hiking – Page 8 – The MoHo and Other Traveling Tales

Hiking on Christmas Eve, and heading home

I ’m sitting at my desk once again at home in Rocky Point, with snow outside the darkened windows, a blazing fire in the woodstove, and all the glory of high def big screen television illuminating the living room down the hall. Seems almost impossible that two days ago I was feeling the warm sun on my body as I hiked through the Coachella Preserve in a pair of shorts. In spite of many internet searches and phone calls, we never did find a dog friendly trail for Abby, so instead Mo spent the morning relaxing in the MoHo while I took off hiking with Laurie and Odel, who graciously offered to drive. It was the first time that I have entered the murky gloom of a desert California fan palm oasis, and I was completely enthralled. The hike through the palms was less than a mile, however, not enough to even touch the 10,000 steps that are the daily goal of my hiking partners. Instead we opted for a 4 mile mostly ridge run through the desert.

…

The trail offered magnificent views in all directions, and the snow frosted peaks of the surrounding mountains made everything look all the more dramatic. With temperatures in the mid-60’s, the hike was perfect, just a few short climbs to get the blood moving, and long strolls punctuated with many stops along the way to talk about all the things that we don’t blog, aka politics, religion, and of course, all the other RV bloggers that we both read and enjoy! Stopping at a particularly gorgeous overlook, Laurie commented that she thought the huge rift below us looked like a fault. Bingo, Laurie! That was the San Andreas Fault, bisecting the park, lying beneath us. The fan palms are there due to the seeps and springs coming from the fault zone, and the fabulous warm waters of Desert Hot Springs are also a result of the active fault. Lucky us! Great hiking, hot pools, palms for shade, and no earthquakes!

Back in camp, Mo and I sat outside in the sun for a long time, until the lengthening evening shadows forced us indoors. Once it was all the way dark, we strolled through the park, enjoying all the Christmas light displays and listening to the music drifting on the evening air. With only two days of brilliant sun, and that luxurious hot water pool, the trip felt like a complete success, even with the crazy weather.

We planned to drive on Christmas, hoping for light traffic and good weather, and we weren’t disappointed. Christmas morning was beautiful, with so little wind that the mighty windmills were still for the first time since we have been here in the desert. Traveling I-10, to the 210 through Pasadena (close to my birthplace in Sierra Madre), then to I-5 and over the Grapevine was completely uneventful, except for the ker-thunkety ker-plunkety road sounds that frustrated Jeremy more than any of us. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t settle down in his usual spot on the MoHo dash. The road surfaces in California in many places are very old and very tired, and nowhere more so than on these major interstates. My truck driving daughter says they are some of the worst highways in the country. I would agree, especially after just returning from Florida where turnpikes and road fees make for some highways as smooth as butter and as well lit as a videogame. Ah well, eventually the I-5 smoothed out a bit, the rain stayed north of us and we made our way to Coalinga. I spent some good phone time with each of my four kids scattered around the country, and talked with friends here and there as well. Just exactly what I would have done on this day if I had been back in Rocky Point.

Near Coalinga we passed the Harris Ranch, a huge complex of restaurant, store and inn, with an interesting history. Mo spontaneously said, “Hey, how about a steak!”. We parked in the huge lot to the west of the complex and decided to see if it was possible to get in for dinner. To our surprise, we didn’t even have to wait. Did you ever eat a 32 dollar steak in a tee shirt?? It was totally comfortable, with some folks in diamonds and glitz, and others fresh off the road as we were. The service was fantastic, and the steaks were all natural, no hormones added, grass fed beef. I had a glass of knarly oak old vine zinfandel that was an experience to itself. I wouldn’t want to drink that wine alone, but with dinner it was perfect. I swear I could taste the dirt beneath the old vine in that glass. The ambience was lovely, with a huge old fireplace blazing brightly, Christmas music in the background, and twinkly lights everywhere. Turned out to be the perfect Christmas dinner for us, and I didn’t even have to cook a thing.

Back on the road for one short hour of hard driving rain and wind before we found a little KOA at the San Luis RV Resort near Gustine, where we had reserved a space by phone earlier in the day. The site was pull-through, and it just took a few minutes to hook up in the rain. We lit the flameless candle, turned on the flickering snowman, pulled all the shades, and were suddenly in our own little heaven, safe and warm, watching Christmas shows till bedtime. I love that part about RVing, the quick changes, the variety, and then the nesty safety of it all. No suitcases to lug around, to fluorescent lit front desks to deal with, just pull in, plug in, and you are home.

We spent the once again sunny Sunday morning driving to Redding along I-5, again just out of reach of the hardest rains until we landed in our little boring Redding RV Park along the freeway. There was enough time left in the day for a quick trip up the hill to Mo’s uncle living in Shingletown, so we made a quick call and left for the hills. Uncle Don was a World War II pilot, and then a commercial pilot, married to his sweet Maxine for many decades. Maxine left the world a couple of years ago, and Uncle Don is on his own now, and doing absolutely great for a man in his 80’s. We had great fun visiting and listening to airplane stories, and playing with his little Boston Terrier, Spike. Down the mountain in the dark, and before long we were again safely tucked in to our little haven. We spent our last night on the road for our big cross country trip here, and now we are here again. I would imagine we might use this park quite often, since it is just a mile or so down the road from where we store the MoHo. At $15.40 cash only with the CampClub USA card, it’s a deal.

This morning was easy. We found a place to fill the propane, and a great self service car wash big enough for the MoHo to get her all cleaned up for a few weeks in storage. Have you ever heard of a coin car wash that takes credit cards?? It was great, no quarters clinking away and no bells beeping. We just washed till we were done and paid the bill. $7.25 a steal for sure! By eleven she was tucked away in her berth and we were on the interstate driving north toward Klamath Falls. Somehow that last 150 miles seemed soooo long. For one thing, we were in the baby car, not the big cushy leather seats of the MoHo, and the cat couldn’t figure out where to be and the dog thought the cat was in her space and wasn’t happy about it. Jeremy, who is really a sweetheart most of the time, reached around the seat and slapped Abby for no good reason at all. Reminded me of a couple of kids in the car fighting for space.

Now here we are, all settled in at home. The car is unloaded, the laundry is running, the dog is sleeping at Mo’s feet and the cat is sprawled out on the back of the sofa. Just like we never left. Amazing to me how that happens.

Foggy Days in Eureka

Early this morning we woke to see the park lights muted by fog. As the light came slowly, the fog didn’t lift at all. Kayaking anywhere around Humboldt Bay requires working with the tides, and high tide was coming in today around 11am. If we were to get out on the water and back without getting stranded on a mudflat, we needed to be out by 10 at the latest. At ten, the fog was a thick as ever. I know we could have gone anyway, but somehow boating unknown waters when you can’t see anything anyway isn’t very enticing. On to Plan B.

…

We got a great free publication from the RV manager called “101 Things to Do Humboldt”. The best part for us was the centerfold map of Humboldt Bay with all the boat launching sites and descriptions of kayaking options. Still, in the fog, the description of nearby Ferndale sounded much more inviting. Visiting Ferndale is like visiting the past. The entire Main Street has been designated a national Register Historic District due to the finely preserved commercial and residential buildings. Rich bottom land and plentiful grass supports a still thriving dairy industry, which has sustained the community since the late 1800’s. The ornate “Painted Ladies” were once called “Butterfat Palaces”.

There is a fascinating mix of shops, including a real drugstore, the oldest continuously operating drugstore in California. We ambled through town, taking our time looking at “stuff”, some of it beautiful art, and some of it just a bunch of “stuff”. The only temptation for me came with the yarn shop. Knitters know that this hobby isn’t about knitting as much as it is about yarn! I managed to get out of there without buying a gorgeous hank of hand dyed mohair that really called to me. I have two bins of “stash” including some truly gorgeous wool, silk, mohair, and other amazing yarns, so I practiced self-control and didn’t buy any.

In another specialty shop, the owner spent some time laughing with us about how hard it is to decorate a very tall tree when you are very short, and then proceeded to give us the history of the store. Almost every single shopkeeper asked us from where we hailed. It was leisurely and fun and I only spent a small amount on a bottle of yummy orange blossom hand lotion.

…

After wandering the downtown area, we ambled up the hill to the cemetery, one of the most amazing cemeteries I have seen since New Orleans. It’s on a hill overlooking the town and some of the plots date back to the 1890’s. The view toward the ocean overlooking the town was beautiful.

…

By this time, Abby had been waiting in the car long enough so we decided to drive west to the Centerville beach area. With the fog lifting a bit, we thought a bit about trying to put the boats in the slough, but the tide was already going out and our timing would be off. The trip out to the beach meanders along a small road that passes dairies and farmhouses, even a very old abandoned Victorian is total disrepair, a perfect haunted house.

The beach was open and empty, no other cars or people in sight, and the wind wasn’t blowing hard either, just a nice ocean breeze. The sun lifted a bit and we got in a great beach walk, which Abby loved as well. Back to the car, the narrow road led up the hill into nowhere, so of course we had to go check it out. On the GPS I could see we were near the ocean, but the little car icon was cruising through no man’s land, no road supposedly there at all. Google Maps on the phone could see some semblance of road, but of course reception was spotty or non existent.

We traveled on anyway, up and down and around, until we came upon a BLM parking area and a sign for the Guthrie Creek Trailhead. Yay! Abby could go with us, and there wasn’t a soul in sight, and no cars parked at the trailhead. It seems now that with a couple of pricey kayaks on the top of the car we are a bit reluctant to leave it parked in the middle of nowhere. We figured we were safe enough here, and headed down the trail. Sure enough, as soon as we set out a man appeared coming up the trail. We couldn’t figure out where he came from, but he was nice and we visited a bit while he told us he was “camping” on some property he had nearby. Hmmm. At least he didn’t have a car to carry off the boats! We have a bolt cutter proof bike cable and plan to at least lock the two boats together on the racks so someone would have a heck of a time getting them down.

The trail was perfect, not too steep, wide and mowed with beautiful views of the ocean and Guthrie Creek below us. The fog was coming in again and the wind was pretty stiff once beyond the protection of the hills at the view overlook area, so we turned back. It would be good hike to go all the way down to the beach. Again, with the high surf and sneaker waves around we thought it might not be a day to actually go down to the closed in beach.

We topped off the afternoon with a side trip to the Loleta Cheese Factory. In Oregon, Tillamook cheese is quite famous, and they have tours of the factory and cheese tasting. Oregon also has Bandon cheese, in my opinion, even better than Tillamook. The Loleta Cheese Factory was a real treat, different in that much more of the cheese making process here is by hand. It is a small, family run business that produces medal winning cheeses and 34 varieties made in small batches using traditional recipes to maintain the old flavors. I didn’t know until today that the kind of cheese depends on the culture added when the cheese is first made.

Our side trip to taste cheese and watch it made seemed like a great thing to do in an area that owed it’s history and economy to the dairy industry. We arrived late in the afternoon and the cheese makers were just emptying the last vat of cheese, but the young woman at the counter explained the whole process to us while we snacked on tiny tidbits of the tastiest cheese I have tried yet. Especially wonderful was the organic all natural white cheddar, aged about a year and a half so far, with no hormones or antibiotics fed to the cows. It turned out to be a lovely day seeing new things and new places.

September 27 Hiking in Capital Reef

The rest of the photos for this hiking day are here>

The wind blew most of the night, bringing fresh, cool, dry air with it. The humidity must be under ten percent and the moon was brilliant even though it is now less than full. I couldn’t sleep last night, in spite of the fresh breezes, and stayed up writing and looking at photos. For some crazy reason, the wireless connection that didn’t work at all earlier managed to work fine after midnight. Now, at 8 or so in the evening, I still have no wireless. I don’t plan to stay up till midnight again tonight posting photos, believe me!

Morning was cool and breezy, perfect for a hiking day. Our camp hostess gave us the number of a dog groomer who was also willing to board Abby for the day so we could hike without worry. In spite of the cool morning, we turned on the air conditioner for Jeremy, left behind safely in the MoHo.

Breakfast at the Capital Reef Inn and Cafe was light and perfect and we traveled back along highway 24 east to the park entrance. One of the first park trails after entering the park is the Chimney Rock Trail, and as many times as I have been here, I never bothered to hike this one. However, a great hiking guide book I found at the cafe this morning discussed Spring Canyon, just beyond the Chimney Rock Loop trail, and we decided that it would be a perfect days hike.

I have too many photos of this canyon. Photographers far better than me with equipment far finer than mine still can’t capture the grandeur and majesty of these canyon walls. We hiked about 4 miles into Spring Canyon, through narrows with walls 400 feet tall on both sides. It certainly didn’t qualify as a slot canyon, with the narrowest corridor maybe 50 yards wide, but it filled my heart’s desire to walk between massive walls of Wingate sandstone and feel the color red. You don’t see red in these canyons, you feel it.

Of course, after eight miles and less water than I should have carried, I was feeling red in a different way, and climbing out of the fairly easy hike into the canyon just about did me in. It was only in the mid 80’s but the sun was intense and the breezes were sporadic. When we finally reached the switchbacks half a mile from the trailhead, I looked down and wondered how in the world we actually climbed up that that thing! I was glad for my hiking sticks, believe me, and my knees were grateful, too.

September 10 back home to the States

The rest of the photos for this day of travels are here

The morning was cloudy and damp in Ontario and the day seemed gloomier yet with our need to find a place to repair the Tracker. Our plan was to cross the border, and then stop to see if we could find some kind of repair shop to check out the transmission. Without a phone or internet access, it’s so difficult to function reasonably. Garmin Girl proved so dependable taking us through complex freeway systems that we didn’t hesitate to try it again today. I drove the MoHo with Mo following behind in the Tracker while we set the address for some unknown place in West Seneca, New York.

The border crossing was uneventful, without even a request for our animal papers. Understandable in the MoHo perhaps because the cat was safely tucked away in his carrier. In the Tracker, though, Abby was clearly visible, and the agent didn’t say a word or ask for anything but passports. In a matter of minutes we were in Buffalo, on US soil, with miles again instead of kilometers. I pulled into a large parking lot in West Seneca, and Mo pulled in behind me. She hollered joyously when the Tracker slipped into neutral effortlessly. Who knows. But finally we could hook up the car again and be on our way through New York to our next destination.

The sweet little neighbors in Toronto told us about Watkins Glen, in the Finger Lakes District, and after reviewing the maps and checking mileage, we decided it was a much more relaxing destination than Blue Mountain Lake in the Adirondacks. Especially when we realized that we could actually stay two nights and have time to enjoy the trails and waterfalls. With my iPhone once again operational, I checked out campgrounds while Mo drove through the winding, gorgeous landscape of this part of New York. The hardwood forests are thick, lush, and green, with only a touch here and there of brilliant orange or red tips on the trees.

The KOA campground seemed the most likely choice from what I could see on the phone, and when I called they said they were nearly booked due to the Vintage Road Race being held today in Watkins Glen. She found a nook for us, though, and we took it. Expensive as heck, but it is Friday and we had no clue where we might land. The state park was our first choice, but it was also booked except for the dry camps that were first come first served. We opted for the KOA and shortly were settled in to a somewhat bumpy, marginal site near the pond. This KOA has an indoor swimming pool and spa which hopefully we will have time to try out tomorrow. The rest of the amenities aren’t that great, and our site doesn’t have sewer, cable hasn’t been installed out here yet, and the wireless internet connection is as slow as dialup. Ah well. We are camped and settled at least.

After reviewing the excellent brochures provided, we opted to spend the afternoon traveling towards Ithaca and the waterfalls and trails at the state parks in that area. I kept trying to remember why Ithaca was so familiar to me, but of course, Cornell University is there. And the Moosewood Restaurant, home of the vegetarian cookbooks that were my cooking bible back in the early 80’s. Geez.

By the time we were back on the road, the skies had cleared except for huge white puffy clouds punctuating the brilliant blue. Ahh. blue and white and green again. The tiny town of Watkins Glen, however, was completely off limits because of the races and the closing of the main streets in town. In dead stop bumper to bumper traffic, we asked the policeman how to get where we were going. The only route was nearly 50 miles out of the way. Pretty stupid for them not to have some kind of detour set up for travelers trying to get around in the area. Back to the iPhone which allows me to see the actual aerial photo and maps and try to come up with a route. The GPS has no idea about closings and routes and only wants an address. Once again, I sit in the passenger seat, two fisted navigating, phone in one hand, GPS in the other, and a map on my lap trying to get us through the crazy back roads to Taughannock State Park

Eventually we were successful, and the falls were delicate but lovely, and at 215 feet, the highest falls in the northeast. The trail around the rim of the canyon and the upper falls was well marked, fenced for safety from the extreme cliffs, and dog friendly. It was a great walk and felt good to be again in a place less populated than we have been recently.

After our hike, we were ready for supper, and I searched the reliable iPhone again for a good restaurant in Ithaca. There were dozens, but we decided on the BoatYard. The evening was cool, with a nice breeze, so we left Abby in the car with the windows a bit open to wait for us while we enjoyed our dinner. The restaurant was great, the service excellent, and we had steaks for the first time in a very long time, with a glass of California old vine zinfandel. Ahh, delightful! Until half way through dinner the hostess came looking for us to report that the police were waiting for us because someone had reported animal abuse because Abby was in the car. Mo stepped out to talk with them, and it was all OK, but it was definitely a bit disconcerting. Our relaxing, somewhat spendy dinner cut short, we packed up what was left and headed out to see Cornell University and the rest of Ithaca.

The town had seemed so peaceful, but once we entered the Collegetown area it became obvious just how big Ithaca really is, especially with all the students in town. It was crazy traffic, and students everywhere, steep, winding streets, and no clue as to where we were trying to go. Even with my two fisted navigation, it was a mess. After a quick look at the main part of Cornell, we wound our way back through town and south to try to find our little KOA home. Again, with the roads closed in Watkins Glen until after nine, I had to find an alternative. This time we routed some very back roads, and over a very steep hill we hooked up with 414 south, just a few miles north of the KOA.

Whew! Home! Out came the leftovers, and we settled in to our evening at home with plans for more waterfall hiking tomorrow.

Silver Falls State Park Day 3 and 4

Photos for the entire trip are here.

Sunday morning dawned beautifully, with clear skies and wonderfully fresh air. On the previous evening, we noticed a lot more activity on the trails and decided that it would be nicer to wait until Monday for our waterfall hikes. After a big happy breakfast of bacon, eggs and potatoes (the favorite for camping weekends) we dressed in clothes appropriate for a town visit and headed north on HWY 214 to explore Silverton.

Silverton was listed as one of the ten “coolest” small towns in America in a CBS News poll in 2009. The criteria was that the population be less than 10,000 and included requirements that you be able to get a good cup of coffee and that there are more galleries than country stores. Silverton fits that picture very well, although we saw a lot more restaurants than galleries, and the number of quaint little shops seemed a bit limited. One of my favorites was “The Purl District”. Being a knitter, I love to find local yarn shops and visit with the creative people there. The Purl District didn’t disappoint, although a chat with the proprietor indicated that like other small knit shops in other rural towns, she is hanging on by a thread. Just a little aside here, please buy your yarn from local shops if you can.

We walked around town, looking in the restaurants, and checking out the few galleries. Silverton’s Chinatown was different, and consisted of one shop and one restaurant. There was also a Thai restaurant that tempted me with great fragrances as I watched something wonderful being delivered to a patron. After that big breakfast it didn’t seem appropriate to eat again just two hours later! Another surprise as we explored the town was a great grocery store, Roth’s Fresh Market. With a little research, I found that this locally owned chain of markets was first established right here in Silverton. It was a bit like a small and local combination of Whole Foods and Trader Joe’s, with a fine bakery, fresh flowers, and 4 long double rows of really good wine. I bought a bottle of organic “Our Daily Red” from the Orleans Hill Winery in Nevada City for under $9.00. It was truly good, and no sulfites! I hope I can find this wine again without having to drive north to a Roth’s market!

Silverton is only a short drive from Salem, and only an hour from Portland. Even though it is growing, it has retained some of the great character that made it a favorite. Especially beautiful is the gorgeous Silver Creek that flows through town and the myriad blooming dogwoods, azaleas and other flowers. Driving the streets revealed great historic bungalows, some neighborhoods with wide streets and manicured yards, others narrow and less appealing. The best part of the town is how dog-friendly it is. With 9,500 people and a dog population of more than 1,500, many restaurants in town have patio dining spots that allow your dog to sit at your feet, and an annual pet parade in honor of Bobbie, a collie who found his way home to Silverton from Indiana in 1924. Parking is still metered on the street, and the meters still take pennies: twelve minutes for once cent, although on Sunday we didn’t have to pay.

After exploring the local streets, we branched out to amble along country roads around town, enjoying the beautiful nursery fields filled with young Japanese maples and dogwoods. Farther afield, as we headed back to camp, the bluegrass fields stretched across rolling hills into the distance, emerald green and lush. The sun was warm and the sky punctuated by billowy white clouds. It couldn’t have been a more perfect drive.

Back in camp, we were met by my daughter, Deborah, who drove the hour from Portland where she lives. I was delighted to have some time with Deb, and glad that she came to spend the night and hike the waterfalls. Deb also brought along a great bottle of wine, a Pinot Noir from Oak Knoll, an Oregon winery. I guess I have to search for this one as well! A bottle of Barefoot is fine, but now and then a treat is definitely in order. We let the cat, Jeremy, out to play in the forest and he had a wonderful time scratching trees and running up and down the pathways.

We visited a bit before Deb and I hopped on the bikes to explore some of the great bike trails in the park. It was a wonderful ride, just hilly enough to be challenging, paved and smooth, and punctuated by long stretches of downhill glides. Deborah hails from one of the most bike-friendly cities in the country, but she still appreciated a bike trail that wasn’t next to a road. When we returned to camp, Mo started up the evening fire and we cooked a great steak supper over the coals. I even baked a campfire potato for the three of us to share. Guess I had better work on that a bit more because it was very black and crusty on the outside without much left on the inside! I am spoiled with a quick microwave baked potato while traveling, but this time I didn’t want to turn on the generator for 5 minutes of potato baking!

The evening ended perfectly with wine and conversation and roasting the marshmallows that Deb brought for us. So many times as I sit looking at the coals of our great campfires I think about marshmallows. I don’t even like them that much, but roasting them is so much fun. Of course, some caught fire, and we had a competition for the most perfectly roasted mallow. The MoHo has a nice sofa, and Deb was cozy and comfortable just as it was without making it out into a bed. It was the first time we have had guests overnight in the MoHo.

……

…..

On Monday morning, we cooked another weekend breakfast for Deborah, with the excuse of a good long hike planned for the day. Mo and I went for another bike ride around the campground with Abby on her leash, with the hope that she would be then content to rest in the car while we hiked the “no dogs allowed” Canyon Trail. What a great way to exercise the dog! She eventually wears out before we do! The skies were again dark and cloudy, but the rain held off most of the day. The Trail of Ten Falls extends almost 9 miles, but has several trailheads and various options for hiking a shorter distance. We hiked part of the Canyon Trail and returned via the Maple Ridge Trail. I had seen photos of the waterfalls, but somehow in my research on the park I never realized that the trail goes behind many of the falls. Standing behind a crashing stream of water as it cascades over cliff and rock is an energizing experience. The trail is beautiful, and even the very steep, stone stairs that lead to the Lower South Falls are well maintained, and even have a railing. It was so much fun having time to hike with my daughter, something we haven’t had a chance to do for a long time.

…

<img src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_rBpk0C4raa8/S9s8isyepII/AAAAAAAAywA/mdRveN8LI0o/videoda3a0a5f437a%5B3%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="border-style: none" galleryimg="no" onload="var downlevelDiv = document.getElementById('f956c873-8286-4fbd-b3b3-2053dc441e7a'); downlevelDiv.innerHTML = "

http://www.youtube.com/v/M475CWPv9rI&hl=en“;” alt=””>

After Deb left, Mo and I drove to the north end of the park to hike the trails to the Upper North Falls and North Falls. It was raining fairly hard on the Upper North Falls trail and we had most of the walk to ourselves. Upper North Falls was lovely, but the trail ends at the lower pool. Heading back west on the trail, we hiked down another bank of steep, slippery steps to North Falls. This waterfall is visible from the Rim Trail and the main road at a distance, but nothing prepared either of us for the intensity of hiking into the dark, dry cave behind this waterfall. Mo sat for a time on the bench just enjoying the falls while I walked around trying to take videos. I knew that a photo wouldn’t come close to capturing what it felt like to be there. This entire experience really whetted my appetite for our visit to Niagara Falls coming up in the fall.

By Sunday evening many campers were leaving, and on this Monday night we had all of Loop A to ourselves, with only a few folks left over in the B loop. This park is definitely a place that becomes very quiet during the week, so another great benefit of retirement will be the ability to return and camp during weekdays. Supper was another salad and some soup while we enjoyed another huge fire in the pouring rain. This was the first time we could actually sit by the fire and still be under the MoHo awning and stay dry. I roasted some more marshmallows and finished the wine! We had to angle the awning to keep the water from pooling. The rain continued all night, pounding and drumming on the roof while we stayed warm and dry. Tuesday morning it was still raining, but let up just enough for us to pack up camp and drive the two miles back to the free RV dump site on the north side of the park. As we drove down the highway back toward home, the skies darkened, then opened, then darkened again. Predictions for Klamath and all the passes leading to the east side of the mountains were for snow, so with a bit of apprehension we chose to return via Interstate 5 through Medford. The choice was a good one, and at the summit of the pass near Lake of the Woods, the temperature stayed at a steady 34 degrees, in spite of the snow all around us and falling. We arrived home in time to beat the heaviest snows, even though by Wednesday morning the MoHo sitting in the driveway for final unloading was covered in three inches! Isn’t it just a few days until May?