnery range.
If you want to explore either the Refuge or the gunnery range, you’ll need a permit. These are easily obtained from the Refuge Visitor Center. You’re required to watch a slide show on safety on the gunnery range where you might come across live ammunition, and sign a waiver stating you understand all the potential dangers inherent in desert travel -- especially *this* piece of desert. Then, armed with certain telephone numbers to call before entering either refuge or range, off you go.
If you are uncertain if these trips are for you, try driving the Ajo loop first. This is a 10 mile drive around “A” Mountain, (the hill in town with the big painted “A” on it). This road is gravel, but well groomed, and suitable for passenger cars. You’ll see small and medium sized RVs out here, dry camping.
Tom & I had obtained a pass to the Cabeza on an earlier trip, and not had time to visit. This trip we wanted to see scenic Charlie Bell Pass, a 17 miles drive into the preserve. A short distance, but the recommended time to drive it is 90 minutes, depending on how many stops you make along the way. For the first 15 miles, the road is well graded, and wide enough for two cars to pass -- at least in certain spots. The map we got at the Visitor Center guided us mile by mile, and explains what might be glimpsed in certain areas. Perhaps an earlier or later start would have resulted in our seeing more wildlife -- today our count was only several woodpeckers and a few crows. About half way along the route, we could see a portion of an interior "vehicle fence" -- an 8 feet high green strip consisting of pieces chained together. The fence stretched for only a couple of miles across terrain that might otherwise provide passage for vehicles that had crossed the border illegally, and appeared to end at a watchtower -- today seemingly unmanned. No impediment to people trying to pass through, but its purpose is obviously intended to inhibit illicit vehiclar traffic.
The last two miles were steep, rocky and rutted. Passenger cars would have had difficulty negotiating this section. Even in the Wrangler, we jolted along, climbing up into the Growler Mountains, and eventually came to the top. We parked in the “parking lot": -- a level, if rocky plateau. From here the road twisted down into Growler Valley. And if it hadn’t been for the signs forbidding entry, we’d have continued on. However, Charley Bell Pass was worth every inch of the drive. Miles of ocotillo, saguaro and organ pipe cactus spread out before us. It was one of those places where the silence is so complete it’s deafening. But we weren’t quite beyond the pale of civilization. As we began our descent back to Ajo, Tom’s cell phone rang. His boyhood best friend was calling. “Are you speeding?” he asked, thinking we’d pulled over on some interstate or other. Tom’s answer: “Are you kidding? I’m driving down a mountain in 4 wheel low!” If you’d like to see where we were, click on this link. http://maps.google.com/maps?q=32.393799,+-113.085831
Another quiet evening in Ajo, at Shadow Ridge RV park, and then we headed to Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument, and Twin Peaks Campground.
We can remember when you had to carefully plan your arrival at Twin Peaks. The campground used to be so popular that it was filled by early afternoon. No longer. The 2002 death of a young park ranger at the hands of drug smugglers, and an increase in illegal immigration at the border only 5 miles south, put a damper on visitors to the Monument and the park. But campers and RVers are slowly returning, both to enjoy the gorgeous desert scenery and to use the park as a jump off point to Puerto Penasco, Mexico.
Some years ago, two scenic drives left the Monument’s Visitor Center. For the same reasons that ensured a smaller camping population, more than half of one, Puerto Blanco, has been closed. But the Ajo Mountain Drive is still open. The Visitor Center has pamphlets that describe the route, and there are many spots where you can walk out into the desert, take photos, or enjoy a picnic.
Since this was a long weekend, we planned our trip to Puerto Penasco (aka Rocky Point) for Sunday, Valentines Day. We guessed that most folks headed south to this popular resort town would have crossed the border on Friday or Saturday, and wouldn’t be returning until Monday. The Lukeville crossing is only 5 miles south of the Monument headquarters, and, except during spring break, crossing is not a problem. We did note this year a couple of U.S. Border agents checking the luggage and passports of persons going into Mexico, but the process seemed quite speedy. Of course, once over the border, usually no one questions you.
It’s only 65 miles to Rocky Point, and the road is excellent, straight with wide shoulders. The speed limit is 60, but largely ignored by many drivers, and cars kept whizzing by us. However, a traffic ticket isn’t something we are anxious to get in Mexico, so Tom kept strictly to the speed limits.
We noticed an odd sign as we drove south. It showed a motorcycle, a car, and a rectangle with USA printed on it. The sign read, “Hassle free zone”. The first one we saw said “Hassle free zone for 602 KM”. Hmm.. any further than that and you’re going to get hassled? After that, the signs merely read,"Hassle Free Zone" without any km limitation.
Valentines Day -- El Dia de Amor Y Amistad, is a popular holiday in Mexico. As we drove through the border town of Sonoyita, I could see shops touting their red merchandise, with shirts and skirts moved to the storefronts, and out onto the streets. Vendors were selling huge stuffed bears holding hearts with “I love you”, some in Spanish, some in English. At almost every stop sign or light, someone would try to sell us some red or white roses. When we went to lunch in Puerto Penasco, the restaurant was decorated with red crepe paper streamers with little hearts cut out of them. And every woman in the restaurant was presented with a red carnation! How very special.
A few years ago, we spent several days at one of the RV parks here -- Playa Bonita. Driving in today, we noted a few changes to this funky little RV park. This year, some blocks before you get to the park and its adjoining hotel, you drive through what seems a private archway. Perhaps this is to make the tourists feel more secure. But the archway was unmanned when we drove through it. The old rutted dirt road has been paved. Just upbeach from the park, several new condos/hotels/apartments, (I’m not sure which), have been put up. But the park itself has not noticeably changed. The entrance sign is the same, complete with a large crack running down the center. The sites are very close together, making parking a bit challenging for larger RVs, but this is not at all unusual for Mexico. The same signs, “No ATC’s[sic] in park” and “No firecrakers[sic]” are still there. The “vendadores” still roam through, selling everything from tortoises to tortillas. In short, it’s still Mexico, and the RVers who were staying there were thoroughly enjoying it.
One of the “must stops” in Rocky Point is the fish market. There’s a lot more to buy here than just fish. On one side of the short street, dozens of shops sell clothing, t-shirts, hats, serapes, & paper flowers, just to name a few items. On the other side is a line of fish markets, small stalls where the boys will try to convince you that theirs is the freshest, least expensive fish you can buy. We come for the prawns and asparagus, and always take at least one dinner’s worth back with us. This trip, we chose some huge prawns and 2 bunches of asparagus from Pancho at, of course, Pancho’s fish market.
We were only in Rocky Point for a few hours. Then it was time to get back on the road. About a half mile before the border, we found the hassle free sign again. This time it was a bit different. There was a red circle with red slash through the bike, car and rectangle. Now the sign said, “End hassle free zone”. (Probably true, we were nearing the border). Here we ran into the day’s first traffic problems, folks returning to the States. The traffic jam was good for vendors, however, they presented baskets, dried chilies, shirts and flowers, to each car as it inched along to the border fence. While we didn’t want any of those wares, if I’d had any small change, I would have given something to the young boy who ran between the cars juggling three tennis balls.
Across the border and back into our campsite at Twin Peaks just in time for a doggy walk, and to get some of the shrimp ready for dinner. Tomorrow, we head north again. Here are some pictures from our adventures.
Note: We've been asked by a number of RVers "what it's like" to venture down to Rocky Point. Some find the idea fairly intimidating, not realizing just how easy this particular border crossing really is. And while some Mexican roads are known to be challenging, this one is in excellent shape, with relatively light traffic. On this trip we put together a short YouTube video to illustrates those points.
Postcard: A Kaleidoscope of Memories
February 10, 2010
Leaving Australia. Because of the day/time confusion that can result from being on the “other” side of the International Date Line, it took us two days to get through Saturday, Feb. 6. This day/ time stuff has been challenging. All through the trip, we kept asking each other, “What day\time is it where Barney is? Few were immune from this quandary -- just as you thought you’d figured it out, you found you were wrong again! In Australia, you watched Sunday’s Super Bowl, live, on Monday. After the tour, one couple, who had stayed in Australia visiting relatives, sent everyone an email. It arrived the day before they sent it!
We departed Cairns at 4 am on Saturday, and boarded the plane to Sydney at 5:30. Our plane to LA was delayed for about an hour for “mandatory service work”, and we left about noon. An uneventful flight got us back to LA by 6 am, the same Saturday, and we retraced our steps of 16 days ago. We took the Flyaway bus to the Amtrak station, caught the southbound Surfliner to Solana Beach, drove to Ramona to get Barney and some groceries (I’m going to have to cook again!), and came back to Borrego Springs .
Rain and wind had accompanied us on our departure; rain and wind welcomed us home. But we had been very lucky on our trip; we never needed those rain jackets we’d so carefully packed. The dregs of Cyclone Olga which had drenched the Gold Coast just a week or so earlier were gone. For our entire trip only a few drops of rain dared to fall, and any wind died by midday. Of course, the heat was oppressive, but you don’t particularly care when you’re snorkeling in the Coral Sea, watching brightly colored tropical fish swimming through even more brightly colored coral reefs. Or waking in the mornings to watch the sun come up. Or seeing special tropical sunsets.
When we packed for this trip, we carefully considered just how FEW clothes we might take. While the international portions of our flight were fairly lenient with weight allowances, the domestic portions were much stricter. We managed to cram everything into one checked suitcase, and carried on only one other. In addition, Tom had his laptop. I cannot imagine him without it, and that’s how we were able to update our online trip journal during the trip. We packed so lightly that we got compliments at various check-in counters. The first day our whole group got together, one couple’s luggage (three bulging suitcases to check, two equally stuffed smaller ones as carry ons), were rescued from a hefty penalty when that couple was able to use some of our underweight allowance. In Christchurch, the man behind the counter said, “Only one bag to check? You get the prize. Some of your group have so many bags they seem to be moving here!” (Of course, I was a walking advertisement for the statement I saw on a T-shirt in Queenstown --”Same Shirt, Different Day”).
Wonderful. It’s an overused, not very descriptive word, but I cannot think of another. We had a wonderful tour. Not only did we have perfect weather, but we traveled with a most compatible group. 4 universities, Cal-Berkeley, Michigan State, Kansas and Purdue were joined by one incredible gal from Smith. There was some trading of inter-school barbs, especially between Purdue and Michigan State, but no cliques developed. One evening, at a champagne cocktail party on Wheeler Beach, the Cal alums belted out the university drinking song, which starts, “We had a little party down at Newport”. It’s a fairly long song, but, once you learn it, you don’t forget it. “We don’t have a song like that” one Purdue gal said somewhat wistfully. All in good fun.
16 days is not nearly long enough to get to see one country, let alone two. It’s a bit like visiting the US, sightseeing in New York City and Los Angeles, and thinking you’ve seen our country. However, just this small sampling was enough for us to know we want to return some day. I keep reliving a kaleidoscope of memories. They whirl through my mind, one image becoming bright and then melting into the next. I especially remember:
The Maori Cultural Performance at the Auckland Museum. One theory says that because the Maori fought back, they were never considered “second class citizens”. And they certainly are not! New Zealand school children take a class on the Maori language. The curator at the “Visually Maori Art Gallery” in Christchurch, was proudly tattooed in traditional manner. Her lips were a peculiar shade of light green, and this tattooing continued in curlicues down her chin! One of our group, well known for speaking her mind, asked the curator, “Is that permanent”? It is.
Just watching the Haka dances at the museum, you could see why the English might have been afraid of the Maori. Boldly painted, heavily tattooed and carrying spears, three men leapt onto the stage. It was the Maori way to frighten their enemies by sticking out their tongues as far as possible, and simultaneously widening their eyes, and brandishing their spears! Reportedly this was so effective that once the enemy saw that display the battle was over. And that this technique still works today was evident when one small girl in the audience burst into noisy tears.
The spectacular beauty of Queenstown and Lake Wakatupu. Our trip on the Shotover jet boat. The boat was almost full, and I wound up in the corner, last row. Just the place to view all the daredevil stunts our driver would attempt. Even though I was certain he knew what he was doing, when my side of the boat came within inches of the rock walls, I flinched, closed my eyes, and held on for dear life. My muscles reminded me of that trip for a couple of days!
Dinner with a local couple in Christchurch. We divided into groups so that no more than 6 guests descended on their hosts. We went to a beautiful home in the outskirts of town to enjoy a meal of lamb and fresh veggies. After introductions had been made, and as he passed one of us a glass of wine, our host dropped a bit of a bombshell. “What do you think of President Obama?” Uh Oh. Here's something we'd never discussed among ourselves, let alone in an open family forum!
On our return, I recounted this story to a Canadian friend in Borrego Springs. She laughed and told me another tale. Her mother had grown up in New Zealand but lived most of her life in Canada. Years later, on a return trip, she was interviewed by the local paper. She mentioned that she thought New Zealanders were apt to “speak their minds.” The next day, an old friend and neighbor caught up with her. “That’s completely wrong”, the neighbor said, and proceeded to list all the reasons why.
Our special ferry ride in Sydney. We walked the half mile to the docks at Circular Quay, north of our hotel, where we caught the local ferry. After making a number of local stops through various harbor villages, we disembarked at Darling Harbor about a quarter mile west of our hotel, and then walked back. At the first stop, about 20 school kids boarded the boat -- all neatly dressed in uniform. They got off at subsequent stops, waving and calling to those still on the boat. Beats a school bus anytime.
Cruising the Great Barrier Reef. The Coral Princess, a 25 stateroom yacht would be our home for the next 4 days. We’d use this boat to visit 3 separate reef areas, and learn about the flora and fauna of this area.
Our reef exploration began with a short stop just to make sure everyone’s mask and snorkel fit perfectly. Next morning, another “inland” snorkel before venturing out onto the reef. Here Denis, our resident naturalist, introduced us to one of his favorite pastimes -- fish feeding. We held a carefully broken herring in the water, and quickly learned to hold on tight. The small fish pulled hard and could reduce the herring to bones in just a few seconds.
The Great Barrier Reef isn’t just one long line of rocks sticking up out of the water, as I previously had imagined. The reef is a collection of coral formations, only a few of which break the water’s surface. The rest are submerged, some only a few feet in depth. And it is much larger than I thought -- over 1,200 miles long. Because our weather was so perfect -- full sun and no wind, we had a chance to snorkel at one, Gilbey, a reef rarely accessible to tour boats.
The snorkeling here was absolutely fabulous. I simply did not know that coral came in so many vibrant colors -- blues, greens and pinks. The fish, colorful themselves, had a hard time competing with their environment. While several folks went diving, the best views seemed to be from just below the surface. Snorkeling won out.
Our champagne reception on the beach. With yet one day to go, everyone went ashore to watch the sun set from a beach in the Great Barrier Reef. Could anything be any more romantic?
Fish feeding, part 2. We’d fed the small fish in the shallow waters earlier in the week; this time it was the big boys’ turn. Denis invited anyone who wanted to see these fish “up close & personal” to join him on the dinghy deck, which was then lowered about 18" below the surface of the water. The deck was quickly jammed with onlookers. “Don’t put your fingers in the water,” Denis warned. “The little fish couldn’t harm you, but these big ones might mistake your fingers for breakfast!”
Suddenly a large shape swam up out of the depths and onto what room was left on the deck. It was Wally, the humphead Maori Wrasse, a black fish with electric blue sides and a strange looking hump on his head. He was accompanied by his faithful sidekick, a black and white striped Ramora, a fish which cleans its host and in return shares its food. Wally is young, and only 4 feet long, and nearly 100 pounds; he can be expected to be about 7 feet long and 200+ pounds when fully grown. Young or not, he seemed huge to those on the dinghy deck. Later, as we floated over the reef, I glimpsed him cruising around under the boat -- probably waiting for another handout.
Tjapuki (running water) Museum. This aboriginal museum in Cairns (pronounced locally “cans”) showcases the art, music, dancing of the aboriginal tribes of Australia. We watched a sample of their dances and listened to the didgeridoo. The didgeridoo is a long wooden pipe which makes a rhythmic booming sound when blown through (if you know what you’re doing). However, if you’re a master at this instrument, as was this guy, you don’t really need a fancy, decorated piece of wood pipe. When the show was over, he went back stage and returned with a 6’ length of PVC pipe. Yup! he could make the same noises using that.
It really was the trip of a lifetime. We couldn’t have been luckier, both with an array of new friends and perfect weather. We barely scratched the surface when it comes to learning about these countries, and we’re looking forward to a return trip one day soon.
I’ve added some pictures of our trip. Just click here to view them.
[Note: A more complete journal of our trip, complete with videos, has been published here.]
Postcard: It Never Rains in Southern California?
January 22, 2010
Our flight leaves tonight, Friday the 22nd, at 11:30 pm! We originally planned to leave Borrego Springs Friday morning, then drive to Ramona to leave Barney at his boarding kennel. We’d still have plenty of time to visit friends in Solana Beach, catch Amtrak to Los Angeles and a shuttle to the airport. It wasn’t all that far -- an easy day’s drive.
That’s how it seemed until the weather gods took control. The incredible rains of the past few days changed our minds. Even usually sunny Borrego had torrential downpours, turning streets into rivers, causing dry stream beds to flow with muddy, rocky water. Then the weather turned worse. Now snow was in the forecast. Time to get out of Borrego, and as close to the airport as soon as possible. We left a day early.
The logical route out of Borrego takes you up the Montezuma Grade, a winding narrow road which climbs a dozen miles to Ranchita, a tiny town 4,000 feet above the desert floor.
The threatening weather must have had something to do with the lack of traffic on the grade. We saw one truck, a UPS van and a snow plow. But there wasn’t any snow, not yet. This guy’s job was to drive up the road and then down it again, scraping fallen rocks and mud out of the roadway. And, judging from the amount of stacked debris we saw, he was doing an essential job, but barely keeping up with the collapsing hillsides.
We encountered only showers as we climbed the grade; the real rain was lying in wait. From Ramona onward, we were hit by cell after cell of incredible rain. As we drove past Poway, the rain became so intense that even the wipers on high couldn’t begin to keep up. (We later heard a weather person say that the rain had been falling an inch an hour. He was wrong. It was far more than that.) Most of the cars slowed to about 20mph, most with their flashers going, and still we could barely see them. Of course, a few drivers felt invincible -- the speed limit was 65, after all. It isn’t hard to understand why some accidents happen.
This particular deluge lasted about 10 minutes, though it seemed much longer. Then, suddenly, it was over. The sky lightened, the clouds broke up and the sun even came out! We continued into Solana Beach, changed our Amtrak tickets to reflect today’s date, and went to see our friends.
We have been very careful packing for this trip, leaving everything behind that isn’t absolutely necessary. I left my computer in the rig, and planned on leaving my cell phone behind as well. If you take a cell phone overseas, and get a call of any sort, the roaming charges are horrendous. Tom was taking his (with something called the Sim card removed), so I didn’t need mine. But I was expecting a call, so kept it with me this far. And forgot I had it on my belt.
We got to the Amtrak station in Solana Beach, parked and locked the jeep and pulled one of the fuses. Now, if someone tried to steal it -- it wouldn’t start! Into the station we went, and there I found I still had my phone. This was something out of a bad dream, the one where you have to be somewhere a a given time, and things keep getting in your way, making you later and later. The train was due to leave in 10 minutes, and I had to go back to the car, unlock it and hide my phone.
When I unlocked the door, even though the fuse had been pulled, the alarm went off. I tried to use the remote to stop the noise. No luck. While it blared, I checked for calls, (none), and locked my phone in the console. Next, I had to open the hood, open the fuse box and push the fuse back down. Then I could turn off the horn. Now I had to reopen the hood, pull out the fuse again, re-close the hood, and check to see if the ignition was really disabled as we’d intended. Then lock the door and quickly head back to the station. I was really happy to get on the train and out of the station.
As if to reward us for our harrowing drive, we were treated to a spectacular ride up the coast. Storm-driven waves crashing on the beaches, beautiful little California beach towns shining in the sunshine. We pulled into LA’s Union station a little before 6 pm and headed to our hotel.
By the time we were ready for dinner, the rain had returned in force,and we looked out of our window to see if there were any nearby restaurants we could get to without drowning. Seeing none, we decided we’d head back to the station, and the Traxx restaurant there.
It seems strange to find a gourmet restaurant in a railway station. The tables are covered by white linen tablecloths, and each has a small vase of flowers -- changed weekly, we discovered. We had eaten here several years ago while waiting for the evening departure of the Sunset Limited on another Amtrak trip, and found the food delicious. It was just as good this time. Tom had pork with polenta, I had chicken with chile/lime pozole, (a spicy sauce). The service was excellent, thank you Melissa. I highly recommend this little place.
The morning news told us that chains were now required on much of the road we traveled yesterday. Since this is California, this condition will not last, but we congratulated ourselves on leaving a day early and only having to contend with driving rain. Being so early, we could relax at the hotel until noon, and then casually make our way to the airport. Tonite, our adventures “down under” begin...
Postcards: Counting the Days
January 6, 2010
We left the rig in storage at The Springs of Borrego, and loaded the jeep with Christmas gifts, clothing, the cooler and Barney. We’d spend Christmas with our kids in Washington, and ring in 2010 at our little house in Florence. When finally the last of the BCS games has been played, we’ll head back to the sunnier climes of southern California.
While the trip north was uneventful weather-wise, and our trip to Seattle and Yakima skirted any troublesome rain, wind or ice, when we got back to the Oregon coast, we were treated to a huge storm. Not only were the winds somewhere in the vicinity of 60 mph, making it hard to stand upright, but these winds coincided with the highest tides of the year. This combination made the weather look even more ferocious than it actually was. The winds blew waves across the south jetty of the Siuslaw River, across the river itself, and then across the rocks of the north jetty. Awesome!
At the highest tides, several portions of highway 126, Florence’s lifeline to Eugene, were under water.
In past years, we’ve come back for the holidays, and then returned south. Usually we spend another week or so in the Borrego area and then head east. Usually. But this year, usually is not the norm. This year, instead of aiming for Arizona, Texas and possibly as far as Louisiana for a Cajun Mardi Gras, we’re doing something completely new. We’re joining the Cal (Berkeley) Alumni Association for a sixteen day exploratory trip to New Zealand and Australia. (I knew we might have become somewhat stereotyped when one friend asked, “where ever did you find the pontoons for your rig?”).
Tom had casually mentioned the idea of such a trip before we headed south in early November. For some reason or other, I thought it was just that, an idea, not a real possibility. So I was surprised when, several days later, he asked me why I hadn’t reacted. “Don’t you want to go?”
Oh, boy, did I ever. This area of the world is one I’ve always dreamed of visiting. In spite of my dislike of flying, when the goal is Australia and New Zealand, I’d undergo almost anything. So, although at this point we were a bit late, we contacted the Bear Trek (UC Berkeley) people and joined the group. I’m especially intrigued by the fact that we will be traveling on a Cal Discoveries program. We’ll have experts along with us to explain what we’re seeing, from the natural history of New Zealand to the fish of Australia’s Great Barrier Reef.
Our trip begins on New Zealand’s North Island in Auckland. Next we’ll visit the South Island, with tours in and around Christchurch. Then it’s off to Sydney, followed by a 4 day cruise along the Great Barrier Reef. We’ll be cruising on the Coral Princess, a 25 stateroom yacht. It sounds wonderful, and I cannot wait to get started.
But we have to wait; there are several variables keeping us in Florence. Our travel agent, Gohagen & Co., has promised to send the “Final Communique” in the first week of January. Since it contains such necessary documents as airline tickets and a travel program itinerary, we cannot leave without it. Being something of an amateur birder, I ‘m sure any bird I see in Australia or NZ will be spectacular and never before seen. Thus, I really need a new, more compact pair of binoculars, one that fits in my pocket, don’t I? Amazon says it should arrive shortly. Once we collect all the mail, we’ll head for the desert.
We should have about 10 days in Borrego Springs before we take off on our adventure. We have reservations at The Springs for a week, and we’re hoping to find a spot at Palm Canyon campground for the other days. It’s a beautiful place to camp, with desert palms, creosote and lavender bushes courtesy of Mother Nature’s landscape company. Palm Canyon is nestled at the foot of its namesake canyon, a favorite spot for day hikers. The hike up the canyon is not particularly strenuous, it’s about 3 miles round trip, gradual climb. Borrow one of the guided tour booklets at the start of your hike. It will describe the various cacti you’ll see, some of the birds in the area, and of course, you may see one of the elusive Borregos (desert mountain sheep). A daily fee, (raised this year to $8), is charged for hiking the Canyon, but campers hike for free. Well, maybe not free, as the camping rate has also been raised. So far this season, Palm Canyon has been virtually empty, something the resident park Rangers seem not to understand. One day, when talking to one of them, I suggested that the raise in rates might have something to do with the occupancy rate. The gal looked at me in amazement. “Do you really think so?”
We drove through the campground one afternoon before we came north, marking just which sites we’d prefer on our return. Now, as soon as we get all our travel ducks in order, all we’ll need to do is check with ReserveAmerica and see what’s available.
Ten days in the desert, packing and repacking things we think we’ll need on our trip. Then, we’ll rise early the morning of the 22nd, put the rig back into storage, board the dog in Ramona, and drive to Solana Beach. We’ll park at the Amtrak Station and board the train for LA. Once at Union Station, we’ll catch the shuttle to the airport. If all works well, we’ll be onboard that evening for a 16 hour flight to Auckland, New Zealand.
So, we’re counting the days until we head south. That is, I’m counting them. Tom seems oblivious to the fact that the day of our departure is drawing near. He has been happily experimenting with both his iPhone and my camera, taking small movie clips. He first found that a 10 second movie, taken from my camera, was entirely too large to be practical. Now he’s working on “transferring” shots taken from that camera to his iPhone, and sending them from that device. We probably going to use the popular online travel journal “My Trip Journal” to track our time “down under”, and add movie clips to the usual pictures. Anyone who wishes can track two RVers as they explore a world completely new to them. It's easy, and if you'd like to get updates you can do so through the the Journal we'll be maintaining at MyTripJournal.
Off we go.
PS I guess any traveler must expect a few “blips” on his radar. We just discovered our tickets had been sent to our Bend address instead of to us here in Florence.
PSS 24 hours later, the Blip is fixed. Let’s get packing!
Postcards: 4 Wheel Afternoon
November 25, 2009
It’s always good to come back to Borrego Springs. One of our first stops is the Palm Canyon Visitor Center. Here we can check up on the events of the past season -- how much rain has fallen since their calendar year started in July (answer: none), how many borregos (desert bighorn sheep) have been seen in the past weeks, any new ranger programs -- fascinating events in a community like this. And something new has happened here. Borrego Springs has been named the first official Dark Sky Community in California. There has been a concerted effort to limit the number and wattage of yard lights, to make sure that they reflect only down, and to use only necessary outdoor lighting. As a result, star gazers from all over are flocking to Borrego.
We spent four nights at Palm Canyon Campground, Then we drove over to The Springs at Borrego RV resort, our home for the next month. We settled in to a daily routine, walking Barney a couple of times each day, aquacize three mornings a week and lap swimming in the afternoon. This routine was unexpectedly and delightfully broken one afternoon by Bill Burke, off roader extrordinaire.
Bill offers classes in back country driving. His 2 day course covers technical aspects of throttle and brake usage. Whether you have a stock 4WD (like we do), or a modified vehicle, you’ll learn how your 4WD works and what equipment you should have to be prepared for backcountry driving. You’ll also come away with a greater appreciation of environmental awareness and trail etiquette. Bill is also a “Certified Master Trainer for the International 4WD Trainers’ Association”. As a master trainer, he “trains trainers” -- teaches those who will teach others off road and back country driving techniques.
We’ve known Bill for several years, and considered taking one of his classes, but they always seemed filled with 4 wheel vehicles better suited to desert driving than our jeep. After all, we don’t have a winch, or large, aggressive, off road tires. We don’t carry a tow rope, gas cans, or air compressor to reinflate tires deflated as necessary for severe terrain. So we just watched as other beautifully “tricked” out jeeps would follow Bill’s green Land Rover into the desert.
Our own off roading adventures had occurred on the many dirt roads and 4WD routes noted in the guide book to this desert, the “Anza Borrego Desert Region”, by Lowell and Diana Lindsay. In conjunction with the warnings posted at the Visitor Center, we’d chosen only those roads listed there. Until today.
It was noon. We’d spent a busy morning doing chores. I’d attended a water aerobics class, and Tom washed the Jeep. Feeling virtuous, we decided to treat ourselves to lunch in town.
It was just by chance that we met Bill. As you drive into The Springs resort, there’s one one narrow spot before the road widens into the RV park itself -- 9 rows of RVs. If we hadn’t seen Bill in this particular spot, at this particular time, we’d have missed him completely. As it was, we recognized his green Land Rover immediately, winch on the front, rack on top, and "BB4WA", (Bill Burke 4 wheel adventures), decal on the windshield. We stopped to say “hi”, and got the most interesting proposition.
“I’m training a trainer.” Bill said. “Would you be a volunteer student this afternoon? We’re going to be working on vehicle extraction.” Buddy, the trainer in training, is from Whitehorse, Yukon Territory. He has a contract with the Territorial government to teach area truckers and first responders how to maneuver in the back country of the Yukon, both on the icy winter roads and dusty summer ones.
What an offer! Drive the Borrego desert with Bill Burke as leader, and Bud riding shotgun. If we were a bit apprehensive about what exactly was meant by “vehicle extraction”, the chance to go 4 wheeling with this particular expert far outweighed those concerns. Bill’s explained that since Tom was a volunteer student, he could opt out at any time if he felt uncomfortable with the course. This statement made us wonder just how severe a test our stock jeep would undergo, but we could hardly wait for afternoon.
Promptly at 2, we met about 5 miles west of town, and followed Bill out into the desert. At first, we followed a road we’d driven before on a geocaching expedition. However, very shortly we left that fairly well defined track for a soft sand path. From the tracks in this “path” I could tell other vehicles had been here, but today, except for Bill’s Land Rover (an increasingly appreciated sight), we were alone.
About 5 miles out, Bill came to a stop, and he and Buddy walked over to our jeep. The first test would be a steep hill with an equally steep descent on the other side. Now we decided it would be better if I rode with Bill and Buddy with Tom. Bill would lead the way, and I could jump out and get pictures of Tom and our red Jeep Wrangler in a series of seemingly impossible situations.
Up, down, through deep ruts and chuckholes, along ravines so steep that the vehicles seemed about to roll over; Bill seemed to know just where the most difficult terrain lay. At one point, I saw an easy way around a hill. Bill chose to go straight up (and down) it. And with Buddy’s help and hints, so did Tom.
There was quite a difference in vehicles, however. Our Jeep is totally stock, and we’re still driving it just as it came from the showroom. Bill’s Land Rover is anything but. It must have every gadget known to 4 wheel drivers. I noticed a level gauge mounted on his dashboard. The gauge went to 45 degrees in either direction. “How far can you tilt this jeep before you turn it over,” I asked? “I don’t get worried until I get to 46 degrees”, he said. Great. When you’re off the gauge, then you worry!
Tom’s stock suspension provide a wheel drop of maybe 9-12 inches; Bill’s have a 23 inch drop. That means when Tom drives through a steep hole on one side of the "track", one of his wheels will no longer reach the surface and start spinning. At that point, the power will transfer to that spinning wheel. This scenario, which Tom experienced going uphill, resulted in one of his front wheels going fully airborne, spinning madly in the air -- though following the techniques he'd been coached on, the Wrangler somehow continued on to the top of that very steep, sandy, and rutted hill. (Bill told me that this might occur, and, as camera woman, I was supposed to get a picture. I got a shot off just before the wheel leaped high above the ground, and was so sure the jeep would flip over, I froze, and missed the picture altogether!)
To further widen the gap, Bill had “aired-down” his tires, making them better able to grip the sandy terrain. Tom’s tires were set to 32 pounds, and with our stock tread, were just right for highway driving.
Each time we came to a “test” area, Bill would stop and come back to watch Tom run through. He’d advise Buddy what to tell his volunteer student, and give Tom additional pointers. Tom was learning to drive in places he never thought he could, and Buddy was learning how to coach other drivers.
We'd driven for nearly an hour when we approached a very narrow ravine. We squeezed through it with Bill’s level reading between 25 and 30 degrees.
At the end of the ravine was a sharp turn. We’d arrived at the vehicle extraction spot. I got out of Bill’s Land Rover and watched as he drove up a short, steep and extremely sandy hill. The hill got steeper as it ascended, with nearly a vertical climb at the top. At the top, some very deep holes attested to multiple spin outs. Bill drove up it as if he were on pavement. Then Tom tried...and tried...
First try, he got about halfway up before the tires spun, digging a soft sandy hole. He backed down and tried again at a slightly different angle. This time, he gunned the engine a bit more, and the tires spun a bit more. The third try got him completely stuck. Just what the guys wanted. Now Buddy would learn about “vehicle extraction”. They attached a tow rope, and pulled Tom up the rest of the hill. Safe!
It was 3 pm. As we drove on, Bill asked me if we needed to return right away, or if we had enough time to “play” in the dunes. I explained we were having the time of our lives, and would love to continue on.
Bill took us to an area of low hills, many partially covered with brush. “This used to be all sand”, he explained. “But gradually, it’s reverting to desert”. For the next half hour, he led the way over the dunes, Tom following behind. When Tom had trouble climbing one hill, Bill had him try a higher (compound low) gear. The jeep fairly sailed up. (I’d still be trying to climb up in first, and wondering why I was only digging myself deeper into a hole).
On the way back, I learned a bit more about this interesting man. Originally from Florida, Bill was introduced to the Anza Borrego area when he hitch-hiked out to San Diego to join his Army unit. Bill was picked up by a man he described as a real western character. This guy insisted they drive through “the park”. I can only guess how different the Anza Borrego Desert State park would have seemed to a Florida boy. He loved it here, and determined to return. We’re very glad he did. What a wonderful 4 wheel afternoon.
Tomorrow is Thanksgiving, and the park is having its traditional turkey day potluck. Tom & I have an extra reason for celebration, as this day also marks our 49th anniversary. We send best Thanksgiving wishes to everyone.
[Note: More information about 4WD technical training can be found at Bill's website.]
Postcard: Changes
November 15, 2009
Changes. Each winter when we head south, we wonder what changes we’ll find this season. Will there be more RVers on the roads or in the campgrounds? Will the parks and resorts have any added activities or amenities? Our planned overnights en route to Borrego Springs would include Lone Pine, Barstow KOA, and Emerald Desert. We’d check for changes at all those spots. What would we find? We knew there would be changes at Emerald Desert. That’s been promised by the new owners, Sunland RV Resorts.
We left Carson City with the threat of high winds hanging over our heads. “Gusts to 50 mph in the canyons, to 80 mph in the high mountains”. So we left early, hoping to get some driving done before the wind began. And it did become windy, but it was the steady, in-your-face kind, instead of gusts from unknown directions. This kind of wind may be bad for fuel consumption, but you don’t get the sudden surprises that unwelcome gusts can deliver.
Highway 395 through the Sierra is an incredibly beautiful drive. The highest peaks were dusted with an early snowfall, But the road was completely clear as we passed June and Mammoth Lakes and headed down into the Owens Valley.
Between 1905 and 1935, the Los Angeles Water Board purchased land and water in this Valley. Adding water to the Los Angeles basin created a boom in land values, and while initially the Owens Valley farmers benefitted from the water sales, it turned the Valley from a crop growing area into a livestock one. The Economist Magazine, in its July 2003 edition, wrote that these purchases were the “most notorious water grab by any city, anywhere”. Now as you drive through the area, only remnants of what was once Owens Lake can be seen, in pools, reservoirs and a small remnant of the Owens River.
First town en route south through the valley is Bishop, If you can, stop at Erick Schatt’s Bakkery. The "bakkery" fronts on 395, and right in the middle of town, so finding a place to park the Alpine proved a bit challenging. It was worth it. What a bakkery! Breads of all sorts, including our favorite, pumpernickle. A large selection of “cheeze” breads. From pastries to pound cakes, from cookies to candies, there’s something for everyone. If you cannot wait to sample your wares, there’s small restaurant attached to the bakkery.
Independence, about 40 miles south of Bishop, is home to the Manzanar National Historic Site. This site is where nearly 120,000 Japanese Americans were “relocated” during World War II. We’ve yet to visit, but the parking lot was quite crowded as we drove by. I’m putting Manzanar on my list of “places we’re going to see”, for our next trip.
Boulder Creek RV resort in Lone Pine was our destination for the evening. The last time we were here I remember a veritable zoo behind the office, with pettable goats in large enclosures and several boxes housing desert tortoises. All these were gone, or maybe it has just become too cool at night for them to be out. The resort itself is much the same as before, with large dirt sites rimmed with desert shrubs.
Along with the park rules, site map and all the other “stuff” you get at check-in, this year we also received a magazine -- one I will keep for every trip we make down 395. Its called “Motor Touring in the Eastern Sierra, including Death Valley”. From Bishop to Shoshone (a town on the southeastern edge of Death Valley), it is a 4WDriver’s dream. 16 routes combing the entire valley, almost entirely on public land, adventurous and “reasonably” (their term) safe. These roads are not for people who want to take an ATV or jeep off road and “tear up dirt”. These are routes which will take you from the valley floor into the mountains. Routes which have been used for generations.
Three of these roads leave from Lone Pine, and without knowing it, Tom & I had already taken 2. We’ve followed a narrow paved road through the Alabama Hills, home of hundreds of western movies, (think Roy Rogers or Gene Autry), TV series (Bonanza), and more lately TV commercials. We’ve driven up to Whitney Portal, base camp for those with permits to climb to the highest point in the lower 48 states. From our park, we’d noticed some sharp switchbacks climbing a nearby mountain. We couldn’t tell if that was an active road or a remnant from years past. Now we know the switchbacks are the beginning of a 22 mile road over the summit to a place called Horseshoe Meadows. How intriguing!
We had only a short trip the next day, to the KOA in Barstow. The park has changed little, with long sandy sites ringed with oleander trees, and unending open acres in back where you can walk your dog. About 10 miles north of the campground, colorful Rainbow Canyon invites exploration, and the KOA folks will be happy to furnish you with a map.
The access road is a bit rutted, but is used by the small RVs and tent trailers who camp at the little-known Corps of Engineers facility at nearby Owl Campground. This year the campground has new palapas, new pit toilets, and an artistic purple and white rock owl marking its entrance.
Our last stop before Borrego Springs was Emerald Desert RV resort. After almost 25 years of visiting, its become a part of our winter itinerary. It has changed dramatically over the years, first expanding, then contracting -- and almost becoming the victim of a new next-door housing development. While we knew it had been sold to Sunland RV resorts, and great changes were in the works, we didn’t fully realize just how extensive those changes were going to be. We spent 4 nights here, largely because they have an introductory Internet offering (buy 3 nights, get the 4th free). We needed that coupon, too, as the prices here have skyrocketed. The 251 sites have now been divided into 7 price ranges. These are called standard, premium, premium plus, deluxe, deluxe luxury. elite and platinum. What you pay basically depends on how close you are to the clubhouse, or how far you are from very noisy Interstate 10 and train tracks. Also, it’s more expensive if your site fronts on what used to be the golf course. Of course, some sites are close to the clubhouse, front on the course, and are also very close to noisy I-10. It’s all a bit confusing; even the extremely friendly and efficient gal at the front desk had trouble explaining it to me.
We pulled into the park, and parked as usual, in the lanes in front of the office. Tom disconnected the jeep, and I went to register. Oops. Door locked. I tried another, and then noticed a note, “Register at front entrance”. The one time pro shop is now the lobby. Sunland Resorts describes it thus: “newly designed 1200-square foot lobby features a floor mosaic comprised of tumbled marble, two shades of travertine and Vitoria Regia granite, while its custom-designed reception desk incorporates Sepelle wood veneer with a rich walnut finish and inlayed marble. Other furnishings include bronze finished light sconces, Raphia upholstered wall panels and rich-toned rattan seating groups.” Quite a bit different from the “way it used to be”.
That said, they have made some significant improvements to the park. The old washers and dryers are gone from the main clubhouse and replaced with state of the art machines in a new location. There’s a large flat screen TV you can watch (if you can find the remote, I couldn’t) while your clothes are being laundered. The main pool and spa have have been completely refinished. There are new lounge chairs, tables and umbrellas around the large pool. The exercise room has been expanded and has new equipment. They’ve installed a sound system which plays local radio station music, and advertisements, non-stop and loudly, morning to night. (It took us 3 days to convince them that not everyone wants to listen to their music while lounging by the pool)! There are plans to renovate the dining area, and install a movie room, library, and sports bar. Emerald Desert is definitely changing.
No more envelopes with your name and site number lining the walls behind the check in desk. No more golf shirts for sale in the pro shop. No more Richmond Mitchell with his ready smile, kilts and bagpipes at the ready for any occasion. Only one workcamper couple is left from the “old” days [as the new managment prefers to hire locally] -- and understandably so. They're likely unreplaceable. He has taken over the golfing arrangements, she is a great cook (the make it from scratch type) who has skillfully managed the kitchen for several years.
So now we head south again, south to Borrego Springs. This is a town which has attempted to change over the years, and though it does so each year, there seems to a stalemate between what goes away and what is new. It still retains its small town charm. We’re looking forward to getting back to the rasping notes of the Cactus Wren, and to a place where the noisiest things we’ll hear at night are the howls of passing coyotes. I guess we’re just not the big city types.
Postcard: The Wrong Side of the Bus
November 7, 2009
October passed in a kind of blur. We were looking forward to heading south, but first there were all sorts of “chores” to get done. We each had dentist and doctors appointments, so we lumped all these into one single week. This made one very busy and somewhat unpleasant week, but when it was over -- we were free. We buttoned up our Bend “Widgi-digs” for the winter, with no plan to return until the snow melts off the wrought iron owl on our picnic table.
Leaving this early in November, we’d be well ahead of any California snowstorms, whether over the Siskyious or in the Sierras. We’d head south from Florence to Red Bluff, and then follow highway 36 around the flanks of Mount Lassen. At Susanville, we’d join 395 and follow it through Reno, Carson City and up into the the high Sierras. It’s been several years since we stopped to view the unusual formations at Mono Lake, or checked out the fall colors at Mammoth. We’d stop overnight in Lone Pine, and take a tour through the Arizona Hills, popular area for films, TV shows and, more currently, car commercials. 395 may be a slower drive than our usual trek down Interstate 5, but its hard to compare the majestic Sierras to the flat country of the San Joaquin Valley. And, as an added bonus, most 18 wheelers don’t use it!
Our first day took us to the 7 Feathers RV resort in Canyonville, exit 99 on Interstate 5. We were still only about 120 miles from home; if we’d forgotten anything terribly important, it wasn’t an impossibly long way to go back and retrieve it. If we’d hadn’t, (the case this trip), we’d be on our way to Red Bluff.
7 Feathers is a great overnight stop, with large, level, well landscaped sites, a spa and swimming pool and immaculate, individual restrooms. We don’t happen to be much into gambling, but if we had wanted to visit the 7 Feathers casino, we’d could easily have caught the shuttle which runs non-stop from the casino to the park.
Picture perfect fall weather followed us down I-5, over Siskyiou Summit, and all the way to Red Bluff. Wonder of wonders, there wasn’t even any wind near Weed. (If you’ve driven in this area, you’ll know this is most unusual). We pulled into the Durango RV resort in the early afternoon.
Looking back at my previous postcards, I found that exactly one year ago, I wrote about this great place in a postcard titled “Heading South” -- Postcards 46. Last visit, Barney loved the doggy walks. This year, while we were happily settled in, Barney wasn’t quite as enthusiastic. This trip, we treated him to 20 minutes in the park’s “doggy spa”.
For $5.00, (less than many other self service dog washes), you can give your dog an incredibly complete bath. Just like a car wash, you just insert bills or coins -- and push one of long array of buttons. Do you want a regular shampoo, or is an oatmeal wash better? Did your dog tangle with a skunk? There’s a wash for that. We used the regular wash and then the rinse and then the conditioner and a final rinse. Finally, we took the blow dryer to get the water off. Barney, being the talkative fellow that he is, kept up a running commentary on the whole business. He was very happy to get out of the tub and off on a walk around the park.
We said good-by to I-5 in Red Bluff. Now we headed directly east on Highway 36 toward Mt. Lassen and Susanville. The road climbed gradually through the mountains, passing cattle ranches and horse pastures. Some ingenious souls had given names to the smaller roads, How would you like to live on “Stone’s Throw Lane”. How about, “Rock Bottom Way”, or “Leviathan Mine Road”?
About 40 miles along, we passed another sign, this one not so pleasing. It read, ” Trailers longer than 30 feet, kingpin to rear axle, not advised”. When you see a sign like this in California, it means you are in for some very tight curves. The sign didn’t seem to deter other 18 wheelers, however. This portion of the road was where we encountered several logging trucks. They didn’t seem at all inclined to slow down.
About 10 miles south of Susanville is the Honey Lake rest stop. We’ve stopped here on other trips up and down 395. We knew that the road would be less narrow and winding from here on to Reno. Now it would be my turn to drive, and Tom’s to play passenger, He could use his cell phone as much as he wanted without my constant reminders that he was supposed to be driving, not checking his email.
For the first 50 miles, all was well. The traffic was fairly light, and only occasionally did another driver so want to get ahead of “that #*# RV”, that he passed me with barely enough room. When we reached the Nevada border, Tom looked up from his work and casually mentioned, “I suppose you don’t want to drive through Reno”.
“Oh, I’m not the slightest bit tired. Do you want to drive?” And so I continued on.
Traffic was getting heavy as we neared Reno, and I may have passed one truck at a bit faster speed than absolutely necessary. I garnered several remarks from my new-to-the-job co-pilot, “you may have to slow down a bit”, and “you’re too far over on the right”. (Tom is unused to sitting on the right hand side of the coach, where the perspective seems to put you well over the right hand line.)
The last time we drove the road between Reno and Carson City, it was largely rural, with stoplights every mile or so. Now the freeway has been extended almost all the way around Carson City, and soon it will completely by-pass the narrow downtown streets. Ms. Garmin, our usually trusty GPS, became a bit confused, attempting to get us to take one off ramp after another. Tom had the much more up to date “Google Maps” open on his computer, and was able to direct me far better than could Ms G.
When we finally came to the end of the freeway, I had to navigate a mile of downtown Carson City, and then make a hard left turn. At this point there were three lanes of traffic. The far right lane, the one I should have been in, had I seen it in time, could either turn left or go straight. The middle lane, the one I was in, and the left lane were left turn only lanes. When I made the turn, there was an 18 wheeler on my right, and another RV on my left. We all made the turn together. To make it even more challenging, the setting sun was shining squarely on the windshield, making it very difficult to see the delineating lines of my lane.
But I made the turn, the road straightened out, and I glanced over at Tom. He was hugging the left hand side of his chair so hard, he was close to being on the floor. “Did I scare you?, “ I grinned. “This is the wrong side of the bus”, he answered. “I don’t like sitting here unless you’re driving a straight, 4 lane interstate”.
Tomorrow the weather forecast calls for wind, lots of it. Our route will take us into the Sierras and over three passes, each topping 7,000 feet. I’m not sure I want to drive tomorrow, but, in any case, I doubt I’d be able to get hold of the wheel. Off to the desert!