Travels with The Rayman

This really is not fun anymore.  Rayman is out looking for the AAA guy who can’t seem to find us here at the RV park next to the fairgrounds in Corvallis, OR.  Snowy Corvallis, OR.  This is the snowy Corvallis that never snows so it has not invested in any snowplows.  None.  Nada.  And when a city does not invest in snowplows, the snow remains on the road.  Some of it turns to ice.  Some of it turns to slop.  Some of it melts and becomes, well, water.  And it makes it almost impossible to drive on even with chains.  Really, people, what are the city father’s (and mothers), thinking here?

A slight diversion.  So, well, we needed food yesterday.  It was Rayman’s birthday, a birthday he will never forget.  So, we braved the horrid conditions on the road and slipped and slid all the way to the grocery store.  And yes, we had our chains on the Fit.  We are located about 5 minutes from the store, but it managed to take us an hour to get there and back.  And we managed to get there and back alright but the clutch smelled funny.  Although, we can’t blame the clutch on the snow.  It started smelling in Phoenix, Oregon which is a burb of Ashland.  So, when we arrived here, the clutch was already a problem.

But, I digress, sort of.

We got to the store yesterday, and we got home yesterday.  This a.m. when we woke, the snow was beginning to break down a bit and we decided in the early afternoon to go to Albany, 20 minutes up the road to check out conditions and return some things to Target.  Well, then we decided to go to Eugene since when we escape this place with no plows, we will be traveling to Eugene, possibly.  The main roads are pretty good,  Side roads are still a mess.  So, we decided to take off the chains.  Well, easier said than done.  We pulled into the driveway for Hewlett Packard and parked the car.  Rayman got out and started working on the driver’s side.  I got out and worked on the passenger side.  We could not get them off.  I circled to his side and tried to assist.  Growling ensued.  The chain would not come off.  Rayman jacked up the car with a jack that he called, “pitiful”.  Still no luck.  I then sashayed around to the passenger side to look and compare and somehow the passenger side tire chain came off.  Divine intervention?  But try as we may, the other chain was not forthcoming.   So, we gave up and drove the car back to the RV park because Rayman wanted to get that chain off.   I was at the wheel driving when I noticed the “check engine light” on.  OMG.  What next?

So, Rayman decided if the chain wouldn’t come off the tire, the tire would come off the car.  And so it did.  However, the jack was such a piece of s*&t, that once the tire came off, Rayman could not get the tire back on.  The car sank somehow.  So, I called AAA.  The nice man informed me that they (AAA) were only responding to emergencies in Corvallis (and I think know why.  They can’t drive here either).  He said it would probably be tomorrow before help would arrive.  And our neighbors were out of the park so there was seemingly no help.

In the meantime, I was informed by the Rayman that the Invisibrake that we had installed so that the blinkers on the car signal at the same time the RV signals signal…that contraption’s wires under the car had come lose and they were on the ground.  OMG.  By this time, I was getting really getting concerned.  The clutch, the tire, the wires, the check engine light.  What would become of us?

As I was calling the RV park in Eugene (a back up in case we could escape someday), I received an incoming call.  It was a phone number from Irvine, CA.  Who could it be?  It was the AAA tow truck driver.  He was looking for us but couldn’t find us.  This caused Rayman to don his coat and run out to look for him I tried to explain where we were.  And that is where I started this story.

As it unfolded, Rayman found him and the AAA guy put our tire back on.  Then as I was sitting here composing this gruesome report, he asked me to fire up TDH and try the signals while he watched the Fit.  Eureka.  They worked after all.  Which led me to wonder, “Is the Rayman a drama queen?”

At this point, I think we need to start drinking.  Heavily.  Immediately.  If not sooner.  Because we still have a smelly clutch and a check engine warning light on.

There is nothing else to do today but blog, play scrabble, do crossword puzzles, read.  So it isn’t all  bad.  However, snow has cramped our style nonetheless.  Next winter, we’ll go to Mexico.

If we wanted baptism by fire, we sure got it.  Newbie RVers caught in snow drift in the Corvallis Benton RV Park, Freeze to Death.  That could be the headline.  Hopefully not.  This a.m. we awoke to the white winter scene and immediately called our son to ask if he could please come to get so we could have breakfast together.  We thought it would stop and then we could put the chains on the Fit.  Well, in hindsight that was not such a good idea.  The car is practically buried now.

But I digress.

We did make it to breakfast and back and that is when we noticed all the snow building up on the slides of the RV.  Not good.  And the Beaumeister had not “done his business yet”.  So, we managed (with minimal trouble) to close both our slides.  TDH should stay warmer.  Did I mention it is about 20 degrees outside.  And the snow hasn’t stopped since before we awoke at 6:45 and it is now noon.  Wonder if the park manager has a snow shovel?  We sure as hell don’t.  Does Round Table deliver?  What if we run out of propane?  Actually, this morning when Rayman filled the coffee machine, he turned off the water which should not be turned off because it keeps things from freezing and so when I went to brush my teeth before leaving for breakfast, there was no water so the Rayman donned his ski parka and hiking boots and gloves and ventured outside with the hair dryer to blow hot air on the water line hoping that simple and elegant solution would get the water moving again….which it did to our amazement and I was able to complete the tooth duty before we all scrambled into our old Highlander which Ryan now owns and which he drove over from his apartment without chains so that the Rayman could go out and help him install the chains (just thinking of you, dad) and we sally forthed to the Sunnyside Up restaurant and ate blueberry pancakes with real maple syrup (a surcharge of $2/per for the real deal) and then we came back to TDG to spend what looks to be the next three days without leaving except for the trip to the laundry room and walks for the Beau while doggie wears his new rain/snow coat we bought yesterday just in case.

Whew.  None of the other RVs have put in their slides.  Then again, perhaps they got smart and headed for the closest Holiday Inn.  I mean, people, what are we to do?  Will we run out of propane?  At least we have electricity as long as the utility company keeps it going.  And we have water, thanks to the hair dryer.

Ode to the Downer Party

Gold had a lure for the pioneers of old that
Strode to the mountains in the west, looming like
The great hopes in their beating hearts all the while
Whispering their names.  And they came.

Snow knows no respect to the dreams of the damned
As they hunker down low hoping for the sun to shine hope their direction.

Frozen in place they must have known the worst
Was upon them.  Who would live, who would perish?

To live was the curse.

So.  End of ode.

There.  That made me feel so much better.  We are cozy and dry and connected to the world with our gadgets.  And we have leftover pozole, clam chowder, chili.  We aren’t on the menu.  Not bad.  But of you don’t hear from us now and then, you might inquire with the local authorities.

As I said earlier, to Mexico next winter!!

This story is short and sad.  We left Bishop yesterday a.m.  Beautiful day.  Took some fabulous pictures.  Everything was great until we hit a sign that said, “Chains required in 10 miles.”  That news put a sudden stop to our trip north.  After much gnashing of teeth, we decided not to chance going any further.  Snow on the side of the road was mounting and we did not have chains for TDH.  So, we reluctantly made a U-turn and here I am sitting in the Orange Grove RV park in Bakersfield.  OMG.  The Orange Grove RV park has orange trees with oranges on them and we collected about 8 fresh navels from the trees.  Boy are they good.  I made a salad of greens, orange slices, red onion slices and squeezed OJ with EVOO to go with our baked chicken breast.  The chicken was like eating shoe leather but it was very healthy.  And I almost ruined the two pieces of Corian material that sit atop the stove.  Didn’t realize the oven vented.  Well, no excuses.  Left the covers in place and, boy, did the back one get hot.  They seem okay today.  Close call.

View in the rear view mirror.

We weren’t sure what we would do tomorrow.  Continue on up to Corvallis via the coast route, 101 and 1.  Or just give up and go home.  Rayman could fly to Oregon to visit Ryan.  Will slept on it and decided this morning.

So.  Here I am writing from TDH parked in Vacaville.  We are parked on Chardonnay Lane at the Vineyards RV “resort”.  And it is raining.  Not hard but it is raining.

Today, Rayman started driving.  We headed up 99 thinking it would be easier.  NOT.  I’m here to report that the infrastructure of the CA highway system is a mess.  We were shaken up, literally.  Narrow lanes, road under construction signs.  Ruts.  Bumps.  Pot holes.  When it was time to trade off driving, we pulled off the freeway.  The app said the truck stop was good.  It wasn’t.  We pulled into the gas station.  Didn’t think we could get out without backing up which is a gigantic no-no since we are towing a toad.  Managed to extricate ourselves without uprooting a gas pump or buying gas.  Rayman was too nervous to pump gas.  We moved to the next station.  It was an Arco.  What is their business plan anyway?  They wouldn’t take our debit card, our credit card, our first born.  So we left there and spied a Starbucks across the intersection.  It was on the wrong side of the street.  I swung a u-turn, parked illegally in the shadow of a “No parking anytime” sign.  Rayman ran to the store (I think he was burning mad energy).  Finally, we turned right to get on the freeway and there was no on ramp going north.  For heaven’s sakes.  What else could go wrong?  Well.  I’m here to report plenty.

It started raining.  And the driver’s side wiper did not work worth a damn.  Forgot to check that.  Who knew?  So, I drove as best I could seeing not as good as I should, dodging those pot holes and road under construction areas.  Why is 99 so bad?  We would go from perfect freeway, to total 3rd world type roads in the snap of a finger.  Some spots that were ‘fenced” off  with white concrete barriers protected freeway lanes that looked like hadn’t seen any repair action for months.  There was no meaningful pattern to discern.  And all the roads leading to Interstate 5 went south before they went north.  We just preservered.

Then it was Rayman’s turn again.  He picked the place to stop.  Luckily, the spot had a great grocery store.  So, we shopped for dinner.  Clam chowder.  Rayman took the wheel.  It continued to rain.  The road kept being terrible until we transitioned to the 120 where it became the two lane from hell.  And we just kept on.  I”m pretty sure everything in TDH has been rearranged inside the drawers and the closets.  Rayman chose a route that included all kinds of backroads.  We saw sheep, wet sheep.  We saw drawbridges (went over it.)  It was much more fun than the big highways.  Wish it was all backroads but we need to get to Corvallis by Feb. 5.  No time to dilly dally.

Now the Broncos just fumbled for the third time.  It’s a rout.  I can identify.

We’re ready to eat clam chowder that I screwed up.  I was suppose to warm the half and half with the clams and clam juice.  I instead put it into the pan with all the other ingredients including the half cooked potatoes.  The cream is not to be boiled.  As a result we had to wait much longer for it be done.  And did I mention, we are starving?  Desperate, I let it boil a bit.  And then we consumed it.    The recipe:

• 4 slc bacon, coarsely minced
• 3 green onions, minced
• 5  red potatoes, medium size, unpeeled, cut into 1/2-inch cubes
• 1/3 c. rreen or red pepper, chopped
• 1/3 c. celery, sliced
• 3  eloves garlic, chopped
• 1 c. water
• 1 c. clam juice, (bottled is OK)
• 1 tsp salt
• 1/2 tsp pepper
• 1 tsp Worchestshire sauce
• Tabasco sauce to taste
• 3 cans of choopped clams, (canned) with juice
• 2 c. half and half.   NO SUBSTITUTES

Directions

And now the Super Bowl is just about over.  What a boring game.  The announcer waxed on about how he didn’t see this kind of victory coming.  Sort of sounded like Rove on election night.

But I digress.

So, many lessons learned.  Good thing I’m blogging so I can review all our mistakes to laugh at later when I’m not so tired and void of humor.

Tomorrow we head for Ashland.  Let’s hope it’s easier.

Is this the most fabulous picture. I was there. I took it!!

I’m currently tucked into bed in The Dog House which is parked at Bishop.  It is colder than a witches’ tit here.  Snowing off on on.  Who the heck idea’s was this anyway?  RVs are better suited for the warm climates, I can definitely report.

The good news is we have full hook ups and the Schott’s bakery is located a few steps from our door.  The bad news is the bakery is located a few steps from our door.  If we hang out here a diet will be needed.  Too many fabulous goodies.

On the road to Cerro Gordo

Today was spectacular.  After helping my friend, Nancy, for the past week…her neighbor offered to drive me to Bishop from Ridgecrest to meet up with the Rayman who has been here skiing and golfing this week.  We struck the mother lode of beautiful today.  Cold, crisp, clear.  And we were practically the only car on the road.  The neighbor, Mary, carried me in her 4 wheel drive SUV and she was quite adept at going off the road with it.  Several times, i thought perhaps I was going to plunge to my death, but, no way.  She was an excellent driver and guide.  She has lived in Ridgecrest since the 70s and she knows the eastern Sierra like the back of her hand.  She loves to camp, do jeep rallies, look for petroglyphs and and she has been working very hard (with her husband) to save the old mining town of Cerro Gordo.  When I jumped in her car .., she asked what my schedule for arrival at Bishop looked like.  I told her there was no schedule.  She then inquired as to my interest in seeing Cerro Gordo after giving me the definitive history of the place.  “Sure.  Let’s go.  I’m game.”  And so we went.  Turning off 395 we headed up hill on a lonely stretch that bordered the south end of Owens Lake.  Then suddenly we turned left and then right and the pavement went away.  OMG.  8 1/2 miles straight up hill on a winding, rocky road to Cerro Gordo.

On the way Mary told me that Steve McQueen had been there filming long ago.  The first Ironman movie was filed at a sight on the way there.  I saw the spot.  Fun stuff.  When we arrived at the town, there was a man named Robert that greeted us.  He and his wife, Sandy, live in the god forsaken place as the caretakers of the town.,,,with their chihuahua, Harley that did not like me one bit.   He snarled and barked.  It is amazing the dog has survived.  There was an owl in the neighborhood with a reported 4 ft. wing span.  Of course, coyotes are around as well as mountain lions and an occasional college student.  A chihuahua would be a tempting target for those predators.

Mary gave me the grand tour.  I saw the hotel, the church, the museum, the inside of two of the houses and then Robert and Sandy;s house.  Spent some time chatting with them.  Mary and her husband and many of their friends are working hard to preserve this place.  Here’s a website for you, the dear reader. http://www.ghosttowns.com/states/ca/cerrogordo.html

Beau posing in front of the hotel.

The church.

To backtrack, the day was beautiful.  We went high enough to go into a bit of snow.  Mt. Whitney, directly across the valley was in sight with a new dusting of snow.  Since we are in the middle of a severe drought, we were lucky it snowed last night.  Stunning.  So stunning we kept stopping the car and jumping out to click away.  I was so sorry I didn’t have my good camera but the iPhone still took some great pics.

Mary was kind to drive me to Bishop, however, she also had business.  She had just developed a brochure about Cerro Gordo.  They have established a 501 3(c) non-profit so that they can get people to donate to the cause.  And those brochures were delivered today to Chambers of Commerce, museums, visitors bureaus all along 395.  The trip that started at 8:30 ended about 3:30 this afternoon.  When we arrived, she dropped me off and drove off without the bacon.  What bacon, you ask?

Bishop has a famous smokehouse and our Ridgecrest friend, Greg, that we met on a cruise to Alaska, wanted us to buy him some bacon and give it to Mary who would drive it back to Ridgecrest.  As she drove away, Rayman opened the frig of TDH and saw the bacon.  OMG.  We forgot to “deliver” the bacon.  I didn’t have Mary’s cell number.  Frantically, I called Nancy.  Call went to voice mail.  I called Greg.  They didn’t have Mary’s number.  I called Nancy again.  As I was calling her, she was calling me.  And did I mention that Rayman was driving down the highway in hot pursuit to give Mary the bacon.  Finally reaching Nancy, I got the number, called Mary and explained the situation.  This was when she informed me that she had gone north, not south toward home.  One more visitors center to drop off pamphlets.  So, I called Rayman and told him to turn around.  Then Mary and I talked again and gave Rayman’s cell to Mary and they met in front of the bakery.  Bacon was passed like illegal drugs (actually, the bacon should be illegal.  It’s that good.) and Rayman came back to TDH just as snow started falling.

Oh, the miracle of the cell phone.  Because of the phone not only did we manage to get the bacon headed in the right direction, but I was also able to text Rayman, earlier, a grocery list for dinner tonight.

Tonight’s dinner consisted of chicken Marsala, tossed green salad with onions, tomatoes dressed with EVOO and balsamic vinegar, and couscous.  A bakery brownie (see what I mean?) almost polished it off.  We actually had a square of dark chocolate and zin to wash it down to round out of the meal.  Then it took the Rayman about an hour to clean the kitchen which is about the size of a postage stamp.  Seems the oil that I sautéed the chicken and mushrooms in was evident on every surface of the kitchen.  Hum.  That’s a learning experience.  Need to refine my selections.  Avoid splattering recipes, is TDH “new rule”.

This was the Rayman getting ready not to ski. Getting ready to walk the dog.

Time to read my book.  More to report, I’m sure, tomorrow as we head up to 8000 feet.  I will drive the car to lighten the load for TDH.  We are headed to Corvallis via Carson City.  Who’s idea was this, anyway?  Colder than heck, possible rain. BBBUUUUUUURRRRHHHHH.

This is our second virgin voyage.  We aren’t counting the first one because we were just moving The Dog House (TDH) from the lot from which it haled to our dirt lot space that we pay $50/month to use.  No.  We didn’t count that trip.

We are now headed north then east from San Luis Obispo to Ridgecrest, CA.  And immediately it occurs to me that there should be a help line.  A    1 800 number that neophytes like us can call to ask such questions as, does the generator need to run when we are driving?  Why does TDH lean now that we have filled the gas tank?  and what can be done about it anyway?  Yes.  RVing is a total and complete adventure full of untold surprises.

I just sat down again.  By that I mean, when the Rayman (my husband) turned the corner, a clothe wine carrier holding 6 bottles, followed gravity (or was it centrifugal force) and broke out of the closet which fortunately was not too far from the floor and unceremoniously landed while simultaneously making an awful racket.  Figuring history would repeat itself if I reinstalled in in the closet, I had to wedge them between the bed and the coach and that is that.

But I digress.

Perhaps there is an 800 number to call.  I will investigate when I have a signal.  Currently I am not joined at the hip to the internet.

California is drying up.  There is not a blade of grass that is green as far as the eye can see.  And the eye can see a lot.  The vistas are fabulous.  Brown but fabulous.  The drought persists like an unwanted plague.  No medicine can cure it.  Only rain and that is a very distant memory.

Jumping ahead, I must inform my dear readers that my knuckles are permanently white, I fear.  That is because I just got out from the behind the wheel after driving for about 1 hour and 15 minutes on some of the worst freeway known to man, in heavy traffic ladened with big rigs.  Didn’t know I would be able to see eye-to-eye with the drivers.  Tattoos on the truck drivers (Mother, Bob Loves Ann, a replica of the American flag etc.) can be observed by the passenger.  Never by the driver because when you drive TDH, all concentration must be exercised on focusing on the road.  Scratch your foot, and you risk ploughing down an embankment.  Look for the radio and you may run into the car to your left.  Rayman made an astute observation that he is not sure which is worse.  Being the driver or the passenger.  Oh, and did I mention the wind?  We have been experiencing 20-30 mph winds.  A few times, I thought for sure I was going to fall from the freeway and land upside down in someone’s back yard.  It is harrowing.  No one told us about this.  I want my money back.  Perhaps when the hysteria dies down, I’ll see it differently.  What we need is an 800 number to call for available drivers of the RV.  Then we can take an ambien, let someone else’s shoulders get sore from scrunching them as the miles add up as we count sheep while in repose on the bed.  One can fantasize.

We are currently traveling about 30 miles per hour going straight up hill over Techachapi Pass.  I am pretty sure I can hear the gas racing through the engine netting us about 5 mpg.  The good news is that we aren’t getting pushed around by the wind.  The bad news besides the loss of fuel efficiency is that we may not reach our destination (90 miles away) before midnight.  It is currently 3 p.m.  I do not exaggerate when I report that virtually every moving vehicle on the freeway is going faster than we are, even other RVs.  Really, people, they should require new RV drivers to take a course in the Art of RV Driving and Other Non-sensical Activities.

And finally, after Rayman assumed the position (not that position, the driver’s seat), he started passing things, meaning loaded big rigs.  And about the time he started to get over in our lane (slow lane), I cried out, “THE CAR.  THE CAR.”   This caused panic on his part and he said, “WHAT CAR?”.  I yelled, “OUR HONDA.  IT’S BEHIND US.  YOU’RE GOING TO HIT THAT TRUCK.”  He replied, “I CLEARED THAT TRUCK BY A MILE.”  And this back and forth was repeated about 3 times until I finally got it through my thick head that he did know what he was doing.  Whew.  And it was at that point, out of sheer exhaustion, that I called Beau, pulled him up on my lap and I fell asleep.

But really, I wonder what we can get for this rig?

View from El Capitan campground

Well, now.  Today was the first big excursion in TDH.  Drove from Temecula to the El Capitan State campground 17 miles north of Santa Barbara. (see above)   And we did this without incident.  Rayman drove.  I’m certain that is why it went without a hitch if you’ll pardon the pun.  I’m not sure about my aptitude with this vessel.  Tomorrow is my turn at the wheel.

Beaumiester in transit

Actually, there are two campgrounds across the freeway from each other here and we took the state one.  Rayman said there were hookups so he was pleased.  When we arrived, there was an unmanned kiosk with signs that included instructions.  It was self-pay and they wanted $33 dollars in cash.  I suggested that we go pick out a sight and then return to pay.  Rayman wanted to pay and then go to the camp sight so that is what we did.  When we arrived in the area designed for RVs there were no hook ups.  Oops.  So, we picked a spot and then spotted a ranger.  He said that there was another RV resort across the freeway.  Oops.  Rayman was not a happy camper but he was instrumental so not much was discussed as you can imagine. Our spot is right on the bluffs of the Pacific.  Nice.

Rayman undid the car and we drove to Santa Barbara to visit the REI store and to get a salad to go with the pasta we were having for dinner.  Mission accomplished, we headed back, parked the car, walked the dog, fixed and ate dinner and had a lovely evening until the beeping started.  Four high pitched beeps were emanating from the carbon monoxide detector in the bedroom.  After much inspecting and discussion and opening of windows and turning on of funs, the beeping stopped.  We resumed our reading.   The beeping resumed.  Off went the generator.  Off the wall came the detector.  It was to have been replaced in 2009.  Hum.  So, I got the bright idea to text our sales guy, Leonard.  He got right back and suggested that we do what we had done.  I reported our findings and suggested that perhaps the unit was defective.  He replied, “Maybe.”  At which point I texted, “Well, if you read in the paper that a couple was found dead in their RV, tell them it was asphyxiation… not suicide.” and I sent the text.  And then I sent him another text.  “Remember, the RV Ready sign is still in our license plate holder!!”  He mentioned something about mentioning the problem to maintenance.  I mentioned that I was kidding him.  In the meantime, Rayman turned on the generator again to test it.  Then we decided it was almost 8 and that is when generators must be shut off so the Rayman just shut it off, the dog was walked, the lights were turned off, the teeth were brushed and here we are in the dark.

And now I’m pretty sure that we are parked on the Harbor freeway (picture of the Harbor freeway below).

Forget the sounds of the waves crashing.  All we can hear is the traffic.  The very loud traffic.  And the only thing that breaks up that sound is the occasional train that blows by every so often.  Did I mention that the train track was located between the campground and the freeway  OMG.  We know how to pick them, don’t we? Well, it’s called the learning curve.  And apparently we are bound and determined to utilize as much of that curve as is possible. Perhaps the traffic will die down.  It’s only 8:39 p.m.

My first stab at driving TDH