Who would have thought that a month after my last posting
I would still have a captive audience?
Are you bored enough to read this?
As I write, I am parked on a side street next to the
Hampton Inn in Petaluma, California. It feels
safer to park outside a hotel than in a Walmart parking lot; part of it is
thinking that if someone has a problem with me traveling, they must also have a
problem with the people inside the hotel.
Strength in numbers. I fear we are
all regressing.
In any event, here I rest for the night. Given the “only essential travel” restriction,
I am endeavoring not to make much of a footprint, so no cooking—at least until
morning coffee--there is no stopping morning
coffee. (Dinner was a delightful mash-up
of French countryside and Greek Islands with pate, baguette, hummus and
carrots.) I also did not put down the
stabilizers so it will be a bit of a bumpy night; and one during which I will
roll constantly south-east. Come to
think of it, maybe the Walmart parking lot would have been better.
I imagine I have already irritated some of my dear
readers just by being on the road. Turns
out, for me, going up to take care of Sea Salt and my land on Orcas Island is
essential travel. We all have rules that
we are willing to break; this is mine. For
today anyway. I am not speeding on the
way up, does that help? I also have a
bottle of hand sanitizer on my dash and my bandanna around my neck.
There are, of course, no campgrounds open and most public
parks are also closed. After crossing
the Golden Gate Bridge, I headed over to Highway 1, through Stinson Beach and
stopped just north of there in a Marin County Preserve. I backed Beagle into a bit of a hidden spot
off the road and contemplated spending the night; the view out Beagle’s front
window (above) wrestling with the view of the “County Parks are only open for County
Residents” sign.
I feel tension around but maybe I am just paranoid. Beagle and Wurzig always get a lot of
attention and if these were normal times I wouldn’t think twice about people
staring at my rig. But these are not
normal times and, not wanting to be woken up by a concerned resident or Sherriff,
I let the sign win. Turns out the drive from
the preserve over to Petaluma was one of the most beautiful roads on which I
have had the pleasure of driving.
On my way up I drove smack dab through San
Francisco: They had shut down a portion
of 101 North and so I ended up downtown on Sixth Avenue; thankful that the city
was half empty. San Francisco is clearly
taking advantage of the quiet streets by doing all kinds of construction so there
were a lot of cones to navigate as I meandered my way through the familiar streets
and out the other side. I would say 75%
of the people had masks on although not a ton of people were out and about—almost
every pedestrian had a dog. Once I
crossed the bridge to Sausalito and into Marin County, the masks disappeared. Here in Petaluma it is about 25% masks.
Being in Beagle is always a source of contentment for me
but this trip has added some much-needed adventure, a sense of freedom and, the best, a sense of control. As most of you know, I am not good at being
told what I can and cannot do. The
social distancing requirement will undoubtedly come in handy for the next three
days.
-K
PS: Anyone want to lay odds on whether tomorrow night I will be inside a hotel?