Let's see, where was I?

We wake up between two nice big pines to another beautiful day. It’s 23°F here in Kaibab National Forest this morning, but the sky is blue blue and the sun is shining brightly. What a gorgeous day. I note that the house batteries take a night with the furnace on in stride. What a pleasure to have the electrical system back in sync.

We dawdle and enjoy the morning away. And then we dawdle some of the afternoon away, too. But by late afternoon, we are off in Essie to the Rim and traveling east. We see the sunset at Lipan Point and then go a few miles farther to see the Watchtower at Desert View as the faint light recedces in the west and the canyon illuminates in the light of the full moon overhead. A kiss standing on the rim without a fence in the chilly updraft from the depths below…this was a sidetrip worth taking. On the drive back we see our first coyote! We have lots of wildlife where we live in Pennsylvania, reportedly including coyotes, but we have never seen one there. We also see a small herd of elk and several groups of mule deer.

Back at our campsite there are a million stars along with the moon and it’s a sight to behold from the peaceful still among the pines.

Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore"

After showers and some breakfast, Diane gets her things packed and we check out of the dorm. What a change from yesterday. It is cool, even chilly (we are at 7,000’ here), but the sky is clear and a deep blue. The morning sun is bright and works away at melting the various ice, slush, and snow from the cars, roads, and roofs. We stow Diane’s bags in DD and get a few things we need for some tourist sightseeing.

After a brief stop at the Marketplace store for some supplies and gifts, we drive to Yavapai Point, our first daytime look together into the canyon. My adjective finder starts to spin. How many times or ways can I say breathtaking.

We leave Essie parked at Yavapai, because the only way to the main visitor center, where we want to go to get our Parks Passport stamped, is via shuttle bus. So we jump on the blue bus westbound, transfer to blue eastbound at Shrine of the Ages, and get off four stops later at the Canyon View Information Plaza. Diane shows us through the Visitor Center and we stop at the bookstore to shop a few things. Then we walk out to Mather Point. A perfect day and Grand certainly describes it.Back to the Information Plaza, where we transfer to a green bus to Yaki Point and South Kaibab Trailhead. This is one of the two main access trails to hike or ride a mule several miles and 5,000’ vertical down to the Colorado River at the bottom of the Canyon. Diane hiked a couple of miles of this trail on a class field trip, but we confine today’s excursion to a few hundred feet down; there is still some ice and slush on the trail as a lot of it is shaded below the south rim.

Back up top, we check out the mule corral while we wait for the bus.

We visit Pipe Creek Vista briefly on the way back to the Plaza, then jump the blue bus back to Yavapai Point to get Essie. Deciding we need to make sure we have a place to stay tonight, we drive into Tusayan (not Onesie-Ann, but Twosie-Ann), just south of the Park Entrance and Diane shows me to free camping in the Kaibab National Forest. There are some ruts from recent rain and snow, but we find a fine spot for DD and no one else seems to be there. We also check out the movie schedule at the IMAX Theater on our way back to Backcountry parking. Then we split up; I drive DD to the camping spot while Diane stops by the Marketplace store in Essie. When I arrive, the place we picked is occupied, but I find a good alternate a few hundred feet away. Diane brings home roasted chicken and we have dinner.

Afterwards, we take Essie to go see a presentation on ravens at the Shrine of the Ages Auditorium by Senior Ranger Stew Fritts. He is as fun to watch (and listen to) as the ravens themselves. We had seen some of their soaring antics at the various overlooks earlier today. Ravens are, of course, larger than crows, but another main difference is that they don’t flap much—they soar. In the updrafts at the rim of the canyon, they are fascinating to watch. They can do rolls, loops, and somersaults in flight, some of it seemingly for fun and some as mating display. They are a riot. Ranger Fritts, with his hand-puppet, “Nevermore,” fills us with fun stories and is thoroughly entertaining.

Together Again!

After the usual morning activities, I check my map software for the time and distance to Grand Canyon. The route it pops up says to go 16 miles in the wrong direction back to the highway (17) to Flagstaff. I change the program options to shortest distance, instead of fastest time, and that gives me the desired route through Sedona and other back roads. It takes a half hour longer this way, but is a good decision. The views and the terrain are beautiful and the tightly switch-backed and long climb out of the canyon is an adventure in itself, filled with awesome views and scenery.

By early afternoon I’ve completed the climb to the Colorado Plateau and I find a pull-off to cook myself some lunch before I jump on l-40 for the short leg to Hwy 64 which will bear me north to the South Rim of Grand Canyon. The weather was beautiful all through Sedona and my mountain climb, but as I turn north on 64 the clouds start to come down. Pretty soon it is foggy and drizzly and the visibility is getting really poor. Then the temperature starts to drop and snow and sleet begin to fall. What an arrival at GC! It is just plain miserable and nasty out. Bad visibility combined with sometimes weak signage makes me thankful that the fee collector at the entrance gave me simple verbal instruction to my first stop. I follow them faithfully, although the signs don’t give me any reassurance at the second turn.

There are two campgrounds within the park at South Rim and Diane has already checked them out, trying to get us a spot for two nights, but no luck. One is run by the Park Service, has no hookups, and takes nothing over 30’ long. The other, run by concession and called Trailer Village, has hookups and accommodates bigger RVs. I’m going there on the off chance that they have a cancellation. However, they have a sign about as big as DD that says FULL, so I don’t even stop to ask. Now I have to find my way to the RV parking at the backcountry information center. I have a downloaded map of the village, so I creep around in the fog and eventually find the place.

I detach Essie, put DD in a far corner of the lot, grab a magazine to entertain myself until classes finish at 6 PM, and set out to find Diane. I situate myself midway between the training center and the dormitory building she’s in. Just about the time I’m getting my magazine out, Diane appears (on a break) and invites me into the lobby area of the training center to wait. I go in and just about the time I’m getting my magazine out, Diane appears again (just 2 minutes until class resumes) and gives me the key card to her apartment. So I move Essie and go inspect. It’s a little spartan, but roomy and functional with a kitchenette (meals are not provided) and a nice bath. Diane’s class finishes up, so we are together again…at last!

We discuss our fall back position for DD, which is the Kaibab National Forest, adjacent to GCNP, which offers free camping, as long as you are at least ¼ mile off the highway. Diane has already located a possible spot, so we decide to let DD spend the night where she is. We will stay in her room and we will move DD tomorrow.

Right now it’s happy hour at El Tovar Lodge in the village on the rim. We drive over there to see a few of Diane’s classmates and friends. We make dinner out of a giant plate of nachos and then later adjourn to an informal get-together at the student lounge back at the apartments. Many are saying their goodbyes and getting back to their rooms early, since the bus to the airport gets a pretty early start in the morning. Diane and I don’t have any particular schedule, but we pack it in before the real diehards give up.

Two Wheeling at the Dead Horse Ranch

Today is an easy and short day. I’ve met my schedule, which had a tiny bit of slack built in, and now with just 250 miles left to Grand Canyon and Diane, I don’t have to be there until tomorrow. So, having passed the planned part of my journey, I take my time this morning and investigate where I might stay tonight, thinking Sedona might be nice. I find a nice Arizona State park in Cottonwood, a little south of there, so after a short 2½ hour drive I arrive at Dead Horse Ranch State Park.

I find a nice pull-through site with electric and water up the hillside in the top loop of the campground. It is a beautiful day and I am here early. Having picked my spot, I have to go back to the front gate to register and pay my fee. So for the first time on the trip, I unstrap my bicycle from the back and ride to the ranger station. After taking care of business, I ride all around the campground area, taking some pictures and a short off road trail ride. I thought it would be a long grind back up to my spot, but it isn’t so bad afterall. Life is good.

My Biggest Goof

Tuesday dawns just pleasantly cool and I look forward to another day in shorts and tee shirt. After some computer work, breakfast, and the morning “chores” of dumpin’ ’n’ pumpin’, I’m back on I-10 and on my way to see Cousin Steve in Mesa, Arizona. He is Patt’s brother, and it’s been a long time.

As I drone along, I realize I’m going to be “early” to Steve’s house, so I mount an effort to get a couple of maintenance items off my list. I stop at a rest area to consult the computer to find there are Itasca dealers in both Mesa (a “suburb” of Phoenix) and Tucson, which I will pass through on my way. I get back on the road and call the Mesa dealer. I describe the armrest problem and he indicates that if the pin has gone bye-bye, he would have to order the part (the whole armrest, actually) and his appointment book is filled until late April. I interrogate him for all the info I can get on how this armrest works and how I might get it fixed. So I learn a little more about the problem and then I call Tucson. These people are more accommodating, inviting me to stop by and they will see what they can do. I like their attitude, and I don’t reveal all the details of my problem. I fear the worst, but I have some extra time and resolve to stop and see if anything can be done. I wish I had the time and space to fully describe this dealership, but suffice it to say there are a gazillion RVs there for sale and dozens lined up for repair in the big service bays. My problem seems insignificant and it turns out the service rep can’t offer me much, but he takes me over to the parts department and we all discuss the missing pin, sympathetically. However, they refer me to a parts supply house around the corner and a mile up a rough road that is under construction. This place has every nut, bolt, pin, spring, and other small fastener known to man. I take my armrest in with me and the sales rep takes me in the back. First he produces a solid pin that is exactly the right length and diameter, but it would just slip right back out. It would probably work with Loctite, but he then produces a tough roll pin that is just a little oversize and I drive it in with a few taps of a hammer. It won’t come back out and I think it is tough enough to take the pressure. Voila! For a couple of bucks, I have my armrest back in the seat.
In the excitement, I forgot about my windshield washer problem, so I went back to the RV place. I am sure the old tubing has just shrunk with age and exposure, so I just need to put in new tubing. The dealer only has enough of the tubing to do one wiper. For $2.45, I buy their remaining three-foot piece. Then I drive across the street to another equally huge RV dealer and buy another three feet there…it costs $7.90!

Leaving Tucson, the wind is really starting to pick up and with it the dust. Thus the justification for the series of signs I frequently see since entering Arizona: “Caution Dust Storms May Exist,” “Zero Visibility Possible,” and “Do Not Stop In Traffic Lanes.” These last couple of hours to Phoenix/Mesa are a steering challenge and I can smell the dirt.

The GPS guides me faithfully right to Steve’s house which is in a very nice residential area where the clearances are a little tight for DD, but thankfully his street is not a dead end. With Essie in tow I nearly block the entire front of his lot, which is on a curve and fans out toward the back. The family comes out to greet me, Steve, his wife, Darla, her daughter Amber, 22, and their son, Stevie, 12. They take a quick look inside DD and we discuss where to put her. Steve and I consider the gravel “driveway” (not the main driveway to the garage) alongside the house that goes through double gates into the back yard near the swimming pool. I could probably get her in there, but the open gates would pose a safety hazard for the many children in the neighborhood. I suggest a nearby store parking lot, but Darla and Amber insist a better place would be at K-Mart, which is closer and where they have seen RVs park in the very large lot. There is a lot less congestion there, and Darla calls on my behalf to confirm that it is all right with them for me to park overnight.

I take Steve with me for the ride in DD and we go get her situated out in a far corner of the K-Mart lot near a couple of 18-wheelers that are also parked there. We climb in Essie and motor back to the house. Darla and Amber are off on some errands and to take Stevie to Karate class. This gives Steve and me a chance to catch up on the years gone past, and it is great to share some stories with mutual understanding. He’s a great guy and we have certainly come a long way since we used to play in San Diego as children.

By 7:30 or so we all reassemble and head out to a cool place called Giant Hamburger, where they make them just like at home—and the fries are outstanding! Then we all go over to my “house” so they can see DD with her slides out and all. What a nice family Steve has. Amber is really pretty and full of sly humor. Stevie is well-mannered and wears a truly happy smile; he is full of curiosity and asks me lots of questions about DD. I show them all the neat stuff and turn on the TV. We sit around in the living room and I make my biggest goof of the trip—I forget to get out my camera. It would have been so perfect, all of us there in one place, and I mentally kick myself as I lie in bed later, realizing there is no way to recover from this mistake, as I won’t be seeing them again in the morning. My apologies to all.

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P.S.: Darla came to my rescue (thank you!) and supplied a great picture, which I am proud to display here. Left to right: Amber, Steve, Stevie, and Darla.

Family History the Modern Way

After a good night’s sleep, I carried my cereal in to join Susan for breakfast. Then we got down to some serious family history. Both Ron’s and Susan’s jobs at ENMUR are based on their computer expertise; he deals mostly with hardware, networks, and operating systems, she with instructional and software issues on internet, databases, and other productivity applications. At home they each have an office with about a half a dozen computers each—giant monitors, laptops, and several in between. Susan hosts a couple of genealogy sites tied to the university, and she runs a couple of programs at home to keep her own family data and who knows what else. I go back to my great grandmother, whom I knew when I was a child, and her husband, in Montana. I ask Susan if she can show me everyone who branches out under them, and then show me who each of their ancestors were. In a few moments her laser printer (a big one—she used to work for HP) starts showering me with printouts. Six of these pages tape together into a giant chart and others report historical details on innumerable family members I have never heard of. I come away with a file folder full of data for future digestion. I offer her two pages of scratchy notes I took from the Bible at Patt’s house. She makes copies and may glean a couple of tiny facts from there, but it pales in comparison. Thank you, Susan, for so generously sharing your wealth of information with me.

I get DD in traveling mode, hitch up Essie, and am on my way before midday. A little gas and a few groceries and I am looking forward to another State Park near Deming, New Mexico. About 60 miles west of Roswell, I find myself doing some serious mountain climbing and it finally tops out at 7,500’ near Ruidoso. Diane and I went skiing there once when we were DINKs.* In the late afternoon, I drive almost 10 miles off I-10 to get to the state park. In this picture, it is situated up in the ‘V’ at the base of the mountains. I called this park a couple of days ago and they had sounded like they could work me in at their overflow area, but when I arrive, I’m turned away—the inn is full.

So I turn around and go back to town. Right about where I left the interstate, there is a small RV park tucked next to the Holiday Inn, so I stop and inquire. Yes, they’ve got pull-through sites available at very reasonable rates. It’s not pretentious or packed with amenities, but it has full hookups, wide, firm roadways, and is only a quarter mile to the on-ramp. I put some laundry in the washer/dryer and take a little walk around. They’ve got some big iron in here; some of these rigs are unbelievable! It somehow isn’t as rustic and hokey as Rock Hound State Park, but it suits my needs for the night to a tee.
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*Dual Income, No Kids

Weather Ahead

My drive today takes me through Big Spring, Texas, “the heart of the West Texas Playland,” as they used to call it when I went through USAF Pilot Training here at Webb AFB in 1967. They called it that because it is 300 miles north to Amarillo, 300 east to Dallas, 300 south to San Antonio, and 300 west to El Paso. Guess they didn’t want us young lieutenants getting into too much trouble. It didn’t work, though; we found plenty right there in Big Spring, where the “girls” were either in high school or 30-year-old divorcees. There wasn’t much in between.

I get off the interstate, which bypassed town even in the old days, and slowly cruise 5th Street, the one-way westbound half of the main drag going east and west. The town looks pretty old and tired. At the west side of town, I find the road that used to be the main road into the air base. The right side of the road is a federal correctional facility (prison) and behind that I see the old hangars and runways. Besides the prison, they have used some of the area for an industrial park. On the left side of the road I come upon what used to be the Officers’ Club. The awning, which covers the front entrance, steps down, and walkway to the street, is still the same…except now it bears the current label, “Senior Center.” How appropriate!

I drive 6th Street, the eastbound counterpart back to the center of town to start north. I’m tempted to go cruise the rest of the eastbound strip, or go south for a ways on Gregg Street (Hwy 87), which is the north-south main street. Would I be able to find the two or three old drive-ins where my friend Tom and I used to cruise in his Chevy convertible or my Corvette? We’d pull up next to a couple of high school girls in another car at one of these burger joints and Tom would say hi and then ask them, with a straight face, “if they had relations in Big Spring?”

But no, we’re older and wiser now, so I turn north on Gregg toward Roswell, NM, and clear my mind as I once more get up to speed past the open expanse of red, freshly plowed fields. The driving is pleasant over two-lane highway heading northwest, and then I turn due west in Brownfield, Texas, where the “downtown” is paved in red brick. By this time, it’s gotten quite cloudy and the wind is kicking up a bit. The radio is reporting some serious tornado damage last Friday in New Mexico. I change to the weather band to hear that NOAA is issuing storm warnings for southeastern NM and west TX, including a prediction for “small” funnel clouds and hail. Yippee. I haven’t had a real wind challenge in DD yet, and I’m wondering what Texas hail would do to us. Ain’t no overpasses out here to hide under!

Well, staying in the now, it starts raining and this is really the first time I’ve used my windshield wipers on this trip. They do the wiping okay, but there are tiny washer fluid hoses up the wiper arms and the little spray tips clipped at the center of the wipers keep popping off. I stop several times to put them back in place, adjusting the hose positioning each time, but as soon as I hit the next band of rain and twist the switch, off they come again. Finally, a couple of miles short of my distant cousin Susan’s house, I just pull the hoses back short so the last four inches with the spray tips won’t flop around in the wind. I don’t need the washer function anyway while it’s raining.

As I mentioned, Susan and I are related; it is not much of a stretch. Her mother’s father is my father’s mother’s twin brother. Got that? Susan is a genealogy expert and she clarifies that second cousin is precisely our relationship. When I was about 13, I went with her family (her mother, father, and younger brother Bobby) on a summer driving trip to Montana to stay with my Great Uncle Hobart and Aunt Grace (Susan’s grandparents) on their farm/ranch. We kids had a ball, helping milk the cow, gather the eggs, and checking the fences in Hobart’s old pickup truck. There was cold running water from a pipe in the kitchen, but the outhouse was 25 yards out back and the shower was under the water tank next to the windmill in the front yard out next to the dirt road. We shot a rattlesnake one day and, begrudgingly, Aunt Grace fried it up for dinner that night. Tastes just like chicken, right?

After 50 years, it is a real treat to meet Susan again, and her husband Ron came out to help me get DD situated next to the house. We sit around and catch up on what all’s happened over all the years and soon Susan has a delicious dinner on the table. Both Susan and Ron work at Eastern New Mexico University in Roswell and are accustomed to a very early get-up, so we adjourn at a reasonable hour. However, Susan has arranged for tomorrow off, so I will get to pick her brain (and her computer data files) for more family info in the morning.

Cactus Country

I start the day with breakfast and then have Mom’s next-door neighbors, Monty and Dave, over for a look at DD. They are so nice and so helpful to Mom and us. I learn that they are going to Florida early next month, so with their permission we may park in their driveway when we return this way toward the end of Diane’s vacation time.

I get out a bucket and a long handled window washer and give DD a face wash. I’ll bet I got a pound of bugs off her windshield and “grill.” Pretty soon I see Mom waving from the front door, so I clean up and go inside. I am surprised at this point to learn that Rick had to work the early shift today, having already left around seven o’clock. Maybe we’ll get to see him on the return trip.

By about noon, Mom and I have a hug, a kiss, and a wave, and I’m off again…like a herd of turtles in a windstorm, as they say.

After a stop for some groceries and gas in nearby Roanoke, I’m really on my way. The driving is easy and by late afternoon I pull into my layover at Lake Colorado City State Park in west Texas. When I stop, I go to lift my left armrest and it falls off in my hand. Rats. This had happened to the right armrest last year and I didn’t dream it would ever happen again. The pin has come out of the armrest shaft. I inspect the hole in the backrest from whence it came. I can see the missing pin and can feel it by inserting one finger. But there is no way to get a hold on it and it soon recedes into the foam padding and is lost forever. I place the dead armrest in the overhead compartment and vow to look into it later, maybe trying for repairs in Tucson or Phoenix.

I find a good site among many available, disconnect Essie, and back into place. As soon as I get the slides out, I go out for a little walk and take some pictures as the sun is setting. As usual, this state park offers good facilities and great value in a pleasant, natural setting.

Mom's House

Yesterday’s good run leaves me with a pretty easy drive to Dallas—less than six hours. So I take some time in the morning to catch up on some computer stuff I’ve been neglecting. I enjoy a leisurely breakfast and buy a few things for the pantry.

The drive across ⅔ of Louisiana and east Texas is pretty unremarkable, except I note the freeway through Shreveport takes on a wavy character that warrants a slow-down. It’s smooth—no thumps—but the ups and downs are short and not paced right for DD’s wheelbase. It causes her to pitch and bounce uncomfortably…just a hoppin’ like a toad again.

By mid afternoon the GPS unexpectedly takes me off of I-20, but I quickly realize that I’m on the outskirts of Dallas, where I-20 swings around the south side and I need to start edging toward the north side past Grapevine, where Mom lives. The afternoon traffic thickens up as I pass north of DFW airport. I un-strap my seatbelt, lift my armrest out of the way, and while the traffic stops for a moment, I dash back to the couch to grab a magazine and back to my seat in time to pull forward before the horns start honking behind. In fact, I’ll bet no one knows DD was driverless for five seconds. You know how this insurance works, if you are prepared for stopped traffic, it never stops. Things move along faster than I expect in rush hour, and soon I’m parked in front of Mom’s house.

She has checked on parking with the local police and they say to just park in front of the house on the street. It’s okay. So I look over my position as I go in to say hi to Mom. She comes out to look and I tell her I’m going to go around a few blocks and come in the other way to park with the left side next to her curb. This will keep my automatic entry steps from hitting the curb, put my living room slideout over her lawn, and put my slimmer bedroom slideout into the center of the street. I also opt for a couple of blocks under left side wheels to offset the crown of the street. Mom watches with amusement while all this goes on and in a few minutes I am guarding her backside as she climbs the six steps from the centerline of the street up into the kitchen and living room. I give her the nickel tour, and then she returns to the house to get ready to go out to dinner. I call her neighbors and our friends from down the street, Judy and Reilly, to let them know I’m here. They come down and I show them around, too. There’s a certain glint in their eyes and I can tell they could do this RV thing themselves. I egg them on. They head off and I retract the bedroom slide so I won’t end up with an open-air bedroom if a truck comes down what remains of this quiet residential street. Back inside, Mom is ready, and we head to Christina’s for Mexican food. Yum.

Returning home, we watch TV and chat until I start fading about 9:15. By 9:30 I’m just about out, so I excuse myself for the evening and retire to DD. I keep the bedroom slide in! Rick (Diane’s brother, who lives with Mom), is working the late shift today, so won’t be home until about 10:30. I figure I’ll see him in the morning.

West of the Mississippi

Nothing planned to see or do today—just get in some good miles on my way to Mom’s house in Dallas (Diane’s mother). Shortly after getting under way, I come to construction and circumstances place me in the left lane when they turn the two westbound lanes into a single and split the left lane across the wide, wide median into a temporary lane bounded by a Jersey barrier in the middle of the left eastbound lane and the grass median on the right. I drone on for miles with my left wheels on the eastbound concrete and my rights on the recently repaved blacktop shoulder between it and the median.

Soon I-20 puts me in Alabama, where I encounter the first RV going my way. Mathematically, I comprehend seeing lots of RVs in the oncoming lanes, but I am still astounded by the fact that this is the first one I have passed (or been passed by). As I-20 drops farther south past Tuscaloosa, I notice that the trees are greening up real well; the grass along the highway is getting lush and thick. The roads are smooth.

Passing into Mississippi, I’m surrounded by farmland and the road gets rougher, but the speed limit stays up at 70 MPH. Can’t do that—too darn bouncy—I settle on a more modest number around 60. But the miles keep clicking and Jackson falls behind. By mid afternoon I pass by Vicksburg, where I had planned a stop, but my position advantage this morning means I feel fine to keep going. So across the muddy Mississippi we go and another 80 miles into Louisiana. At West Monroe, I plunk down for the night.

It’s been a good day—480 miles!

The Family Bible

Patt loves working with children and occasionally substitutes at local schools. She had an assignment on Wednesday morning, so she and Mike were up early. I was already up and getting a few things done of my own when they pulled out at 7:15. About the time Mike was getting back from dropping Patt off, I joined Helene for the tail end of breakfast, and we sat and gabbed the morning away, exchanging stories from our past and ferreting out family history facts, some I’ve long forgotten and some I’ve never heard before. Helene made us lunch and I took that time to copy some names and dates out of a huge old family Bible that Patt had produced the night before. This family record she got from her (and my) great aunt Myra Deane (my namesake) that belonged to her parents, Grace and Hobart (my father’s and my namesake) in Montana in the late 1800s. Lunch was delicious and we yakked some more. Now I hope my Number One Aunt won’t be offended if I tell you she is 88, and by mid afternoon I think I had about worn her out. I love her dearly, so I offered her a break and I returned to DD to give her a drink (she carries 90 gallons of fresh water) and start preparations for departure.

Mike picked up Patt after school and shortly after they returned, I was ready with Essie hitched and DD pointed up the street. After some pictures, hugs, and kisses, I was on my way by about 5 PM. I’ll leave it to you to figure out who’s who in the picture.

My first stop was for propane, which was conveniently located on the boulevard I took to get back on I-85 out of Greenville. It was actually a stand-alone feed and hardware store, and as I turned onto the side street from which to access the parking lot, I realized the street looked like a dead end and I was pretty sure if I went in the parking lot in front of the store, I would be committed to an unhitch/re-hitch. But cold weather was behind me, my propane was down to ¼ or ⅓, and I figured a fill would carry us well into our western adventure. So I went in anyway. I was pleasantly surprised to find there was a bumpy, but passable driving path around the building. “Sure, 18-wheelers go around there all the time.”

My plan for the day is to put a hundred or so miles behind me before stopping for the night. This will put me on the east side of Atlanta, where I will soon transition to I-20. But by then I’ve barely settled in, as far as driving goes. So without hesitation, I decide to put ATL behind me and that will put me outbound on the west side when the morning traffic starts inbound. So I call it a night in Douglasville, GA, a little ahead of plan.

More Power To Ya

It seemed like my charging systems were both good (engine and generator), so by morning I had convinced myself that new batteries were all I needed. So shortly after dawn I was back to the store and the battery project was complete within an hour or two. The new ones were bigger than the old and just barely fit in the battery tray, but in this case, bigger probably means better. But now I was off to a late start for the long day’s drive to Greenville, SC.

The Richmond bypass, I-295, and a short jog on Hwy 36 West got me onto I-85 and it was a pleasure to find myself on two nice lanes between pretty pine trees southwest bound with very little traffic. Set the cruise control and enjoy the scenery and the mild temperatures. Pleasant miles with regular rest stops available, listening to classical music on the radio. Soon I’m in North Carolina and the pavement is now short concrete sections that go thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, thump. DD turns 20,000 miles. And then somewhere on the way to Raleigh/Durham the pavement becomes seamlessly smooth blacktop and then similarly smooth concrete. So it varies, but at least pothole land is well behind me now.

Passing RDU, heading for Charlotte, the trees are coming in full blossom. I’ve arrived at Spring!

I make good time breezing through South Carolina and soon enough I am turning into the new residential area where Patt and Mike live. I know as soon as I start down their street that I’ll have to unhitch to get back out. They have a large and beautiful lot at the end of a cul-de-sac too small for a 180° turn, but there is a nice spot to park DD in the neighbor’s driveway, and I park Essie on the street in front. Mike bravely guides me back to within about six inches of the garage, and then I pull forward a couple of feet onto three blocks for the left front wheel and one for the right front…level for the night.

It has been quite a while (nine years?) since our last visit, so we have a lot of catching up to do. Aunt Helene is very patient with me as I pick her brain for details of her life, my father’s life, and my life, going way back to the “beginning.” They treat me to dinner at a Mexican restaurant, and show me a little of the area where they live near Furman University. Very nice. Back home we chat in front of their beautiful fireplace until bedtime.

Traffic City

Now the real driving begins; I’m on my way to visit my Aunt Helene, who lives with her daughter Patt (my cousin) and her husband Mike in South Carolina. They just moved there last year after a lifetime in the San Diego area. I have fond childhood memories of playing with my cousins when my family lived there, too.

So I was on I-476 and the I-95 and the first obstacle was Baltimore. I-95 and one other southbound artery both go through long tunnels under Baltimore harbor. No propane tanks allowed. So I forced the GPS to take me via the Francis Scott Key Bridge, the recommended alternate route for RVs and other "hazardous" vehicles. That went well and, as the afternoon wore on, I was surprised that traffic wasn’t more congested as I went on to Washington and started around the beltway on the west side. But my reverie ground to a halt at the southwest corner and traffic merely crawled for a long way south of DC.

I had hoped to make it to the southwest side of Richmond this Monday night, but I decided to pack it in for the day when I reached the northeast side. I had a little shopping to do and it was in the auto department of a Wal-Mart that I came face to face with a very large stack of deep-cycle marine/RV batteries. Was it an omen? I puzzled over it during dinner and let it percolate the night as I went to bed.

A Working Woman's Lunch

Back at the RV, I put things in place to get on the road. Unlike a car, you can’t just turn the key and go. I have a half-page checklist of things to do before we can check the mirrors and pull out. Many of the items on the list have been learned by experience and we don’t wish to repeat them. It’s real annoying to go around the first good curve at highway speed and hear a big crash from the back of the vehicle.

I got some gas before getting on the Garden State Parkway, headed for the place where my sister, Andrea, works. A couple of weeks back I had offered to treat her to lunch in DD on this day as I headed south and west toward our cousin Patt’s house. She readily accepted and invited me to come in and see her workplace and the people she works with in the north Philadelphia area.

The journey to Andrea’s was kind of interesting, because I had planned it on my computer, using my MapSource software and then loaded the detailed map data from the blocks that surrounded the route into my several-year-old monochrome Garmin GPS V. However, when I told the GPS to take me to Andrea’s company in Horsham, PA, it sent me via a route completely different (but probably equal or better) than planned. That would have been okay, but the new route, which I had not confirmed, but blindly followed, happened to go through detail map blocks which I had not loaded in the GPS. In such a situation, the GPS falls back on a basic map of the U.S. that just has all the major highways. This mode of operation will get you there, but the navigation is kind of loose and the screen doesn’t picture the little details of intersections, ramps, and such. So I made a couple of wrong turns, including missing a return to US 202 which forced me to slog through the narrow, tourist streets of downtown “historic” Doylestown. Another mistake I’ll try not to make again!

Anyhow, I arrived “on time,” instead of a couple of hours early, as intended. However, it was a great stop. Andrea gave me $5 worth on the “nickel tour” of her company. I got to meet the company president and the respective vice-presidents and key coordinators as we went through each area of the well-organized building such as sales, engineering/production, service, and estimating. It was especially great to meet the president, Joe, to whom Andrea reports; like me, he is a pilot and we seemed to think alike on the few subjects we were able to touch on during this short visit. The office emits an air of pleasant functionality and friendliness. It seemed perfect to me, but Andrea tells me her big project for this year is to get the whole place redone to integrate years of expansion and the ad hoc shuffling of rooms and resources that is naturally done piece by piece. It was a wonderful tour. Thank you, Andrea.

It’s a challenge to drive DD, especially when Essie is in tow. The primary rule is that you cannot back up with the tow car attached. It does not behave like a two-wheel trailer, and it you try it, you’ll articulate a broken tow bar...or worse. So you can only drive where you can continue driving forward. Getting trapped in a dead end carries a penalty—you have to disconnect your tow, maneuver each out where you came from and re-hitch, a delay you try to avoid. Thus, I was not able to park in Andrea’s parking lot and ended up in a generous lot behind the company across the street. So we went over there and I microwaved a couple of Panini sandwiches for our lunch. Well, I dressed it up with a little cottage cheese and peaches and a soda. Ah, the comforts of home.

Andrea headed back to work, and I ran the parking lot departure checklist.

Shortcut To The Airport

The drive to Saddlebrook, NJ, was a piece of cake, and it felt good to be on the road again after DD’s winter storage. It was our fine fortune to discover a Mexican restaurant when we did a loop d’ loop over a bridge to reverse course on Route 46 as we approached our stop for the night. So we parked DD, unhitched Essie, and drove down the street for dinner. It was the best Mexican we’d had in a long, long time. Not only was the food delicious, but we were treated to Spanish music by a fellow playing an electric classical guitar, and later by an “older” gentleman (older than me, that is) who played the harp, of all things. He was very good, mixing classical Spanish flavor with things as “modern” as the Beatles. We enjoyed a couple of brands of Mexican cerveza, and it was a perfect evening out.

Back in the RV, we set the furnace to a sleeping low sixty something and bedded down for an early get up (Diane’s flight departs LaGuardia at 7:10 AM). The furnace uses propane for heat and fans that run off the RV batteries to blow the warmed air through the ducts and vents.

We had a good sleep, but then the alarm is ringing and I am up to start the generator. Ooops! The generator won’t turn over and the 12 volt house batteries are down to 8.6 volts! Now I’m in trouble. Spouse wants hot shower, toasty bathroom, plenty of light, and lots of watts for dry hair. Hmmmm.... Be cool. Well, it is 27 degrees outside. Ok, start RV engine; that should give me some more volts. It works, but the voltage doesn’t improve much and the generator still won’t start. Still being as un-flustered as I can manage, I quickly throw on more clothes and go for the jumper cables in Essie’s trunk. Ooops, they’re not there—left them in Lizzie (another car). Go back inside; stare at the control panel; turn off the furnace; oh, look at that, the voltage jumped up to over 10! Wait a couple of minutes for the batteries to reorganize their electrons, while I pray that there’s enough juice. I figure there’s only going to be one chance to get this generator started. (Mental note: get another set of jumper cables—TODAY, if I survive this fiasco.) Finger to the start button and, yippee, it starts! Oh I love the hum of those 5500 watts of power, not to mention the joy of remaining happily married if Diane can forgive me this 30 minute delay.

So the shower is hot, the hair is dried, and we jump in Essie for a delightful drive to LGA. At 5:15 it’s dark, quiet, and there is essentially no traffic. New York City, for all its other detractions, is still a beautiful city, especially at night. It’s overwhelming from the front seat of a 767, arriving on a clear night with a sleepy load of passengers. And the lights are pretty driving down the Harlem River Drive in the clean morning air. But it’s a love/hate relationship, because I also reflect on the hundreds of grueling drives through here to originate a flight or drag myself home after a long week in the office.

But this morning it’s a breeze. We’re to LGA in barely 20 minutes. Diane is on her way to Phoenix via Chicago and I’m on my way back to DD. The roads seem bumpier; they are worse than they used to be.

When she arrives in PHX, Diane will join other NPS (National Park Service) employees converging on the spot for bus transportation to Grand Canyon National Park, where they will participate in a two-week class called NPS Fundamentals II. In the meantime, I’m off on a solo motorhome adventure to join her there. Once she finishes her course, she will be on two weeks of vacation, and we will enjoy some breathtaking scenery in that region of the country together, before working our way back to her mother’s house in Dallas for a visit. Diane will fly home from there, and Dean will take another week to drive DD on home.

The Journey Begins

Late again! I was going to get this little project all set up before we left, but you know how that goes…the best intentions vs. the great snowstorm, etc.

So now we play catch up, and maybe by the time we get home, we will be doing this in real time.

We started on Sunday, March 18, and the first leg of our journey lasted about five seconds and we went about two feet. As careful as I try to be, and as astounding as it seems to me even now, when I installed our drop receiver and tow bar assembly into DD’s trailer hitch receiver, I managed to put the securing pin through the bar, but not through the holes in the receiver. That the parts are down low, all black...that I was wearing “shades” against the glare of the sun and snow...doesn’t matter. After saying our goodbyes to Eric and his friend, Chris, Diane and I mounted up and I started to ease forward for the climb up the driveway to the street. But in my rear view mirror, Eric was behaving strangely and Essie didn’t look right either. So I stopped to find the tow bar lying on the safety cables and Essie’s nose in the snow berm to the right of the driveway. But the rest was good news: (1) there was no damage; (2) the tow bar was not under tension, so was easily disconnected and re-rigged; and (3) Essie didn’t get stuck in the snow—I backed her right out and pulled into position for try two. So I learn another lesson about not overlooking the most basic operations.

And so we head for New Jersey....