Day 35 - The Finishing Line

It was but a short hop to the new RV drop off. We went via the bus wash which was so powerful that it blew the silicon repairs from the windows, exposing passengers to air and water as well as light. There is a place, unbeknown to us, over the slide out which gathers water when the beast is washed. We call it the ‘practical joke’ place or the ‘get your own back’ place. When the driver moves the RV out of the bus washing bay, it springs into life giving the driver a bonus shower much to the amusement of all the passengers.
I was still wet when we limped into the drop off. We spent a good hour squeezing our possessions into every nook and cranny of the CRV, then there were forms to be filled and photos documenting the damage to be taken. Finally, we squeezed ourselves into what seemed a tiny space and began the next stage of our lives.

And what did we take from the 5 week, 7000 mile journey? Well, we saw a wide range of places, probably more that the average American. Although we barely scratched the veneer of the country, we were left with a smorgasbord of wonderful vistas and a full menu of unique experiences. We learnt too about each other and ourselves. Try living for that time 24/7 with 3 or 4 others (2 0f them teenagers) in a 200 square foot tin can. Would we do it again? Probably not. However, we have discovered several places that Jules and I would like to return to, probably by motorbike. So look out for a sequel this story - Yellowstone by Yamaha.

Day 34 - Atlanta

The trip was winding down and our minds were firmly set on what was to follow; Nic and Val’s flight home and our setting up of the Wilmington house.
We parked the beast up at a quiet park and ventured across a 4 lane highway to catch the bus into the city. The traffic was fast and constant, the nearest traffic light some way up the road, so linking arms with Val, we closed our eyes and made a dash. At that stage, we should have took our bearings because we were still to return and would be in desperate need of landmarks in order to signal to the driver that we wanted to disembark.
A second bus, a little stroll and we were at the aquarium. It looked a modest building but looks can be deceiving.
We entered to a large concourse from which there were seven or eight halls. Each hall had a focus; marine, tidal, freshwater. The exhibits were outstanding because of their scale. We watched a whale lazily circling its pool, then marveled at a huge tank with all manner of fish including whale shark. Had we been more organized, I might have taken the chance to swim in that tank however, I guess ultimately I would have begrudged paying the fee. That particular tank was built over a spectator walkway and we gawped as the whale sharks were fed by a remote controlled inflatable. It was an excellent visit but, as mentioned earlier, our minds were elsewhere.
We finished our penultimate day with a Chinese take-away and the beast was given a good clean. Bags were packed and we wondered how we were ever going to get all our belongings into the Honda, particularly as Dan had left much of his essential equipment behind – including his full set of weights which remained purely as ballast throughout the journey.

Day 33 - Chattanooga

Another hold up; this time no explanation. Tom Tom helped us take the detour which quickly led to our destination. I had felt that we hadn't taken our opportunities, yesterday and so this time we were determined to see the sights rather than the sites.
Chattanooga sits on the Chattanooga River and advertises several major attractions. Look Out Mountain, is what you would expect; a nearby mountain from which the native Chattanoogians could 'look out'. Ascent was by cable car. In order to travel or take part in any local attraction, one needs to be photographed and then into the carriage.
On November 16, 1895 the railroad known today simply as "The Incline" opened, rising up the steepest part of Lookout Mountain. Built by John Crass and the Lookout Mountain Incline Railway Company this single gauge rail boasted an incline of 72.7% at one point, making it the steepest passenger Incline in the world. Originally the cars were made of wood and powered by huge coal-burning steam engines. Electric power was used after 1911, and it now uses two 100 horsepower motors. It was indeed steep at the end and the views were stunning. We could see no enemy approaching.
Then a quick scoot down and onto Ruby Falls. This geographical feature is located down unerground passages and tunnels. The history of this cave includes Native Americans, cave explorers, notorious outlaws, civil war soldiers, and even a president of the United States. There were many reports of explorers traveling deep into this cave, as far as 12 miles without reaching the end.
In 1905, due to geographical limitations, the Southern Railroad Company was forced to construct a tunnel along the face of Lookout Mountain and through some portions of the mountain for one of its lines. This tunnel intersected and sealed off the natural entrance to the Lookout Mountain Cave. In doing this the Lookout Mountain Cave was completely shut off to the public.
Leo Lambert, a local cave enthusiast knew of Lookout Mountain Cave and its rich history and had even explored the cave prior to it being sealed off. He longed to reopen it to the public and devised a plan from which to do so.
In 1923 Mr. Lambert along with a group of investors decided to enact his plan. His idea was to drill an elevator shaft from another point on the mountain to access the cave from the surface above. Work on this feat of engineering began in the fall of 1928.
On December 28, 1928, while excavating the elevator shaft a worker operating a jackhammer discovered a void in the rock and felt a gush of air. This void was located at the 260 foot level, still 160 feet above the Lookout Mountain Cave. Upon further inspection an opening, 18 inches high and five feet wide was discovered.

Lambert, along with a small crew, entered this opening to explore the new found cave. While exploring they discovered a number of unusual and beautiful rock formations, flowing passages and several stream beds. Pushing their way deeper and deeper into the cave, they finally reached its marvelous jewel, the waterfall. Mr. Lambert and his exploration party were awestruck by its magnificence and beauty, and quickly returned to the surface to share their new found discovery with the rest of the crew. The round trip journey took them about 17 hours.

On his next exploration into the cave, Lambert took several people including his wife Ruby to see the many wonders they had discovered. While gazing at the waterfall, Lambert told his wife that he would name it in her honor, “Ruby Falls". How sweet. Anyway, enough of cut and pasting from the website. We were placed in a party big enough to fill a local football stadium and crocodiled through the passages, and as we were near the end, we caught the tail end of the guide's explanation at each stop before moving off again. So we would hear 'goat on a skateboard' and played the game of creating questions to match the answer. It was in essence, a cattle drive and eventually we reached the falls, which were tall and lit by a succession of thatrical lights. It was disappointing to see the vandalism that had taken place and continues to be subjected to these million year old formations. Curious hands wiped their grease on each column and hanging formation.
As always, these excursions are not my favourite as I feel the weight of rocks pressed above me. It was interesting to learn that the caves were on a geological fault line and recent earthquakes had not moved any of the precariously balanced rocks overhead. However, torrential rainfalls were another matter - causing rapid flooding of the cave system.

Day 32 - Nashville

A short 289 mile hop down the road ended at Nashville; interrupted only by a traffic jam caused because 'there were two helicopters on the road waiting for an ambulance for an injured motorbiker' we were told. The reality was less dramatic but probably as distressing. A car had run off the road and rolled. Somewhere either side of the wait was the obligatory Starbucks.
Originally, it was to be at the start of our journey as held its place on our itinerary as the centre of the Country and Western scene. We had heard of the Grand Ole Oprey although not clear on what it was. We had now turned full circle. Having missed it at the start as we traveled from Atlanta due West, we returned via Nashville due South.
Grand Ole Oprey is a theatre with live Country & Western performers, which fitted our bill. Unfortunately, we were required to book in advance and so that avenue was closed.
So when plan A fails, plan B seems to be 'go to the pool'. It was a typical KOA campsite, in that it offers the usual menu of attractions at a premium price. The pool was heavenly and the paddle was followed by a stretch in a lounger checking on the internet. It seems that the advertising of wifi doesn't break the Trades Descriptions Act provided you park your RV in the Reception Office.
Plan B2 included camp entertainment. I was not in the best of moods - some disagreement with how to deal with family, as I remember. Upon entering the concert hall - a barn with 150 seats facing a stage lit raised area - we were struck by the moment. On the stage were two singers, dressed in boots, jeans and Stetsons. Judging by their ages, they were probably brothers of Billy the Kid. One sat; there is no western equivalent of the Zimmer frame and the other stood, held upright by the microphone stand. The standing desperado sung songs that had a range of half an octave and recited poetry. The sitting one prompted the first and was responsible for the operation of the various pieces of audio equipment, primarily the hearing aids.
The audience comprised of us three, a child and two women who were searching for the camp laundry and a few folk at the front who could not afford the fee for cable TV at the site. If there is a hell, it must contain performers consigned to entertain audiences such as these and audiences who believe that the artists are merely warming up and the next song will be one that has melody, rhythm and words that can be understood.
Entertainer

Day 31 – Terre Haute

Tomorrow came and we discovered that the repairs had only extended to replacing the tyre. Jack was informed and didn’t seem too worried about the comments regarding the other tyres. We will spend the last few days with no jack stability, no gas cooker and intermittent fridge operation. Oh well. Such is an adventure. We decided to take the smaller roads through Indiana and struggled to find a) a place of interest to break the journey and b) a camp site far enough away with all that we needed.Terre Haute was someone’s idea of a joke as the town was long, ribbon-like and as flat as Twiggy’s chest. Apologies to Twiggy and all those too young to understand. It was time to catch up on all the things that make you sane – pay some bills, check the 70 or so emails, see who was doing what in soccer and tidy away some bits – all very anally retentive, I hear you think. Then a swim and a read, time to write up a few words and sit around a smoking fire and watch the world slowly spin on its axis

Day 30 – Bolingbrook suburb of Chicago

Morning came soon and there was a pleasant walk around the two lakes and then time to pack up to take Dan to the airport. It was at that pressing moment, with an airplane to catch, that we discovered the beast had suffered further damage. One of the jack pads and its springs had been torn off by the flailing steel reinforced rubber. The jack was firmly imbedded in the gravel and would not retract. There was no way that we could drive off and time was ticking away. We dug the gravel away and, after a short phone call to Camping world, we levered the jack back to its stored position and warily started our journey to O’Hare. We were cautious of being spare tireless, anxious of the condition of the other treads but forced to meet airplane schedules. This time, we avoided the economy parking lots and drove straight to Departures. Several phone calls later, Dan was in the air to Wilmington via Charlotte.
Next stop was Camping World and repairs via Starbucks. The Service Manager was reluctant to touch any of the propane lines without the schematics and, as we later found out, he did not have the parts to mend the jack. Anyway, we were long gone. We left the beast with him on the promise that they would walk Abby in the evening and we journeyed to Chicago Downtown with a Pakistani taxi driver who wanted to discuss cricket.
$100 later, we were by the Chicago River waiting to board our boat for an architectural tour of the city. We gawped at the skyscrapers, present and future, whilst enjoying the cool refreshment of the river breeze. My favourite buildings were two cities within a city, built in the naturalistic style. The buildings flowed with curves, apartments and condos sitting atop of parking spaces. Each complex had contained shops, cinemas, ice rinks, bowling alleys and restaurants.
A short taxi hop later, we were on Bayside, gazing in amazement at the beach and the water. Our limited experience would place the scene at several coastal locations and it was hard to understand that what we were looking at was a lake. We walked among the rollerblades, the cyclists, the joggers and the curious until we reached Navy Pier. It was a good place to stop and eat Cajun food at a place called Joe’s. Disappointingly, I had
Blue Burger. Then, spontaneously, we signed up for Cirque Shanghai; an hour and a half of acrobatics. Finally, we found our American Taxicab and met the Indian driver. He was keen to make a fortune, had borrowed $1.2million for a gas station and was worried that his present African American girlfriend was too much of a spender. We had met some great characters in our taxi journeys. $84 later we were in our sumptuous and free RV site – Camping World. By the light of 20 amp circuit, we collapsed into our beds to prepare for tomorrow.

Day 29 – Sycamore, Illinois

The day started brightly – little did we know what lay in store for the band of intrepid travelers. We blew along the I80 for many a mile until, just outside Davenport, warning signs foretold delays due to road works, so we took the advised alternative route. It paralleled the I80. Apart from us missing the I88 interchange because of this, we chanced upon a Highway Patrol Officer monitoring a ‘Fines are double in the Wok Zone’ area. This time, Jules of the ‘I’ve never been stopped by a policeman’ fame was driving. I am reliably informed by my law-abiding wife that she was only a few miles over the limit; as if breaking the law has shades of grey. We were duly stopped by this kind Officer of the Law; Jules adjusted her make-up in the mirror, and greeted him by the side door. With a little fluttering of the eyelashes and ‘I’m so sorry, Officer,” accompanied by barely concealed smirks from the other passengers, she was let off with a warning. Val thought she had missed an excellent photo opportunity. Meanwhile, Abby is totally unaware and completes a pedicure on Dan.
If both of those weren’t shame enough, some way down the detour the beast’s paw exploded. One of the near-side pair of back tyres blew out with an enormous bang. The almost criminal Jules took charge and ushered all the three females out to safety, leaving the males to try and stick the shreds of rubber back in order to continue the journey. As luck would have it, within a few minutes a tyre repair van passed and stopped. He braved the thundering traffic which caused the mighty beast to sway each time it was passed to assess the repairs. The first task was to switch off the propane gas, as the line had been ripped apart. It was a good decision to stop as any spark from the trailing pipe would have started the timer for a really massive blow-out. The beast suffered the indignity of having her rear lifted and a replacement installed, exposing the extent of the damage beneath. The main LPG supply line had been severed, three micro pipes feeding gas to the fridge, the oven and the heating system were severed as were two electrical wires and a courtesy light and one storage bin was wrecked.
We reported the damage to Jack and limped on to our Chicago RV site, with great assistance from Tom Tom, arriving near 9pm. We set up and slept.

Day 27 – Ogallala - Nebraska

The day started with a mountain mist sitting on the KOA site. I threw on my anorak over my shorts and old walking boots and took Abby for a longer walk as she had missed out in the past few days. We ended up at the Cook Tent. I tied her outside to a bench and ordered my breakfast and when I returned I was approached by a wiry, Harley clad, Biker. He strode purposefully up to me and I waited for some comment about my sartorial tastes. Instead, he meekly said that he wanted to feed Abby and had wanted my permission to do so. Abby was smitten by him, especially after the sixth portion of sausage. She sat and delicately took the treats from his hand as if it were an everyday occurrence. It turned out that Bruno the Biker had been raised with Springers; not that he was one of the litter, more that his childhood had been spent with these wonderful dogs. I would recommend them to anyone who is looking for an introduction to strangers. The dogs are simply conversation starters.
From the site, we traveled a short distance down the road to the Crazy Horse memorial. Unfortunately, the mist was still sitting on the mountains and the best we saw was his arm and what will be his horse. However, the scale of the work is difficult to imagine. The sculpture was begun by Ziółkowski in 1948. When completed, it will be 641 feet (195 meters) wide and 563 feet (172 meters) high. The Rushmore faces would fit into the face of the Indian. It was interesting to get underneath the scale of the project and to be shown what the finished sculpture will finally look like. Scale is something that the Americans have as part of their daily diet; figuratively and literally.
Once we had sated our curiosity and bought the obligatory T shirt, we completed the drive along the 385. We lost the bikers at Custer and from then on the terrain leveled to the Great Plains.
Eventually, we reached Ogallala, named after the Oglala tribe of the Dakota Sioux. The town earned the nickname of the Gomorrah of the Plains due to the fact that the Texan cowboys, having herded their cattle to the railroad junction, wanted to let off some steam. The site was complete with wifi and pool and we settled down with a deserving Sam Adams to learn more about the I90 corridor, Nebraska and Iowa. The latter was described to me by an Iowan as somewhere to drive through. I’ll let you know tomorrow but now I will go and watch nature surpass any manmade light show. Surrounding the site on two sides was a monumental storm with a kaleidoscope of flashes, some forked some sheet, which illuminated ever-changing cloud shapes more wonderfully than we could ever hope to emulate.

Day 26 – Hill City

The journey to Hill City was through some deliciously beautiful countryside of the Black Hills, through such famous towns as Lead, Silver City and Deadwood. We traveled, again, through high-walled canyons and majestic rock formations. However, this was the beginning of Sturgis Week. Sturgis is a rival to Daytona and an American equivalent of the Isle of Man week. Bikes swarmed around us like bees around an unwanted visitor to their hive. They traveled in groups, anything from 2 – 20 and sported the same black leather uniforms and lack of helmets. Deadwood, made famous by the stagecoach, was full of posse after posse of bike rider. One car park alone, only contained bikes and there must have been 200 of them, chrome and leather highly polished, lined up. Some were three wheelers, some were enclosed, some were choppers but all were ridden with pride.
One of the signposts we passed was called Crazy Woman Creek Road. I guess we can all nominate someone who should live there and, if we are honest, should expect the male version to be at least twice as long.
This was second to Frisco as our most expensive stay and in truth, there were some glorious facilities at the site including two pools, horse-riding, horse shoe pit, cook tent, water cushion and slide and more. I have a personal problem with sites like this as I feel that I have to get my money’s worth by using each and everyone of them. I guess it is linked to my frugal upbringing. I can remember, in the after Christmas sale, my mother buying a crate of Christmas puddings and we dutifully ate one each Sunday with our lunch until they ran out just before the next Christmas, when we had rice pudding.
We chose the site because it was the closest to Mount Rushmore and it offered a shuttle to the monument; a mixed blessing as I will explain a little later. The site was full of bandana-wearing bikers and gleaming motorbikes were an accessory to each pitch. At the bottom end were bikes and tents whilst at the top end were RV’s with garages for their bikes. All were part of the annual pilgrimage to Sturgis. I read that the population of South Dakota is 700,000 and that an additional 500,000 visitors, many of them bikers, come to visit.
I chatted with two couples opposite who owned Kawasakis. They told me that the Japanese bikes were becoming more acceptable in the States although, every American’s dream was to own a Harley. Their bikes were 1500cc big and they were quick to say that the 2 litre bike had arrived.
Jules, Dan and I did use some of the facilities; we went on a trail ride. My horse was a gentle brown stallion called Pat. He rode, sandwiched between his other two identical brothers. Initially, fearful; my last ride had been on a horse too difficult for me to control, Pat soon showed me that he could tolerate my rusty riding skills. We rode in a line through woodland and, being at the end of the line, I ate every one else’ dust. After one and a half hours, I returned back the others a little bow-legged.
That evening we took the shuttle to see the Rushmore Monument. We left a little after 7, in the rain and didn’t return till after 10pm. It was a mistake. Undoubtedly the monument is inspirational in its creation, but an hour in the museum and with the monument would have sufficed. What we got was a jingoistic presentation of the country led, sermon-like, by one of the Park Rangers. I do admire the patriotism exhibited by the Americans but I found the presentations obsessively chauvinistic.

Day 25 – Buffalo

The journey to the Eastern gate of the park was as different as the scenery had been on the previous two days. It was as I imagine Yellowstone to be – steep hills and tight bends. We followed the curves of the Shoshone River, which grew from an emaciated if excitable flow into an obese expanse just before the dam. The journey was beset with excitement around each corner. Wild fires ravaged a succession of valleys and spoke spiraled skyways muting the layered tones of brown of the sandstone cliffs. A helicopter buzzed overhead dowsing the woodland with the Shonone River.
Our first stop was Cody. I had intended to visit the Wild West Museum but my eye was caught by the old town that had been assembled from all points Wyoming. We paid our entry fee; Val and I were at the Senior Citizen rate and ambled up the single street of log buildings. There were homesteads, a saloon with bullet holes in the door, a blacksmith, a store and a livery stable. Several of the buildings had connections with Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. Some rooms were set out with furniture, others housed collections of artifacts and photos. Most impressive were the weapons, the Indian artifacts and the angora cowboy coats. I sat outside the shack where the Hole in the Wall gang hid and was immersed in the atmosphere of the moment.
The route from Cody was through the Big Horn Park. Again, it was outstanding. At its climax, we passed through at 9000 plus feet. At one stage, the granite walls hung over us, even dwarfing the beast. I think it was Greg Mortensen who wrote in Four Cups of Tea about how insignificant yet empowering the mountains made him feel. At the final series of twists and turns, we watched a hang glider throw himself over the sheer precipice of rock to glide effortlessly to the canyon floor 12 miles away. We did pass him as he was disengaging himself from his fly suit.
The RV had much going for it; internet, a pool and neighbouring eating houses; all of which we used. I published 5 days of blogs.

Day 24 – Yellowstone (Grant Village)

The morning walk at the lake’s edge was taken with 360 degree vision. On the shore line I found a series of magical circles, carefully made from stones and pebbles. The biggest measures 2 feet across and contained a series of symbols including a heart and a name, Aria. We had to move on as we had booked late but what good fortune that was. First stop was West Thumb Geyser Basin. We loved the sights but were disappointed that a fire had closed the road to Canyon Village; our route for the day. The Gods were with us because by lunchtime the road had re-opened. The first few miles were through burnt pine forests still smoldering and alight. A helicopter dropped its bucket into the Yellowstone River to disgorge on the burning embers on the other side of the river. This fire had been caused by a broken power line. The last fire in 1994? had caused evacuation of many campers. This fire was close to our RV site.
Anyway, moving on ……. Round the corner wagons were circled looking at something. It was wildlife …. A bison. And then two bison, then herds and finally bison wherever we looked. We stopped at the mud volcano. We walked the boardwalk to some extent but it involved passing sitting bison, very close and we were brave. The sights that grabbed us defy description; each geyser an individual portrait of colours and smells and around the next corner, another bison, closer than the last; 300 pounds of horned muscle. At one stage we passed a human traffic jam on one side of the bridge held back by the bison that sat atop of the bridge. It was reminiscent of the 3 Billy Goats Gruff. Eventually we returned to the RV just as a bison was passing in front of it. One hoped the encapsulated dog was being stilled.
At Canyon village, we admired the canyon and plunging river. It dropped 1000 feet in just a few hair pin bends. We viewed it from the South rim in its majestic macroscopic
Glory and then crossed to the North Rim and were engulfed in its immediate potency, as it rushed and spat past us in its rush to the Atlantic via the Gulf of Mexico.
Then onto our full hook up site for rigid walled vehicles only – bear country. Still no wifi. Kids are suffering extreme withdrawal symptoms.

Day 24 – Yellowstone (Grant Village)

Where to start? The Park has as many faces as there are days in the year. Indeed, the volcanic nature of the area means that it is totally dynamic. We passed the snow-capped tops of the Teton Mountains and wondered whether the Park would be steep and tortuous. We entered by the West gate and drove South. It was mainly pine forest and the road was flat, following the Firehole River. We passed a major water fall and then entered the area of geysers. The Lower Geyer Basin was amazing. There was a walkway which connected up a series of geysers, each different to the other. Some were dry and hissed like a kettle (fumaroles). Others were bubbling mud holes which resembled the dishes that I cook on the hob. There were geysers that were crystal clear and gave a great view into the depths of the steaming waters. Bacteria grew alongside and around some of the holes, colouring the ground in hues of ochre.
Then onto Old Faithful. The geyser was surrounded by a gallery of benches which, as the hour approached, filled up with thousands of people. The expectation grew in the adults; the children were restless and wanted to move on. There were a few premature ejaculations before Old Faithful showed its power, spurting a plume of water a full 40 feet in the air. The sight was such that there was applause when it finally returning to steaming.
Grant Village camp site was a basic site; no hook-ups so the generator was cranked up and a camp fire was started. We were by the side of Yellowstone Lake, which was beautiful in the dying evening sunlight. It was 170 feet deep on average and a cool, hypothermic 60 F. A book in the gift shop catalogued the numbers of canoeing deaths in these icy waters. The dog was excited by the new smells and sounds. We had been warned about the bear; both black and grizzly, the wolves and the coyotes which drag unsuspecting pets away for their supper so the fire burned bright until an early bed time. We cooked (burnt) marshmallows and crept nearer and nearer as the temperature dropped. The dog survives for another night. Unfortunately, during the day, we saw no wildlife although the girls said that they saw a Golden eagle. That was to change.

Day 23 – American Falls

An early start allowed us to speed down the I84 and reach our destination around 3pm. We had crossed another time zone so we lost an hour. The camp site looked deserted and we were asked to register at the café. ‘Find your own site, honey and comeback and register’, drawled the young help. So we did. Out of the 86 sites available, we chose one with a sprinkler running. We looked at it as a cheap car wash. The site is best described as ‘at one with nature’ much to Dan’s delight!
The rest of us chose to explore. Just past the café was a promontory onto a reservoir. Being Summer, the water was low, exposing a shoreline. Val mad friends with an American, complete with cowboy hat, who was related to Robert the Bruce (the American not his hat). The dog and I were impatient to see what lay around the first corner.
The area was a bird lover’s paradise. On the shoreline, searching for worms? were two purple ibises. They were non stop with their probing. In the bay were two merganser ducks, diving for their tea. Further along the shore were birds that resembled Killdeer, although it was difficult to be sure, with no reference book. The usual Western Gulls and pelicans floated sedately in the late afternoon sun. There was also a bird, around magpie size with a long tail and short black and white wings which flew and paced the sandy shore area. I’ll research that one when I have a chance.
At the end of the promontory, it was possible to scramble down onto the softer shore line. That was the time to take Abby off the leash and that was the time that birdwatching stopped. She had great sport clearing the area of all animals. She quickly found all the silt channels and suffered the consequence of a hose down. That was not all that followed as she had amassed a wonderful collection of burrs which needed to be cut out.
As meal time approached, we witnessed an elderly American, not the same as before, walking his dog. That is a little euphemistic as he let his dog out, climbed back into his 70s Chevy and proceeded to tail the dog as it meandered through the scrubline. Pork chops for bbq. We were all more smoked than they were, followed by poker and then bed. We did visit the bathrooms but only briefly!

Day 22 – Huntington

The morning was the routine of showering, breaking camp and then lunch. Inevitably Starbucks, Quiznos and Safeways came together to meet all our needs. Continued straight down the I84 at mega speeds. Is this the way to see America? In answer to my rhetorical question, in order to complete such a long journey some stretches need to be covered at speed so that we can dawdle over the extra special areas. Still the scenery was stunning. The mountains softened to the hills and the hills leveled to the plains. Eventually, we reached the Snake River which was full of wildlife. Pelicans and cormorants met midstream to exchange tales of ones that got away. A solitary deer grazed on one of the islands and beavers busied themselves with their lives just opposite where we had set up.
It was a rest day together as there was no cable or internet and folk could not disappear into their solitary worlds. Bocce, chess and crosswords replaced Facebook, football sites and cross words. A mile or so from the site was some shallows that extended across the half mile river width. I had this inane thought that I might cross there with the dog. Although the water was not deep for a human, thigh height, it was swim time for Abby. On top of which, the currents were strong and soon she was swept downstream. That is when a retractable lead comes in so handy. I wound her in and we returned, tails between our legs, back to the site.

Day 21 – Cascades Lock

The day started with some chores. The bed and pump needed returning. ‘Was it faulty?’ asked the assistant. ‘No, it didn’t fit the space,’ was the enigmatic reply. Logically confused we resorted to the Starbucks before driving the 32 foot Beast into the depths of Portland in search of a clinic for remedial treatment.
Then onto the airport economy parking Red Lot to leave the RV and, in theory, a quick Light Rail ride back to the city centre. It took longer to decode the workings of the ticket machine than to ride to Old Town/Chinatown. Chinatown, we were told afterwards was a collection of chemists, 3 gift shops and 8 restaurants. The Light Rail was the same as the one that graces Boston and was a good way to beat the roads.
Portland was a strange mixture of derelict and steel fronted buildings, of high end jewelers and strip joints, and of people ranging from the building workers who clocked off at 3.30pm, the few tourists like us and the many locals? whiling away their time on street corners. This latter group included an elderly, ponytailed man working on his hacky sack tricks, tattoo covered girls with Mohicans and orange hair, punks with a rash of body piercings and a girl with Blah, Blah, Blah Y-Fronts. It was as wide a collection of styles and fashions as I have seen in a long time. However, we did find a camping shop and they did sell an airbed that fit the space. Nic was so pleased.
The Hunts picked up Val; I was on dog duty, amassing further specimens for my collection. And then, all at once, we were off. Straight to the ticket barrier which would not accept the ticket. So used the ‘help’ feature and was asked to exit via the cashier at the Blue barrier. Man would take our money but exits were too narrow. What to do? Held hostage in Portland International Airport Economy Lot. So the manager was called. He wanted to squeeze the beast through the narrow exit but eventually and with some attitude took the ticket and the credit card and let us back to the Red exit. We pulled up in the previous slot. ‘Move further forward’ he called, ‘the machine will not work unless you pull right up.’ And so we did and so it did and on we went.
The RV site was rural, complete with pool, spa and tepee. After lighting the campfire and catching up, we settled down to sleep. Nic was relegated to the floor on the new mat. We had the dog in our room. Few of us slept, not necessarily because of our beds but because of the train tracks that ran straight through the site and to make matters worse, the train driver’s idea of fun was to toot his horn as he passed through. It was a great service as the trains continued through the night, every half hour.

Day 20 – Portland

The new day saw us moving from the scenic coastal road to an equally beautiful corridor, along the Umpqua River. Although the nature of a river is windy, its main benefit is that it is neither up nor down. Our destination was another recommended by Ken. We hoped that it would rival the last. We also found the time to listen to his CD and it was as he predicted, a collection of lyrical stories, at the first hearing reminding me a little of some of Kris Kristofferson’s music. (Sorry, Ken, if that’s wide of the mark. I will need to go back and check on that comparison)
During the drive, a small chip in the windscreen decided to take a journey of its own. The good thing is that it can travel no further, the bad thing is that we will be responsible for it unless the insurance chips in to help. Maybe Jack won’t notice the cellotape.
By now, we were traveling on the I5 and made good time. The site was in the South of the city, perfectly placed between a Starbucks and a Kmart. We had a need for an additional bed for the next day as Val, Jules’ mother, was joining us for the return journey. We bought an inflatable and a pump with the plan that Nic would sleep on the floor with the dog. We duly carried the bed home, inflated it and found that it would not fit in the space that was left. Onto Plan B, take it back and improvise with the dog’s bed.
We also found that we have a problem with transporting the dog home. She doesn’t know yet so keep it quiet. Originally, she came out for $100, with USAir, who have now stopped transporting animals. After a great deal of research we discovered NorthWest Air would ship her back for $650. However, they only booked 30 days in advance. Called them today and they said that the regulations had changed and animals could only be shipped out of designated cities, Memphis being the nearest. How do we get her to Memphis, put her on a plane and return to Charlotte to catch the late afternoon plane ourselves? Onto Plan C ……which is being worked on. Actually, there are a lot of stories of dogs finding their owners across the country but I guess that the Atlantic might be a challenge for a water-shy canine.
One of the joys of the site was a walk along the river and through a small nature area. It never ceases to amaze me that no matter how many times you put the lead on Abby she delivers from both ends. She is indefatigable in the toileting department. My reasoning is that she sees us collecting her droppings, like good, responsible owners and, believing that we are avid collectors of her excrement, does not want to disappoint. Anyway, this time was no exception. However, on the way we were all pleased to see a raccoon and her baby. Abby, being shorter and by now lighter, missed the visuals but was excited by the fragrance. We also passed a compound where children were dropped for an Arts Camp. It was a little bit like Glastonbury festival in a hippy/untidy sense and chillingly, a little like a World War II internment camp. I was reassured to see happy and engaged children.

Day 19 – Winchester Bay

We were lucky because the next day, a space had opened up for us on the site, albeit we had to move the beast to another lair. We started the day with a short journey to Deersport, to Ace Hardware, recommended by a local State Trooper. A tube of Gorilla Glue was all it took to mend the table and then onto the dunes; drawing us like a magnet. We followed the road to a remote park; permit required. We walked onto pristine sand, totally devoid of other humans, stretching as far as the eyes can see. A physical line is drawn between walkers and ATV users and us walkers appear to be in the minority of 4. The beach was dotted with flotsam logs and shells. There was the jetsam of dead crabs and a multitude of shells including a walletful of sand dollars. The dog was in canine heaven as she roamed free; causing some nervous as she chased gulls over horizons.
The afternoon was given to joining the majority of the visitors exploring the dunes. We had charted a guide and a dune buggy and Dan was going solo. What follows is a description of our adventures. To find out Dan’s exploits, you will need to ask him and hope for more that the monosyllabic replies that we received. The buggy was yellow and sat guide plus five. It was all roll bars and bucket seats, with full harness, borrowed additional jackets, head socks (balaclavas) and ski goggles.
The guide’s name was Ron or Rob and his partner was Sally. He was the original Mountain Man – Grizzly Adams. She was cut and bruised around her chin. We started off sedately, just to get us prepared for what was to come. We were sat in a low slung car with some sort of motor equivalent of a jet engine at the back. There was an accelerator and a brake and some gears, although we never got out of first. The dunes are the sand oceans of land. They are the waves and, as such, have a gentle side and a precipitous slope. We would race up the former and crest the latter, letting the weight of the vehicle take us safely down. It was very unnerving to run out of sand and then plunge to the bottom. Allied to the physical topography, the dunes were like the snow in those distances and perspectives were easily lost.
We were able to explore huge tracts of sand and heard how the dunes were formed and how forests were buried beneath the tons of sand. Indeed, several ghost forests stood proud as testament to what he said. Once exposed, these thousand year old trees would survive only matter of seasons before being naturally reclaimed by nature. In amongst these dunes lay fresh water springs which fed 32 lakes in the 43 miles of coastline. Around these lakes lay tree islands which supported all form of wildlife from bear, cougar to the smaller mammals; indeed we saw a raccoon fishing for frogs.
Then from the lowlands to the 500 foot monsters, up vertical climbs, riding parallel to the summit and then chasing our shadow down the other side. We travelled at 55mph at the most, but our low centre of gravity made it seem twice as much. Ron/Rob was a good driver and gradually increased the excitement in line with the rollercoasters that I despise so much. We slid and skidded. My hand firmly gripped the roll bar cage and clearly left an imprint of my grip when it was time to leave. Nic says that Jules was as bad in the back. All too soon, it was time to return and let some others taste the drug that is a mix of wonder and adrenaline.

Day 18 – Winchester Bay

A short distance up the coast lay Winchester Bay, unfortunately the road was slow and windy so it would take us some time. We were still in the Redwoods and still a very cold 50 – 60F with the sea mist held back by the wall of trees. The world famous and unique Redwood you could drive your car through re-appeared; it was one of those magical, mobile trees from Hobbit land.
We arrived at the site late and had the last spot, again. The sun shone on us as if to welcome us to Oregon. To say that it was beautiful would be a gross understatement. We were in a 50 mile stretch of dunes and they stretched to the west of us. To the North, East and West lay the river estuary. We were in ATV Nirvana. We walked the dog to the nearest beach and let her have a run; chasing birds was her love. Then back to the RV and a short walk past the floating fish and chip restaurant to the fish market. Two fillets of tuna set us back $10 and then seasoned and wrapped in foil on a wood fire was all that we needed. Food never tasted so good, especially when you imagine yourself as some frontiersman.
Internet, as usual, was problematic. How could I keep the thousands who regularly read my blog happy? Actually, to date, there have been no comments on our journey. Oh well, I always stated that I was writing for myself. It seems that the bandwidth is not sufficient for those who want to use it. Up and downloading works really well at 3am though when sensible people are tucked in bed.

Day 17 – Klamath

A big traveling day as it was Dan’s birthday. He’d already had his present; we had some cards and not much else. For much of the journey, there was no signal Jules made a special meal for him, in the evening; Spaghetti Bolognese. But that was it. It must have been hard for him given the circumstances.
The journey was more of the same – winding roads that skirted the coast and when that route was closed, they ascended the slopes between the giant redwoods. One leg of the journey was along the Avenue of the Giants. Apart from being a narrower road, it was much like before, a drive through a channel of arboreal sentinels. It looked like something out of Lord of the Rings; we expected Frodo to jump out at any moment and hitch a lift.
We had read about a ‘glorious’ coffee shop on the route, “The Daily Grind”, so we stopped for a caffeine break. The shop was stuck in a 70s time warp, reggae was playing through a desktop and a world map covered the wall, pins stuck in customers points of origin. Instead of glorious, we found Gollum. Locals’ livelihoods must depend on tourist trade on the 101 but you would not know it from the way that we were served here. Like the map, the man was prickly. Moral of the story either don’t believe all you read in promotional material or be fully caffeinated before you enter the shop.
Good to move on, if only for another pause to complete an oil change and to check the tyres. It turned out that there was undue wear on the front passenger side tyre (could I really be so over-weight?) so we swapped the two front tyres over. Hopefully, we will be reimbursed.
The RV site was alongside the river and we had, by now, repaired the cable although wifi was problematic yet again. It seems that you have to sit atop of the aerial in order to get a reasonable signal and even then my aged machine refuses to co-operate. Nic is tolerant of my demands to use hers. Found the sewer hose was now too short to reach the outlet. Having tired of being sprayed by effluent through the holes and tears in the existing pipe, I had trimmed the length. Purchased a new hose so now we are pristine in the poop line department.
We also bought some bocce/petanque/boule balls and both Jules and I defeated Dan. Happy Birthday. We took the dog down to the river and let her off the lead. In a predictable fashion, she raced up and down the bank and even in the water. Her horizons have been broadened along with ours. Then back and the communal camp fire had been lit. One of the residents there was a singer, KenTizzard, who was traveling with his wife Alison and daughters Cassady and Caitlin. They lived close to Toronto and he had been giving concerts in Canada and there would be more performances in New Mexico and Nevada. We had a common interest in Dylan and Ken gave us a CD of his music which we are both looking forward to hearing. And Alison passed on some recommended camp sites which we will explore.
We discovered from other residents who were warming themselves by the fire that the site was predominantly one for fishermen and we listened, with equal measures of ignorance and enthusiasm to the rules and regulations of fishing and the antics to avoid them We also learnt about the wildlife. There had been a bear and her cubs in the site only a week ago and today’s guest appearance was an injured hummingbird; from the sublime to …….

Day 16 – Benbow

The day started with a walk to the sea. We followed grey sandy paths through gorse and grasses. Much of the way was littered with cast off pine trunks, relics either of high seas or ancient forests. Finally, we breasted the dunes and the ocean lay before us. The winds were high and the waves climbed the sands towards us. The dog was released to chase shadows of birds high above. Three times he galloped and three times he returned. We retraced our steps; our footprints mingled with deer imprints. Half way back, Abby sank to her belly in tiredness - a first.
The journey up the coast was a reminder of yesterday. The scenery was spectacular, It sucked your breath away with its views of the rugged Cornwalleque type coast, its rivers and its pine forests. This stretch was awash with state parks; one indicator of its beauty. The road alternated between steep up and steep down, hair pin to the left followed by snake to the right. Signs warning us of maximum speeds (10mph was the lowest), falling rocks and narrowing road. Many a time, vehicles over 40 foot were not advised to use the road. Luckily there were few cars on the road and those that were, traveled carefully, pulling over when they saw the beast approaching. Many a time, we lost the central road marking and it would not have surprised me had I seen a sign saying ‘Road only suitable for bicycles’.
The dog was confused. She would stand at the front of the RV and when we went up a steep incline, she would slide on the wood veneered floors to the back. Once at the back, the RV would plunge down a slope, braking in order to take the corner on more that 2 wheels and Abby would ice skate back to the front, doing a fair impression of Bambi.
At some stage in the journey, in a small town, we took Starbucks and petrol, a little further on, in Leggett, we found the pine tree which you could drive a car through. The hole was big but unfortunately, the RV was bigger so we consoled ourselves with pictures of Jules and the dog passing through.
Eventually, we reached the campsite. This one had a golf course which Dan explored as an early birthday present. It was situated alongside the Eel river; one we know well as we had followed it for the past 40 miles.