The MoHo and Other Traveling Tales

Desert Modernism in Palm Springs

I suppose that our foray to the local Wal-Mart in Palm Springs shouldn’t quality as a step into Desert Modernism, a new phrase that I just found to describe all the flat, square buildings around here. I kept saying to Mo, “This reminds me so much of my ugly, cement childhood in the suburbs of LA. Lots of flagstone, flat roofs, square facades, dull colors. The worst of Frank Lloyd Wright on steroids, surrounded by graceful palms. As we drove down Gene Autry Trail I kept wondering why everything looked this way, why it all looked like we had stepped back into the 50’s. The more we drove, the more I realized that all this squareness was actually on purpose. Even new buildings, new apartments, had that “look”. Hmmm. Later, hunting desperately for a dog-friendly hiking trail in Palm Springs I happened on the phrase: “Desert Modernism”. It’s real, and Palm Springs and the surrounding towns are very proud of it. Palm Springs has the largest concentration of mid-century modern architecture in the country. I guess that explains it. Maybe my escape from mid-century LA basin life many years ago to the rich northwest world of Craftsman and cabins ruined me for appreciating this particular style.

But back to Wal-Mart. All I can say is “Ugh”!! The store here is so huge I couldn’t find the exits and the bathrooms were horrendous. It’s sometimes really easy to catch the mixed up lists of needs at a superstore, but maybe not quite worth it. Somehow I expected better in this upscale area. The Wal-Mart we visited in Minnesota was pretty darn nice, and almost as big. We won’t go to this one again, that is for sure. After adding to our supplies at this scary place, we continued driving along HWY 111, the main route through the desert towns here in the Coachella Valley. Upscale is definitely an understatement here, and the El Paseo shopping area was not exactly the place I wanted to be in my denim shorts and Keen sandals. As we sat in traffic among the Mercedes, Jaguars, BMW’s, Mo suddenly said, “What in the world is THAT car?”. Turns out it was a Maseratti. I don’t think I saw one in real life before. We were glad we had at least washed the Tracker before coming to town. The rain held off all day but the skies were threatening, and our plan for the day was to explore the area, check things out, get our bearings.

Home at Catalina RV Park and Spa looked tremendously welcoming when we finally arrived, still frustrated with no internet connections, but at least Mo had the news and I decided to try out the swimming pool. Our park has a truly wonderful pool, large and crystal clear, with a hot spa adjacent that is probably close to 104 degrees. The night was chilly, with wild white clouds obscuring the moon and revealing it in turn, but I thought maybe the pool would be warm enough to swim, since it appeared that steam was rising from the water. Ahhh!! I was enveloped by a balmy 93 degrees of pure mineral spring water that is pumped from the parks own well at 130 degrees and cooled with fresh water to a safe level. The large swimming pool has no chemicals, and neither does the spa. All the water is naturally changed several times a day by the influx of fresh water. Unlike many hot springs, this water is full of minerals but has no sulphur, another great thing since there is no bad smell at all. I floated on my back and watched the moon and stars come and go amidst the clouds and let all the frustrations of the last couple of days slip away.

This morning we woke to more heavy clouds, and threatening rain. Reading about the Street Fair at the College of the Desert was interesting, so we took off to try out the local fairs. By the time we got there, the rain was a bit heavier, but not so much that we couldn’t walk without umbrellas. However, many of the vendors were giving up. It wasn’t such a bad thing since the fair turned out to be just a tacky as many flea markets, and our only purchase was some great lettuce for tonight’s salad and some dates. By the time we got back home the rain was coming down hard in Palm Springs, but once again it was dry where we are camped.

The park here is quite nice except for the lack of Wi-Fi connectivity. We paid the fee to supposedly connect, but the only time I have been able to actually get to the internet was before 6am this morning. After six, all came to a screeching halt. You all know how frustrating that can be! Instead, as darkness falls, Mo and I are sitting here at the Starbucks in Desert Hot Springs, listening to Christmas music and trying to catch up on all things internet. I am still searching for dog friendly hikes and Christmas lights. Tomorrow evening is a real treat, when we will meet Laurie and Odel for dinner at the Fisherman’s Market in La Quinta. The sun will come out eventually, I am sure, eventually. In the mean time, all I can say is that I am glad I am not camping in a tent.

Traveling south to Desert Hot Springs

Rain in the desert is often lovely, except when I have dreamed of blue skies and warm sun and planned a major MoHo run south to find it. We have had snow and dark skies in Klamath for several weeks now, and my week in Florida was challenged by 20 degree weather. A long trek to the Coachella Valley should be the remedy. I think the weather forecasts show a bit of a break next Thursday. Last night, however, the skies were beautiful, with soft shades of pink and rose among the gray, cream, and yellow lit clouds.

A quick run south, leaving behind the cold and snow of Rocky Point, is only possible because we decided to store the MoHo in Redding this winter. Enclosed, insulated storage isn’t cheap, and we tried for the smallest unit possible. We also decided to forego winterizing thinking that the temperatures in Redding rarely drop below freezing. The water tanks were all empty and the lines emptied out, but we didn’t do anything else before parking in mid November. It was with a bit of trepidation that we opened up the big sliding door. Everything turned out just fine, with the trickle charger keeping the battery charged up and the house batteries were still even on 12.6. We brought along a couple of gallons of water to fill the tank and everything worked just fine. Although next time when we pull into the storage spot we will have some pink stuff in the drains, at least.

See that gorgeous sun in the photo above? The trip over Mt Shasta on I-5 to Redding was gorgeous once we left the icy freezing fog behind in the Klamath Basin and Highway 97. Little did we know that was the last time we would see brilliant sunshine for a long time. I am still waiting. By the time we got to our stop over point in Lodi, the rain was coming down hard. We hoped to get to the desert with only one overnight stop, requiring 400 mile driving days. By the time we reached the Flag City RV Resort in Lodi we were worn out. We shared the driving duties, but it still is a very long haul. Flag City is really nothing more than a reasonably comfortable stopover, with perfectly level cement pull through sites, and full hookups including fast Wi-Fi and cable. I have no idea what else the park offers because we didn’t care in the least. The MoHo was stopped, and everything we needed was right inside our cozy home.

On Friday we thought our trip to the desert would be about 8 hours of driving so thought leaving at 9 would be just fine for a 5 pm arrival. We didn’t factor in the hard, driving rain, or the plan to take HWY 58 through Tehachapi rather than brave LA traffic. As dark fell on the desert we still had 90 minutes to go before reaching our camp. We took 247 south from Barstow rather than drive through Victorville and all the traffic there as well. It’s a narrow road with lots off ups and downs, but oh soooo beautiful. It looked like a lot of BLM land, open and free, and in the coming desert twilight it was all I could do to keep from begging Mo to just head out into the desert and boondock.

When we finally arrived at the Desert Pools RV Park, I remembered again why we try to never, never, never land after dark. Everything was strange, the night person didn’t have our reservation, and offered to let us stay for one night only “off the road”. Somehow I had messed up the reservation (they don’t take them) and instead I opted for the “just come in and talk to the hosts and you can stay for two days”. Dumb. Of course, the fact that the park had recently disconnected their cable service wasn’t exactly a good thing either. After a long day on the road we at least wanted Wi-Fi and TV. Otherwise I would be back boondocking in that gorgeous desert! Mo is a little bit easier about these kinds of things than I am, and I wasn’t much fun to be around that night I am sure.

In the light off day, the park was every bit as ugly as it appeared the night before. The pool was small and brown as were the three spas. We took the dog for a walk and everyone was just so dang friendly! The night host came up to us and urged us to stay, saying the park was “so much fun with a lot going on”. I guess we aren’t very social, because that actually sounded just awful to me. Although the hot cinnamon rolls in the dining room were pretty good.

Our original plan was to spend six days at the Catalina RV Park and Spa, so we called them hoping for a chance to come in a day early. Success! With great relief, we packed up and didn’t even bother to hook up to drive the half mile back to the Catalina. Through the gate and immediately we could see the difference. Even though this is a very large park, with spaces fairly close together, there are trees and shrubs between sites, and while our site is on packed sandy dirt, it isn’t so bad that we couldn’t level the rig without blocks. The cloudy, threatening skies were breaking here and there with a bit of lightness, so that helped my mood a lot as well. Thank goodness! Our plan now is to spend the day adjusting to the local area, do some driving around, and just try to catch up a bit. Wi-Fi is still an issue, but hopefully I can find a spot somewhere around to actually get on the internet.

Ocala

Ocala_Bel (13) Something magical happens to me when I am in Ocala. Even though the population of the city is close to 100K it still feels like a small town. Often when I come here, the weather is wonderful, an incredible respite from cold and snow. This time I seem to have hit the coldest possible weather, with predictions for the low 20’s tonight and even colder temperatures possible in the next couple of days, with highs in the 40’s. I am leaving on Wednesday from Tampa, and the temperatures predicted for Thursday are back in the 70’s. Ah well. I am not really here for a vacation, I am here for my friend.

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In the five days that I have here, I hoped to be some help to my friend who has been dealing with some health issues. So I am here, driving her to the grocery store, taking her to the parade, where she did a great job walking from the side street parking to the main drag in Ocala. Yesterday I took her for a drive through the gorgeous back roads along 225A, the secret pathway through miles and miles of horse farms with homes almost as big as the incredible stables, with driveway gatehouses that could house a homeless family or two.

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But back to that ‘thing’ that happens here in Ocala. The Ocala parade consisted of almost three hours of floats full of kids involved in every possible activity available, with gymnasts, and dancers, and singers, high school and middle school bands, and so many “miss whatever’s” they needed a dozen cars to carry them all. Ocala calls itself the horse capital of the south, and there was no lack of fabulous horses and horsemanship exhibited in the parade. Small town stuff at it’s best.

Somehow, here in this town, I find myself slowing to a crawl. I listen to birds and watch the light play on the leaves. I watch the skies change from gray to sunny back to gray and sit on the porch watching the rain. Ocala really isn’t a destination, there isn’t much here for a traveler passing through, there is bad traffic down on “200”, there is crime and racism, and grinding poverty amidst huge wealth. Just a few minutes north of Ocala is Anthony, a bucolic land of open space and huge oak trees where John Travolta and his wife have built their home and life. John drops into the local Publix now and then and Bel sees him at the meat counter. And everywhere, the trees. Huge live oaks dripping with moss, and spindly elms so thick you can’t walk, and everything in between. I love the trees in this part of Florida.

Today a neighbor of Bel’s invited us to a Christmas Chorale at her church on the “other side of town”. Another neighbor stopped by yesterday with a small new space heater, worried about her in the cold.

I thought maybe while I was here I could write about Silver Springs with all the Christmas lights, or possibly go out to Juniper Springs in the Ocala National Forest and write about the Technicolor turquoise waters, trying to find adjectives to describe them. Instead I am lying low, listening to Bel talk about her life, watching the 3 TV stations available, going to church, watching the birds, and playing with the cats.

From 36,000 feet

At the risk of seeming horribly provincial, I just can’t resist making a post from the sky.sitting here with my laptop open, crammed into a seat so tightly that I can’t get the lid all the way up. I’m on a Delta flight and I have a wireless connection. Amazing. Of course, I can’t turn my phone on, but I can post to my blog? Ah well, no laughing allowed here. This is a photo of me taken with my webcam on the laptop. Of course, there is an adorable girl sitting next to me who will NOT be quiet for even a minute. I’m hiding behind earplugs while she flirts with the cute guy next to her. This may seem like a completely irrelevant post, but really, for most of us, isn’t technology shifting and changing exponentially? Blogging from the air. I think someone else recently did this as well, Jeanne, I believe, on her way to Tucson. Now if we could just figure out how to get the computer all the way open so we can see the screen and type at the same time when the person in front of us has their seat reclined. Too funny!

View out my window today

I have another follower! It’s so much fun to follow the wonderful conversations out there in blogland, especially those that have some link to the amazing world of RV life. Welcome! to Jeana, from the Seattle area. Right now she is flying off to Tucson to find some sunshine and after spending a very large chunk of my life in the northwest, I know how that feels!

Today I am working at home, a much nicer locale than the office in town with it’s dim, fluorescent lights. The cat is curled up in his favorite place while I am working. Can you tell that is a cat in there? I am in my pajamas, and at the moment it is lunchtime. Looking out my window I see huge pines and firs, and deep snow. Mo is again out trying to plow the deep, slushy stuff that is the result of warming temperatures. I’m having lunch, taking a break, and thinking about my upcoming trip to Florida. I am partly excited, and partly not so much. Flying isn’t what it used to be, and from what I have been reading lately, might be even less fun during this holiday season. Cheap fares seem to require several flight legs, and the old days where I could jump on a plane in Spokane and fly directly to Orlando are long gone. This time I will board in Medford just after 8am, and after three jumps, will land in Orlando at 10 PM. Ocala is still a good 90 minute drive from Orlando, so I will probably be lucky to get in at midnight after picking up the rental car. The trip home a week later will be even worse, with stops in Cincinnati and Salt Lake before finally arriving at Medford, again just before midnight. Big Sigh, the price of a cheap ticket.

Did you know that it’s not really ‘cool’ to love Florida if you are a Westerner? I think many of us out west think of Florida as that strange, flat place epitomized in Miami Vice, full of fast cars, fast boats, pastel high rises, and way too many people. I used to think that way, of course I had no experience with the state at all. In 2000, a very dear friend of mine went back to Florida to care for her elderly parents. During the first few years after she left, I traveled to Ocala several times to help her deal with all the logistics required, and I found out that Florida wasn’t anything like I imagined. I fell in love. I fell in love with skies that swirl in circles with big puffy white clouds, with rain that fell so hard you had to pull over to the roadside and then blink into brilliant hot sunlight minutes later. I fell in love with north central Florida, that world between the Emerald Coast and Gainesville, south to Ocala, on the limestone backbone of the state. I fell in love with the most gorgeous horse country in the US, with miles of black rail fences and grand estates. I fell in love with palms and oaks and pines in the same forest, with palmetto understory filled with snakes and alligators, with giant grasshoppers that looked like some sort of Technicolor cartoon, with springs so crystal clear you can see the gar 200 feet down among the swirling eelgrass. Yes, parts of Florida are horrendous, but the north-central limestone spine and the magical isolated northeast coast from Apalachicola to St Petersburg are an amazing wonderland of complex wilderness and beauty.

More storms are predicted here for the next few days, although it seems that it will bring lots of wind and rain to much of the area, and maybe not so much snow as we have had recently. The skies are becoming more gray by the minute, and the thought of velvet, warm Florida air is so seductive. Who knows, some of the bloggers that I follow down in the south say things aren’t really that warm and velvety right now, and my friend Bel sent a little text note saying, “Bring mittens”. Hmmm. I’m trying the carry-on only way of traveling this time as well, so we will see how that works out! If it’s really that cold, I think I will have to wear lots of layers on the plane. That could get interesting at the security checks. How many jackets and shirts, and scarves can I take off quickly while I am trying to get my shoes off and my computer out of my backpack? I’ll let you know.

Someone recently asked what what I was knitting, so here’s a shot of it. I bought this hand-dyed wool, thick and thin yarn in Silverton, Oregon when we camped near there last spring. There are so many sweet little yarn shops desperately trying to stay in business in these small towns, some of them truly wonderful. It requires that we take the time to purchase our goods directly from these little shops if we want to enjoy all they offer. I know how easy it is to buy online, but when traveling I always try to buy something special at the local yarn shop. I am a fairly new knitter, maybe the last 5 years or so, and sometimes I miss things I shouldn’t. In this case, the two skeins of very special hand dyed yarn looked identical until yesterday, when the bright light of day revealed that they weren’t exactly alike after all. So my project is now a bit weird, with one end of the scarf just enough different than the other end to look off. Sigh. I think my sister won’t mind too much, since she took one look at the hat at Thanksgiving and said, “I want that!” Hmmm. I hadn’t planned on giving it away, but how many wonderful yarn things do I really need anyway. Awful person that I am, the imperfection makes it a bit easier to give up.