November 12, Wednesday - The Long Glide La Conner, Washington

Hi. I’m back.
Yes, Ron’s Circle Tour ended on October 18th but the trip continues on. Because my house sitters have had troubles finding a house to buy that they liked, I stayed in my RV home on a vacant lot in La Conner. I would go to my “other home” to exchange summer clothes for winter ones being neither here nor there.
However luck still is carrying over from the journey. The day I got off the road the ignition switch on the VW went out. (The land dinghy didn’t like being pulled 16,000 miles with the ignition switch on. It’s sort of like the light switch being half way between “off” and “on”.) The real thrill was driving at night and having the headlights go out and getting back to home base only by holding the lever in that controls the high/low beams. Nice timing.
Or how about this one: two weeks from getting off the road I got stomach cramps. Now what could this be? Two days into it I had it checked out. The medical center would not let me go home; so while the rest of you watched Obama become President of this great land of ours, I lay on the operating table having my appendix removed. Talk about luck. Better at home then in Dickinson, North Dakota a month earlier. Again I count my blessings. But wait, there’s more: while in the hospital going through post-op, my heart went into atrial fibrillation with a little flutter thrown in, which is not unusual for me. I do this once a month for a few hours then back into the swing of cardiac bliss, but after two days of no “bouncin’ and behavin’” the doctor said let’s sock it to him. So down to the paddle room I was wheeled and up on the table for “cardioversion” – shock the shit out of the old boy. Lucky me that they put me under for five minutes while they stopped and restarted the pump system. The EKG readout strip shows it all; aint got no rhythm to BANG to singin’ like a choir. Sure felt great when I came out from the sleep cloud.



Now I’m back in my RV again recovering and waiting to complete the long glide into my man cave, my retreat, my house. Until I can sleep in my own bedroom in my own bed, I’m still on the road after eight months. I’m hoping for this weekend.

For my next adventure in Snee-Oosh watch for my trip down to the California coast over Christmas. It’s called “The Sea Ranch Romp.” There’ll be six of us traveling in the old RV for three days in winter to spend the holidays with friends. It WILL be fun.

Bye All

October 22, Wednesday – Aftermath

I logged in my last entry at 39,089 miles; my starting miles for the RV was 23,070 which was for a shakedown cruise before the actual departure so I would say that it was a 16,000 mile trip plus 6,900 miles on the Jetta, which really surprised me. I didn’t think that I drove it so many miles. So all and all after seven and a half months of touring the Untied States border which included a 1,200 side trip from North Dakota down to Denver that 23,000 miles were covered. What was the fuel cost for such at trip? My records show that I spent $7,500 and $1,900 in campground fees. I didn’t count my food costs because I would have eaten even if I had not gone on the trip.

Cheers to those of you who have read Ron’s Circle Tour and have supported me in my journey in circumnavigating my/our wonderful country.

Love,
Ron

October 18, Saturday – Home

When I reached Chehalis I quit last night. From Longview to La Conner is a little under four hours but since I left Mary at 4:30, I didn’t want to drive through the heart of the Puget Sound cities at night so dropping anchor along the freeway was not a difficult decision. But the desire to get to my community of Shelter Bay on Fidalgo Island got me on the freeway at 7 in the morning. Driving up the interstate with familiar landmarks caused a sense of neutrality. The emotion and feelings of ending 30 weeks on the road with the US border always on my starboard side were placid. I felt numb; I just drove like I had been month after month. The first sign of emotion that bubbled to the surface was when I past the county line with announcement that I was now in my beloved Skagit County. I felt a deeply satisfying smile spread across my face as I laid on the horn to proclaim a milestone. Peeling off the freeway at Exit 221 Conway/La Conner still didn’t produce a burst of euphoria. I didn’t question my feelings; I just marveled at the beauty of the place where I lived as I have done so many times before. It had never been hard to come home to the Skagit Valley for me. On Fir Island all the crops were in except for a few cabbage trucks on Dodge Valley Road. The small traffic circle at the entrance to town with the farm produce stand to the south represented the rural setting of my place. Crossing the Rainbow Bridge from the mainland to the island I glanced habitually over to see the schooner, Rejoice, tied up behind the Calico Cupboard. Because the folks that were house sitting my place had not yet found another place to dwell, I drove to the marina parking lot and stopped for the last time and just sat. Hannah answered her phone with her always cheerful voice when I called to tell her I was finally home. Within minutes a home family welcoming party arrived for massive hugs all around. The last photos were taken and then what to do next was discussed. Well, it seems as though everyone was headed to the pumpkin patch when I called. Without skipping a beat, the Jetta was dropped and the welcoming party hopped aboard Snee-Oosh and off to Gordon’s Farm laughing and talking at once. This is why I am in love with my place of home. A setting of family and friend unrivaled by any that I saw on my travels around the United State; lush farmland rich with harvest, backed by the snow capped North Cascade Mountains with Mount Baker serving as the king of the throne and the saltwater of the Salish Sea pushing through the archipelago San Juan Islands. As I have said so many times on this journey of a lifetime – I am so blessed. Welcome Home, Ron
See Link

October 17, Friday – Glide Path

When I woke, the magnetic pull was undeniable. Home was close and the urge to get there was overpowering. Mary and I headed down I-84 stopping off at the Bonneville Dam complex. I was surprised at how extensive it was with a visitor center and fish hatchery. We wandered and enjoyed the autumn day ending our visit to see Herman, the 70 year old, 11 foot sturgeon.
Coming into Portland I gassed the RV up at $2.88/gallon. Talk about timing. I’m on the glide path to the end of my circumnavigation and the price of fuel is lower than when I left. Even though it was late afternoon, I dropped off Mary and said goodbye then headed for my final destination. La Conner, Washington.

October 16, Thursday – Two for One Day

When we drove up the gorge the day before, we unhooked the land dinghy (also called a toad by some. I never did understand why until just the other day. It is the ‘In-Tow’ vehicle or “toad” for short…) and headed to a place that some of the local La Conner women go to called Carson Mineral Springs. The spa is located on the Washington side of the river near Stevenson. The mineral springs was in the middle of an identity crisis. It did not know what century it was in. The old St. Martin Hotel and the Bathhouse were of the 1920’s but the lodge buildings were definitely 1990’s. Mary and I asked if we could check the place out and off we went exploring. The woman at the desk threw out the hook. “Tomorrow is two for one day. Total price is $20.”
But before we indulged, we went further upstream to the famous Maryhill. When I was there last week, it was overcast and almost empty. Today it was electric clear with hundreds of elementary school kids. Loved the contrast. After a meander through Sam Hill’s collection of fine art, we drove up to Stonehenge to make scarifies and take photos before returning to the land boat for a supper on the river.
From there we headed for the date with a tub. I was surprised that after our soaks and comparing notes how different the mineral springs was for men and women. The sexes are divided into their appropriate parts of the Bathhouse. I was shown to a room with eight comfortable narrow beds and was told that the basket at the end of the bed number 6 was for my clothes. On Mary’s side the women had private changing stalls with baskets placed in a rack. The bath attendant took me to room with eight huge claw foot tubs and again I was number 6 with a room full of guys. Mary had a privacy screen around her tub.
So into the mineral water I slid and adjusted both mentally and physically to the change. The water temperature must have been 106. For the next 45 minutes I soaked alternating between submerged to hanging my legs outside the tub. When I thought that my poor heart could no longer take it, I pulled my limp body carcass out and swayed to the bed for a wrap. First the attendant put a steaming hot towel across my back then had me lie back on the bed, then he wrapped my whole body in a sheet followed by a light blanket then a heavy blanket tucked in tightly around me for a final cover and there I roasted in my own heat like an Egyptian mummy. Because my head was also wrapped, I could hear very clearly my arrhythmic heart beat in my ears. Sweet ,sweaty, hot, death……….. Death for only $10. Can’t beat it. Finally I threw off my suffocating cocoon and staggered to the showers. I must live! I have daughters to teach about life.
As I left the Bathhouse I found Mary sitting on the benches outside in the night time air. I collapsed next to her and we spoke of our soaks and wraps at Carson Mineral Springs. It was worth every penny.

October 15, Wednesday - Last Hurrah

Mary Lyons goes way back to my days of teaching in the inner city of Seattle. She and Pat Cruver were part of that forged friendships coming out of that institution of learning. Since Mary lived on the way home to La Conner, we threw in together for a short road trip up the Columbia Gorge for a last fling of freedom before the anchor went down for good in the homeport.
Even though I had been in the gorge just the week before on my to Portland, going back to the region caused no worries. Repeating an area just provides for another view. With Mary in the navigation seat we headed upstream to Memaloose State Park on the Oregon side of the river. What a find! Because the season was late, there were only a few spots taken so we got a choice view location. Fall was in full swing with the trees going through a spectrum of color change. The river was attracting salmon fisherpersons in mass. The air was clean and fresh.
We did have one problem, though. The last presidential debate was to happen and we didn’t have a TV set onboard so we scooted down Interstate 84 for that liberal town of Hood River, which has a lock on the world’s best wind surfing. After a few inquires of the locals, we found ourselves among like believers in the watering hole called Horsefeathers. Every screen had the debates on it and crowd participation was encouraged. Mary said, “He’s going to win!” Then gasped, “That’s the first time I’ve said that out loud!!” Yes, a revolution is coming on November 4th. I am so proud of our country that we can have a change in government without a military upheaval.

October 13, Sunday – Back to the City

When we pulled anchor at the campground, we stopped to answer the call of nature in the form of dumping the holding tanks. Caitlin watched as I opened the side compartment that held the sewer outlets. We both gasped when I opened it. Here was a ball of Doogen’s fur along with excrement that wasn’t in the tank. Now how in the hell did those rodents get into Snee-Oosh? On the buy list goes mouse poison.
Fortunately the drive back to Portland was not as eventful as the near miss on the way out to the coast. In fact when people ask me if there were any close calls on the trip, the chip truck made it into the top five. After we arrived back in Caitlin’s neighborhood, we pulled out the road atlas to plan “The Next Big Trip.” Will’s folks had invited the northwest contingence to Christmas at their home on the California coast north of Bodega Bay. Getting to the coast from the I-5 corridor took some figuring out. It was faster to almost drop all the way down to Santa Rosa then turn and go back north then west then to try to cut across the Mayacmas Mountains especially in winter with six people on board the land boat. Another trip. I’m ready.