RV resorts – Page 2 – The MoHo and Other Traveling Tales

January 2 to January 7 Traveling South

Current Location: Desert Hot Springs, CA at 55 degrees F at 5 in the morning

We left the day after New Years. I think we were both ready to leave earlier, but we did have a plan, and I wanted to watch the Rose Parade and Mo wanted to see the Rose Bowl Game so we decided to wait. The weather at home was icy, with just a skiff of snow left over from Christmas. There was nothing to plow or shovel, and the only real chores to be done were keeping the fire going.

Neither of us are likely to get bored, there is always something to do, but I did notice a bit of restive boredom building, as we made our plans to head south. Call it hitch-itch or whatever…it has been a month since we had the MoHo on the road and we were both ready to go.

Christmas with family and friends at home

As we watched the parade, we again talked of taking an RV trip, one of those group things, where you get grandstand seats, a nice place to park, and visits to the float barns before the parade. Might be the only way I’ll ever see the Rose Parade again, since neither of us really wants to mess with that whole traffic parking finding a place to stand thing. When I was a kid, we would camp overnight on Orange Grove Boulevard sometimes to get good viewing spots. Maybe next year.

This year we watched from the cozy comfort of our home living room, where I spent most of the day taking down more of the Christmas decorations and packing travel food. Now that the MoHo is stored in Grants Pass, we have to fit everything we take on our trips into the baby car for the trip over the mountain. We laughed this time, wondering where Abby and Jeremy would have fit in the heavily laden car.

A night with Deborah at the cottage and when morning dawned foggy and icy as usual for Grants Pass this time of year we were off, heading south on the 5 for what has become an annual migration to Desert Hot Springs. Sometimes we simply pass through on a trek more distant, sometimes like this time, we will stay in the southern deserts, but no matter how we do it, a stay at Catalina Spa and RV Resort always seems to be part of the plan.

We have no fancy memberships, other than Passport America. With our love of state parks, national parks, national forest and BLM camping and boondocking, it just isn’t worth the extra money. However the PPA card gets us some nice half price benefits for our days on the road. Unlike last year, when Catalina was changing its management policies and we were only allowed two discounted nights, this year the policy has returned to allowing a week at half price, for us $32.50 a night is what we expect to pay at full price and we don’t pay that often! Still, the thought of those hot spring pools always draws me back.

Siskiyou Summit, highest point on I-5 between Mexico and Canada.

If we were going to stay a month, I would imagine we would try out Sam’s Spa nearby, a place Nina and Paul enjoy. Of course, The Sands is big and lovely with a golf course and comes highly recommended by Rick and Paulette who spend extended time there every winter. For us, Catalina is perfect, with the lower camping area a bit older, sites not perfectly level made lumpy with sand, and older trees around, eucalyptus, tamarisk, and some kind of desert pine. It isn’t especially fancy, but it also isn’t crowded, with the trees and oleander hedges making the sites in the lower area feel much more private than those in the newer upper part of the park. Without the need for 50 amp hookups, we have the option to stay here.

Mt Shasta above the inversion caused murky air of the Scott Valley

We have traveled south many times, but often from our home in Rocky Point, going over highway 97 toward Weed, or from Brookings a few times where we stored the MoHo until we got the Grants Pass cottage. We haven’t traveled south on the 5 from Grants Pass directly very often, and it is always a surprise to remember just how long a pull it is to cross the pass over the Siskiyou’s south of Ashland at the Oregon/California border. On this crossing, it was icy at 31 degrees F, but Mo did just fine, and I never felt any slipping around at all.

As we dropped down into the valley near Yreka, the air quality began to deteriorate, due to the strong cold air inversions plaguing most of the Oregon and California valleys. The skies were dingy all the way south throughout the great state of California.

For people who like to travel around as much as we do, and who enjoy new experiences, it is surprising to me how comfortable we are with doing the same route and staying in the same places on this southward journey. We took a bit of time to stop in Red Bluff to visit my ex mom in law, a dear woman celebrating her 91st birthday this month.

The entire route is less than 900 miles, but we give ourselves time, spending two nights along the way. My trucker kids would do that trip in one day! The Flag City RV Park along the freeway in Lodi is our preferred first night stop. Half price here with the PPA card is $27 per night, and with cement level pull through sites, full hookups, free wifi and cable TV we like the stop. Easy and fast and we never bother with making a reservation. The nearby Flying J station has the lowest gas price around according to our GasBuddy app, so it is easy to fill up for the next day. This time we also filled up propane, and while it was a buck more per gallon than it would have been in Grants Pass, it was a quick and easy fill right in the driveway of the park.

Morning dawned sweetly with temps in the 50’s, but the air was still murky with the inversion. Interstate 5 south has been worked on repeatedly, and while last year I remember the road being fairly smooth, this year it seemed to have deteriorated more. Of course, Stockton is always bad, with construction going on constantly for all the years I have traveled through that area. With the MoHo jumping and bumping, I looked up the worst cities to live in the US and yes, Stockton is high on the list. Sad.

The traffic on I-5 all the way to the Highway 58 turnoff toward Bakersfield was steady and thick. I guess a lot of people were traveling back to Los Angeles after the holidays. Truck traffic wasn’t as heavy as usual, but the line of cars ahead of us and behind us was solid, and if Mo got behind a truck it often took a bit of effort to get back into the fast moving traffic to pass. I’m glad it was her day to drive! I took photos of the passing landscape, so beautiful in its own way, but missed having Jeremy on the dash. So many photos of him sleeping away in the sunshine as we traveled south on this highway.

We gassed up at the Bakersfield Costco at 2.25 per gallon, amazing for California, and continued east toward Orange Grove RV Park. I learned last year when we ended up in overflow, that reservations were a smart idea. Today proved to be so, and as we checked in with our reservation, rig after rig pulled into the big long driveways they have for that purpose. Taking advantage of the free RV wash area, we got most of the road grime off both vehicles before settling into our full hookup site.

As many southward bound RV’rs know, this campground in an old orange grove comes with free picking privileges. I know you can buy bags of oranges along the road for 5 bucks or so, but they never seem quite as sweet. Probably brought up green from Mexico or something. Nothing quite as sweet as ripe oranges directly from the tree. Hopefully my orange stash will last long enough. I always feel sad at the moment I slice and squeeze the last orange from Orange Grove RV.

Our favorite route into the Springs is not the one recommended by Google maps, but we ignore their suggestions and travel west into Barstow and take 247 south through the Lucerne Valley, Johnson Valley, and into Yucca Valley, where we then travel down 62 into the Coachella Valley. I am always amazed at the rugged landscape, the range after range of faulted and folded mountains formed in marine sediments that have smashed into the continent from far lands. I do have a love hate relationship with my birth state of California and I am always reminded of that when we come south.

The smell of the southern deserts, the sharp line of the mountains unimpeded by vegetation against the sunset, the twinkling lights of desert cities, all remind me of childhood years long gone. I am glad they are gone, but also glad that I have the chance to come back and enjoy the best parts of what I remember about living in Southern California.

Driving south on Corkhill Road toward the resort is almost like coming home. The familiarity feels nice. Back again to that dichotomy between something new and something familiar, I guess there are good parts to each. Within minutes we found a nice spot on 11th street, backed up by nothing but the dog park area, and with no one beside us on the south for two spaces, it feels fairly private.

I am just a small street and a few steps east of my favorite pool in the world, at least the warmest. My favorite might still be the infinity pool at the Dusit Resort in Chiang Rai Thailand. But it is a lot easier and cheaper to get to this one!

Within minutes of arriving, I checked Facebook and found a note from Betty, another RV blogger, all concerned that no one by the name of Sue Malone had checked in. Nope, it was Mo who checked in, and not with her nickname! I asked for an hour or so for us to get out the chairs, and sure enough Betty bopped right into our site right on cue. Bopped is a good description for Betty. She is a sweet, delightful, happy woman who chatters along so comfortably that it is easy to enjoy her company. We visited a bit, took some photos, heard some great stories, and then Betty bopped back to her place to prepare for their early morning departure for Arizona. Nice to meetcha, Betty!

We have a week here at the resort, before our travels will take us south toward Yuma. In the mean time, we hope to catch some of the hiking trails that we haven’t done in the past. Many trails around this area are not dog friendly. We miss Abby so much, but are not ready to get another dog, so this is the year to hike all the dog unfriendly trails that we can find. The weather is with us, the skies are clear and the temperatures are perfect, without the famous Desert Hot Springs winds anywhere in the predictions. It will be a good week.

Meandering Quickly to Puget Sound

Current Location: Whidbey Island NAS Cliffside RV Park 55 degrees F and raining

The MoHo parked alone in the center of Shady Firs RV Park Randle WA

We had a good reason for taking a short trip to Seattle. Thinking that a single day in the busy part of Puget Sound would be plenty to do our business, it seemed that we should make the trip count with an additional few days in the San Juan Islands. I am fully aware that a short week isn’t nearly enough to really experience this magical place, but it is better than nothing. We figured it would give us a chance to dip our paddles and check out the area for possible future trips.

Then the business part of the Seattle day shifted and we actually didn’t really need to go to Seattle at all. By then, however, reservations were made, and a day in Seattle is always fun, right? Hmmmm.

When I say meandering quickly, I know that is an oxymoron. The meander part has to do with the route we chose, avoiding any freeways and enjoying some side roads we haven’t traveled previously. The quickly part has to do with traveling almost 400 miles on our first day.

Mo asked once as the day lengthened why we had planned it this way. I actually had forgotten, but then remembered, oh yes, it had to do with getting to Seattle for the business meeting and then still having time to play.

The meandering route took us north on 97, incredibly familiar, but north of Madras we turned west to follow Highway 197 through Maupin toward The Dalles. In all our years of traveling around Oregon, neither of us could remember taking this route. Even with smoky skies the views of the canyon of the Deschutes River with Mt Hood in the distance were breathtaking. Maupin (pronounced MOPin) seemed to be a cute little place, but we didn’t stop. Remember, we were meandering quickly. So quickly that I didn’t even manage any photos through the windshield.

At The Dalles, intersecting with Interstate 84, we decided to cross the river to the Washington side to Highway 14. As we approached Hood River on the other side of the Columbia, the winds picked up as usual and the famous wind surfers looked like so many wild dragonflies darting across the choppy water. Always fun to watch, I can’t really imagine how they stay upright at. As we watched, several didn’t stay upright in the strong winds.

Crossing at The Dalles turned out to be a great choice, because the bridge north across the river from Hood River is a toll bridge. Nice. We have traveled I-84 many times so it was a completely different view of the Columbia Gorge than we were used to seeing. At the tiny town of Carson we turned north toward Mt St Helens and the rest of the trip to our camp spot in Randle was narrow and winding.

After spending a large part of late summer in drought and smoke from forest fires, it was a treat to drive through rain and moist forests. The views were less than spectacular, however, because this part of the Cascades is thick with trees, lots of them, and most of the views are completely obscured by timber.

Along the southern part of the route especially, we were treated to the mosaic of timber grown and harvested as a crop. It isn’t a forest, not really, it is a timber farm, and I love that these timber farms exist. The private companies manage them much better than they did during the rape and run heydays of the 60’s, and as far as I am concerned it is wonderful to have highly managed productive timber lands that don’t tap into our wild old growth forests. We drove through huge even aged stands of Douglas-fir, and many patches of clear cuts that had regenerated naturally into thick young stands.

As we approached the St Helens Monument on the east side, we found a small roadside rest but only a couple of places where the Mountain was actually visible. We visited the mountain back in 2004 while it was in an eruptive stage. From the viewpoint I compared some of our previous photos and was amazed at how much the forest has regenerated on the blast devastated slopes in the last ten years.

We arrived at the Shady Firs RV Park in Randle just after five. A 400 mile day is an accomplishment on freeways but even more so on the winding side roads. Daughter Deanna passed on a Rand McNally trucker’s GPS to us (she has three types and didn’t need this one) and I spent the day trying to figure it out and by the time we stopped I was worn out and hadn’t driven a mile!

I learned to pay attention to Deanna’s advice: use the GPS, the Atlas, Google Maps, and some common sense. I discovered that the Rand McNally worked great if I knew exactly where I wanted to go and how to get there and programmed it accordingly. I did have to change the settings from “truck” to “car” because it kept trying to route me around things and send me a few hundred miles out of the way. So glad I am not a truck and our full 46 feet of rig and towed length isn’t hard to manage.

Shady Firs was exactly what it claimed to be; a quiet park under shady firs with hookups for fifteen bucks cash Passport America. I didn’t care at all about the rest rooms or the amenities because we only planned to stop for a night. The sites are on grass, the hookups were fine and the dump was free. There were just two sites with sewer, right next to the older trailer that housed a young caretaker. We opted instead for a site out in the middle of the park, without a single camper joining us that night.

It rained all night, a steady patter on the roof that was soft and soothing. The morning dawned with beautiful sunshine streaming through the clouds but within a short time the rain took over once again.

Our second destination was a mere 77 miles away. Mo asked again why it worked out this way and I could only reply that it had to do with finding a Passport America park on our route? Who knows. By noon we were settled into our new site.

Next up: Fort Lewis Military Family Camp and the joys of driving Puget Sound

1-10-2014 Big Bend part 1

Current location: Corpus Christi NAS with 53 degrees F and 18 mph winds at 4am

I am sitting here this morning, listening to the winds buffeting the MoHo. At 3, we were wakened by the gas alarm going off indicating our power was down. I stepped outside to check, and everything seemed fine, with dim park lights here and there. I discovered that the wind had blown the power cord right out of the receptacle. Fixed it with a bungie and came back to bed after turning the power back to “store”.

Of course, the moon is almost full and reflecting off the water of Corpus Christi Bay, a rather amazing sight. There are also 8 to 10 foot fountains of sea spray that are illuminated by the moonlight. I felt the spray blowing this way when I went outside. We were warned about the sea spray and winds when we took this site on the edge of the park near the water. It is worth it for the view and the open spaciousness of the site.

Mo and I looked at each other in amazement as we ate our supper last night. It is rather incredible to go from the wild hot dry angular desert to the flat water filled landscape around us here west of Corpus Christi. Just one day of driving, and here we are.

But that isn’t supposed to be the subject of this post. I need to write about Big Bend, and let myself slip back from this moonlit sea spray filled morning to the warmth of the desert we left behind. I couldn’t sleep after the wind woke me up, and it was as much from the weight of the Big Bend writing waiting in my head as it was from the sound of the wind. So let’s slip back a bit to a few days ago when we first entered the amazing world of the Big Bend of the Rio Grande.

The sun was brilliant and the temperatures perfect when we left Davis Mountains State Park. In the cool of the morning, I wanted to get a few more photos of “downtown” Fort Davis, and in the process ran into a delightful gentleman, Jim, who was working for the county at the lovely courthouse, pruning some trees. We engaged in some conversation, and he told me more about the horrible fire that blew through here in 2011. He also told me that I shouldn’t go to Big Bend through Alpine as we had planned, but should go south on highway 67 to Presidio and travel the River Road east through Big Bend Ranch State Park.

MBZ had warned us that Presidio was a bit dicey, and I asked Jim about this, and he said, just don’t go into Mexico and don’t stop anywhere. Ok then. Trouble is, once we got to Presidio, the phone thought I was in Mexico and decided to stop sending me data for the maps. I had a paper map, but it was a bit worthless for actually seeing the proper turns, and suddenly the big entry into Mexico loomed up ahead, and I hollered, “Turn around NOW!” For some reason, I had completely forgotten the Garmin tucked under the seat. Duh. When the phones don’t work and the paper maps are too small in scale, the Garmin is quite helpful. Trucker Deanna always says, “Mom, we use all three all the time, phones, paper maps and GPS”. Of course. We managed to avoid getting in the entry line and turned around to find our proper turn east on Texas Farm Road 170.

Farm Road 170 meanders along the Rio Grande through another wild and untamed gem of this part of Texas, Big Bend Ranch State Park. We had no time to hang around here, but definitely enjoyed the dramatic views along the route, especially the deep canyons of the Rio Grande near the one rather serious “Big Hill”. The hill isn’t marked except for a sign about 15 miles west of it that says, “warning 15 percent grade 15 miles ahead”.

Following the river for miles and miles, it is easy to see that the international boundary is often just a mental concept. Here there are no fences and we didn’t see much evidence of Border Patrol in this area. The road winds and meanders, but wasn’t difficult for our rig, although the big hill was just a little bit hair raising, and thankfully quite short. The rock formations at the Hoodoos were beautiful, and the geology was fascinating.

We drove east into the town of Terlingua, later wishing that we had taken more time to explore it a bit, but we were intent on getting to our campsite on the far side of the park. We missed a four star attraction listed in our guidebook, the historic Starlight Theater at Terlingua, restored as a restaurant. We won’t make the same mistake again. MBZ had warned us about this, suggesting that we spend time on BOTH sides of the park, and next time we will definitely do that. And yes, there WILL be a next time.

Once we entered the park, the beautiful range of the Chisos Mountains dominated the landscape, but the route is mainly through the desert. Unlike the Sonoran deserts around Arizona, the Chihuahuan desert seems to have a lot more vegetation, with thick grasses between the prickly pear and creosote. The Chihuahuan Desert is the largest desert in the Americas, extending almost to Mexico City. Creosote and agave are the main indicator plants and there are several species of prickly pear and yucca. I saw not a sign of a saguaro, so common in the Sonoran Desert around Tucson. Most of the moisture comes as summer rains, with a bit more precipitation than in the Sonoran as well.

Panther Junction (at the intersection of the main park road 118 and road 395 east to Marathon) is about 20 miles west of Rio Grande Village, and is the location of an excellent visitor center. As always, we stopped at the visitor center for maps, orientation, and information about the park. There are some excellent displays, a good selection of natural history books and park guides to help us begin to understand this beautiful, remote area. My favorite, the 3D landscape map, was big and very helpful with orientation. I find that these maps are a bit less needed in the days of google earth, however, since I now can cruise an area in 3D on the internet and the imagery is a bit more detailed. Still, I love that the parks have these big map models.

We arrived at our campground early enough in the afternoon that we had time to do a bit of exploring around this far eastern edge of the park. As we knew, there are no dogs allowed anywhere except on pavement or dirt roads that can accommodate a car. Still, it was hard to realize that we couldn’t leave Abby behind in the rig, or leave her in the car while we hiked. Just wouldn’t do. Instead, we planned our explorations around unpaved road trips and a few short hikes.

There are two campgrounds at Rio Grand Village, with the national park campground with campsites without hookups, potable water at the entrance and a dump station. There is a large no generator zone, and a nice area with sites big enough for large rigs and where generators are allowed at certain hours.

Because we had no idea of the weather conditions for this trip, we opted instead for the Rio Grande Village RV park, basically a pavement parking lot with full hookups and WiFi from the small store and laundry. Gasoline and diesel are also available, and we were surprised at the reasonable cost for regular at only 3.65 per gallon. We have been in national parks where the prices are two bucks or more higher than the going local rate, so this was nice. We had no need to fill the rig since we had fueled up enough to take us through the park and back out, but we definitely needed gas for the baby car to fuel our off highway adventures.

Our first little trip took us just a few miles from the campground to Boquillas Canyon where there was a rest room at the parking lot and a sign marking the trailhead. It is just a little over a mile to the canyon, but the trail is “easy” if you ignore the rather steep and rocky ups and downs on the first part of the trail. I was glad for boots instead of Oofos, and those Keen Targha waterproof hiking shoes are a godsend.

Mo generously decided to wait in the parking lot with Abby while I did the hike, a decision she made a few more times while we were in Big Bend. Next time we come to this place, if our animals are still with us, we will board them in Alpine, the closest center where there is a pet boarding facility.

The Boquillas Crossing used to be a port of entry from Mexico, but after 9/11 the DHS closed it, along with all other small ports of entry in the park. You can see the little town across the river, and at the river overlook we found displays of beaded trinkets with cans requesting $6. per item for little scorpions and for painted walking sticks. Wherever we found the signs, the request was for money to support Boquillas schools. We chose not to buy, and yet I did think about it, even though the park insists this is completely illegal and they will arrest you if you buy and confiscate your contraband.

Below us, across the river, there were boats tied up and some horses resting under the trees, and someone called up to me as we stood there but I couldn’t understand him. His voice sounded friendly, though, and I am sure he was entreating me to buy something.

As I hiked up the trail, I found a few more of these little stashes, and at the entrance to the canyon, I saw a canoe hidden in the rocks on the Mexico side of the Rio Grande. Higher on the trail, looking down below to the river, I saw a man on a horse, and the trail, steep and rocky as it was, actually had horse prints and horse poop on it. Why do horses get to poop on trails and dogs are not even allowed to go there on a leash with a loyal pooper scooper in tow? I’ll bet anything that guy was from Mexico and had managed to cross the river somewhere to check his little can stashes.

The entrance to Boquillas Canyon was dim, hard to photograph in the late afternoon light, but it was silent and beautiful, with walls rising more than 1,200 feet above me. I love tall, tight canyons, love how they feel, and found out later that this canyon is one on a list of possible river runs that I would love to do someday. Probably not in my own kayak, however, since there are some rocky rapids that need a good river guide to navigate. Still, it is on the bucket list along with Santa Elena Canyon. That is tomorrow’s story, however.

When I got back to the car, Mo and Abby were contented enough, and we did figure out that we should have a book or two in the car for Mo while I wandered about. Mo and Abby go their exercise by doing six laps around the parking lot. One of the greatest little treasures that we found at the visitor center was a small book called “The Big Bend Guide” by Allan Kimball. We loved this little book, a great find for first time visitors, with down to earth explanations of the local routes, and what to do if you have only one day or three days or a week in the park. I highly recommend this book if you have never visited Big Bend.

We drove back to the main road, and then again turned off on a dirt high clearance road to find the Hot Springs. The road is only about a mile and a half to the parking area, and we had hoped that maybe there wasn’t anyone around so we could possibly explore with Abby. Instead, this was a very popular spot and there were several cars parked and lots of folks heading to and from the springs.

The area was once a large hot springs resort, with a bath house, motel rooms, and even a store and post office. The abandoned buildings and old palms only hinted at what a delightful place this might have been at one time. The sun was down, and the evening was cool in the twilight, so Mo decided to leave Abby for a short time while we walked the short distance to the springs.

The springs are 105 degrees F, in a small rock pool built along the Rio Grande, and look quite nice. However, when we arrived, they were filled with a couple of families, kids all happily playing and moms floating au naturel in the hot water. I really didn’t want to jump in with them, so I decided to wait for another time for a dip in the springs.

We ran into this multiple family again a couple of times, with Alaska plates on their RV. There were a LOT of people in that rig, but when we talked to them we found out that they were from Austin and had rented the RV. They were having great fun together, although a motorhome with 4 adults and 4 little kids might be a bit much. Whew!

We were happy to get back to our rig and eat the good supper of leftovers from our previous dinner. So nice not to have to cook when it is dark and we have had a very long day! With no telephone, but at least enough Wi-Fi to get some mail, we settled in and read all the literature we had about what we might want to do on our next full day in the park.

Big Bend is an International Night Sky park, with a commitment to keeping things dark and unpolluted with light. There are lots of references to seeing the Milky Way here, but our moon was already too bright and while the stars were wonderful, that gorgeous view of the Milky Way eluded me. I even got up in the middle of the night to check out the sky. Maybe it was because the elevation at the Rio Grande is about 1,800 feet and perhaps those great Milky Way views are at the much higher Chisos Basin.

Still, even in our small parking lot camp, the skies were dark and the night was silent except for some low voiced owls here and there. Loved it.

Tomorrow we travel the Scenic Route and find the magnificent Santa Elena Canyon

1-8-2014 Diving into Texas

Current Location Balmorhea State Park, Texas Currently 40F Predicted High today 65F

Old Town Mesilla at the square

Yes, I did mean to say “diving” not driving, although the last couple of days we have been driving along at a nice pace. I’ll explain the diving part later. We took two days to travel about 510 miles from Tucson to Balmorhea, Texas. Nice to have the luxury of our own home with us and the time to go at a reasonable pace. When daughter Deb moved to Texas I helped her drive the rental truck and we drove from LaQuinta, CA, to Van Horn, Texas in one day, almost 900 miles! Ack!!

The I-10 route from Tucson to Las Cruces is fairly straightforward and not all that exciting. I am sure there would be great things to find in the mountains north of the highway, but we are on a mission to get to Texas and Florida, so those little side trips are not tempting us. We arrived in Las Cruces around 3 with a reserved spot at the Coachlight RV Park, advertised to be within walking distance to old Mesilla and a Passport America Park with a good rate at $18.65 for our overnight stop with hookups and sewer, good WiFi, but no cable. It wasn’t the finest of RV parks, but decent enough for an overnight. If you want something fancy and aren’t worried about the expense, try the Hacienda RV Resort, where Mo and I stayed on our first trip through when the MoHo was just a few days old and we didn’t have Passport America.

Walking distance is relative, however, with over a mile each way not something we particularly wanted to do after a day of driving to go get supper! Instead we unhooked the baby car and drove down the road to Old Mesilla to walk around the square a bit. I remembered a little place on the square that had all sorts of salsa and chili stuff, so added a bit of green chili to my goodie stash. The square was fairly quiet, with the Christmas holiday behind us and not many folks out and about on a weekday afternoon.

I won’t rewrite what has been written so well about the history of Old Mesilla, but if you are interested in reading about one of the oldest settlements in New Mexico, explore this link.

When we were here in 2007, we did eat dinner at La Posta, a very historic restaurant with very good Mexican food. This time, however, we opted for a less pretentious little restaurant recommended by several locals we spoke with, Andele’s, just on the edge of Old Mesilla. The atmosphere was generic at best, but the food was great and the salsa bar was fun too. We ate early, but by the time we left there was a good sized waiting line at the door, so the popularity of the place was evident. I had what they called traditional Mexican tacos, and the fixings arrived on a plate with some warm fresh corn tortillas to go with. With six different kinds of salsa at the salsa bar and some grilled onions, my meal was incredibly tasty, and was enough to feed us a second night with more left over for snacks.

With a location along the interstate between El Paso and Tucson, the city of Las Cruces might be easy to bypass. It is a nice medium sized city with a great University and a dry climate. I guess that is what has caused the population to increase so dramatically in the last decade or so. The shopkeepers all said it was retirees from the north and from California who were buying up the land, building new housing developments and still not adding much to the economy.

I was lucky to see Las Cruces from a completely different perspective back in 2002 when I had the opportunity to spend six weeks here for some advanced soils training. My work with soils was about the landscape, how different kinds of soils are distributed and what makes those differences. One of the major factors that affect soil development is the geomorphology, the shape and age of the landscape where the soil is located.

As head of the National Cooperative Soil Survey, NRCS is committed to keeping its scientists well trained, and the Soil Science Institute is held every few years at different locations in the country. If you are lucky, you get to go and if you are especially lucky you get to go to Institute here in Las Cruces where one of the most incredible geomorphic studies of the landscape exists. The Desert Project is a sort of bible of western geomorphology, and that man you see in the photo with the white hat and gloves is one of the authors.

I spent several weeks in the company of soil scientists from all over the country learning from the best. It was a highlight of my career and I count several friends among some of those I met at Institute. I also saw Las Cruces and the surrounding area in much more depth than would happen any other way. Las Cruces is about so much, but most of all it is about the Rio Grand River. We studied the ancestral terraces of this once mighty river, visited the farms and orchards, wandered the wild spaces of the Jornada del Muerto, where some of the best rangeland studies are conducted, and spent a day studying the geomorphology of the White Sands not far away.

Las Cruces is about the River, about cotton and peppers and some of the most extensive pecan orchards in the US. It is about hot sun and no shade, about wind and dust much of the time. It is about good restaurants and the smell of chilis roasting in September. It is about the Organ Mountains and Dripping Springs, the place to go if you need to get out of all that gravelly dusty alluvium and find some real rocks.

We saw none of this soul of Las Cruces as we passed by on I-10, but I remembered it well. I enjoyed having an excuse to go back and look at the several hundred photos I took during Institute where I celebrated a birthday in Old Mesilla and planned for my new life in Klamath Falls. When I came to Institute, I had just been promoted to project leader for the Klamath Falls soil survey, had moved there and bought a house but didn’t take possession of the house until I returned six weeks later from Institute. It was one of the biggest turning points in my entire life. Daughter Melody and her husband and kids now live in that little house that I bought before I drove down to Las Cruces.

Yesterday, Mo and I left early in the morning with another reasonable driving day to Texas. Much of the route from El Paso is quite near the Mexican border, and as we passed through the city, we could see the dilapidated houses of Juarez across the river. Once east of El Paso, however, the landscape opened up again and the distant mountain ranges of West Texas beckoned.

We were still undecided where to spend our next two nights when we stopped in Van Horn for gas. With the cold weather recently, we had decided that Fort Davis State park was too high and cold and thought that staying at Balmorhea State Park, just 4 miles south of the interstate, would be a better idea. Lower elevation, a bit warmer, and hookups.

Stopping at a rest area just a short way from Van Horn, Mo discovered to her dismay, that the electrical connection to the Tracker had come loose and the cord was dragging on the highway, destroying the connection tips. Lucky for us, we were only a few miles from town, and we backtracked to an auto parts store in Van Horn where Mo got the parts. With a bunch of fiddling, she still couldn’t get the turn signals to work, so with only 72 miles to Balmorhea, and the evening approaching, we made the decision to just drive with running lights and settle into the Balmorhea.

Once there, I walked up to the office which was closing, so we were told to just find a place and pay in the morning. I walked back to the rig, carefully avoiding the large curb, and caught my foot right on a big chunk of asphalt that was this side of the curb. Bam. Hence the diving into Texas. I dove into the ground, missing the curb I think, and didn’t break anything. My hip hurt like heck, but not enough to be broken and I am sitting and walking around so I am pretty sure I am fine. I do get tired of these dives, however. I used to leap boulders when I was doing soil survey, so being such a giant klutz is pretty embarrassing.

Settled in, Mo figured out that a fuse was blown when the “hot” terminal of the connector was dragging on the ground when it came loose. She replaced the fuses, and everything worked just fine. We ate our yummy leftovers from Andele’s. Looking at the maps, we decided that it would be very easy to just stay here one night and tomorrow drive the 34 miles south to Fort Davis and then 3 miles out of town to Davis Mountains State Park. We really don’t mind overnighter’s at all, since setting up is fairly quick and very easy. Especially since the alternative would mean staying here two nights and driving into the Davis Mountains tomorrow and then having to backtrack again. I dislike backtracking more than I dislike setting up!

Hip stuff woke me up at 3 and I couldn’t sleep, so it has been a good time to write, to read blogs, and to look at old photos of my days in Las Cruces so many years ago. Tomorrow the Davis Mountains!

“Do you ever get tired of being on the road?”

December 29 2013: Lodi CA 49 degrees F and clear

Miles driven today: 373

A friend asked that question of me this afternoon, after seeing a Facebook post about being on the road again and loving it. And the answer is “yes, of course”. That is why we aren’t full timer’s. I love going home at the end of the trip. I love being home. In reality, the only time I really get tired of being on the road is toward the end of a trip, whether it is 3 days, 3 weeks, or 3 months. Once we turn toward home, and it is getting close, I get antsy, and get tired of the doing and going of a trip. I am ready to be on with it. Much like when I am home and know that we are leaving, I am ready to get going!

In reality, Barb’s question was a surprise. Reading RV blogs as I do, I know that we are on the road much less than many folks out there, even part timers often travel more than we do. In 2013 we only were on the road for a total of 102 days, a little more than 3 months, a quarter of a year. Only. I really thought that it was more than that. Until I actually counted, I thought we were out between 1/3 and 1/2 of the year. This year, however, it might actually get a bit closer to that 1/3 to 1/2 time. We will see.

Looking back again, I saw that most of the summer, we were home as planned, enjoying Rocky Point. Most of the fall I was home doing family things, quilting, knitting, cooking. Last winter and spring I was still working. So no. I don’t come even close to getting tired of being on the road. Which is a good thing. Like an unfinished “bucket list”, there is so much more to do, to see, more places to explore, more hikes, more rivers…and more evenings just sitting in the MoHo quietly typing away and thinking about what I am thinking. Ha!

This morning we managed to get up easily at 5:30. I had been awake since 4 and couldn’t sleep. Deb had made coffee in the house for us and left the back door open so we could slip in for a last shared morning cup before we got going. It was cold, maybe 30 degrees, and everything was shrouded in an icy fog. Seems as though those foggy inversions are a very common winter occurrence in the Rogue Valley.

We left just at 6am, in the dark, with full tanks ready to go, and sleeping with the slide in and the car hooked up, we just pulled out and within minutes were on Interstate 5 heading south. Oh I do love that feeling, knowing that there are miles and months ahead of me with expected and unexpected adventures. Sometimes just a change of scenery outside the window from one place to the next is all I need to feel energized.

Especially energizing today was watching the temperature rise from a frosty 14 degrees F near Yreka just over the California border to a toasty 64 degrees all the way from Redding to Lodi south of Sacramento. I have written about this stretch of road so many times, driven it more times than I care to count. Just what can you say about it anyway? The surface is a bit better in places than it was last April. The skies were clear to the west with gorgeous views of the coast range and a bit murky to the east and the Sierras. Nope, that isn’t anything new at all. I quit trying to analyze it, and when I took over the wheel, and Mo napped, I just slid into the sound of the wind coming in the open window and the feel of the sun on my face….and in my eyes. Dang, that California sun is BRIGHT!

Oh…a quickie story, another one about Michelin tires. Remember how we got an entire set of Michelin tires for the MoHo before we left for Alaska? Somehow after sitting in the Texas sunshine waiting to be sold, the sidewalls deteriorated and Michelin replaced them in full, minus balancing and mounting.

After 40K miles on the new second set, the tires were getting a little tired, so Mo decided to replace them before we embark on more than 8,000 miles of traveling. She replaced 5 of them in late October. Just a short time ago, she received a notice from Michelin saying those tires were being recalled. Sheesh! bad timing for sure. Mo went to town to get the spare replaced on the recall and talked to the manager at Basin tire about what to do. Today we got an email from Michelin saying that Mo was being reimbursed for all five tires that she bought.

These recalls aren’t such a bad thing I guess if Michelin keeps giving us free tires!

Tonight we are settled in to Flag City RV Resort in Lodi just off the interstate. We arrived early enough to set up easily and get the TV going in time for the 49rs game, a close one, but they did win. Then another re-heated dinner of yummy roast pork, apple compote and scalloped potatoes from Christmas was perfect.

Earlier in the afternoon, while Mo watched the game, I took Jeremy out into the sunshine for a walk and checked out the park. This place is so generic, close to the freeway, row after row of cement pads and little grass yards, and yet it is completely perfect for us just as it is. It is clean, predictable, 27 bucks for everything with the Passport America card, with great hookups, good TV, spotless restrooms and laundry, and a really nice lounging area in the office. We don’t use any of these lovely facilities, since for us this is always just an overnighter on our first night out.

Still, as I was walking around the park I thought it might be fun to at least post some photos of it and as I walked about six big rigs pulled in at the same time. Some kind of caravan thing had arrived. We never make a reservation here, and even with the caravans choosing this park, we have never had a problem getting a site.

Yup, I love the unpredictability of a road trip, and then again, I love it when some things are predictable. Such as a great place to stop for a good night’s sleep on a level pad with power, water, sewer, and cable. Sadly, we are in Lodi, and if we were “stuck” we could explore the more than 100 wineries in the area that have the very best old vine zins in the world. Instead, we will settle in for a good night’s sleep, grateful that the MoHo is fairly well insulated from the sounds of the interstate, and continue south in the morning. Generic freeways, generic RV parks, all have a bit of a purpose, they get us where we are going. The desert is calling.