Am I a magnet?

I drove to Healdsburg to have lunch with Bay Area friends at a super Tapas Cafe Friday mid-day. It is always fun to meet with these friends I have known since our kids were in pre-school. We parted fairly early and I looked forward to getting back to Fort Bragg before the weather closed in.

All was going very well until I noticed the gentlest wispy snow flakes bouncing around outside the front of my car at the top of the first ridge after Hopland. Then more even further down the grade as I approached Ukiah. By the time I was coming down into Ukiah, the snow didn't subside, it just kept on coming as I drew nearer to town. I began to worry and slowed way down. If it stayed about as it was, I figured I could make it over the next hill. But that was not to be. By the time I reached Calpella, the road, roadside and grape vinyards on both sides were becoming coated with several inches of snow and the feeling of ice on the road was becoming alarming. By the time I would have started up the grade towards Willits it became clear that traffic was coming to a standstill. Trucks were crawling along at minimal speed and cars were beginning to slip and slide. The big electronic sign over the highway stated the obvious and the definite. Winter conditions — Only four wheel drive and autos with chains would be allowed to go further. That was becoming pretty clear, sign or no sign.

 So, what am I? Some kind of magnet for ice and snow? Hard to feel otherwise. I crept up to the obvious turn-around spot and dutifully did a U-turn and headed back down toward Ukiah. I was experiencing more than a little sence of deja vu after my time in Oklahoma and Texas. In a kind of daze, I turned into the parking lot of the first Motel I came to on State Street and when I could stop I called Art. Could he go stay at my house with Bobby for the night? I obviously was not going to be on that side of the hill for a while.

I might have been smarter to have continued a bit further south on State Street to some more tried and true motels. The one I chose was called Discover Inn and there were indeed a few things to discover. No first floor room available. Much ice on the outdoor stairway. Once in the room and making an effort to turn "up" the heater, I discovered that the heater was not about to turn on at all. I called "O" and was promised immediate action.  More than a half hour later a cheerful young man arrived with a brand new space heater in a box. He went though the motions of pretending to fiddle with the existing heater, but it was obvious that this one had no intention of responding. He opened the space heater box and made nice friendly remarks about needing to keep such thing around for this kind of occasion. " In a hotel with one hundred and seventy something rooms, this was bound to happen sometime." it was a strange little heater that moved in an arc back and forth and threw too much and then not enough heat. But I made friends with it and placed it in what seemed like the best location  within the reach of the electrical outlet. Then I called a restaurant listed for delivery of food to Ukiah hotels. I withdrew my first order of a pizza and a salad after I found out that it was going to cost me $28 for just those two items. I switched to a pasta dish with small green salad which reduced the ransom by $10. It finally arrived, without any utensils. How silly of me not to expect that. The nice young man went back to his car and discovered that he had some plastic ware stashed there and soon returned with them and the paper I had to sign stating that I had received the goods. I signed. Again, how silly. Should have checked out the food first. The pasta was fine but nooooooo salad dressing. I called the restaurant and asked if the delivery man could drop some dressing by next time he was in the area. Silly me. That never happened and an hour later I finally ate it dry and of course survived just fine.

Then I decided to check out the TV since I didn't have my Kindle or a book with me. Of course, I soon discovered that the remote was as dead as a door nail. The light was too weak to allow me a good look at the buttons on the TV set so I had to settle for channel 5 where it was determined to stay. Eventually I figured the buttons out by feel, but that wasn't really much of an improvement. So I took what there was to offer. Judge Judy acting her most dictatorial and above it all. A football game that didn't thrill me much and the rest is just a blur. So I placed myself in the uninviting bed and eventually fell asleep.

The next morning I was in no mood to face the ice and sleet on the road too early so I turned the black box on again and watched a handsome young vet solve small animal problems with Oh so clever solutions. Then it got good. Two different cooking shows. First one where they took a favorite recipe of a diabetic man for a banana cream  goo that tested out at about 600 calories per portion and two master chefs were tasked with rewriting and turning this dish into something healthier with less fat, sugar and cholesterol. That was actually pretty interesting. Then came Jamie or James? with his 15 minute wonder meals. That was even better. I learned a thing or two, showered and left this wondrous abode forever. Art had suggested a restaurant down near Perkins but I never found it and stopped instead at the Mud Hut. Had a veggie scramble, some OJ and a Chai latte. This was good food mixed with super people watching as they made their way into the cozy eatery from the outside with its icy temperatures.

I headed north and found the situation much improved over the previous afternoon. The top of the hill was still laden with snow and it looked like a winter wonderland. I watched my speed and managed to spy the highway patrolman hiding out in the bushes just beyond the crest of the hill. The roadway to Willits was just fine and the mountains beyond in all directions were a lovely white. Fun but icy.

The "need chains" sign was still  showing but I turned onto Highway 20 and hoped for the best. Being pretty wary about these cool conditions, I drove the whole way pretty carefully and was thrilled just to arrive back home and be greeted by Bobby with great enthusiasm. Yes, "There is no place like home."

Amy Goodman just hit the afternoon rerun airways and there's talk of a new expose by Seymour Hirsch that will knock our socks off.   So I'm off to the kitchen to become "In the know."

So much to absorb

As I begin to re-enter my Fort Bragg life, I find myself attempting to sort out my trip memories. They are so many and so powerful that it's obviously going to take me a long time to completely take stock of it all. The bottom line, I guess, is that I'm really happy that I didn't yield to the temptation of postponing the trip until next near. I came rather close to doing so because of taking the wonderful, short notice trip to Italy in June. Also because I already had my reservations at Las Mariposas for Oaxaca in January. But, who knows how agile one will be "next year?" Or able in all the other ways necessary to carry out this kind of an undertaking. I'm very glad I didn't postpone. I am so energized by just thinking about all the good happenings and beauty of this 9,000 mile adventure I've just returned from.

And, of course I think of the perils once in a while. They actually were so scary and life threatening that I'm in awe to be here. But there is also something about "near misses" that can't be denied. If you make it through a few of those kinds of events, you are forever changed. Gratitude, amazement, reflection all come into play. The hurricane in Ontario, the fearful, slippery backing up on a the steep hill in Quebec City, the steeper than expected grades on the Cabot Trail at Cape Breton and perilous night ride on black ice for more than three hours outside of Amarillo, Texas will all hold an indescribable spot in my memory bank. But each time I think of them, I can deliberately push the button to bring back memories of awesome scenery in all the Canadian provinces with special spots for the amazing geological formations of Bamnf and Lake Louise, the shoreline wonders of the Bay of Fundy, the wonders of powerful rivers like the mighty Fraser in BC. And of course, getting up to Canada was also magnificent. The Oregon and Washington coasts, the Olympic Peninsula, visiting Lolli, Martha, Dora in their beautiful Washington locations. All these times and places are deeply etched in my trip memories. Another special moment along the way was my brief time with Leah having dinner and breakfast in her cozy Oberlin cafe hangout.

After leaving Chicago and embarking on the "Route 66" part of the turn around trip, the sites were equally memorable, but different. Driving back roads of the Ozarks in Missouri with no reverse gear is surely something I'll never forget. The kind and generous help I received from trucking centers like the one in Cuba, Missouri and the Aamco shop down the road from there will always be remembered with huge thanks and appreciation.

At the top of the list of amazing things to remember is, of course, that of being taken in by my dear friend who rescued me from the Walmart parking lot after my transmission gradually gave out between Tulsa and Oklahoma City. We are certain we were destined to meet and will surely be friends forever. I just think of her two huge Irish Wolfhounds and can't stop smiling. I think of her coming over to the hotel whenever she wasn't in court and taking me all over OKC to see the sights. When Art and I returned to pick up the newly repaired Rialta, she greeted him with the same welcome and warmth. When I first arrived in this picture, some of Anne's friends, colleagues and relatives couldn't help but raise an eyebrow over what she had done. You don't invite someone you've just met in a parking lot to go have Mexican dinner with you, Mom. But, as we became acquainted, all was forgiven and we  became friends. After five days in the awful hotel I finally gave in to Anne's insistence on my moving in with her. I won't forget her son coming into her front door when I was there alone, in such a way as not to frighten me. Anne had warned him not to come crashing in, but he was so sensitive the way he warmly identified himself. We soon had a wonderful conversation. Then my son Mike wrote me an email and asked me for my new address "So we'll know where to send the ransom" he stated. The ice was finally broken and we were all happy to know each other. If it hadn't been for that failed transmission I might well have driven through to Amarillo to gain some precious time. But it seems I was destined to meet and fall in love with Oklahoma City and its people.

After waiting about five days before the Rialta was released to us by that careful, careful Aamco shop, the weather closed in and OKC was icy, windy and the streets were too perilous to chance taking off on our trip again. So we waited three days more. And this is what eventually put us into the path of Storm Boreas. A seemingly clear day finally arrived and we took off with high hopes of reaching Amarillo or even further along our route to the homeland. I'm not going to repeat my description of the last three plus hours of driving on black ice packed between eighteen wheelers all going 5-7  miles per hour with hazard lights all blazing and every person on that highway surely praying to his personal gods for a miracle  and safe delivery to Amarillo. It's spoken of enough just a few blogs back.

Art and I had a wonderful trip through New Mexico, Arizona and on into California and the beautiful desert lands and back to the Bay Area. On our arrival we celebrated with a night at the Freight and Salvage listening to Laurie Lewis, Tom Rozum and their group, including a surprise visit by Nina Gerber. All ingredients for a great evening. An easy trip up to the north coast completed the story. Home, safe, and oh so happy to be here.

For those who follow the progress of my tapestry making, I'm sure you'll be seeing images inspired by my trip in dozens of ways. I don't know what they are yet, but  you can be sure they'll be there. Now, to find the time to let them emerge.

 Thanks to all of you who wrote to me during this journey — Either through the blog comments or by email. Your contacts were treasured in all cases. Myrna, you and Steve are two of the few who managed the Google comment method. Is it because you live with a pro or just that you are the clever one you are? It is such a comfort to be so far away from home and know that someone is checking in with you from far away. I am so grateful for the life I am privileged to have and for all my friends and family who helped me along the way during this very personal challenge.

Last day on the desert

Poster at the Audubon Sanctuary

Lovely Forest at the Sanctuary

Forever the Recycler

Today we had another incredible drive. We left Barstow right after breakfast and eventually turned off onto Highway 395 at Kramer's Junction. Went through a number of little old mining towns, some with very quaint shacks and some with small, invitingly adorned cottages. 

Not long after reaching 395, we stopped for photos because the rising, mountainous backdrop was so dramatic and filled with delicious shadows that defined the ridges and gorges. I needed to have something to hold onto the way this kind of sculpturing works.

Eventually we turned off onto 178 and began the ride up to Walker Pass. Before long the first signs of Joshua trees began showing up on both sides of the road. At about half way up to  the top of the pass we stopped again and  there began the coexistence of the Joshua trees and Pinyon Pines. I had to take more pictures at the top before starting down the back side of the pass which was very steep and long and soon revealed remote houses and out buildings tucked into various crannies and looking oh, so cozy. Huge Joshuas all around — some must have been given extra water by property owners — they presented themselves as large, super healthy, specimens.

Eventually we were driving along the south fork of the Kern River and that's where we first viewed the most spectacular Cottonwoods, sporting wild tones of yellow and growing along with reddish Willows. These trees followed the river and stood out as a wild, rough edged, curvilinear line containing gradations of all the yellows imaginable. Our destination along the river was the Kern River Audubon Preserve, We turned off the road and drove into this welcoming bird sanctuary. We ate a late lunch there, spent some time checking out the visitor's center and identified  a flock of Junckos  and the first house finches we've seen on the whole trip. Though we've seen a ton of ravens other places on this trip, we didn't see even one this day.

We eventually had to leave as evening approached. I got one more look at these amazing trees before heading for Lake Isabella and the steep rapids of the kern  River. The preserve is said to contain the largest stand of Fremont Cottonwoods and Red Willow trees in California. The ride down to Bakersfield along the fast tumbling south fork of the Kern River was heart stopping. There really is nothing to compare with a fast moving, mountain river where boulders arranged like a Japanese garden alternating with seductive pools almost make you gasp they are so beautiful. A quickly descending, constantly winding roadway proved to be much more heavily populated with cars and pickups in both directions than we had expected. The road is so windy that oncoming headlights were enough to make you come to a stand still if they came three or four at a time.

We dropped at least 4000 feet from the time we left the preserve and eventually found ourselves passing a sign declaring the Bakersfield City limits. It seems to me that cities are claiming land further and further out from where people actually live and work. We had a rousing discussion about where to stop for the night and then exactly how to get there. We survived that short period with a few good laughs and finally signed into our fourth Motel 6 in the last few days, each containing interior details so similar that I begin to lose the sense of where I actually am. Same lively printed bed spread as last night even though the rooms are 300 miles apart. Spooky? Maybe a little. Obviously I'm ready to head for home. But the final word is that today has been filled with awesome sights  and beauty. I'm really grateful to Art for introducing me to this part of the southern desert country and I'd love to explore this amazing area again soon. In the morning we'll make a run for it on Highway 5 and hope to get straight to Berkeley in time to see Laurie and Tom playing at the Freight and Salvage. See you soon.

The preceding paragraphs were written as a Text Edit draft when I didn't have wifi at hand. I'm now home and will write a trip summary sometime during this busy day. But just to clarify what we finally did Saturday, a few more words here.

We did take Highway 5 back almost all the way. A restful stop at Andersen's for the obligatory bowl of pea soup was full of good food and super good people watching. I seem to never tire of that. As we passed through Livermore it occurred to me that we actually had time to make a quick run for Burlingame even though we had planned earlier in the day to go straight to Berkeley so we could hear Laurie and Tommy. When I finally convinced Art that we could do that — it was his turn to convince me of a different change. He was constantly glued to our huge Atlas and it seemed quite obvious to him that my plan to make the decision when we reached the Bay Bridge was a way to waste precious time. Why not veer off onto 92 and take the San Mateo Bridge? Why indeed. Because that bridge is notorious for backups and I'm not at all familiar with the current approach and with the streets at the Peninsula end. Totally out of my comfort zone for making quick decisions regarding highway turns. He stuck to his guns. I finally gave in and said OK. Certainly not without reservations. So we get to the bridge just fine and the crossing is a piece of cake with Art actually seeing some fun birds in the shallow waters. We find the Burlingame/Broadway exit and are soon at the Red Shoe Hotel with the Dodge caravan in sight. And we actually had time to stop in the coffee shop for a cup of tea and a piece of pumpkin pie. So the group decision paid off and we had eliminated the need for returning to Burlingame Sunday. Fantastic. Art was right about following what the map was telling him. 

But then the fun began. After a gas stop in Millbrae and some seeking of advice about getting out of where we were, we rejoined the highway. It had all seemed so easy. Then we reached the South San Francisco section leading to the Bay Bridge. Not too long after that was a nightmare like quagmire. I led because I know that road and its  choices. Poor Art trustingly followed me in the van through many lane changes, bumper to bumper creeping along. We were finally on the bridge and the whole picture became brighter mile by mile. We made it to Richmond. Stashed the RV and arrived at the Freight in time to meet Chuck.

The night was fantastic after that. Jenny joined us, we met Tommy twice and I eventually was able to give Laurie a big hug at intermission time and buy some of her new CDs.

I think it was the best performance I've ever seen her do. She looks and sounds fantastic. KQED was doing a taping of the show in preparation for a profile they are going to do on Laurie and I'm sure that played into the endorphins she was obviously feeling. I was thrilled for them and it was really fun to introduce Art to their act. She had written a moving song about Barstow (Really!) and since we had just eaten our Thanksgiving dinner in a Denny's at Barstow, it hit a special note.

Easy trip up the coast taking 20 for the last hour. So good to be home even though there are a million things to catch up on. I hope to write a trip summary in the next day. So come on back in a while, OK?