road trips – Page 7 – The MoHo and Other Traveling Tales

Traveling South

Our departure from Rocky Point seemed easy. With hugs all around in the morning, and daughter and grandson on the road back to Portland, we left Christmas behind us. Without a speck of snow on the road at home, very little snow even on the pass at 5,200 feet, and clear skies to the west, the drive was simple. The prediction was for a huge rain storm to pummel the northwest, but we slipped out of town just in time to miss the entire thing.

The drive to Brookings is beautiful and simple, with only a short stretch of interstate between Medford and Grants Pass and the beautiful highway 199 through the Illinois Valley and along the Smith River to the coast. Reaching Brookings in mid afternoon, we were happy to see that the MoHo was still safely tucked away without any unexpected mishaps.

Except for the smell. I think I have read a lot about strange smells in RV’s, but we were sure that something had died in there. Mo checked all the mouse traps, the cupboards, and the basement, but found nothing. It didn’t smell like sewer, it smelled exactly like a dead thing in the wall. We opened up all the windows, turned on the fan and drove across town to Freddy’s to gas up with our ten cent discount. By the time we got there, the smell was almost bearable, but I surely wasn’t happy about it. I kept thinking something must have found it’s way into one of the waste water tanks.

The other moment of truth was when Mo hit the button to turn on the lights and…nada…nothing….not even a click. We tried the generator startup, again…not a click. Oh. yeah….we are supposed to hit that switch that takes the system out of storage and puts it back on “use”. Duh! Then after filling up we tried to hook up the baby car and hunted and hunted for the electrical connection cord that we keep under the drivers seat of the Tracker. No cord. Mo couldn’t figure out why in the world she would have taken it out but it was nowhere to be found. Until….she looked in back of the spare tire holder on the MoHo and lo and behold, it was right there where we decided last trip that it could stay all the time. Duh again! I guess that is what happens when we have almost two months between trips. As Mo said laughing, “Stupid Us”.

After a few hours of driving, the tank smells seemed to dissipate completely and with some extended reading we figured out that maybe we need to add something to our gray water tank the way we add to the black water tank when the rig is going to be stored for any length of time. Lots of folks out there have lots of suggestions about all this, so next time, (if we remember) we will be sure to follow some of those suggestions. AKA…water softener in the tanks, maybe some bleach down the drain, and who knows what else. I’ll have to go read again I guess.

We thought we might reach Eureka on the first evening, but then decided that it would be nicer to boondock somewhere a bit sooner since it was getting dark. I hate to pay for an expensive park when all I plan to do is sleep! I pulled up my trusty AllStays Camp and RV app on the phone and found a free OP site (overnight parking) within a few miles of where we were, near Trinidad, California. Within minutes we were comfortably parked in a very brightly lit casino rv lot, with a faucet for potable water if we needed it and very few folks around. A quick call to the Chere-Ae Casino confirmed that parking was free and we didn’t need to check in. It was late and dark by the time we arrived, so we managed to park for free without spending a single cent at the casino, in fact, we never even went inside!

Time stops in Florida

It probably doesn’t help that I just finished reading Stephen King’s novel “11-22-63” about traveling around in time. When I am here in Florida, I somehow feel as though I have stepped into a time-warp of sorts. Bel isn’t working, and her days seem to run together in a flow of cat food plates, letting kitties in and out of the door, a break for a cigarette, more cat play, and short store runs.

The first day I was here we delivered prescriptions to Wal-Mart. The second day I stood in line to pick them up, almost an hour for that process. Today we ambled mid-day down to Staples so I could buy a computer mouse for the laptop I sent her last month.

Tonight I think we are going to go downtown to see the First Friday Art Walk at the Downtown Square in Ocala. Those of you who know me, or even those who have read my stories for a bit of time, know that I usually am kind of attached to “getting stuff done”.

My job when here with Bel is to slow myself down and listen. To sit and knit, and wait until the time is right to do whatever I can manage to do to try to be a good friend to Bel. Yeah, it wears me out. I am not the least bit in control of anything at all. Bel’s conversation wanders, and I learn to wander along with her and learn not to tell her what she needs to do or when or how. Any idea how very hard that is for a type A person like me??!!

A good part of this morning was taken up with bathing. Bel doesn’t use her hot water heater, instead she heated up pans of water and provided me with several gallon jugs of perfectly warmed bath water to use in the shower. After 5 jugs I had a truly fabulous shower, clean hair including conditioner, and it felt just great. Reminded me of camping.

Yesterday after picking up the prescriptions I just couldn’t quite make myself go back to the house and instead I said, “How bout a trip to Micanopy”. Bel complied, as long as I stop for smoke breaks and make sure she has plenty of Mountain Dew, she is fine with a couple of hours or so in the car.

The sun was brilliant and warm coming through the car windows, and within minutes of Wal-Mart we were driving north on 336 toward Anthony and then on to MacIntosh and Micanopy, the “other” Florida. On the way, we passed through Citra, stopping for huge sweet oranges fresh from the trees.

When I was traveling the Alaska Highway, my favorite parts were the stretches without any other cars on the road and somehow in this part of Florida I get those same moments, minus the mountain grandeur of course, but still. Open road…no cars…either direction. The live oaks stretch across the road, dripping with gray Spanish moss, with vines meandering through the branches, catching all the light and reflecting it back like stained glass.

Micanopy is very nearly silent, quiet in the way it seems that only a southern town can be. Big old houses, old brick buildings now selling antiques, a bed and breakfast here and there, an ice cream shop. We park in the shade and walk the streets before being told by a storekeeper about the Thursday chicken and dumpling special across the street at the café. The bowl is styrofoam, but the chairs are “real” naugahyde and the chicken and dumplings are true south.

On the way back home, we stop at Lowe’s for something or other and are sidetracked by the garden shop, filled with blooming plants and flowers on this winter day in Florida. Bel, with her wacky sense of humor, finds a pink plastic flamingo and takes it for a ride in her cart until she finds a proper resting place for the poor guy. Time has stopped again. My real life seems far away and unreachable, in spite of the daily phone calls home. I feel a bit loose, a bit disoriented. My friendship with Bel is from another life, one I barely remember, yet still meaningful and important to honor. So here I am, in Florida, in the time warp.

August 30 Tuesday Fellow bloggers are FUN

I follow a lot of RV bloggers, and have learned so much from many of them. Of course I have favorites, but I certainly don’t plan to publish a list! Most bloggers have something wonderful to say and interesting to report at one time or another, and in spite of my personal favorites, many of them could be a favorite for a day at least. Donna K and Russ just happen to be pretty high on that list, and are favorites almost every day. With their location just north of us in Eugene, I knew that we would eventually get to meet each other.

We had a leisurely morning at camp, and were especially glad that we had packed up all the outdoor chairs and rugs the night before since the morning was once again damp and misty. The RV dump at Silver Falls is at the far north end of the park, a few miles from the campground, so we hooked up the baby car and traveled that winding road one more time to dump, and then one last time to travel back south toward Salem and I-5.

I called Donna to confirm our ETA and we continued south on the 5 toward Eugene. It was an uneventful journey, and I had both a printed map from google and the iPhone tracking where we were and where we were going. We had agreed to meet at a pizza parlor on 126. Business 126. The exit east toward Highway 126 is actually on the freeway. I kept looking at the map wondering why in the world it was navigating us so far south and told Mo, “What the heck, take the 126 east to Springfield.” Less than a minute after the turn I saw my mistake, and the phone rang at the same time. It was Russ. “Hey, we just saw the MoHo turning off on 126 and that is the wrong turn!” I lost a bunch of points as main navigator in that moment and we laughed together on the phone while Russ told us how to cross Springfield from our new location and get back to the pizza parlor.

I think it is really amazing how well you can know someone you have never met from their blog and their comments on other blogs. Russ and Donna were exactly as I imagined them, fun, kind, friendly, honest, and lovely people. And funny! We laughed a lot together as we talked RVing, blogging, Oregon, and our families. Thank you for the pizza, guys, and the wonderful visit! I am looking forward to all of us getting together again when Russ and Donna head toward our part of the world. Russ was actually raised in Klamath Falls, and I found out that Donna and I grew up at about the same time within miles of each other in the Southern California world. In fact, I keep wondering if Donna maybe went to the same church camp I went to in Idyllwild, California.

Another fun little resource for me happens to be Facebook and now Google Plus. Laurie (Semi-True Tales) and I are Facebook friends, and even though she hadn’t yet blogged about her travels along the McKenzie River, she had posted a photo on Facebook of the lovely falls. Mo already had suggested that she wanted us to take a different route home over 126 to Sisters. I got out the Gazetteer map for Oregon and perused the route looking for waterfalls, and sure enough there was a trailhead with two waterfalls right near the road.

The drive was beautiful, with a stop at another small donated state park along the river for a walk before we passed through small towns and tiny communities. Not long after the road starting rising to the pass we came to the parking area for the falls, and with an amazing coincidence, the lone space for an RV was empty, even though there were many people parked in the lot. We took it, turned on the fan for the cat and were thrilled that we could hike with Abby on a leash.

By the time we arrived, it was mid-afternoon, and we did want to get home before dark, so we opted for the shorter hike on the east side of the falls. Laurie’s photos of the falls are from the longer west side hike and she has some very interesting information about the formation of the falls and the McKenzie River on her blog. Check it out here. I kept looking at Laurie’s lone photo thinking this had to be the same waterfall. Sure enough, when I arrived home later Laurie had posted her wonderful account of their hike and it was the same place. Thanks, Laurie, I might not have known that the stop was worth finding if I hadn’t seen that photo.

When I got out of the rig, I could immediately smell the huge falls. So much water! The forest was damp and dark, and the elevation was high enough that I didn’t see a speck of poison oak, bane of the western slope of the Cascades as well as the Sierras. The trail was excellent, with lots of steps, some roots and rocks along the way, but only a mile and a half to the lower of the two falls. I would love to return sometime and do the entire hike. It was lovely.

We continued north over the pass and entered into the area decimated by the huge B&B Complex fire in 2003. There are now fire interpretive signs at several turnouts along the way that explain the biology of fire in the western forests. We pulled into one just over the pass to see smoke south of us in the Sisters Wilderness near Mt Washington. As we continued east, the smoke darkened the skies over Bend from the huge complex of fires ignited in Central Oregon from lightning the previous week.

Mo’s brother Roger lives south of Bend in LaPine and we just couldn’t go by without stopping in for a visit. When I called Nancy, it was close to suppertime, but she said, oh yes, come on right now! We didn’t want to eat, so we all sat around and talked about RV’s and travel and good beer. Roger and Nancy just returned from a big RV trip to eastern Oregon and their stories of the nightmare of driving their big, older, wide-body Class A were scary. They actually lost brakes on a steep hill and ended up leaving the rig in Enterprise and sleeping with their kids and grandkids in their trailer.

They spent quite a bit of time in the MoHo with us, asking questions and checking out our smaller rig, making lots of noises about how it was time to downsize. The next day we got a note from Roger saying they bought a new rig in Bend, about the same size as our MoHo. I am so happy for them, especially for Nancy who was the one having to ride in the scary passenger position with all that glass overlooking the cliffs and seeing that back wheel go over the white line on the right side of the road. I hate that! Things should be easier for them now.

When we finally arrived home in Rocky Point after our long meandering day, it was 9 pm and dark out. Driving down highway 97 in the dark from Chemult is one of my least favorite rides, there are deer everywhere. We were spared any big scares, however I was sure glad when we finally turned into Easy Street.

The rest of the photos are linked here

August 29 Monday The Dahlia Festival

Seems as though there is always some kind of festival going on during the summer months. Usually named for a flower, a fruit, or a vegetable, these festivals are really worth the effort. The Garlic Festival in Gilroy, California and the Asparagus Festival in Stockton are some down-home country festivals that got completely out of control. Thousands of people crowd the hundreds of booths and the original concept is lost. Can you count the Apple Festivals and Strawberry Festivals that are dotted all over the United States and Canada? A google search will open your eyes to that one!

Our short little camping trip north was inspired by one such festival. The difference with this one is that it isn’t a town or village thing, it is a chance for a local grower of dahlias to open their land for just six days a year to the adoring public. I had no clue just how adoring the public was until we arrived at the parking lot on Monday morning and found row after row of cars, buses, vans, and fields filled with folks admiring the dahlias.

Let me backtrack a bit. When we woke up Monday morning, the skies were cloudy and overcast and the temperature was in the low 50’s. A very light mist created a chilly, damp atmosphere. Remember I said I only brought shorts? Even though the forecast was for 85 degrees and sunshine for the entire week, I should have known better. Digging around in the few clothes I brought delivered my kayak pants, just in case, so I donned the kayak pants and the one sweatshirt I managed to pack, and I was ready for the day in spite of myself.

Even though I had no WiFi in the park, my iPhone had 5 bars and 3G, so I loaded up google maps to locate the Swan Island Dahlia Farm. It was just about an hour north in Canby, an agricultural paradise between I-5 and the mountains in the northern part of the Willamette Valley. We took our time, and when a sliver of lavender blue appeared in the distance, we ambled off the course to find amazing fields of annuals grown for seed by the Silver Falls Seed Company.

I used to grow annual larkspur for drying, and always had trouble finding seed that was an individual color not a mix. Lying in front of me were gorgeous fields of blue, lavender, pink, and rose, all perfect tall lush flowers of larkspur. Other fields were filled with godetia, one of my favorite little annuals, and other flowers that I didn’t quite recognize. In a way I was delighted to have subdued skies so the colors would show up more dramatically in the photos.

It wasn’t long before we arrived at the Swan Island Dahlia Festival, to join in the admiring crowds with their oohs and aahhs. Even little kids were getting into the thrill of seeing a truly amazing huge dahlia bigger than a dinner plate, amazed at the sensory overload of row after row of flowers bred in every conceivable shape and color.

Swan Island Dahlias is the largest and leading dahlia grower in the United States. The farm is now located in the town of Canby, in the rich soil of the Willamette Valley of Oregon. The farm was originally located in Portland, Oregon, with some buildings on Swan Island, which is where the farm derived its name. There was also a roadside stand in Sellwood, a suburb of Portland, so the business was known as both Swan Island Dahlias and Portland Dahlia Gardens at that time.

Swan Island Dahlias was moved to Canby, Oregon on rented land in the 1940’s. Around 1953, 20 acres of farmland was purchased in Canby, and the business was relocated to its present site. This particular bit of information was helpful because Mo grew up near the real Swan Island and picked beans there and she couldn’t understand why the dahlia farm in Canby was called Swan Island Dahlias!

If you have ever grown dahlias, you know how much work they can be. A difference in this part of Oregon is that the climate allows you to actually leave your dahlias in the ground over the winter and still have flowers come up in the spring. Where I lived, I had to lift my hundreds of dahlias one by one every winter, divide them and pack them carefully in sawdust in the root cellar. I treasured those flowers, believe me. So I was like all those little kids ooh-ing and aah-ing through the fields, thrilled and amazed, and especially excited when I would find an old friend variety among the bunch that was still in cultivation.

After we wandered the 40 acres of fields, we visited the big storage shed where one of the granddaughters in this family owned business demonstrated how to arrange dahlias while she talked about every possible cultural need. Many folks asked lots of questions and I was amazed at her knowledge. Grandpa passed away in 2007, but the family carries on with this beautiful family business.

Thoroughly overloaded with dahlia heaven, we were still in for a big surprise when we entered the indoor display, with three rooms of dahlia arrangements. I knew about the indoor rooms, but imagined something a bit like a county fair, with vases of flowers. What an understatement. The huge displays in the three large rooms were mind boggling, huge lush over-the-top craziness, piles of dahlias of every color and type. Hundreds of flowers in a single arrangement and literally hundreds of arrangements. It was a great way to pick your favorites and then go to the order desk to buy tubers for spring delivery. It’s a good thing I don’t have a lot of room or a long growing season, or I would have parted with a good chunk of money.

When we finally left the farm, the sun was warming up a bit and we ambled around Canby to explore the town and the area. We found Molalla River State Park, a perfect place for Abby to run in the off-leash dog area, with many trails along the river, but no overnight facilities. Just north of the farm, we found the Canby Ferry crossing the Willamette River and saving many miles of travel for folks going north. The ferry is free for pedestrians, but we just chose to sit on the bluff above the river and watch for awhile. I couldn’t help comparing the gentle crossing with the wild currents of the Yukon River at the ferry in Dawson City. This crossing took all of two minutes, and the cars lining up on either side of the river had at most a 5 minute wait in line. I love how these remnants of older times appear on the back roads of Oregon. Many of the old ferries have been replaced by bridges, so it was nice to see this little piece of history still in operation.

We traveled home through Silverton, with a stop at on of my favorite grocery stores for a few supplies. Back in camp, we decided we had time for some good biking on the beautiful trails and enjoyed the emptiness of the day use area even though the campground was still full to the brim. No one was swimming, and no one was out on the bike trails either, and the waterfall trail was nearly empty. Abby is pretty good at going along on the leash while we bike, but now and then she gets a bit excited and crosses over to the wrong side. We have learned that if I stay in front of Mo, Abby will try to keep up with me and not dawdle. The best part of this for Mo is that Abby actually helps pull her up the steep parts of the trail! I finally said, “My turn to have Abby, this hill is steep”! We switched, and I couldn’t believe just what a difference she made. Mush! Abby!!

Home to camp and grilled veggies and another beautiful campfire.

The rest of the dahlia photos are linked here

Tomorrow: We meet Russ and Donna and hike the Mackenzie River waterfalls

Can you leave the MoHo at home to go on a picnic?

For several days now the weatherman has hinted at lovely spring weather just over the horizon, and we thought it would be great to take a day trip and just enjoy the sun and warmth. It’s been such a long, cold spring, with very little sunshine. With a 70 degree forecast for last Sunday I decided that a nice little road trip to explore the Applegate Valley and Jacksonville would be fun. We woke to gray, cloudy skies and a thermometer that struggled to get to 50 degrees. Around 11 there was a bit of a break and we decided to make the break ourselves and go for it. I made egg salad sandwiches and loaded up our backpack picnic kit with wine, chips, and cherries, and we jumped into the Lexus for a comfortable car trip over the mountain.
Even though it was cloudy all day, we had a good time and enjoyed doing something different for a change from gardening and working around home. Although we do drive to Medford fairly often, there are some side trips around Southern Oregon that we still haven’t seen. The Applegate Valley is one of those trips. The route took us over 140 as usual, but we left the main highway to travel through Eagle Point and then took another side road from Eagle Point through Gold Hill to avoid the standard Interstate 5 route to Grants Pass and the beginning of the Applegate Valley Trail.
The trees on the west side are fully leafed out now, with myriad shades of verdant green. Most of the flowering trees are past their prime bloom while those we have at home are just barely starting. I think Rocky Point is at least a full month behind the Medford area when it comes to the spring season. We ambled along Highway 234 west through the Sams Valley, crossing the Rogue River with a stop for photos of a local bridge.
The river was running wild and full to it’s banks, but even with all our rain this year, I haven’t heard much about flooding. Continuing west through Gold Hill, we found ourselves in the midst of some kind of “Gold Hill Days” with the main street north completely closed off by vendors and booths and many antique cars. If it had been a bit easier to park, and if the day had been sunny and warm, we may have allowed ourselves to digress from our planned destination and check out the events. Instead, we routed back over the river and under the interstate to wander peacefully along meandering old Highway 99 until we reached the turnoff for the Applegate Valley just south of Grants Pass.
The Applegate Valley Wine Trail is one of Oregon’s newest “appellations”, with a climate that is warmer and drier than much of the Willamette Valley wine areas. The vineyards follow the river along the higher stream terraces and support Chardonnay, Syrah, and some Bordeaux red wines. Oregon is famous for some of its Pinot Noir’s, so the valley offers something a bit different. Mo and I enjoy good wine, but sometimes the pretentious aspect of “wine tasting” will keep us from dropping into these little wineries. This time was no different, we drove by the beautiful signs, enjoyed the gorgeous views, and enjoyed the ride without stopping for a taste. I think that sometime I would enjoy touring the wineries with friends, or even with a group. Our summer neighbors in Rocky Point often travel this route and come home with cases of really good wine. I think we may go with them sometime to get our wine tasting feet wet. Except for our little foray in the Finger Lakes District of New York last fall, the last time I really did some extensive wine tasting was in the Napa Valley back when the pours were free!
Of course, I have no such reservations when it comes to nurseries. Near the tiny town of Murphy, we passed a riot of color along the highway and within seconds, Mo whipped around and we checked out the most beautiful nursery full of hanging baskets I have seen in years. The owners were wonderful about me walking around taking photos, but I still felt I should at least buy something token to thank them for just being there. She laughed when I told her we were from Klamath Falls, since she had raised her children in Klamath, and was really loving her long growing season there along the Applegate. I left with some perfect fuchsias for the baskets waiting at home for sunnier, warmer weather.
After a nice stop for Abby on their grassy lawns (doggie bags of course!) we continued down the highway south toward Ruch and Applegate Lake.
Another thing that Oregon is noted for are the covered bridges throughout the state. There are several along many of the routes that we drive, and some folks even make a tour of seeing them all. South of Ruch, only eight miles north of the California border, is Oregon’s southernmost span, the McKee Bridge. Built in 1917 by John Hartman of Jacksonville, it served mainly for mining and logging traffic until 1956 when it was finally declared unsafe for vehicular travel. In the early 1980’s, townsfolk were troubled by the strength of the bridge, and in 1985 more than $40,000 was dedicated to repair the bridge and keep it open for pedestrians.
The bridge has a 122 foot span, 45 feet above the Applegate River and is supported by a Howe truss with beautiful flying buttresses. The scenic little park, built by the CCC in the 1930’s nestles into the west bank of the river by the bridge. An amazing special touch were the wooden panels installed on the original bridge siding, specifically dedicated to folks who wanted to add their own touch to the bridge, aka graffiti. The best part was that the graffiti was actually confined to the dedicated boards!
It was here that we found a perfect place to pull out the sandwiches and wine. I guess I should have taken photos of the signs posted on nearly every single tree and table and fence post, proclaiming loudly in capital letters, NO ALCOHOL. Thank goodness I don’t have as many readers as Al, who was lashed for talking about lemons, or Rick, who was castigated for doggie’s off leash, because I opened my bottle of wine and poured it into the little plastic picnic glasses with relish. We sat by the river at the substantial old picnic table for a long time, enjoying the water and our lunch. We were even treated to watching a couple of folks walk down to the river, drop in their lines, and seeing a good sized trout jumping on that line after the first cast!
After relaxing, walking, eating and just enjoying the park and bridge, the hour was getting late, but we didn’t want to miss a visit to Applegate Lake, just south toward the California line. So much of the history of the Applegate River and valley are associated with gold discovery, and gold mining, and there are still many folks who dredge parts of the Applegate River for gold. On the banks of the lake, which is dammed, are several campgrounds, and we wanted to check them out. The day was still cloudy and dark, and the campgrounds were very nearly empty. We saw one park, right on the lake, that was basically an asphalt parking lot on the beach and could only imagine just how crowded it might be in summer. The other two parks weren’t very rig friendly and too far from the water’s edge to comfortably carry down our kayaks. It might be fine to go to the parking lot campground early on a weekday in the summer to try kayaking the lovely lake with it’s complex shoreline.
The rain didn’t start up until we drove through Ruch on the way to Jacksonville. I love Jacksonville, an historic little town with shops and restaurants and beautiful trees. The Britt Festival is held here each summer, and Mo and I have been to many great shows on the lawns of Britt. Today, however, we just drove through, deciding to save more explorations of Jacksonville for the last of summer Whole Town Garage Sale. Jacksonville is lovely, and also very expensive. The homes are either new and gorgeous, or old and even more gorgeous, and I swoon over the perfectly restored Craftsman bungalows, many of them which serve as Bed and Breakfast establishments.
By the time we got back to Rocky Point it was late evening, still light thanks to the summer twilight, but late nonetheless. I was glad that we made our little trip in the “big car”, rather than in the little tow car. The Lexus comes out for special occasions and local trips, but will never be towed behind the motorhome! It’s comfortable and roomy, although I have to say that the big leather seats in the MoHo are my favorite. That’s a good thing, since within less than a month we will be embarking on our Alaska journey and I will be in those seats for several weeks!