California – Page 3 – The MoHo and Other Traveling Tales

12-30-2016 Visiting the Float Barns and the Huntington Library

Current Location: Pomona Fairgrounds Exposition Park

At the moment, it is just after 3 AM. I woke with the thoughts of what we have seen crammed into my head, fighting for supremacy. Staying on top of my thoughts is almost as hard as staying on top of the blog. I have learned over the years that the only way to do that is get them out, write them down, and then they give me a little peace. A little.

In the dark, I went outside to open the black water and then the gray water tanks. With the sewer fully hooked up and ready to go, it is easy to forget that those tanks should be monitored a bit. I think one was pretty close to full, the one you don’t want to be full.

The air smelled murky, and thinking maybe it was just stinky LA air, I then detected a note of skunk. I guess LA really doesn’t smell like skunk, so I can’t blame the stink on the excessive population. Our camping sites are on pavement, and as I walk across the wet grass, that is turning into a bit of a muddy mess, I am glad for the pavement. The big lights that are right over the RV’s are obnoxious, but at least they go off sometime during the night. I had to use a flashlight to see the levers. It hasn’t been particularly uncomfortable to be in such close quarters. Not much of a view, but then we aren’t here that much either. Lucky for us, our neighbors on the dining room window side are Nickie and Jimmy, insulating us from some of the less compatible participants on this tour. Our direct neighbors on the other side are in a very big rig, with their door on the far side. We never see or hear them, in spite of their slide being feet from our door.

The MoHo looks very small lined up with all these 40 plus footers. Jimmy and Nickie are only a foot longer than we are, but they are taller and have one of those big front windows that grace a Class A. In spite of all the rain, and yes it has been raining a lot in between the sun here and there, the MoHo is still shiny and clean. Hopefully as we travel east she will at least stay a little bit sparkly. Our route to Desert Hot Springs is a short 90 minute drive. I am ready, very ready, to hang loose, have no schedule except the pools and a hike when I feel like it.

Yeah, yeah, I know. I am doing that rambling thing that I do when I start writing at three AM. It is how I get going, I guess. It is a lot easier to ramble on in the moment than to attempt to return mentally to three days in the past. But let me try.

Waking to pouring rain, it was an uhoh moment, but knowing that we were going to be touring inside venues on this day I wasn’t worried. I donned my Bogs rain boots and our Adventure Caravans water resistant burgundy jacket thinking I had it covered. Taking the umbrella seemed a bit silly for a bus ride and inside tours. Wrong. We arrived at the float barns adjacent to the Rose Bowl early enough to get a great parking spot for the bus.

Searching the internet, it seems that there are several locations throughout greater Los Angeles where volunteers decorate the floats. I also discovered that the Phoenix Float Builders, a commercial company, are responsible for many of the floats. That explains the signs we saw touting “self built float” at some of the locations.

The tour of the barns was rather disjointed, nothing to do with our tour company, who secured tickets and parking and managed to get us there. Once there however, the Rose Parade guys in white coats were less than helpful, routing us around the entire perimeter of the barns in the pouring rain before returning to the main entrance where we originally arrived. Once in the Brookside Pavilion, there was no indication of where to go or what we were seeing. We wandered around a bit, and enjoyed watching the volunteers arrive, and seeing the bare bones floats before many of the flowers were added.

Best of all, in my opinion, was the CalPoly self built float, with some incredible animation and creativity.

We walked through more rain to another barn, The Rosemont Pavilion. Here we enjoyed a catwalk above all the activity, and a chance to see the flowers all staged for adding to the floats at the last minute. The volunteers work all night before the parade adding the most delicate flowers at the end. Maybe it was the cooler temperatures and rain that kept the fragrance from being what I remembered, who knows, maybe my smeller just isn’t what it used to be.

After the short and wet tour, we dried out a bit on the bus before continuing to the Huntington Library. The Huntington has venues and restaurants for eating, and didn’t want us bringing our own food, but as our wagonmaster Hex said, they are not inexpensive choices. Someone working with Hex at the Huntington worked out a plan for us to bring our own lunches and eat at the tables near the entrance. There was a plan to set up a sandwich table with fixin’s and extras but with the predicted rain, Hex decided that making the sandwiches in the tent before we left camp was the smarter idea. Lunch was a tight affair as we ate our sandwiches on the bus as we watched the rain outside.

Since Mo and I had decided to leave our umbrella home for the day, we were grateful for the nice umbrellas provided by the Huntington for our 45 minute outdoor docent tour. Outdoor being the important word. The skies remained gray and a bit drippy, enough to make a rainbow for Nickie which I completely missed, but at least the hard rains held off for the time that we explored this magnificent treasure.

There is more at the Huntington than could possibly be seen in the time we had, even though 3 hours seemed like it would be a long time. I had heard of the Huntington throughout my childhood, and many people went there, but again, for no reason I can imagine, I never visited. I was a repeat visitor to the amazing LA County Arboretum in Arcadia, but the gardens at the Huntington rivaled anything I remember from the Arboretum.

Rather than repeat all the information about the gardens, I’ll let you take a peek here at the website. In 1903, Henry Huntington purchased the San Marino Ranch, a working ranch with citrus groves, nut and fruit orchards, alfalfa crops, a small herd of cows, and poultry. There are now more than 12 gardens on 120 acres of the estate that are open to the public.

Our docent walked us through several of the gardens, pointing out the various buildings that now serve as world class art galleries, and regaled us with stories about Henry Huntington and his second wife Arabella, among the wealthiest people during that time period, who like the other “big four” gained their wealth mainly through railroads and real estate. Once again, I’ll let you decide to read on your own (at this link) about “one of the world’s great cultural, research, and educational centers”.

Henry was one of the country’s most prominent collectors of rare books and manuscripts. In 1920 the library building was completed to house his outstanding collection. Arabella was a collector of art and was the one responsible for most of the art now housed in the Georgian mansion that was once their home. In 1919, Henry and Arabella signed the indenture that transferred their San Marino property and collections to a nonprofit educational trust, creating The Huntington Library, Art Collections, and Botanical Gardens.

As we walked the estate, viewed the collections, gardens, and buildings, I thought that while we often visit the great houses and castles when traveling overseas, we don’t often make an effort to see some of these great houses right here in our own country. Great wealth is interesting, and often overwhelming, whether it be in St Petersburg, San Simeon (home of the Hearst Castle), or Ashville, North Carolina. We have yet to visit the great Biltmore estate, checking it out from afar and deciding that the $60 price tag was more than we wanted to pay on that day. I do know that the $25 weekend admission (the highest price) for the Huntington, would be money well spent.

Even in late December the gardens were filled with flowers, many in bloom, including many early blooming camellias and late blooming roses. The long grassy lawn with the San Gabriel mountain vista framed by trees and sculpture was lovely.

I loved the reflections in the Chinese Garden, the rock work and sculpture, and as we walked from the Chinese Garden to the Japanese Garden it was interesting to see the two kinds of gardens in such close proximity, and to notice the differences. I have seen many Japanese gardens, but do not remember a Chinese garden. The buildings were a bit more ornate, and the garden itself was my favorite.

I took this photo from the Huntington website since I neglected to get one of the entire gallery of portraits.

Mo and I decided to spend our time in the galleries and first explored the European gallery in the mansion that was once a private home. Room after room opened up, each with art, carpets, tapestries, and intricate furniture. The rooms were sparsely furnished, and I found myself wondering what it looked like when someone actually lived there. I couldn’t imagine, but images of Downton’s Abbey came to mind.

The most well known room contains one of the most comprehensive collections in this country of 18th- and 19th-century British and French art. It serves as home to Gainsborough’s Blue Boy and Lawrence’s Pinkie. I did want to see these two paintings, but was thrilled at the array of full length portraits throughout the room. In our day of billions of photographs it is fascinating to look at each portrait, read about the subject, and how the artist attempted to depict personality traits in a single portrait.

I have no idea why the two images became so incredibly popular, but Blue Boy and Pinkie at one time seemed to be on every grandmother’s wall, big or small, in the obligatory gilt frame. Experiencing these paintings up close was a treasure, and the old cardboard images faded away in view of the real thing.

Upstairs in the mansion was another gallery of French paintings, and without barriers, I was able to get very close to look at the detail of the painting, the lack of brush strokes in the oil. So many times art must be viewed at a distance from behind a rope. I could have touched these paintings if I had been so inclined, but of course I didn’t. A favorite was one of a country scene with sunlight depicted so brilliantly the painting seemed lit from within. Loved that!

We walked again through the gardens to the American gallery, where a display of old quilts caught my eye, and a wonderful yarn storage rack. Finally, in the far reaches of the gallery, I found what I wanted, a small gallery dedicated to the Arts and Crafts era, with items from the famous Craftsman artists Greene and Greene, of Pasadena.

Although our new home to be built this year will have nods to the Craftsman era, it won’t be purely authentic, since the style is gorgeous, but too dark and heavy for us. Still, the Craftsman bungalow style is a favorite, and Pasadena is the heartland for much of this work. There will be more to come on this subject in the next couple of weeks since we plan to visit the Pasadena Museum of History for the Batchelder (a pioneer Arts and Crafts tilemaker) exhibit, and to spend some time again wandering the streets of Pasadena’s Bungalow Heaven, a famous historic district.

As we returned to the bus for the trip east to Pomona, the rains that had held off a bit during our tour of the Huntington started once again. Nickie and I had discussed sharing a meal when we got home that evening, but when the time came, we were all a bit overloaded and worn out and decided to save our shared meal for another day. I can’t even remember if we ate a supper of any kind, but I know for sure that I didn’t cook! A very full day.

Later: Thank goodness for photos. As I was searching about for photos for this post I found some images of our late afternoon Mexican hot dogs, with all the trimmings, which I had completely forgotten, provided by our hosts. Here is a great photo of Adventure Caravans CEO, Tina, and Claudia, also a staff person for Adventure Caravans, who happen to be along on this rally.

12-29-2016 First Day in LA

Current Location: Pomona Exposition Center Southern California

I must first mention the weather. This day dawned sunny and gorgeous for us with a high temperature predicted in the mid 70’s. Not a sign of the rain that was predicted to show up before the weekend. The other thing I must mention once again is that our long day away from the rig was made possible by our friend Laura, who offered to drive down from Azusa to give Mattie a walk and a potty break. Laura said Mattie did fine after she stopped growling and shaking, and it was a good thing that Laura was a dog person and knew to simply sit and wait with her, offering treats till she calmed down. Seems as though they became the best of friends. Such a great gift form a truly thoughtful person who only met me once and had never met Mattie!

Now on to the day. First of all, when I say “LA”, I use it in the sense that locals have since I can remember. To someone raised in Southern California, LA does not simply refer to the city of Los Angeles. It encompasses most of the region, with a nebulous boundary determined by the user. If I am in San Bernardino, I might still say I am in LA, but I would be corrected by purists. Here in Pomona, I am definitely in LA, at the location of the LA County Fair, probably one of the biggest and best fairs in the country, although I am sure that Iowans would disagree with me.

Our first day in LA, however, we were actually in the city of Los Angeles, where we visited some of the iconic locations that represent what a tourist to the city wouldn’t want to miss. The big comfy bus, where we rode high above the freeway traffic, took us through Downtown, past the old General Hospital, around the huge skyscrapers that now dwarf what was onCe the only tall building in the city, City Hall.

We skirted the campus of USC, visited the La Brea Tar Pits and the Page Museum, continued to the historic Phillipe’s Deli for french dip sandwiches, were awed by Union Station, walked a section of Olvera Street, and continued on more freeways to the location of the historic Rose Bowl, where we were treated to a great tour. As a former Angelino, I do know how to say “the 5, the 110, the 210, the 405”. Not sure if this way of speaking of highways extends beyond southern California, but it is definitely the way to refer to a freeway if you live here.

Maybe it is obvious why I haven’t managed to keep posting each day’s events, since every day since this first one has been filled to the brim in the same way. Not much down time so far.

Growing up in LA, going to the La Brea Tar Pits was a given. Everyone did it. It was often on the school field trip lists, and I have no idea how I managed to grow up in the nearby San Gabriel Valley, and never went there. I have wonderful memories of many visits to the Los Angeles Museum of Natural History, where I learned all about the tar pits, thrilled at the dioramas of the animals found there, thrilled at one of the first exposures to science that triggered the spark that led me to a scientific career.

Today, however, we actually visited the pits and the magnificent Page Museum that helps to explain the significance of the La Brea Tar Pits. Seems as though the area was in Nickie’s back yard at one time, and she knew all the inside outs of the place, and showed us where to look for the tar bubbling up through the walkway pavement and here and there on the lawns.

Some time between 50,000 and 11,000 years ago, animals became trapped in the heavy tar, including the extinct mastodons, dire wolves, and big toothed cats. Animals that still exist were found as well, including coyotes, skunks, many kinds of birds, and other mammals. The pits were discovered at Rancho La Brea, first in the mid 19th century, but not recognized as the treasure trove of fossils that it is until in the early 1900’s. There is a complex and varied history of the development of the pits from the early excavations to the present day magnificence of the Page Museum, more than I care to repeat. If you want more detail, look it up.

It was a fascinating morning, watching the paleontologists working meticulously gluing tiny bone fragments together, viewing the dozens of dire wolf skulls on display, the recreation of the magnificent mastodons, different from wooly mammoths in their smaller size.

I love the dioramas, one of my favorites showed the skeletons of birds displayed in front of imaginative paintings of the bird.

Watching the ominous hot bubbles bursting in the main pool (fenced off of course) was fun, imagining the heat of the oil and tar beneath that held the record of so much natural history.

So much fun hanging with friend Nicki at the Tar Pits

Back on the bus, we made it to Phillipe’s by 11:30 for our scheduled lunch. The crowds were already gathering, the noise level deafening, and yet it was a great “LA experience”. Tourists and locals alike lined up at the 8 counter stations to order their famous sandwiches, on fresh rolls dipped in the juice of whatever meat you chose. We found a spot upstairs to eat, and didn’t discover until we went hunting for the bathrooms that the place was much bigger than we first thought. Great lunch!

After lunch, the four of us decided to go walking. The magnificent and historical Union Station was just down the block, graced with pillars and tiles, historic leather wood trimmed chairs, and Arts and Crafts light fixtures. We walked around in awe of the craftsmanship and creativity of this beautiful building, one I remembered from an unaccompanied train trip from LA to San Francisco I took as an 11 year old to visit an aunt.

This iconic station has been “reimagined as the vital downtown center of Los Angeles”. I am not sure who is doing the reimagining, but they are doing a fabulous job.

Just across the street is the historic Olvera Street, also knows as the El Pueblo Historic Monument, Calle Olvera, and La Placita Olvera. Located in the area that was the historical beginning of the city of Los Angeles, it is a crowded, colorful market street that feels like Old Mexico.

It is another place that is considered a don’t miss for tourists to LA, and I did visit repeatedly as a kid. Today we didn’t spend much time, hastening back to the bus in front of Phillipe’s, and with full tummies from lunch we had no desire to cram in the obligatory taquitos. We lost Jimmy and Nickie on the way back to the bus and they told us that yes, they DID manage a taquito!

Visiting the Rose Bowl in the afternoon was an unexpected treat. Adventure Caravans managed to get this tour scheduled for our group to replace the cancelled Equest Fest horse show. The Rose Bowl is an historic building, on the National Register, and as such, the renovations that have taken place over the years are in keeping with its status. As the guides said repeatedly, it doesn’t have all the bells and whistles of some of the newer stadiums, but it is truly beautiful.

We walked into the stadium via the old tunnel that was used by the football teams before the newer tunnels were constructed. Visiting the old tiny locker rooms was in stark contrast to the huge locker rooms now in use. I was amazed at the grass, Kentucky blue grass, painted with more than 100 gallons of paint for the upcoming bowl game.

The greens keeper is held in a place of high esteem, monitoring every tiny blade of grass that may have yellowed. There are monitors beneath the sod to manage moisture content, and the sod itself is replaced every year and sometimes more often if it is damaged. The sod is grown both near San Diego for the cooler temperatures and in Palm Springs, with two football fields of sod at each place ready to go at all times to the Bowl.

We were treated to a visit to the loge boxes, where guests have 4 seats outside with their own tv and access to cuisine prepared by Wolfgang Puck himself on game day. We toured the press areas, and the view from the 50 yard line. Mo likes football, but I never really cared much, so I was surprised at how interesting it was to see this famous coliseum. Thinking of it from a cultural perspective, I remembered the coliseums we have visited that are a couple thousand years old, and enjoyed noticing the similarities. Games. I also realized that much of the excitement about visiting a bowl game like this one coming up has to do with the ambience of the place itself in addition to the actual game. It is a “thing”, and somehow visiting the Rose Bowl gave me a taste of how much fun that “thing” could be. But not the price. I think the cheapest ticket for this game is more than $600.00

We weren’t allowed on the actual field, except for one woman from our group who was from Pennsylvania, and got her photo taken right on the Penn State goal. Mo said putting her foot on the actual grass was a lot like making sure that you touched the ocean, and as we walked along with the “don’t walk on the grass” signs all around us, she jumped over the line to touch that field with her feet for only a moment.

It was a great tour, with an excellent guide and one we both appreciated tremendously. I have no idea what we did when we got back to the camp, but I don’t remember cooking a thing so there must have been food of some sort. Adventure Caravans keeps throwing in little extra meals, light hors d’oeuvres, maybe pizza, or some shrimp, along with wine, beer and other drinks almost always available in the big tent on the field behind the rigs.

Be sure to check out Nickie’s blog about our shared day here and here.

12-27-2016 Traveling South Along the Great Valley

Current Location: Orange Grove RV Park Bakersfield California Clear and Chilly

For several winters now we have managed to travel south around this time of year. It is familiar territory, and takes a bit of effort for either of us to step back and appreciate that 300 miles or so between Lodi and Bakersfield, to see it with new eyes. As is often the case, even on a clear somewhat sunny day, there was a bit of murk in the air, especially east toward the Sierras. We are used to that. We are used to the rattles of the poorly maintained pavement of I – 5 in this part of California. Sometimes there are smooth stretches, with recent repairs, but more often than not the MoHo rattles and shakes and bangs when we hit road divots that should be on a back country road somewhere.

We held our noses as we passed the huge feed lots near Harris Ranch, a place where we once stopped for a steak dinner on Christmas Day. We stopped for a few moments at the rest area near Coalinga, built with thought and care with local materials to look like the old agricultural buildings that have been part of this landscape for more than a century. Again I drove up the little knoll to a vista point that gave us a view of the dual ribbon of the interstate stretching south into the distance, as far as the eye could see, thick with cars glinting in the sunlight, moving in both directions.

Today, however, there was just a bit of difference in the way I looked at the broad valley stretching toward the east from our elevated highway along the foothills of the coast range. I recently discovered an environmental writer, a crazy guy that lives in Yucca Valley, and he speaks to my heart on so many things. Chris Clarke writes like Ed Abbey mixed up with a touch of Terry Tempest Williams. The article that broke my heart was one I read recently, describing the paradise that was once the California Great Valley, as it was before corporate agriculture took it over. I know we need food, but still…do we really need to export all the almonds in the world at the expense of our land and our water, to make a corporation richer?

I mapped soils in California, I know how beautiful it can be in so many places. I have seen bits and pieces of the valley that hint at what once was. But this verbal visual picture of what we have completely lost made me cry when I read it, and today as I drove south along that valley, I remembered Chris’s words. If you want to read something beautiful, and heart rending, and important, read this article from his Coyote’s Crossing.

We were slowed by two large accidents, one semi that looked like maybe someone had fallen asleep, or as my trucker daughter said, maybe texting. The next accident looked as though it may have been a couple of cars that decided to change lanes one time too many and into each other. Traffic was fast and crazy, and lane changes were frenetic. I was happy to see no ambulance at the second wreck, and to see a woman holding her big white dog in her arms as she stood next to her upside down totaled van.

We left at 7:30 am, allowing enough time to cover the miles and not worry about arriving after dark and by 3 we were parked and set up in Orange Grove RV Park, east of Bakersfield. I have no idea how many times we have been here, but it is quite a few. The oranges keep bringing us back.

In keeping with our techie issues, Mo discovered this morning as we left frosty Lodi that the Tracker was dead. With a pull through site, we hadn’t unhooked, and decided to just pull her along until we arrived at Orange Grove. The park here was mostly empty, we pulled in straight, unhooked and I pulled the MoHo out and backed in, battery to battery. In minutes, the Tracker was purring again. We had left the fan on the last time we drove it and with the key to “accessory” in order to stay in park and still allow the steering wheel to turn, the fan was on, quietly enough that we didn’t hear it. Dead Battery. It has happened before, but not too often. The fix was easy, thank goodness.

Then we set up the satellite, with the phone at hand ready to call King. In minutes we had both satellites, a great signal, and Direct TV channels popped up just fine. Nothing was different than yesterday afternoon, and yet for no reason we could figure out, everything worked just fine. I simply have no clue, but here we are, dinner in our tummies, a good glass of wine, and the news keeping Mo company while I write.

Somehow, everything that seemed to be a problem yesterday has been resolved today, without any real effort. I love it when that happens! Not long after we arrived, I was out picking oranges, with an extra bag tucked away for Nickie and Jimmy, who are now settled in a bit north of us in Wasco.

The oranges are bigger and thicker and even sweeter than I ever remember. Even though things were empty when we arrived, the staff warned us that the park would be full to capacity tonight and in the next few days would no doubt move into overflow only. Whew. Don’t try to come here without a reservation.

Tomorrow we will drive the infamous Grapevine, a highway I remember from my childhood trips to Yosemite. Back then, in the 50’s it was an 8 hour drive over the mountains to Fresno, a wild and curvy drive, hence the name. There are still some pieces of the historic highway left for motorcyclists and hikers. Ah such wonderful memories, waking at 2 am to tuck into the back of the 52 Buick with blankets and pillows as my dad drove that winding road, watching the sun rise as we dropped down into the Great Valley.

Writer’s Block

Current Location: Rocky Point, Oregon: nice evening after a gorgeous day

I really didn’t want to fall into the trap of trying to explain why I haven’t written. Kind of like writing in your diary, “Dear Diary…sorry I haven’t written”. Diary doesn’t care, I am sure. Every one of us who write these open ended online journals run into writer’s block now and then. This time it hit me half way home from our last trip. If you don’t know me from elsewhere, you might think that we are still lost somewhere along the California coast. If I were to return to my blog a year from now, trying to figure out where we were in April, I might be rather disappointed to see that we possibly beamed ourselves, Star Trek Style, from Eureka to Rocky Point. Trinity Scenic Byway (2 of 36)

There is so much going on at the moment in our lives that travel memories have taken a bit of a back seat, but that is another story. Maybe I’ll get to it eventually, but not right now.

In actuality, the last two days of our short little vacation were spent ambling along at a snail’s pace. We decided that Highway 299 would be a good route back toward home, over the beautiful Trinity Mountains and following along the gorgeous Trinity River. Called the Trinity Scenic Byway, the route is the main road that connects the upper Sacramento Valley to the California coast.

When we left Eureka, the fog was still hanging in over Humboldt Bay, but by the time we reached Berry Summit the fog was just a wisp in the wind shrouding the mountain but not obscuring the beautiful views. The day was brilliant, the skies gorgeous, the traffic minimal. Redbuds were in bloom and the hills were Ireland green. That springtime green thing in the coast range can be so incredibly vivid. Like no other green I have ever seen anywhere.

We had a destination in mind, a mere 100 miles over the mountain to the little town of Weaverville, where I had scoped out a small RV park. We were in no hurry, and stopped along the river for photos and views. A few miles west of Weaverville, we found a forest service campground and pulled in to check it out.

Not a soul in sight, and the camp host site was empty, but there were no gates to keep us out and after walking around a bit, listening to the river, we said, “Why not?!” Our tanks were empty, we had plenty of water and no need for power so we pulled into the sweet little spot, opened up the door to the sunshine and the river and settled in for a lovely evening. Three bucks with our senior pass. Much better than that 35 bucks it would have cost in Weaverville.

The next morning we rose at our leisure and ambled on down the road to the sweet little gold rush town of Weaverville. It was charming in the way that California gold towns can be, with interesting store fronts and historical signs on the buildings.

We visited the Joss House museum visitor center, enjoying the well done displays of the Chinese culture that thrived in Weaverville during the gold rush. Neither of us felt like waiting around for a tour, so we skipped the inside of the Chinese Temple.

Once again, we were reminded of the great contribution made by the Chinese to the development of the American West.

With no desire to continue east to a boring interstate, we turned north on Highway 3, following the western shore of Trinity Lake. The road was narrow and steep in places, but not unmanageable. We stopped to view the nearly empty lake and read the non existent signs. Sign vandalism is just stupid. Although perhaps not as stupid as damming a river and backing up a lake over miles and miles of placer mine tailings.

Now that the California drought has exposed the land drowned by the reservoir, I wonder if people who are users of the millions of gallons delivered annually to the California water project are at all worried about the lead and mercury left in those tailings. I still can’t figure out the mindset of certain news pundits who say the California water problem is due to the environmentalists stopping the building of more reservoirs. The ones already there have no water in them! Talk about a waste of money! Let’s build more dams so we can have more empty reservoirs? This drought is long term, and not going to end next week.

We did see several warning signs stating that in 42 miles or so, the road would be unsuitable for trailers. No problem. We have driven those kinds of roads many times in the past. After passing the little community of Coffee Creek, where we found nothing at all, we continued north toward Scott Mountain Pass.

We ignored the sign that said no trailers once again, and within a mile knew that had been a mistake. Picture a hairpin turn with a 15 percent grade. MoHo groaned up the hill and we managed to find a turnout on the very narrow road to unhook the baby car. Next time we will pay attention. This is not an easy climb, and definitely not a place to be towing. And no, there are no photos of these few challenging moments.

Mo drove on ahead with the MoHo while I followed along in the Tracker, enjoying the gorgeous views and the beautiful wild landscape of the Trinities. Descending into the Scott Valley is a treat, with a landscape of ranching and river that is the heart of the old west.

Our evening destination, a mere 80 miles north of Weaverville, was the tiny community of Etna, California. Just 20 miles south of Eureka, Etna is charming and quiet, and boasts a great little RV park, Mountain Village. A Passport America park, there were level sites, full hookups, and grassy spaces between rigs. With the park nearly empty, we enjoyed the late afternoon thoroughly. For a mere $16.00, we spent our last night before returning to the cottage at Grants Pass the next day.

That leaning oak on the left will have to go when the house is built. That is where the western wall will extend It has been just over three weeks since that day. In that short time we spent a few days working at the cottage. Mo managed to get the 30 amp to the MoHo shed and we mowed the acre that is greening up and growing fast. My scheduled surgery required a few visits to Eugene and those overnight trips are always more delightful with the MoHo. The one time we stayed in a hotel we decided, never again. taking a break from electrical work in the RV shed

After Eugene, it was time to bring the MoHo back over the mountain to her berth in Grants Pass. We missed having her at home and with winter behind us, it was time. Of course, the only winter we had this year showed up on Easter Sunday with 1/2 an inch of snow and then again on April 14 with another half inch. Crazy.

old fort road middle In the last couple of months, we have made some big decisions about the future, moving toward a final goal of building a “forever” home on the cottage property. I also decided that it was time to sell the little house I bought in Klamath Falls back in 2002. Daughter Melody decided that as a now single mom, she needed a bit less house to manage. She has lived in the Klamath house since 2008.

Melody and my granddaughter Axel each now have an apartment at the small complex that Mo has on the edge of town in Klamath Falls. working at the apartments (10 of 12) Mo and I put some time in refurbishing those apartments, painting and cleaning, getting carpets and flooring installed so they are all nice and fresh. It was hard work but also a fun project, nice to see the apartments all pretty again. Renters are not often much fun, and don’t seem to care about how they live. I am glad that we no longer have to deal with crummy renters who trash the place.

With Melody out of the Klamath house, it was time to spruce it up for sale. I had renters in there during the time I lived in California for my final working years, and it needed fresh paint when Melody moved in back in 2008! Again, Mo and I have been busy painting, fixing, repairing and getting the house ready for market. I am really hoping that the time is right, and that she will sell quickly.

working on Painter (16 of 19) It is a great little historic bungalow in an historic neighborhood in a nice part of Klamath Falls.

finished13 Early on during this three week process, I got a phone call from the two surgeons who will be working on me, saying that the surgery had to be rescheduled from April 13 to May 4, so I gained an extra three weeks to actually get the Klamath Falls house project done. At least hopefully.

Mo and I feel like we are working again. We leave the house every morning to go to one town or another, work all day, and drive home late all tired and worn out. After surgery I am not supposed to lift anything over five pounds for 3 months! Crazy. So everything has to be done NOW or it won’t get done, at least not by me.

So, writer’s block? Yeah. I think I have a reasonable excuse.

Lighthouses in the Rain

Current Location: Crescent City, CA 43 degrees F and overcast with more rain coming

The nice thing about planning at least two nights at any spot is the free full day to explore the area. I am not sure if good weather would make exploring Crescent City a bit more alluring, but in pouring rain, one day was just enough, with time left over for kicking back in the MoHo listening to the drumming rain on the roof.

As often happens, however, the weather gods were with us when we left mid morning to check off the list of “21 things to do in Crescent City”. The rain let up, and the heavy skies were magnificently interesting as we drove across the highway and down the road a piece to the Crescent City Harbor.

On Sunday, all was fairly quiet, and I am sure the inclement weather may have had something to do with that as well. It didn’t stop the surfers on Crescent Beach, however. One “thing to do” checked off: visit Crescent Beach. The surfers were determined, in spite of the rain. Mo and I wondered why they wear wet suits that make them look like seals instead of something hot fuchsia or fluorescent lime. At least a shark might not mistake them as easily for food.

We explored the Marina area, including the somewhat dicey looking Harbor RV Park. Crescent City is still an active fishery and there were many interesting boats in the harbor. There are informative signs and photos of the tsunami generated by the Japan earthquake in 2011. The high water mark was haunting as we looked back trying to imagine how far inland the surge extended. There were several surges with huge damages to the harbor. There were also images of the Alaskan earthquake of 1964 and the devastating effects that tsunami had on the town of Crescent City.

The Visitor Center was closed. Sunday is not necessarily a good day to visit a small town in the winter season. By the time we reached the end of the road, the rain had mostly stopped. The Battery Point Lighthouse view parking lot had signs for “event parking”. Our timing was impeccable. The tide was out and people were trekking across the rocks and up the hill to visit the beautiful little lighthouse perched on a rock, only accessible on foot when the tide is out.

We could see folks in the light area, but the main door was closed. I assumed it was a tour scheduled for the opportune moment of lowest tides. The residence for the lightkeeper is actually in the lower part of the lighthouse, and there are signs indicating that it is a private residence and the occupants shouldn’t be bothered. I am not sure how one would actually sign up for the tour, maybe the Visitor Center?

By the time we returned to the parking lot, the tide was already coming back up and I was glad for walking sticks and shoes that could handle the water. The rain started up in earnest. An hour later we would have missed both the low tide moment and the break in the heavy rain that poured most of the day after that magic little moment.

We drove out the Pebble Beach Road to the end of St George Point, where several signs noted that there was a huge fine for disturbing and archaeological site, but with no information as to why it was considered such. Searching the internet, I found a few scholarly papers discussing the Tolowa people who once lived in that area. I would imagine that if the Visitor Center had been open, we may have found more information available.

The Museum was also closed, and would have provided fascinating stuff, including the lens that once occupied the infamous Point St George Lighthouse, the one we see in the middle of the ocean from Harris Beach in Brookings.

At lunch, I saw a painting of the lighthouse, with a boat being lifted by a crane to the boat landing above the sea. An internet search yielded fascinating photos and the amazing story of the wild lighthouse set on a lonely rock with ocean on all sides. A scary place to be assigned in the days of lighthouse keeping.

Wiki tells the story a bit, but I would imagine there would have been much more at the museum or the visitor center. According to the internet, the light was decommissioned in 1975, but later relit. There have been helicopter tours that were available until some kind of regulation problem, but they are in the process of being reinstated. This is an interesting read~

We drove south along 101 in seriously heavy rain on the narrow road that led to the Crescent Beach Overlook and Enderts Beach, where we found a wonderful section of the coastal trail leading south along bluffs that rivaled those at Big Sur. Even in the rain it was gorgeous. We saw several hardy souls in rain gear hiking, even some young families. The rain was so intense I couldn’t even get out the camera and decided to skip viewing the overlook. Would love to go back to this spot and hike this trail in better weather.

Before returning home, we ended our explorations with a great late lunch at the Chart Room, off Anchor Road on the Marina. The restaurant was filled to capacity with people who all seemed to know each other, with many “hi’s” and “how are you’s” echoing around the big room with a harbor view. The fish and chips were stellar, enough for a full lunch and enough to take home for another full meal for the next day. For dessert, I finally found a blackberry cobbler that was runny and juicy and not too sweet or too sour, with the perfect cobbler crust. I was thinking after two misses back in Florence, that the only way I wasn’t going to get a gluey piece of gummy cobbler was to make it myself back home!

I would have liked to visit both the Visitor Center and the Museum and after our single day of rainy explorations, I think we have seen enough to entice us to return.