March 30, Sunday Back in Tucson

Immediately I’m hit with the heat of the city. It’s 88 in the day and 50 at night. This morning there’s a new drive within me: the urge to move on. After mooching (not really true. I worked) off of family members for the past two weeks, the Circle Tour is calling me. This morning was spent re-provisioning the RV with food. In the afternoon, when the shade finally crept around to the eastside of the RV, I set up primitive work area and built a “Bob Sub”. Bob was my navigator so now I have to create a substitute road buddy. I needed something to hold the road atlas and necessary road items, sun screen, snacks. A poor man’s GPS. I constructed a clipboard style mount that I can attach the road atlas to (using potatoes chip bag clips) so that it can be easily seen from the driver’s sit.
I am now ready to leave Tucson and head into the sunrise………………… “Go East, Old Man, Go East.”

March 28, Friday Last day at Taos

As I walked out this morning I saw two pigeons fly off the top of the barn. They must have survived the hunt. After morning chores, JC and I walked the land and the creek was at full run. There are two beaver dams with a willow island in the middle. The west dam was holding against the snow melt but the longer, weaker east dam was 80% breached. Fast moving water.
We spent most of the remaining day clearing scrub willow from a corner of the pasture in preparation of heavy equipment coming next week to install a new dam/gate in the irrigation system. JC and Rebecca’s acequia (irrigation ditch) that flows through their land starts from a river one mile up valley. Many different acequias run through his property and throughout the bottom land of Taos. These ancient acequias are maintained by the landowners along the system. No person can keep an individual off of his land if he is tending the acequia. The need to keep the water flowing has produced a cooperative attitude among the farms in the basin. Now that development is creeping into the farm land, non farmers are disputing this long established right.
Tomorrow I leave this perfect place, this place of my sister and her gentle husband.

March 27 Sunny Days

There was no dead pigeon in the shed this morning. Both are out there wondering why would someone want to shoot them.
Most of the day was spent with JC doing maintenance and hooking up the 72 inch brush hog to the tractor in prep in mowing down willows. Later I wanted to check out the Taos Pueblo that I hadn’t seen since 1974. The tribal police stopped Rebecca and me outside the pueblo. “No visitors today.” “When will it re-open?” “April 20th.” “What’s happening?” “Tribal ceremonies.” Interesting that if it’s a Christian based ceremony such as with the Yaquis, it’s open but if it’s tribal, it’s not. And that’s the way it should be.
Late in the afternoon JC watched me bury the dead magpie and then we walked the narrow path through the willow thicket to the creek. We sat on the bench at the beaver pond while Spud nosed around in the grass behind us. Sam, the barn cat, who had joined us lay in the grass with a locked stare as all of us watched a muskrat swim by. What a serene place.
I'm counting down the time when I leave the family womb. I'm looking forward to being back on the open road but will really miss the good times with the kinfolk. What I’ll miss most is the sharing of their day and their work; being a participator. You’re just an observer most of the time when you are a traveler.

March 26, Wednesday House of Straw

One of the reasons for coming to Taos was to work on the wiring in the barn and that’s what I did today at the end of a ladder – earning my board and keep.
Many years back JC and Rebecca decided to build a house made out of straw bales. This technique goes back to the pioneer days and has been re-discovered near the end of the last century. The straw comes from a farm in Colorado that specially bales straw (extra compact) for such buildings. The 450 bales give R-44 walls and a cool house. Over the straw is stucco. (The contractor only builds straw bale houses.)(The one photo shows the "Truth Window" that reveals the straw bales.)

Like every farm there are on going pigeon problems. This afternoon JC and I spent time on ladders in the implement shed stapling up another 40 feet of chicken to go with the already 300 feet in place. All the pigeons have left weeks ago expect two so tonight I went out to see how our handy work went. Damned if two pigeons were sitting out on a crossbeam. They just sat there as I shined the powerful light in their red little eyes. After reporting back to the Big House, it was determined to take the single shot pellet rifle out there and do them in. Rebecca brought out the rifle and showed me how it worked. I would hold the light and she would do the dastardly deed of shooting them. I put the plastic bullet shaped pellet container in my pocket and out we stalked into the night. Just before we entered the shed I said that she should carry the ammo so I could concentrate on my light shining job. Stealthy we crept by the hay bailer and the flat bed trailer; I whirled and flipped on the light. There they sat up on the beam mesmerized by the light. I could hear Rebecca steady her breathing, focus, aim and fire. One pigeon spiraled down toward the ground the other flew to another beam in the wash of my light. It turned to stare down on us. I heard Rebecca fumbling next me trying to reload in the dark. It was taking way too much time. Finally she said, “You gave me your damned lip balm!!! Where’s the ammo container???” We both started laughing. The second shot failed and the pigeon flew out into the night. Life on the farm.
So now everything is back to a homey normal: Rebecca is playing15th century English Country Dance music on her 1925 concertina; JC is reading “Water for Elephants” by the glowing wood fire in the fireplace and I’m next to him at the massive old dining table writing my blog. Peace in the dwelling except for two pigeons out in the night.

March 25, Tuesday Life on the Farm

Early in the morning JC and I went out into the creek field with the tractor to scoop dirt to bring back to the barnyard to fill low spots. JC was king on the John Deere with snow capped mountains in the background.
Later we walked the property down to the creek across one of the two bridges into the hay field on the eastside. We found a wounded magpie unable to fly. Regrettably we left it there knowing that there was nothing we could do for it. Later in the day I returned and found that it had moved ten feet – and died. I brought this beautifully colored bird back to the tool shed.

March 24, Monday Change

Today I abandoned my RV and Jetta, boarded a Southwest jet with Rebecca and JC and flew home with them. After landing in Albuquerque, we drove the long 3 hours to their Taos farm. I love their spread; it reminds me of my youth growing up on our sheep farm in Indiana. And the temperatures were back into the tolerable range – 25 at night and up to a comfortable 65 during the day. The signs of winter however are everywhere: A snow bank on the north side of the house; brown fields of grass and trees still locked in winter mode. But in the fields green grass sprouts are just beginning to appear.

March 23, Sunday Gathering

In the early morning I woke up thinking it was raining. I could hear it on the RV roof, but a glance outside the window revealed another sunny day. When I rolled over and looked out the other window, I could see the RV’s shadow cast on the ground and the rain mystery was solved. The shadows of quails running along the rooftop were also part of the RV’s shadow. What a sweet way to wake up.
We decide to go to the old village of Tubac about 45 minutes south of Tucson. It has an ancient history with old buildings but like La Conner has been turned into a crass tourists’ village with shops owned by people who do not live there. It has lost its purpose of place. It is nothing but a commercial dump for artists and Mexican crafts. No spirit. Talk about stark!! I’ll never return.

My sense of place was confirmed with a dinner of my clan. We all worked in the kitchen and outside. We ate this fabulous meal under the veranda shielded from the afternoon sun. I am so blessed.

March 21, Good Friday Yaqui Indians-First People

At 9 at night we drove to the six block Yaqui Pueblo reservation located in south Tucson. (In 1900 several Yaqui Pueblos fled Mexico to what was then a territory of the U.S. to escape solders pursuing them.) We were the only white people at the Easter gathering that lasts for three days. The Christian three-sided church for the pueblo is located almost under a freeway bridge. What a contrast of witnessing a ceremony dating back 200 years with the roar of traffic and the taking off and landing of planes. My god!!
The part of the ceremony we saw was the parade of the Stations of the Cross with 50 tribal members participating. Many were dressed in black from head to toe, others were in white mask wearing Mexican blankets belted at the waist. I could not help but compare what I was seeing with the ceremonies I’ve seen on the Pacific Northwest reservations. By comparison the Yaqui ceremony was very simple with the church overtones everywhere and little indigence input. The regalia was very plain; the singing by only a few with just one small flute being blown. Very stark.
We wanted to see the “deer dance” but since there is no schedule we knew not when it would happen so we left after a couple of hours. I greatly appreciated the chance to witness First People of the southwest. For sketches of ceremony CLICK HERE

March 19, New People

We did a “u” turn at home and went back to the airport to pickup my other sister, Rebecca and her husband, JC, who flew in from a cold Taos in northern New Mexico.

Most of time the gang of five talked about the Obama/Clinton race. We managed to go out and enjoy the amazing display of dessert wildflower bloom.

March 18, Bob back to Skagit country

This afternoon I said “goodbye” to my road buddy, Bob. He helped me get the RV in shape for the 8 month trip and then came ago as far as Tucson. He showed me San Diego. I showed him (along with help from sister Sue and Murray) the Tucson and surrounding areas that I have known over the past 20 years. Bob was a god-sent for assisting me in learning what RVing was about. Thanks, Bob!!! Thanks for the good times.

Many Days

March 15, Saturday Bisbee
The mining town of Bisbee use to be the largest city between San Francisco and St. Louis with 20, 000 people in 1900; today – 6,000 but many of the buildings remain. We went to check it out. The locals claim that the town has the same climate as central Michigan. Those locals are transplants to serve the booming tourist industry because mining is no longer happening there.
After the city, we went rural and walked the San Pedro River valley.


March 16, Sunday Snow storm and shame
The 9,000 Catalina Mountains with its summit ridge called Mount Lemon form the north side of the Tucson basin. It’s the “Mount Erie” of the area with a road to the top for skiing and communication towers. Also is the village of Summer Haven with cabins to escape from the 112 degree summer heat of the low lands. We went to check it out. The weathercast for the day was for a storm dropping down from the Pacific Northwest. As we headed out clouds were lowing covering the top of Mount Lemon. Be the time we reached 8,000 feet (Tucson is at 2,200 feet) it was snowing with limited visibility. At 8,500 we entered Summer Haven and I was shocked. The north side of the mountain had burned several years back wiping out the cabins and trees in the small valley near the summit. The shock and shame was the new mega houses that where being constructed in the middle of the nude landscape. Sick, really sick.
By the time we entered the summit parking lot the snow was coming down in sheets. The road down was being covered quickly but it wasn’t a case of just heading back down. The road goes down several hundred feet then climbs back up before descending to the distant basin floor. That going up before going down was a concern but we were in my Jetta and I wasn’t sweating it. We got without trouble. Next day’s newspaper said that the summit got five inches that afternoon.



March 17, Monday Pima Air Museum
In the dark aftermath of the storm we drove the 40 minutes to the largest collection of aircraft in limbo in the world at Davis-Monthan Air Force Base (known as “DM” locally). Planes, mostly military are brought to Tucson to be stored until needed again, re-fitted, parted out or destroyed. The Air Museum is associated with the storage lot of 4,000. They just opened the place up a tour bus so we went to see what I’ve seen many times flying in and out of Tucson. A lot of metal.

March 14, Friday Zero

This was the first day of our trip (after two weeks) that we just spent the day hanging out doing nothing other than laundry. Sweet.

March 13, Thursday The Desert

Bob and I were back on the road bright and early but this time in the VW Jetta (aka: VJ or land dinghy). We didn’t do Sea World or the San Diego Zoo but the world renown Arizona Sonora Desert Museum was a must. We spent over three hours drinking all the sights and information. The highlight for me (and I’ve been to the museum dozens of times) was the free flight, which I had never seen. Before the start the docent asked a dad to take his son off his shoulders because the birds come in close and he might get hit. Oh, yeah…….. The first bird released (the 150 observers never saw the bird leave a cage. It just came soaring over a palo verde tree) was a raven. In front of the crowd was a handler that stuck food chunks in tree forks and the raven would fly to it for the snack. Between placements she soared and dove in inches above our heads. That boy on his dad’s shoulders would have had a raven beak in his head. After the raven, came a barn owl and then a great horned owl. All brushing the crowd with their low flights.
After the museum we progressed down the road to the Saguaro National Park Visitor Center to be dazzled some more.
It was a great day !!

March 12, Desert Driving

I had told my sister, Susan, that Bob and I were going to arrive in Tucson on Thursday but after looking at the map we found that we were just six hours away so after consulting Tucson, we folded up our tent, packed the camel and headed out to the desert land.
Desert driving is .. is.. is… is boring. Straight highway, slight rise, straight highway – repeat. The only thing that sparked our interest was HOMELAND SECUIRTY/BORDER PATROL - like flies buzzing here and there both on land and in the air; a watch tower on massive scissor jacks on a trailer piercing the sky, pickup trucks with bed canopies with steel mesh windows parked on the overpasses or the helo flying low over the ground; US military manning check stations on I-8. Entertaining but sad.

It was nice to the see the skyline of Tucson and the exit onto Prince. We parked on the narrow street to break up the tandem and then walked into the alley where my sister’s place was located to scout the layout. After trimming low branches, Bob guided me backing into a parking spot in the driveway. But it had a sharp slope so out came the Lego block levelers and we built a tower for the front wheels to rest on. It was nice to be off the road finally after nine days.

March 11, Looking East

We decided to turn the land ship from her southern bearing to due east to start the second of the four legged tour of the nation. Before we left San Diego we went to impressive Balboa Park with its beautiful grounds and buildings. No, we didn’t go into the world renowned zoo. Instead we sat and watched the local outside zoo animals in their natural habitat in the way of a postpartum exercise class. A dozen women with child bearing strollers doing deep knee bends in front of their children. Then the trainer calling out to follow her to the Big Fountain and off they went jogging while pushing their strollers. Us old guys tagged along because it was the only show this early in the morning. We caught up with the female human mothers stepping up on the fountain rim then back down again and again then switching lead legs while their offspring sat content in their wheeled chariots in a parking lot like row. We wanted to feed them but there were signs discouraging such behavior.
But the open road called us so we left San Diego after four days in the military focused city. We joined Interstate 8 at its conception with the sun in our eyes movin’ east. We were to follow I-8 until Interstate 10 in central Arizona drops south consumes it.
An hour outside of the big city we stopped for a couple of hours in Alpine where Bob spent his life as a firefighter. We found his old house that he and Martha lived in until
14 years ago. Unlike many of the houses down the creek bed it was not burned in the massive fire that swept through the area a few years back. I laughed as Bob and his old neighbor, Errol, relived some of the community’s adventures.
That night we slept in a small county park many miles off the roar of I-8 and for the first time in our journey had no cell / internet reception. It was nice. It was quiet EXCEPT for the tree removal crew two campsites down falling and chipping a large tree. Finally at 4:30 silence was our companion.

March 10, Monday Tour de Beaches

Bob first took me to Ocean Beach where the surfers hung out. The surf was pitiful so there were only about dozen out in the waves on their boards waiting. We walked out the quarter of a mile on the OB pier that put us right over the surfers. The small shopping district at the beach was a mix of small shops and people; old busted up hippies, many young tattooed chicks, senior shuffling couples, scruffy bikers, pubescent skate boarders all laid back - California style.
Next Bob took me to Mission Beach (MB - as seen on vehicles that come from that area). Totally different atmosphere to OB. No one was in the water. It's where the military studs hang out in mass. Girls in string bikinis are the lure. Either sunbathing or roller blading up and down the "Boardwalk". Made me feel old.
From there we went to PB (Pacific Beach) which is a family beach then on to Tourmaline Beach, which was unlike any of the other beaches. Old VW vans and old guys with boards. People out kite and wind surfing along with the surfers. Folks were hanging out together in the parking lot talking about other old surfers . This was Bob's favorite beach during his 45 years in the area.

March 8, Sunday Star of India

Bob and I were the first to board the three masted barque Star of India which was built to transport people to New Zealand. In her later years she was used to transport canned salmon down from Alaska. The museum restored her to her passenger-hauling era. For more photos CLICK HERE. After walking her from stem to stern, we went to the Russian sub that was tied up near her. This also was an amazing experience. Before you could board her you had to past through a very tight circle which represented one of the bulkhead passages. It proved to be a good test because there were many such tight passages on board. The museum did a great job of refitting it with authentic Russian gear and food. The sailing vessel Surprise was the center piece for the Russell Crowe movie Master and Commander. From there Bob drove me to the place of his youth where he had worked and where he lived on a classic woody cruiser with his family. His dad was the second Commodore for the Silver Gate Yacht Club.

March 8, Saturday

Traveling 1,374 miles from La Conner to San Diego.

Happy 24th Hannah B!!

Tour of the carrier Midway

Bob lived in San Diego area until he was fifty so it was going down memory lane for him. After a quick tour of the waterfront, we struck out for the USS Aircraft Carrier Midway, which has been on display in San Diego since 2004 with over 3 million visitors. Who would of thought that the two of us could spend 3.5 hours on board crawling through the four decks, flight deck and the island. She carried 4,500 sailors and aviators and spent 47 years in service with over 225,000 passing over her decks. She was pulled from service in 1992. Besides seeing the massive vessel I was enthralled by the number of small groups of men both young and old that were touring the carrier that had served on her. The docents were very tuned to the men visiting her that spent time on her. They were great in pulling stories out of them to share with the rest of us.

March 7, San Diego

I took the first shift this morning and drove to the summit of the Tehachapi Mountains; this is done in one long steep climb and we didn’t unhitch the Jetta. We went cheek to jowl with the big trucks. Even at 45 mph timing of when to pass was a constant mind grabber. Bob then took over and took the caravan down the other side and through the hell hole known as Los Angeles. Think of Seattle at rush hour and expand it by about 30 miles and it was only 3 pm. No way am I putting into this port.
We switched after LA and I drove to outside San Diego to a nice state park on the beach – only it was the start of the weekend and they were full. “Do you have reservations?”
Pulling out of the area the main arterial turned left and I found myself in a neighborhood with streets that went vertical up the side of a ridge. “I don’t like this!!” “Come on, Ron, this is a big Ford truck engine. You can do it.” Up and up then a 4 way stop and a flat cross street, crash goes the rear bumper as we climb the next set running every 4 way stop on the way to the top…. Roar, climb, flat, crash, roar, climb, flat, crash, roar…. For five mini blocks until the top and turned to the left and stopped and rested…
Bob remembered back fourteen years ago in San Diego a state park on Coronado Island called Silver Strand; a quick call to then confirmed that they had space. An hour before sunset I pulled the rigs in and parked 100 yards from the beach. Another long day but we were going to be tied up here for at least three days.

Stats: Averaging 8.5 miles to the gallon; fuel: $3.19 to $3.39/ gallon; fill ups $77 to $122; fill ups once a day while traveling……….

March 6, Thursday

March 6, Thursday
In the morning we did what I knew would be the advantage of pulling the Jetta. We took the long narrow road up to the summit viewing point to look at the Castle Crags rock formations. Snee Oosh could not have made it.
Today was a long day moving through first the Sacramento and then the San Juaquin valleys with grapes, almonds, oranges – the bread basket of the nation.
We pulled into our first RV park of the trip. It’s not bad! It use to be an almond tree orchard so there are trees scattered throughout. Reasonable, too - $26 which included hookups.

March 5, Wednesday

March 5, Wednesday
Today we went over the Siskiyou Mountains today and rather than having Snee-Oos pull the Jetta up and over, we broke the combo up at Roseburg so I saw Bob only and hour today as we drove at our own pace. We had a nice stop for lunch in Ashland and met the local Public Works staff in trying to find a dump station at the sewer plant. (Great pickup line: “Could you tell us where the sewer plant is?”
When we reached the other side of the mountain range, we connected the two vehicles and continued on down to Castle Crags State Park.
There is snow here and pretty cold. There is one other RV in the campground and us.

Launch

Ron’s Circle Tour

March 4, 2008 Monday
The Launch
Days before leaving for eight months I had pretty much resolved that I was not going to have someone stay in my little downstairs apartment. An email from Don changed that mindset. Rather than packing to leave for a long period of time and now had to move out for Don. So those last few days were packed with tight schedules and check off lists. (This a “Ron trait”.)

Fortunately for me the Skagit Bay Search and Rescue trip to visiting the US Coast Guard Station/ Bellingham the day before my leaving was canceled thus giving me another day to finish things off.

Under pressure from my circle of friends I threw a “going away/ see the RV” party in the local marina parking lot. Over three hours good friends from thirty years of living in the valley stopped by to linger, share stories and to wish me luck. The record was nine people in the 29-foot RV at one time; only two of us were standing and the rest were comfortably seated.

Monday was a typical northwest marine day, overcast and drizzle. But before leaving somehow my sister from Taos persuaded Hannah to meet her at the Seattle airport and drive her to Vancouver, BC to spend the weekend at Rebecca’ daughter’s house. Hannah jumped at the chance to visit her cousin so on Monday on their way back both of them detoured off of Interstate 5 to La Conner for a quick visit over breakfast. Joan joined us to participate in the two-generation banter of growing up. There were laughter and tears.

Right at departure time Bob and Martha showed up with all of Bob’s gear for his two weeks of being my indispensable road buddy. But wait – we had a stowaway. Patsy’s daughter had driven up from Portland for a visit and her car had broken down. She stashed her gear and came aboard, too. To top off our leaving the Skagit my friend Melanie drove down from Bellingham for hugs and goodbyes. Time to cut the docking lines and shove off.


Roslynn’s job is working for a large progressive company that does college coaching for freshman for universities. It requires her to be on a computer all day. Pesto out came my new laptop with headphones and a wireless broadband connection. It was such delight to look up in the rearview mirror and seeing Roslynn being gainfully employed. She was thrilled that she didn’t miss a day “at work.” Bob and I could see the wheels turning inside her head “I could do road trips and still do work. Wow!!”
At lunch time we pulled off the interstate at the Nisqually Delta Wildlife Refuge and spent the meal watching ducks on a swamp.

Portland appeared on the banks of the Columbia/Willamette Rivers at rush hour but since we were heading into the city there was no problem. I called Caitlin’s partner Will to clear a landing stripe for our forty foot RV /Jetta .
After Will took Roslynn home and Caitlin appeared on her bicycle, we sat down to a superb meal created by Will.

Our first night out on The Trip was spent tied up to the street curb. I didn’t realized the body stress of driving the RV. I felt it in my arms as I burrowed into the blankets in the queen size bed (which is bigger than my bed at home) and Bob set up his domain in the “crew’s quarters” in the cab over.


March 4, Tuesday
After a lazy breakfast and a walk of the neighborhood, we hit the road again after putting $125 into the monster’s belly. Ouch. And many, many more to come.
I-5 is a moving community. You setup an identity with the truckers around you and they become your de-facto road buddies too.
We took an hour break in Eugene to see my old friend from Concrete days, Greg Estes, and then back out into the metal vehicle stream of I-5 South.
We try to halt our travels around 4 o’clock so about 3 we start looking at the map to see what’s ahead. Sometimes it’s zero like this afternoon so we’re in a small interstate rest area just north of Roseburg. It was a right pick because of parking layout. Rather than parallel parking lanes as found on most rest areas, it’s all of us lined up along a long curb bumper to bumper so that we don’t have a refer truck to our right or left. It wasn’t much of a long day on the road. (I can't get the photo to appear at the bottom.)