Day – 11 Bakersfield

Half way between Vegas and Yosemite was Bakersfield. The town lays firmly in California, a state where conservation in the king and hence a huge tax on the petrol prices. The highest that we saw was $4.99 a gallon.
The RV handbook promised a site where you could pick your own oranges. When we arrived, the site was empty, maybe that should have given us a message. In fact, the Office closed at five and the barbeque area had been stolen.
We set up and swam in the pool; always a treat as we were still having Nevada weather – around 105 F. Each site was flanked by an orange tree. Each tree’s trunk was painted white and was festooned (how I love that word) with oranges, just as the handbook promised and indeed, they could be picked. Unfortunately, all the oranges were suffering from colour blindness and they were still green. My suggestion would be to spare some money on the white paint and to spend some more on orange, that way, I would have had a happy wife.
The only memorable part of the day was the dog walk around the site amongst the green orange trees. Part way around, we became away of the pitbull following us. It was a young female and her name was Daisy. Wow, I can hear you thinking as you read this blog; this man is some animal expert. Actually, we met the owner later that day as she tried to catch her dog. Well at the time, we did not know its sex, age or name, only that it was a pitbull and that it was interested in Abby. There were no natural weapons around should it attack except the unripe oranges which hung from the trees. So, reaching up and trusting to my coconut shy talents, I hurled the missile at the potential antagonist; missing her by a country mile. I knew, however, that I had scared her as she turned and ran – after the orange, returning a few moments later, tail wagging, with it in her mouth.