The MoHo and Other Traveling Tales

Meeting up with another blogging mentor

Last year when we were in Desert Hot Springs, Rick and Paulette were still tucked away at home in British Columbia, but since I follow Rick’s blog I knew that this time our visit would hopefully include a meeting with the two of them. I emailed Rick and we said we would catch up with each other sometime during the week. Rick didn’t waste any time and as we were relaxing with tea yesterday morning I heard the sound of a diesel truck slowly passing our site and looked outside to see a familiar face. Rick was hunting us down!

As is so often the case with RV bloggers, it was instant recognition and familiarity. We sat in the warm morning sun for awhile visiting and making plans to get together on Monday night at a local restaurant.

After our day circling the Salton Sea we were happy to spend Sunday relaxing, swimming, going for some park walks, and for me, knitting. I will be working on my daughter’s birthday sweater for a very long time. KarenInTheWoods saw a comment of mine regarding sock knitting and sweetly sent along a sock pattern to me. She called it a simple pattern, but I don’t exactly think it is THAT simple, Karen, but Thank You!! I’ll keep working on the sweater and try knitting up these fat warm cozy socks next winter. Karen mentioned that she loves to knit while riding along in the motorhome. I love that as well, although the bumpy California roads have made that attempt a bit awkward.

The warm weather and gorgeous sunshine is conducive to real relaxation, and we planned another day of the same on Monday so that we could watch the Rose Parade and then the Rose Bowl with our home team, the Oregon Ducks actually winning the Rose Bowl. Fellow blogger Merikay is actually in Pasadena seeing the parade and the game and I am looking forward to her stories about that fulfilled dream of hers.

After the parade and before the game we decided to drive out Dillon Road to the east to find Blair’s RV shop, highly recommended by Rick for obscure RV parts and an extensive knowledge base tucked away in the owner’s head. We found the small part we needed to fit the smaller than usual sewer pipe at Catalina and were on our way farther east to check out Thousand Palms Oasis. Our plan was to hike with Abby, but even on the east side of the Coachella Reserve we found signs saying “No Dogs”. Ah well, there are lots of other places where we can go with Abby and tomorrow we will head for one of them.

Mo and I both love roads that wind off into nowhere and as we drove back north toward Dillon road, we found an old worn out once paved track leading up into the hills. Let’s go! The road was rough, but the Tracker can handle that and we followed the path through the desert. The desert seems to be a very popular place for people and guns, because scattered along the road were several groups of people shooting. I noticed most of them had targets that looked like human silhouettes, and while shooting at bottles or bulls eyes seems innocuous enough, those human targets really bother me.

The road looked like it would wind back toward Indio Hills but instead we ran into a complete dead end right in the middle of a large group of young, somewhat rowdy looking shooters. They all had plugs in their ears and basically ignored us except for some irritated looks as we attempted to turn the tracker around on the half lane dirt track. I had a close up look at the guy’s pistol, black and pretty scary looking.

We found several places that looked as though they might be great boondock sites, but I didn’t think we wanted to compete with the shooters or listen to the gunshots all day long. The desert has an earned reputation as a haven for independent sorts of people that don’t particularly like rules and treasure their freedom. My favorite of all time, Ed Abbey, was one of those types, as are these gun toting shooters. Philosophies as wide apart as night and day, and yet both still at home in the desert.

Trundling back to our safe and sane site at Catalina, we turned on the game and spent the rest of the afternoon cheering along (and sending little encouraging emails to Russ) when the Ducks kept getting touchdowns. The game started at 2 and our dinner get together was scheduled for 6. It was an exciting game, with each team scoring like leap frogs, but the Ducks carried it off in the end. Our only problem was we had a half an hour drive to Palm Springs and had to leave during the last four minutes of the game. I fired up the phone and Mo fired up the radio and we managed to finish out that last four minutes while heading for town along Dillon Road.

Downtown Palm Springs was all lit up with Christmas lights and people were walking the streets as usual in the warm desert evening. Parking wasn’t a problem on a side street and we saw the smiling faces of our new friends waiting in front of the historic restaurant. Rick took some great photos and wrote about the restaurant as well, so I won’t try to do it all over again.

I will say that we had a great time talking about some of the similarities and differences between our two countries. My favorite part was learning that watching American politics is a spectator sport in Canada! Of course, Paulette and I share the delight of daughters, she has four and I only have three, and each of us has only one son. Discussing adult children and their various life choices made for some funny observations for all of us. Paulette is a lovely person with a great blog of her own all about her quilting passion and I so enjoyed having time to visit with her.

I must say that meeting Rick was wonderful. Back when I first discovered a blogging community, Laurie pointed me to Rick’s tips about how to manage blogger and blogging in general. I learned a lot from Rick, and he has never failed to almost immediately answer any question I have asked him via email with excellent instructions. I discovered in person a kind, funny, easy going man who is willing to spend time writing about stuff that many of us haven’t a clue about in a way that is understandable. There are times when Rick’s instructions get right to the point of some hidden trick and I really appreciate that he takes the time to put it out there.

Thanks, Rick.

The Polar Plunge for New Year’s Day

I followed a great tradition this morning, celebrating the first day of the year with a plunge into wintry waters. However wintry waters in Desert Hot Springs for me consisted of 94 degree F crystal clear spring water in the lower pool at Catalina Spa and RV Resort. Not a bad way to start the year. I floated silently on my back watching the stars and then swam a slow breast stroke while seeing the sun brighten the skies to the east.

It was only 5:45 am or so, and Mo slept peacefully back at the rig with Abby and Jeremy while I ventured the short walk to the pool. By 6:30 other folks appeared in the pool and spa area for a morning soak. These pools are my favorite part of coming here in the winter. The water is exchanged at a rate of some 35,000 gallons per day, with no sulfur but plenty of healing minerals for achy bones. The swimming pool is cooled from the springs temperature of 130 degrees by adding cooled water, and the spa tub is kept just hot enough at 104 degrees or so. Gotta watch out for the exchange jets, though, that water coming in is HOT!

We love the desert, the silence and emptiness of it all. This part of the desert isn’t exactly silent and definitely not empty, but the air is still desert fresh and the skies are blue and cloudless most of the time. As much as I love being alone in the wild, I also love being tucked into a spiffy spot in a pretty park with goodies all around. It is a completely different experience, yet just as wonderful.

There are more than a dozen different parks in this area, all of them with springs and pools of some sort. Some are expensive and elegant, some are members only resorts, some are just trailer parks and others filled with manufactured homes. It is definitely a snowbird haven with open desert to the east and Palm Springs and shopping south and west.

Catalina Spa and RV Resort seems to be the one we have settled on, and neither one of us has much interest in looking around for anything else. Since this is a members only resort, we can only stay here for seven days with our CampClub USA card, now converted to Passport America, although the folks at Catalina are as yet unaware of the shift. We taped our old CampClub card back together when we realized that maybe we would still need both cards. Good thing. The rate here is fifty bucks a day plus internet without some sort of discount.

There are two areas, the older section called the “lower” park and the newer section called the “upper”. The Upper has a bigger pool, a fancier clubhouse, and 50 amp spaces for the big rigs. The lower section has a funkier adults only pool and only 30 amp sites. It also has older eucalyptus trees and big shady tamarisk rows with oleanders that have to be cut back every year to keep from taking over all the space. Perfect for us since the MoHo is a 30 amp rig.

We stayed up until midnight to watch the ball fall last night, but since that was midnight eastern time, I got plenty of sleep before my early swim this morning. Yesterday we spent a long day driving around the Salton Sea and visiting The Slabs, but that is a story for another day. Today will be a quiet one, with a trip to town for groceries and washing the Tracker, an afternoon of reading and knitting, and finished by a movie trip tonight to see “Warhorse” on the big screen.

Perfect. Just Perfect.

East to the Desert

In spite of the fact that we could have continued traveling south along 101, we decided to take the quickest route to the desert. From our overnight at Camp Roberts we turned east at Paso Robles toward the dreaded Interstate 5. For the first time, the central coast was thick with dirty air, something I had never seen in this area, and as we continued east toward the Great Valley, the pollution got worse.

Highway 46 was busy with traffic, and a surprising number of RV’s were headed west. The landscape was dramatic in it’s lack of drama. The annual grasses of the California grassland zone were shades of tan and gray, with nothing to punctuate the hills except a few cattle here and there. With the brown tinge to the air, it made the grasslands all the more drab.

Ugly is relative, however, and when we reached the Lost Hills area just west of the I-5 onramp, we saw landscapes that were impressive in their ugliness. The alkali flats west of Bakersfield would be bad enough without man’s intervention, but the forest of oil wells made it breathtakingly ugly. I felt a bit guilty complaining about the ugliness while I rolled through it in an RV sucking gasoline. How to reconcile that disconnect? I haven’t a clue. I hate what oil does to our country, the wars fought over it, the landscapes destroyed by it, but I love my RV and the freedom to travel. Hypocritical as heck, but I probably won’t stop traveling!

Once on the five, the pavement again deteriorated while the air pollution got worse as we approached the Grapevine. I reminisced with Mo about the days back in the 50’s when my family would leave Duarte at 2 am to drive the Grapevine when it was truly a grapevine of curves and steep hills, traveling north on Highway 99 for our annual camping trip to Yosemite. Good memories! I also remember driving the “new” Grapevine in my Volkswagen bus as a brand new driver scared to death and surrounded on all sides by semis. It was the same today, semis on all sides.

We took a quick exit off the highway for signs claiming “fresh sweet oranges” and the small family farm store and petting zoo. The Murray Farm had 20 varieties of citrus, all from their own groves, and the navels were just in. The owner said that they were six weeks late this year. There was a cooler with samples for all varieties including Meyer lemons and a very strange looking fruit called Buddha’s Hand, actually citron. I had no clue that the stuff in fruit cakes came from something that was this strange. I settled for a six buck bag of incredibly sweet navel oranges and we were again on our way.

As we climbed the grade, the smog began to thin a bit, and we were spared the worst of it by turning east on Highway 138, a direct road to the desert and the town of Lancaster. I lived in Lancaster in the 60’s, for just a few months, and for the life of me I couldn’t find a single thing that looked familiar. This sleepy town that once was barely 50,000 has now exploded to a strip mall metropolis of more than 150,000 people.

We thought about boondocking somewhere, but the landscape was broken up by private “ranchette’s”, and we didn’t have a BLM map with us. I pulled up the AllStays web site and began searching for campgrounds. There are surprisingly few places to camp in this area, but we found a state park due east about 17 miles from town and decided that 18 bucks for a dry campsite would be a close second to camping for free somewhere in the desert, and probably safer.

It was a great choice. Saddleback Butte State Park campground was completely empty except for a camp host. The park had shelters for the picnic tables, fire pits, water available, and even a dump station. We chose a spot near the northern part of the park, farthest from the camp host ( whom we never saw) and settled in.

An evening walk before sunset was perfectly quiet and we found beautiful Joshua Trees bigger than any we have seen. The park is a haven for desert wildlife, including the desert tortoise, various snakes and rodents, coyotes and even mountain lions. As night fell, the silence was perfect, the skies dark with a new moon, and the stars were brilliant. I brought some soup from home that made a perfectly simple supper and we settled into to complete darkness and silence for our first night in the desert.

For the rest of the photos, including several shots of the Saddleback Butte campground, click here.

Why we do it

This:

Is why we do

This:

Oregon is beautiful, even in winter, but sometimes the desert calls and we just have to make the journey south to find that unknown “something” that is tucked away in desert landscapes. The trouble with this plan is that the deserts that are warm enough for winter camping require the long journey south through California.

I have stories to write, thoughts to put down, but tonight I am worn and the writing will come later. In the mean time, I am listening to the desert silence east of Lancaster where we are the only campers in a park containing 44 spaces. I need to go outside in the deep darkness and check the night skies, I need to listen for coyotes. Several hundred miles behind us now and we are slowing down, stopping to breathe and listen and be still. The desert does that.

The Coastal Route 101

There are two major routes available to travelers attempting to traverse the length of California. I-5 is a straight shot from Oregon all the way south, fast, and unless you are skilled at paying attention to fine details, incredibly boring. Highway 101 on the other hand, is gorgeous, a winding road that narrows to two lanes fairly often, and skirts the edge of the Pacific at least part of the way.

When we left Trinidad in the morning, the skies were clear and the predicted rain nowhere in sight. We caught the early morning light gilding the waves and meandered through coastal forests intermingled with dunes, beaches, and hills shrouded in intermittent fog. It was my turn to drive, and with light traffic and beautiful scenery, I exclaimed over and over again, “I’m so glad we aren’t driving down the five again!”

The stretch I drove (hence no photos) all the way from Trinidad, through Eureka into Willits was paradise, and then things started to shift. The traffic got heavier, the drivers more aggressive, and we realized that we were no longer in heaven, we were in “the Bay Area”. Stopping on the side of the road near San Rafael, we switched drivers. Having lived south of San Francisco in Monterra for 25 years, bay area roads are familiar territory for Mo. She negotiated the lanes and the cars over the Golden Gate Bridge while I shot photos from crazy angles and navigated our route with a combination of the iPhone, the NUVI GPS, and the internet. Yes….the internet.

A week or so before we left, I decided to purchase a nifty little gadget called MiFi from Verizon. Last fall Laurie and Odel had theirs with them when visiting Rocky Point and it worked just fine. For a long time, high speed internet was an impossible dream out there in the forest, but lately a new tower has given us the delights of cell phone service. We still don’t have cable TV and my only option other than dial-up for the internet so far is HughesNet satellite, an expensive and fairly cumbersome system. Amazingly, the MiFi works great and I can actually do my work with it. And! it travels!! Yes!!

So far, it travels quite well and I have been having all sorts of fun doing internet stuff on the computer while Mo drives down the road. As we passed through San Francisco, I spent a bit of time searching out places to get cheap gas, found a restaurant to get some supper, and did some internet searches of possible boondock locations for Wednesday night in the desert. Thanks to Laurie for testing the Rocky Point Verizon bars, and to Randy for sending me a great email detailing how well the MiFi has worked for him while on the road.

For some reason, when planning the trip with Streets and Trips, I decided that we could make it to San Miguel in a day. I don’t remember seeing that it was nearly 500 miles, only that we could stay at the Camp Roberts Military Family Camp for ten bucks with full hookups. As the day progressed, we thought a few times about stopping earlier, but once we hit the bay area there really wasn’t a reasonable stopping point.

Mo did great, much better than I can do driving in the dark, and we pulled into the camp around 8pm. Now describing what it is like to drive into Camp Roberts in the dark is almost impossible. It is about two miles from the gate to the campground, and there is no light at all, and the road meanders around a portion of the camp that has been abandoned. Once we arrived, our reserved site was waiting, and setting up went smoothly, even with the tiny flashlight. No TV, and of course no internet, except I am now armed with Verizon and I had five bars of rip roaring speed. Amazing!

There are 22 sites in this camp, and there are absolutely no frills, but who cares?! I think we have paid ten bucks just to dump, much less camp. The highway runs parallel to the campground and is a bit noisy, but on a mid week dark night this time of year it wasn’t much of a problem. I read a scary post recently from Janna and Mike where someone attempted to hijack their toad while they were sleeping in the rig! Sure made me appreciate a reasonably safe place to park! We slept great and woke up early to 27 degrees showing on the thermometer and before the sun was all the way up it had dropped to 24. That is F, not C by the way. UhOh. Even though our little electric heater kept us cozy for the night, the outside water hose was frozen solid.

We still had plenty of water in the fresh tank and within a short time the sun brought the temperatures up dramatically. Mo thawed out the hose with the hair dryer, we cooked a good breakfast, and took our time getting back on the road since the day ahead was to be a short one.

San Miguel and Camp Roberts are just a few miles north of Paso Robles and our route east toward I-5 on highway 46. It was a fine stop for one night, but I surely wouldn’t want to actually camp there for any length of time. As we left the camp, I took photos of the abandoned buildings, and only in the distance did we see some nice buildings in good repair that were still in use. Mo did training at this camp back in the 80’s when she was in the Army Reserve, but she didn’t recognize much of what was left.