Travels with The Rayman

Sunday, May 15 we got up with slight handovers from a party we attended Saturday night.  Too much fun with our friends, Dick and Barb.  They hosted 26 people in their home in St. George.  A wine tasting party with half the couples bringing the wine and the other half matching appetizers to the wine selection.  Great format.  Fun event.  However, overindulgence occurred.

So, up early and off on our next adventure.  We planned to travel from St. George, to Cannonville, UT with a detour through the Kolob Canyon which is just off Interstate 15 and actually part of Zion National Park.  Beautiful drive.  A 5 mile loop.  We did not hitch up the toad to The Dog House because of elevation changes.

After viewing the Canyon, we hitched up.  And I took the wheel.  We took the state route 14 out of Cedar City.  It was straight up hill.  And our old Dog House was not happy.  Think 25 miles an hour.  When I pulled over to let the lone car behind us pass, they slowed down and told us that our wheels on the Fit were geehawed.  So we stopped and by gosh, they were right.  I won’t bore you with the details.  We unhitched the car because the grade was so steep.  I drove the  Dog House on SR 14 all the way.   It was slow.  It was narrow.  Damn, I’m good.  We were in the snow though none on the road.  It was a fabulous drive.  No semi trucks there.

We hooked up the car to the RV once we were over the mountain up on a plateau.  Rayman drove us to Cannonville, Utah  where we checked into a KOA campground.  So much nicer than the one we were in in St. George.  It has trees!!  We are at 6,000 ft.  We unhitched the Fit and headed back to Bryce.

The country is so beautiful it is hard to overstate it.  Just saying.

When we arrived at the gate to the park, the ranger in the booth greeted us.  Rayman said, “Hi, how are you today?”  The ranger replied, “I’m overworked and underpaid.  I’m far away from home and I tired and cranky.”  Rayman, without missing beat retorted, “Me too.  We can be friends.”  The guy got a kick out of that.  So did we!!

So, off we went to check out Bryce National Park.  Wowie, zowie.  Fabulous.  Here are pictures to prove it.

When we returned to base camp, we fired up the barbie and I made a Greek salad, prepared asparagus for the barbie as well as a rack of lamb.  Paired that with Talley growler wine, pesto left over from a few nights ago.  And we washed it down with more Talley.  OMG.  It was after 7 before we sat down to eat.  We were ravenous.  It was a fabulous dinner.   And then we had chocolate and port.  We know how to live!!

And now it is 9:18 and I’m exhausted.  A very long day.  And so much fun!!!

Today we bursted forth to visit Zion.  It’s been a lifetime since the last visit for me.  Rayman had never visited.  We both were wowed.

No calamity befell us.  We rode on the shuttle until the end of the line after watching the movie at the Visitor’s Center.  And then we jumped off and hoofed it back along the Virgin River.  We tumbled over dead trees, gazed skyward and saw a condor, we believe.  Butterflies were flitting.  And it was hot.

Made a big mistake.  Wore levis and teeshirts with an outer shirt to protect us from the sun.  Oops.  I forgot my hat.  It was in the car and by the time it was time to don it, we were too invested in time to return to the car.  So, I did what many who had gone before me did.  I bought a new hat!!  It was reasonably priced and a neutral color.  It’s mine now.

It was very obvious we were not prepared for any serious hiking.  Firstly, we waited to late to get going this a.m.  I did not bring my walking stick with me (it was in the RV).  Our water containers were bulky and had to be handheld.

With all those challenges, we still managed to enjoy the experience.  The sandstone rock.  The river.  The greenery in the form of trees, shrubs, grasses.  And the prickly pear cactus.  That is a very successful plant, that cactus.  It grows everywhere.  Even in Zion.  And some of it was still in bloom.

Rock climbers were climbing up the shear side of two different “rocks”.  I can barely watch that so afraid am I that I will witness a fall.  Much scarier to watch than the trapeze because the trapeze has a net.  These guys/gals go up these giant mountains with nothing that I know of to back them up.  They do, however, have something to help them down…called gravity.  Gut wrenching.  So I sneaked a peek and then looked away.

Here’s some info about Zion that you might enjoy.  And if you haven’t ever visited, you should go.  Put it on your bucket list.

http://www.latimes.com/travel/cruises/ct-travel-zion-utah-parks-20100602-story.html

We have friends that live in St. George which is an hour’s drive away from the park.  And we went to dinner at their home last night.  Isn’t it fun catching up?  They have lived in Utah for 11 years now and this is only our second visit so there plenty to laugh about.  Talk about.  And they agreed to dog sit for us today.  So Beau had company all day which was fabulous because today, of all days, the park we are staying in slurry sealed the street that leads to our RV parking space.  Great timing, uh?  Beau probably would have tried to supervise the heavy equipment while were away so having our friends, Dick and Barb, keep Beau was a fine development.  And everyone seemed happy when we returned.

Tomorrow golf is on the agenda so unless the Rayman screws himself into the ground while swinging his club, I won’t have much to report.  Oh, wait.  Maybe he’ll get a hole in one.  If he does, I promise I will write again.

Today was an unexpected surprise.  Traveled from Boron, CA to Overton NV.  It  was a revelation.  Rayman worked the map and decided to take off Interstate 15 south of Las Vegas and trapse through a national recreational called Lake Mead.  Neither of us had ever been on the road so we thought, “what the heck?”  Before arriving at the exit for the diversion. we noticed a bunch of stacked rocks…check out this article that appeared in today’s NYTimes.

Building an Artist’s ‘Magic Mountains’ to Draw Visitors to the Desert

That we saw this and then an explanation of it appeared in the paper from NY the day after is an incredible amount of coincidence.  Lucky us.

But I digress.

What a great idea to take the detour.   What we discovered was about 70 miles of national recreation area with almost no cars on the road.  Every turn introduced us to new vistas.  Up and down and around we went.  Such a wonderful surprise.  In this day and age of all things electronic, somehow we had no idea what was in store for us.  And we were grateful for it.  TMI can ruin a rush, so to speak!!

Two wonders of the modern world.  Where were all the animals?  We didn’t see a coyote, a roadrunner or any soaring birds.  They were conspicuous in their absence.  The other thing we didn’t see was a telephone pole.  Not one telephone pole.  No power lines.  It is as if we had stepped back into the 1600s.  Other than the newly paved two lane road, and turnouts that had trash cans (painted red like the rocks), there was no sign of civilization.  Oops.  That’s not true.  Every once in a while there was a speed sign and signs instructing us not to shoot our guns.  Drats.  It wasn’t perfect.  However, the government has done a great job with this wilderness by not doing much of anything to distract from it’s beauty and remoteness.

 

So we are at Robbin’s Rest RV park in Overton, NV.  It is sparse but lovely at the same time.  Lots of trees.  Wifi.  Perfect.  Although, I would have enjoyed a dip.  And I’m not talking about the Rayman.

It’s 70 degrees at 8 p.m.  It’s heating up.  We’re headed for real heat.  Oh, dear.  I’m such a pansy where heat is concerned.  Oh, well.

Actually, there isn’t much to report.  The trip went smooth except when we got a bit lost in Henderson, NV.  And we needed gas.  Ended up at a station that was really tight (space wise) and that’s not good when you are towing a car.  However, we made it out.  Or to put it another way, I drove us out of the tight space since I’m calmer.  And Rayman is a better map reader.

Tomorrow we head to St. George via the Nevada state park Valley of Fire (I’m guessing).  Boy, the southwest is amazing in so many ways.  Here in Overton, there’s not much here here.  Mostly ranchers?  I”m guessing.  The population is about 4,000.  You can pick up a big house on lots of property for $200,000.  There’s three restaurants, one market.  A lot of people live in old mobile homes here.  And it’s very quiet.  No movies.  No gambling except for one bar in town.  Hard to even realize you’re in Nevada.

Didn’t meet anyone here.  The RV park is essentially deserted.  There is another in town more upscale.  It’s got more business.  We’re happy to be here in this one. 

This a.m. we arose, donned our clothes, packed up the perishables, locked up and drove away. Our sojourn to South Dakota began. And we trekked down to the Registrar of Voters and were the first people in the entirety of San Luis Obispo County to vote. The very first. We were so first that everyone in the office helped us get an absentee ballot that was going to be mailed today. The complexity of voting in CA is noteworthy. However, neither of us had to produce a photo i.d. There you have it. CA is progressive and is not worried about voter fraud like some far flung places are (think the deep South).

But I digress.

After voting, we popped into to a coffee shop and had a non-fat latte and a blackberry muffin. Yum. Beau, of course, was with us and so we sat outside with him while we ate/drank. A man took the next table but not before admiring our dog. Turns out he has one. He also has an 18 year old Jag in pristine condition. A delightful conversation ensued before we jumped in the car and headed to the RV parking lot.

Voila. Here I am in the Mojave desert, in the Oasis RV park located in Boron, CA. Boron is the home to Borox Mining where the speed limit is 37 1/2 miles per hour and the visitors center sits high above the huge hole in the ground that has been mined for a very long time.

 

Here is one of the richest ore deposits on earth. And out of this place, the TV show in the 60s, Death Valley Days originated. The visitor’s center was a well done commercial. Brought to you by Borox. The hole they have carved out is about 2 1/2 miles long and 800 feet deep. Products made with the chemicals produced here are in your flat screen TVs and your laundry detergent. On the tiles of the space shuttle and the glass in your cupboard.

And that’s what’s in Boron. They have a life-size replica of the 20 mule team that was originally used for moving rocks from Death Valley to everywhere. Now it’s done with trains, ships, trucks.

On the way here we drove thru Cayama valley to reach the San Joaquin valley. Very pretty ride. Very few cars. Yuccas were blooming. The oaks looked healthy as they had more rain there this year. Then we sprinted over to Arvin via a detour (closed road). And up the into the mountains to again come down to the great Mojave desert. At one point, a CHP SUV darted out with lights ablazing and slowed everyone down. It turns out an electrical crew was restringing high voltage power cables across the freeway. We had a bird eye’s view. You don’t see that every day. So, there we were parked on the 58 freeway for a few minutes while the work was being completed.

And so now I am somewhat reclined on the sofa typing this blog and am very tired. Just waiting for the sun to sink behind the mountains to our west so that I can take my book to the boudoir and read about Theodore Roosevelt and his trip down the Amazon. River of Doubt is the book. Looks promising so far through 3 chapters. It came highly recommended.

Rayman had a good day. He only banged his shins once. And I think I can speak for both of us that the day was quite delightful though long and a bit laborious. For the record, I banged my head. And maple syrup oozed out in the refrigerator so I had to clean that up. But that ain’t bad as RV trips go. Heck. It didn’t snow so that’s good.

The wind is howling here but it’s a warm “mariah”. The RV park is minimal but functional. It’s better than Santa Barbara’s. I’ll say that. The railroad train tracks are close and 5 trains have pasted so far. Really, Boron is a tumbleweed sort of town. No good housing. One restaurant. One grocery store. Lots of pitbulls in chained yards. Poor and barren. But, they had Ben and Jerry’s in the grocery store so there you have it.

Tomorrow, day 2, takes us to Overton, Nevada. On the shore of Lake Mead. Why there? Didn’t want to stay in Vegas. And we wanted someplace we had never been before so we are planning on driving a bit out of way to experience a new place on earth. And with that, it’s over and out.

This week, Rayman and I drove to North Fork, which is reputed to be the exact center of California.  That is what the sign says as you enter the small, “don’t blink” town on the way to the house we rented for two nights.  North Fork is a throw back of sorts in the foothills of this state in that there are very poor, rural folks that inhabit the hills around The Fork.  I’m taking it that the fork is in reference to a split in the river that cuts the valley in half.  Huge hills rise up from the river and it is sad to see because most of the trees in this place are pine and are dying from the affects of the Pine Beetle.  You know instantly that they are sick because they are yellow, rather than verdant green that pines habitually are when healthy.

When approaching this town of North Fork, we come across a young mother sitting in her huge truck in the parking lot of the local elementary school, a baby in her lap.  But that isn’t really what catches our eye.  It’s the huge, confederate flag flying from a pole stuck in the back of the truck.  Somehow.  Here in the center of CA is a confederacy lover.  And proud of it.  Rayman and I look at each other in dismay.  How do you suppose this woman decided that flying a confederate flag was a good idea?  Was it her or her dearly beloved that engaged in such in-your-face behavior?  It apparently is an advocation on their part.   As an aside, we did not see any black people as we drove through town.

Then there were all the fringe churches we saw along the road.  This place was different.   And every yard seems to have a bucket of bolts or two or three.  Mostly old trucks.  Which begs the question, why didn’t they sell the old stuff?  Depreciating assets depreciating assets.

But I digress.

Rayman and I were on our way to North Fork and I asked him if he knew how to text by talking into his iPhone.  No he did not.  Because I was behind the wheel, I could only tell him how to do it.  I just learned how to do it, myself, on Monday.  And so he tried by sending a text message to his son.  It was a scream.  Somehow he selected the wrong microphone icon and the message read as follows:

“I does that mean that sad that text on this one eating a text unless you’re trying to say in a text on this actually it’s missing are the words that I’m saying.”

When he read what was transmitted, he howled.  Admittedly, he needs some work.

Okay.  So back to the story.

The Wisdom House beckoned.  It was a house I found on the internet several years ago.  It’s a great place off the main road.  Completely modern, up-to-the-minute.  Just two bedrooms and baths.  Perfect for us and my cousin, Sue, her husband, Larry, and their granddaughter, Leyla.  We all met up in North Fork for two nights.  And the reason was that Yosemite is located about 25 miles away.  Here’s the link if you have any interest.

www.wisdomretreats.us/

Yosemite.  What a place.   Is there a grander place on earth?  It’s one of the best.  And it was free getting in because all week there is no admission as it’s the National Park Service one-hundredth anniversary celebration.  Yes, we have the senior card for free admission.  But it was a nice gesture anyway.

This time of the year, the park is in bloom.  Dogwood, mustard, lupine.  And the falls are spectacular.  Adding to the drama is the long ride on twisting and turning two lane roads.  Then you pop out of a long tunnel and there it is.  It leaves a lump in the throat and a song in your heart.  It also makes you feel like a speck.

For those that believe the earth is really old, you are struck by the amount of time it took for the valley to evolve into what you see today.  If you believe that the earth is 6,000 years old, I think you need to do some more reading.  Perhaps you could return to college and study geology.  Just saying.

Let me back up.  We went to the park with my cousin, Susie, husband, Larry, and granddaughter of theirs, Leyla.  They arrived on Wednesday afternoon as did we.  And Susie had a cold.  A horrible cold.  But she was bound and determined to make the trip because Leyla wanted to see those waterfalls.  Before they arrived, I hastily frosted a cake that I made for Leyla’s birthday which had been April 15.  The best birthday cake I know that isn’t chocolate.  Here’s the recipe:

http://cooking.nytimes.com/recipes/1013965-almond-birthday-cake-with-sherry-lemon-buttercream

And here’s a pic of the finished product.  Yummy.  And Leyla, of course.

So, the next day we got up early and headed to the park.  The weather was perfect.  The rains from the winter provided snow that is still melting thereby providing waterfalls, the best in years.  Thank you el nino.  And we just had to see them.  That was the reason for the trip.  The pictures speak for themselves….except for one thing.  The velocity of the water raging down the side of the cliffs creates it’s own weather system.  In the parking lot, it was a pleasant 60+ degrees.  A short walk up a path to a viewing platform, the temperature must have been about 50 degrees and it was “raining”.  We brought our umbrellas and still managed to get wet.  And cold.  What a great adventure.  And this happened at Bridalveil Falls and Yosemite Falls, both.  All other falls were too far away to enjoy in such a manner.

We packed a picnic and ate on the banks of the Merced River.  The crows that stood watch over the picnic tables were about as big as cessna airplanes.  And they protected their turf with great enthusiasm.

The park was not that busy which was a blessing because we brought two cars so that the Rayman and I could escape the coughing and hacking that was on display.  Even so, we were able to follow each other, and park near each other.  A true miracle.  So, next year, if you go…go in April.  It’s a great time, mid-week that is.  Coming home today, the highway of two lanes was packed with vehicles heading up the mountain.  Leave the weekends for the working folks, is my advice.

The other thing we did in the park was to drive up to Glacier Point.  I had never been there.  Rayman had been there many times.  What a view to behold.  Looking down from on high, the cars below looked about the size of ants.  If you wanted to do yourself in, this might be the place.  Just jump.  You will die.  There are no fences to keep you from it.  And that’s the beauty.  Who wants to look at this miracle of nature through a chain-linked fence?  If you’re afraid of heights, you may want to skip it.  But I wouldn’t.  It is just too intimidatingly beautiful.  Too overwhelmingly grand.  And people have been enjoying it since the late 1800s.

Finally, a shout-out to Theodore Roosevelt, my favorite Republican president.  He camped at Yosemite in 1903 when President with John Muir.  Three nights.  Just the two of them.  All others were ordered away.  No spin doctors.  No entourage.  Just them.  And that led to Yosemite becoming a national park, along with other parks.  Teddy is a hero as is John Muir.  Giants.  If I were President, I would want a legacy like that.  Not wars.  National Parks.  They are remarkable and we are so lucky to have them.

A few other observations.

The farmers in the dell are getting on our nerves.  Between Loomis, CA and Interstate 5 freeway, there are a myriad of “homemade” signs offering arguments favorable to the farmers.

No Water.  No Food.

Build tunnels not trains.

Those are two of the signs that we remember because they get repeated over and over as the miles melt into the rear view mirror.  And as you zoom along highway 41, you can’t help but notice the open ditches of water.  So, the Rayman asks, why don’t the farmers pay for upgrading the irrigation canals with huge pipelines.  Evaporation would be reduced to almost nothing.  What are they waiting for?  Oh, they want the taxpayers to pick up the tab, perhaps?  or maybe they have never thought of it?  Who knows?  But as casual observers not prone to researching this vexing problem at this time, we stop and think about their offensive.  Why can’t we have both water tunnels and high speed rail?  We are the 8th largest economy on earth.  Why can’t we have both?  Maybe we should pass a law restricting trade of food to only other states in the U.S.  Why should we use our water to grow food that get shipped out of the country?  Could we put a tariff on our food to pay for the tunnels?  Of course, it is understood that farmers want everyone else to pay for their infrastructure.  How much do they pay for water?  So many questions, so few answers.  Just food for thought, if you will pardon the pun.  Want to know more about water in California?  Read Cadillac Desert by Marc Reiser.  Simply the best book I’ve read on the subject.  Here’s a link.

https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/cadillac-desert/id357991973?mt=11

After you pass under the great Interstate 5 highway just west of Kettleman City, you come to a spot in the road…an intersection.  And under construction on this dusty parcel of land is a four way stop with stoplights being installed.  Why are they putting in a stoplight?  What’s wrong with putting in a roundabout?  So much more efficient.  Probably a heck of lot cheaper since electricity would not be required.  Why, we ask.  Why?  It is disheartening in a way.  More land needed for the roundabout?  No problemo.  There is nothing but lifeless looking land out there.  Except where they have started irrigating.  Yes, irrigating an arid parcel of land miles from anything.  Who made that decision?  To allow that in the middle of a huge drought that probably is not over.  Oh, so many questions without answers.  On top of all that Prince died.

Well, we are back home.  A great trip to a great park.

Do you wonder what lurks in the crevices of your garage?  or attic?  or basement?  California doesn’t do basements too much but I had the good fortune of having grandparents that had a basement.  It was dank, dark, foreboding.  And I loved it in a dangerous kind of way.  The steps were steep and one lone lightbulb illuminated the entire terrain.  The wood that held the house up above the basement was pristine redwood. Once I managed to lodge a giant redwood splinter across the palm of my hand.   It required a trip to the doctor to get it removed.

Once down in the abyss of the concrete reinforced (I hope) basement, were located shelves.  And on the shelves were many unopened boxes.  White boxes.  And they had ribbon around them.  Silver ribbons.  Along with those boxes were a myriad of plates, cups, glasses, piles of clothes.  Thinking of it now, it is not too far removed from what the Rayman and I just found in our garage as we embarked on our “spring clean”.  However, the basement had much more character.  It also had a vent to the outside which was useful for light and air.  Uncle Dodo, the architect of my grandparents house was no slouch.  He thought of everything, apparently.   Although, it could have used more light.  It was slightly terrifying to me.  There were shadows and spiders.  And the adults never seemed interested in going down there.  My grandmother used to line up cans of food on the steps.  It was a stand in for the pantry she didn’t have.  The house was very small.

But I digress.

Our neighbor, the Jordan family had a basement too.  As far as I know, these were the only two basements on our block but then I never did a census, and I didn’t snoop.  Surmising is the best I can do.  Johnny Jordan was an entrepreneur in the entertainment business.  He entertained people in his bars and liquor stores.  And because of this perhaps, he made the basement of his house into an elaborate bar.  It had red tiles on the floor and a small bar, complete with sink, mirrors, glasses, booze.  And it had a closet.  That is where we changed our clothes when we were putting on a “floor show” for the adults.  The water heater may have been in it.  Not sure.  Memories have faded over time.  But that basement was high class.  It was a hidden gem.  Perhaps it was a speakeasy!!  I think it is fair to say that their basement had far less spiders than ours did.  Oh, and how can I forget.  It had a jukebox.  A Wurlitzer with bright lights.  With records.  OMG.  It was so cool.   And it also had a vent to the outside for air and light.

So, today Rayman and I started cleaning the garage and it brought all these memories back when I stopped to take a water break and sit down to cool down.

Our garage is not nearly as interesting.  And it’s full of stuff that I wonder what ever possessed us to buy.  Oh, I’m sure we had our reasons but really.  We must have unearthed 10 tubes of silicon stuff.  Putty.  30 cans of opened paint, mostly mysterious as to the application they were intended for.  Many from the previous owner so they must match our walls.  Forty two cloth bags for lugging stuff home.  Wine bags.  You know the kind that have 6 compartments.  Bags from Whole Foods, New Frontiers, Albertsons, Morro Bay Golf Course.  Bags up the ying yang.  Old tire chains that do not fit on presently owned automobiles.  Hats which we plan to keep but hats galore.  Baseball caps, my floppy golf hats.  And pictures.  OMG.  Family pictures.  And many of them framed.  So, I took the pictures out of the frames and the frames now rest in the back of the Prius.  Off to the Goodwill truck with the frames, old tools, clothes that don’t fit anymore.  A major clean up.

But back to  those boxes in the basement.  When I got old enough to reach the shelves, I opened one of the boxes.  It, like all the others, had a white small card attached.  “Dear Donna and David.  Congratulations on your marriage.  Love, Whomever”.  The boxes were unopened wedding presents filled with Fostoria glasses and plates.  Cups and saucers.  Never opened.  The vestige of a broken marriage.   How sad, really.  My parents were only married for a few years, not long enough, apparently, to open the wedding gifts.  Not long enough to set up house.

Well, some of those dishes are in my kitchen today.  I use them for desserts and salads.  Quite useful to the homemaker.  Take that to mean what you wish.  I will spoil your fun by telling you that my mother was completely uninterested in making a home.  Her favorite meal to make was fish sticks, at the dawn of the frozen dinner era.  She was also quite fond of cream tuna on toast.   So, I guess she didn’t need salad and dessert plates for that, now did she?

Well, I had my rest.  The garage beckons.  And I found an old box of my grandmother’s recipes (she was a good cook and homemaker).  So, perhaps, I will share a few of them with you later on.  But first, I must plow through that box and see what i can find.

Hope there aren’t any spiders in there.