Orcas or Arrest

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?