Partied Out

Inspirational song: Hollow Man (Marillion)

It's important to me to do justice to the photos from the Red Cross camp part of the trip. There is no way I can go through all of them like I did the last two sets. I'm a shell of a woman tonight. I've been staying up until at least 2 am every night for a week, and getting up at regular times (I think I slept until 8:30 once, though, with the regular bathroom breaks that people my age require). I piled on makeup before I went to the Rotary Christmas party, and people said I looked healthy/put together/whatever, and I straight up admitted that I was completely empty inside. I'm too tired to do more than crochet in front of the TV until I fall asleep with the noise and the lights on. So evacuee camp details get punted until tomorrow.

I don't know whether the cats did this on purpose, but it looks like a scene from a holiday version of a mob movie. Bumbles is threatening the crap out of the Snowman, who knows he's one mistake away from an ignominious death.

We had a lovely soprano singing at our party. Me, I stayed at the bar the entire night, pouring the wine, and pointing to the coolers where the beer was. My feet hurt all the way up to my waist. We were the last to leave, only because I was the ride for the party organizer, as I so often am. She and I arrived early too, to open about 8 bottles of wine to start with, and greet the rest of the club.

And that's all the good words I have for tonight. The only ones left are "I'm so tired... I'm so tired..."

The Road In

Inspirational song: My Old School (Steely Dan)

Okay, where did I leave off yesterday? I tried to stop where we spent the night, but I think I goofed. We only slept for about five and a half hours, and were on the road well before first light. I think I ended with the dawn snowstorm rather than right before the stop. The Mr guessed that the timestamps were weird and some stuff was out of order because we crossed time zones right around stopping time. It makes as much sense as anything to me, so I will accept it and move on.

On that note, Day Two:

I was really digging the barren landscape in northern Nevada. I haven't quite put my finger on why. It called to me. I could imagine having a ranch there.

Like I said, barren loveliness.

For reals, isn't it pretty?

Neither of us had ever been to Winnemucca before, and it made us giggle. It's a fun name to say. While he wasn't looking, while he was getting gas or something, I turned on my mobile hotspot so I could secretly download the Johnny Cash song that opens with a mention of it, and as we drove up on town, I cued it up. "If you're goin' to Winnemucca, Mack, with me you can ride..."

Yep. Was funny to me the second time too.

My favorite weird road sign I ever saw was in a lonely backwoods in Scotland. It said, "Keep Our Glen Clean. No Dumping." This paired nicely with that. (Two guesses what Mr S-P's first name is...)

We were making excellent time, and the weather was suddenly beautiful. We took a detour ahead of Reno to see Pyramid Lake. I wrote about it at the time, if you want a full explanation.

"She's a beaut, ain't she, Clark?" Not sure whether you can tell, but near the back, on the bottom, the muffler for the generator threw a bolt. It was hanging down at a bad angle. Not long after I took this picture, the Mr was underneath, pulling it off and tossing it in the under-bus storage so it didn't fall off on the highway. The generator was loud as a Harley when we tested it the next day. Hopefully the new owner can get it reattached.

The Pyramid Lake museum was interesting. Lots of beadwork, lots of decorative basket cradles (I forget exactly what they are called -- baby backpacks), and lots of stuff about Burning Man.

The irrigated homesteads didn't work so well. It was too much effort to treat the highly alkaline water. If it's indeed the same inland sea that once covered Fort Irwin down in California, then I bet if I read more, I'd find there was also arsenic in it. We weren't allowed to drink the regular tap water at Irwin.

The fish are extinct now. The art remains.

I had him pull over a couple times, so I could hop out and take quick pictures.

From there we drove the back route to Sparks and Reno.

Blurry, but he pointed vaguely in that direction and said Donner Pass was somewhere out there.

Donner Summit.

If only the windshield hadn't been filthy so often. It couldn't be helped, though.

It took multiple tries to show how enormous and impressive the redwoods were.

It was humbling. And this scenic route we were on eventually pointed nose down, and we lost 3000 feet of elevation in the blink of an eye, or so it felt. It was like being on a wooden roller coaster. Probably safe, but with just enough uncertainty to be thrilling. And then the vegetation suddenly changed.

Day Three:

From snow and redwoods to sun and palm trees. It was a shock, but kind of fun. It's been a while for me.

I would say that I miss palm trees, except for the fact they throw so little shade, and they live where it's too hot and sunny for me to exist without shade.

Once we parked for breakfast in Chico (parallel parking a 30 foot RV - that man IS MacGyver), I sighed longingly over a huge privacy fence made of oleanders. For sure I miss those. There were camellias and rhododendrons too. I love warm climate flowers.

Everywhere I looked in Chico, there were evenly spaced rows of cypress trees. I don't understand the rows, but I love the look.

After breakfast, we headed for the Red Cross camp at the fairgrounds. I'll pick up there tomorrow.

On the Road

Inspirational song: Road to Nowhere (Talking Heads)

Looking at how many pictures I took on the trip, I'm going to have to break them up into groups. First will be the shots from the road, and honestly, they mostly all look alike. It was hard to mix them up, when most of them were taken from the passenger seat in the RV on the same interstate highway. All the same, I'll describe them as they appear, in the order they were taken.

Day One:

It seemed so innocuous. Yes, it was windy, but it was bright and snow-free when we set out across Larimer county on the way to Wyoming. I had been warned that the front of the RV leaked a little, but I didn't fully anticipate how breezy it was going to be inside the vehicle. It wasn't until the end of day one or early day two that it was explained why there was so much air coming in... the shroud around the defrost vent was shredded. More on this in a photo below.

As we crossed into Wyoming, there was a wee bit more snow on the side of the road. I tried not to get too much of the windshield wipers and what-not in my pictures, but there were a few goofs.

"Snow," it says. Yeah. It was on the way. This was in Wyoming.

No matter what I tried, I couldn't get a good focus on these warning signs. The set before said wind gusts up to 65+ mph. This one was a gentler 55+. Within an hour, winds were calmer, but we learned that I-80 was closed behind us to "light high-profile vehicles." If we hadn't left as early as we did, we might have been severely delayed.

The sun helped keep us from shivering too much, but it was pretty chilly by this point. The 30 year old heater wasn't able to keep up with the volume of cold air blowing in.

I tried several times to get a good picture of this cloud formation, which was probably entirely made of blowing snow from the high winds, on this snowy mountain.

Sorry, the windshield was filthy, but by this point I was giggling over a tanker truck with "the best coffee on the interstate" on the back of it. "Gee," I said, "I thought they brewed it fresh..."

The first layer of breeze control: one of the blankets I made to give away. It helped a little. More layers helped more. I really hoped that we didn't need the defrost function.

We made it to Utah with clear skies. It didn't last.

I'm having trouble figuring out the timeline here. This photo above is dark, yet it appears with an earlier timestamp than the one below. Did the following one just get a longer exposure?

I want you to imagine being on a windy, snowy road in a 30 foot RV with summer tires, with a snow-covered side window tipped downward in the wind so it's nearly useless, when some of these semis come up behind to pass, and the bow wave hits. Suffice it to say I'm glad this trip is over now.

We crested the hill leading out of Utah, and saw the bright lights of where all those folks go to gamble on the horizon. I think it was just past this city where we found a rest area to sleep. It was freaky cold, and had been for hours at that point. We were wearing all of our sweaters and coats and gloves and hats since early afternoon. I can't imagine what it would have been like if we hadn't brought the heavy blankets for the sleeping area, once we found out the propane heater wasn't igniting. Sleeping in a hat is not fun.

This seems like a good place to stop for now. Nevada and California tomorrow. Red Cross camp the next night.

Back Room Deals

Inspirational song: Mrs. Robinson (Simon & Garfunkel)

I promised to show all my photos from the Chico trip once I was home. I need another day to rest before I sort everything. I didn't get enough today, even though I had an extended nap this afternoon. It was a lot of miles on this old body, and I had to get up early this morning, whether I slept well or not. It was a civic duty sort of day, and we made sure our travel plans didn't interfere with it.

Our state senator was elected to be a county commissioner instead, which necessitated pulling together a vacancy committee meeting on short notice during the holidays. We had to make a quorum of 88 people to ward off turning the choice to the governor to appoint. It's possible he would have chosen the same guy that we eventually voted through (the new governor was previously a congressman from our county, after all, and knows the cast of characters here), but it was still best to do this at a local level.

There's a stereotype that party decisions are made in smoke filled back rooms. Not around here. It was a bunch of modern hippies in a middle school cafeteria. These are my people.

But thanks to three hours on a hard plastic school bench, following three hours on a hard plastic plane seat (we flew cheap), capping days in a confined space, I'm just wiped out. No pictures, no great expository writing. Rest now, write later.

Reflections

Inspirational song: Two Tickets to Paradise (Eddie Money)

The grand adventure has come to a close. I'm riding back from the airport with Barley's head resting on my shoulder. (Actually, it's Barley's head in a cone on my shoulder--there was a vet visit while we were gone.) We are sharing a few details of the experience with T while he takes us home, but there's still a lot to absorb before I can properly do it justice. This was a world I had never inhabited before, and it was a bit overwhelming.

On our final morning there, the man who received the RV came by for a final run through of all the systems, and to receive the ownership documents. After his review of all the switches and valves, he and the Mr unloaded his car into the RV. It was packed solid with everything he had left, and everything that had been donated since the fire in early November. For the first time in five weeks, he had a place he could lock, where he could actually access all these things. Much better than the cot in the dormitory where he had been until tonight.

Before we left, he walked us through the Red Cross camp, where the dorms and animal shelters were. There were services tents and campers, like the Verizon trailer with one entire wall dedicated to device chargers in cubbyholes. There was a trailer with sinks in a row, where people could wash their hands with warm water. Apart from the regular rows of port-a-potties, there were special ones for use by anyone who needed to vomit. Norovirus has been a problem, with people living in close quarters, under stressful conditions that weaken immune systems.

It's so much to think about, what it takes to care for a whole displaced town. Services and security and order. They set up a school, but I never saw children playing. They had to segregate the chronically homeless from the evacuees. They have to call the cops sometimes, when people bring weapons and syringes into camp. They have curfews. None of this is easy. No one is enjoying this. But it is infinitely better than nothing.

Tomorrow I will sort my pictures, and see what is appropriate to share.

Base Camp

Inspirational song: Cruel, Crazy, Beautiful World (Johnny Clegg and Savuka)

We are at the end of the journey, at least as far as we can take the RV. We are in the Red Cross staging area, where new arrivals wait for spots in the refugee camp at the Fairgrounds in Chico. We spend one last night here, and then fly home. We met the man who will take possession of the beastie tomorrow, and walked him through every detail inside and out. There's a lot to learn for a first time RV owner, so Mr Smith-Park will write it all out tonight and leave him a cheat sheet.

The man who is getting the RV seems like a really good guy. He has made himself invaluable to the Red Cross folks, helping in any way he can, including keeping order. They said things can get kind of hairy here. Disputes happen, and it's often loud and rowdy. One volunteer said our guy helped him out of a jam when one of the disputes spilled over and threatened his safety. I feel even better about helping him directly now that I've met him, and seen a photo of his adorable family.

I can already see how much tension there is, living in a refugee camp from an entire town burning down. We haven't been here 24 hours, and the weariness of these souls is palpable. They have been through a lot, and they have so little left. Where I'm sitting now, I'm facing a group of people setting up a solar shower bag in the sun, next to a tent. Imagine having to do basic hygiene this way, every day for weeks or months. (As I typed that sentence, a semi truck went by with "mobile shower services" on the trailer, but I wasn't fast enough on the camera button. Maybe later.) The rig next to us has had loud music playing for an hour. I anticipate it will keep going through bedtime, or longer. If I get a decent night's sleep, I'll be surprised. I wonder how many restful nights these folks have had in a month.

Roadside Attractions

Inspirational song: I’ve Been Everywhere (Johnny Cash)

Yesterday was a race against the weather. We were on the high plains and in the mountains, and there was wind and snow threatening us. We got as far as we could, past Salt Lake City, and we set out at 6:30 this morning, to skip as much winter weather as possible. It started snowing on us right before the sun came up, and we had plenty of sporty moments in western Utah and eastern Nevada. But before Elko the skies cleared. By the time we stopped for gas in Winnemucca, the weather was great. We felt we had gotten far enough ahead that we started playing around. We spun a few rounds on Buffalo (penny slots), and I ended with my whole $20, and he had none of his. Before Reno, we detoured to see Pyramid Lake, the diminished remnant of the Lahontan inland sea that once covered all the way to Needles from there. There was a museum and cultural center there, and we wandered around and looked at all the exhibits. On the way up to the lake, there was a nondescript street sign that read “Chicken Ranch Road,” and I caught it out of the corner of my eye as we passed it. I’ve been too afraid to google it to see whether it is that Chicken Ranch.

We missed the exits for gas in Reno, and also missed opportunities for lunch. We kept saying we would find a truck stop and then go to a casino for buffet. We did neither. We headed toward Tahoe, sort of, and then tried to find gas in Truckee. Man, never need gas in a resort town in California. We only got a little, and then split off the highway when everything had the “Donner” name attached it it. (Maybe my pictures of Donner Summit/Donner Pass came out? I’ll find out at home when I can expand them and attach from the computer.) We took a scenic route through redwood forests, on tiny, tightly winding roads. Pulling over periodically to let lines of cars pass us was exciting, so to speak. The views at sunset were incredible, but immediately after the sun went down, so did the road. Practically straight down, until we hit the flats leading to Yuba City. In the span of an hour or two, we went from redwoods to oaks to palm trees. It was outstanding.

We didn’t expect to make it all the way to Chico tonight, yet here we are. We passed the signs leading to Paradise on the south side of town, and we nosed around until we found a Lowe’s parking lot where a dozen or more RVs were already parked, along with some tents and a port-a-potty. There were printed signs with arrows that directed where overnight parking was allowed, so we slipped in with all the folks who have been here for weeks. We ate the last of the food I had packed for the trip, save for the little bit I have for breakfast, and we plan to go to bed early.

Now that we are stopped, my body is telling me it’s very tired. But all in all, I am pleased to report this is probably the least stressful cross country drive I’ve ever done. Granted, all I had to do was ride, not try to hold this big pig in a lane in high winds when big ass semis blew past us. But when I needed to get stuff, I could turn around and get it. I had all the legroom in the world, and didn’t tense up once for being crammed into a small space. In fact, my pain levels are downright good, no small miracle there. I won’t miss dealing with this enormous RV, but I am not opposed to getting a much smaller one in the future. In fact, I relish the prospect.