Why You Should Always Put on Sunscreen

 

There was no use in putting on sunscreen this morning, I was packing up in the rain and heading toward more.  Normally I wear it every day but given my travel plans I figured I’d let my skin breathe a bit.

Five minutes later, with Beagle in tow, I was at the Valero station on the corner putting air in Wurzig’s left rear tire.  We had driven about one-hundred yards when the tire pressure monitoring system warned me, in no uncertain terms, that the tire was at 15 PSI.  That is so far from 44 PSI I thought the system was failing. 

But it wasn’t. 

While filling the tire I saw the culprit:  A nice shiny nail embedded in the tread.  The tire seemed to be holding air so my first thought was to get Beagle somewhere safe.  We drove the one-hundred yards back to the River West RV Park, asked for another night and were given that plus directions to a “nice guy at the 76 station” who repairs tires.

With Beagle unhitched and the tire still holding enough air, I cancelled my previous navigation to Starbucks and replaced it with directions to the 76 station.  A young fellow gave Wurzig a long look and me a short one before looking at the tire, and said,

“Sorry, but this is one we cannot fix.  You will need a new tire.  Would you like me to print out an estimate?” 

“Sure”, I said, and “My god”, I thought, “Here we go again with Porsche tires, you need one you need four.”

He provided three estimates, two in a brand that Porsche would never recommend, the third coming in at over $2,000, I'm going to give him the benefit of the doubt and say that was for four tires.  But still, it was time for a second opinion.

I called The Reno Tire Pros, a name that inspired confidence, and they asked me to come on down so they could see it.  By now I was really missing my second cup of coffee so I took a minute for myself and drove through Starbucks.  Sitting in the line, I looked at the person behind me and thought, “She might be having an even more difficult morning than me”, so when I reached the window, I bought her order too.  Random acts of kindness.

Over at The Reno Tire Pros, they were quite sure they could fix the tire but mentioned it might take an hour or two as they had other appointments ahead of me.  Completely understandable, I was just thrilled they could see me the same day.  They welcomed me into the waiting room, Noses and all, and we settled in.

Fifteen minutes later, Wurzig was back out front all fixed and ready to go.  Random acts of kindness.

Now, technically, I could have still hitched up Beagle and easily made it to Eagle Lake as planned.  But I had really had enough—too much stress and not enough exercise so I decided to hit a local trail.  What a great decision that was!  Six miles of crunching dirt, open valleys, wet pine trees, and the best trail dog ever:  At one point, we had to walk along a fallen tree to cross a river so I unleashed Opus and climbed up.  He struggled to find a way up but eventually made it, passed right by me, crossed the river like an Olympic gymnast on the balance beam, hopped down on the other side, turned around and waited for me.

It was a fantastic hike, a mere fifteen minutes away from downtown Reno.  During the hike we had sunshine, rain, sleet, snow flurries and more sunshine.  And, of course, me without sunscreen.

-K

Find, Fix, Test, Repeat

 

Greetings from the River West RV Park in Reno, Nevada, yes, we got out of Oakhurst!  And as a bonus, gas is a full $2.00/gallon less expensive here.

When last we met, I was heading into my appointment at The Rusty Piston to have them look at my “ping”.  I won’t go into all the details, suffice it to say it was very difficult to nail down and I ended up with three repaired wires, two new trailer brakes, one new brake controller and two new friends.

I worked closely with the garage manager and lead mechanic (who was also the owner.)  We developed a respect for each other’s intelligence and discovered that we shared two beliefs:  That everything happens for a reason and, most important of all, that life requires a sense of humor.

However, after three times of finding and fixing an issue only to have the ping return during a test, we all had a moment when we lost our sense of humor.  We decided to call it a night; I climbed into Beagle and slept in their parking lot.  (I did alleviate some of my frustration with a pint of local beer down the street and some really good fish tacos.)

All three of us did research overnight and by morning we had all reached the same conclusion:  New trailer brakes.  Since the guys were going to be busy installing the brakes and a new controller, they suggested a hike for Opus and me (thank god) that started just across the highway and rambled up what was the old road to Yosemite.  It was beautiful and peaceful back there with green rolling hills and oak trees; it was just what we needed. 

The work wasn’t completed until 4:00 and then the owner and I started driving Wurzig & The Beagle to burnish the new brakes and set up the controller.  It took forty-five minutes for the brakes to set but it was a treat for me—I was a passenger for once!  

Driving away at 5:30 I knew I wasn’t going far so I headed back to Bass Lake (twelve miles) and searched out a first-come site.  My favorites were all taken or reserved so I tried a new loop and found an absolutely dreamy spot:  #113 is a long back-in spot, surrounded by trees and, get this, you cannot see another trailer from any side!  (Nor can you see the lake but that was ok with me.)  It was tucked back and private; just what I needed after two days with a bunch of mechanics and a night in a parking lot. 

To top it off, I didn’t have to level side to side or front to back so no disconnecting.  That is a treat.  I backed in, put down the stabilizers, walked the dogs, made some dinner and what?  Oh my god, rookie mistake, I forgot to look at my tanks before returning to camp and I did not have enough water for a shower.  It is rare that I don’t have a shower at night—I even had one in the parking lot!  Ahh well.

Opus and I put in a good four miles in the morning; we got the blood pumping and the sweat flowing which felt wonderful but made me miss a shower even more.  A quick sponge bath and a washing of my hair in the sink was all I could do.

An hour later, with freshened tanks, we hit the road to cross the Sierra’s.  My favorite route, Highway 108 over Sonora Pass was closed as was Highway 4, due to the impending snow storm.  (Shoulder season camping has its issues.)  So we traveled Highway 88 climbing up through rain then sleet and into the snow. 

I had just passed one of those “road closed” gates (still open obviously) when the snow began to stick to the road and the temperature dropped below freezing.  Visibility was poor, low clouds and tons of snow, and I was about to turn around when I remembered to look at the cars coming toward me:  If they had snow on them then for sure it was trouble ahead, but if they were just wet, I could keep going.

They were just wet.

We kept going.

It was slow going but we made it.  Once I saw the other “road closed” gate (again, obviously still open), I knew we were headed down and started to enjoy the drive.  The sky opened up a bit, some blue showing through, so I stopped at a Snow Park parking lot and let the dogs race around for a bit.  The wind was furious and it was still below freezing so we didn’t last long.

You can bet the first thing I did once we stopped for the night at Topaz Lake was to heat up the water and take a nice, longish, hot shower before returning to the view out Beagle’s front window:

And tonight we sit in an RV park, not our favorite thing, but laundry is done, Wurzig & The Beagle are cleaned up and we have a fresh round of groceries.  Heading north tomorrow into what looks like a bunch of rain.  Interesting.

-K

The Disparity in Ping Duration

 

My first thought Saturday morning was, “I get to leave on my epic Beagle trip tomorrow!”, and my second thought was, “Why not leave today?”

It felt like I had been preparing for this departure for weeks, after all, planning to be gone for over two months takes some preparation. But when I realized that all I had left to do was to unplug my refrigerator, turn off my water heater, and pack some clothes and food into Beagle, I figured I could be gone in about three hours.

And did that light up my day!  I set about my tasks thinking about my trip, how much fun it will be to discover new (to me) mountains and see old (to me) friends and (hopefully) even make my way back to my homeland (come on Canada, let me back in!)  Then I reminded myself that the trip would also have its obstacles; all trips do.  So I coached myself that mostly what I needed to bring along was my sense of humor. 

And that was tested a mere hour later.

After shutting down my house and packing up Beagle, it was time to hitch her up.  Imagine my dismay when, during my last step of plugging in my brake controller, it did not register Beagle’s presence.  Usually it will display, “connected” or “not connected” or some series of numbers indicating the amount of brake pressure Wurzig is sending to Beagle.  But I had nothing. 

I went through my normal tech support; turn everything off, turn everything back on, try again.  (Back in my computer support days, we would charge $37.50 for that advice.)  But, unlike my computer support days, this did not work.  I called one mobile RV person and received their voice mail.  I drove to a local RV park and asked if there was someone who might be able to help.  They provided a number for a second mobile RV person.  Not only was he readily available, he could meet me in an hour.

OK Kit, just write this next part even though it makes you look really unintelligent.

It took him about three minutes to diagnose my issue:  The part of the controller that plugs into my cigarette lighter was missing its top and out of that top had fallen the fuse.  We eventually located all the missing parts, reassembled the unit, plugged it in and were rewarded with “connected.”  My first of two interactions with an RV repairman in two days, but I am getting ahead of myself.

The dogs and I were on our way! 

And yes, River is aboard.  She is still doing her dog business at appropriate moments and still such a warm and comforting companion, I am happy to have her along.  Opus has no comment.

At that point, my ETA into Bass Lake was after five; a rookie mistake when you are hoping to grab a first-come site on a sunny, warm Saturday next to a California lake.  But the Kitness was alive and well!

Having learned to take the long way to Bass Lake rather than the back-roads recommended by Google, I ended up reaching my favorite campground first and was surprised to see them open.  I was warmly greeted by the camp host who remembered me from last year (one of the many benefits of The Beagle—she does make a lasting impression on most people.)   I was welcomed to select any open spot so I chose the one pictured above—who wouldn’t?

After an intense leveling job, a short walk with two noses and a longer one with one, we settled into Beagle around eight o’clock.  And that’s when I first heard the “Thunk/Ping!”  The campground was near full so I thought it was someone playing cornhole, I should have paid closer attention to the ping portion. 

Darkness arrived, people settled down around their fires and the “ping!” continued.  It was on the left side of Beagle.  I grabbed a flashlight and went outside.  The sound was definitely coming from somewhere behind Beagle’s wheel.  “Ping!”…“Ping!”  every four seconds or so, sounding louder now that the campground had quieted.

My fellow Basecampers know that all of Beagle’s systems are located near that wheel well, so my first thought was something was wrong with my water pump or heater.  I went back inside, moved Opus & River to one side of the bed (it being after 9:30 PM, they were intent on sleeping) stacked the remaining cushions in the kitchen and opened up the service compartment.  But the noise sounded further away; it had to be something with my wheel or brakes.  Nothing more to do that night but at least I was rewarded with some lovely stars:

Eventually I fell asleep to the rhythmic ping, woke somewhere in the night and realized it had stopped.  But it had been pinging for at least six hours.

The next day I had to move to my reserved spot about two miles down the road but not until noon.  So Opus and I spent the morning hiking Goat Trail, a delightful trail that beings right from Forks Campground.  The sun was shining, the wild flowers were blooming and we were jumping for joy at our good fortune.

But, after the short drive to the new campground, the ping was back.  On the bright side, it did not sound as loud and stopped within an hour of being parked.  This led me to believe it had something to do with metal getting too hot when I drove.  The ping did sound a lot like metal cooling down and the long drive Saturday versus the short drive Sunday explained the disparity in ping duration.

At this point I had contacted everyone I knew who might be able to shed some light on the issue and determined that what I needed was someone local.  So back to an RV park for a recommendation.

The local mobile repairman didn’t actually visit, he listened to my video, gave his opinion that it was a wheel and/or brake issue (something he did not work on) and recommended a mechanic about ten miles away in Oakhurst.

I knew three things at that point:  (1) It was a gorgeous, sunny, warm Sunday; (2) It was due to rain all day on Monday; and (3) the garage wasn’t open.  All of which led me to take Opus on another hike, this time up Angel Falls.

Today, Monday, bright and early I drove to The Rusty Piston—some things are better explained in person and I figured this was one of them.  I left Beagle at camp since I didn’t want to tow her through town unless I knew someone was going to be able to help me. 

The guys inspired confidence with their busy, efficient, multi-bay garage and friendly owner who, after hearing my story, listening to my video, and learning that I was hoping to leave town on Wednesday, booked me an appointment for tomorrow.

After breakfast and coffee in town I drove through the rain up to the snowline with the dogs and let them race around for a bit.  Now we are tucked back in Beagle, warm and toasty, the rain is coming down (should end tonight), and feeling very fortunate to have my lithium batteries.

Stay tuned!

-K

The True Test

 

It was a trip designed to be a test of Beagle’s upgraded systems, turns out there were a few more questions to be answered:  Is there something wrong with me that I seek out solitude so often?  Will Opus return?  And, can I continue to choose freedom over fear?

If you have been reading along, you know that I was on the wait list at Santa Barbara Outdoor Gear to have Beagle’s lithium batteries swapped out for heated lithium batteries, the addition of a DC to DC charger, and a little something for Wurzig; ceramic tint for the windows.  Those tasks beautifully performed (as all work is) at SBOG, I could not wait to climb as high as possible into the Sierra’s and test it all out.

The first two nights I spent on my least favorite side, the west, at Lake Isabella; yet another relic of California’s fast disappearing man-made lakes.  It was depressing there with the dying trees, trickling “river” and algae filled “lake”.  Not a place to which I will return.  But I did manage to get my batteries down to 60% which would be a decent test for my DC to DC charging.

And I almost missed it.  

They charged up in about ninety minutes of driving.  This, like the lithium upgrade, is a game changer.  That means I can arrive at any new campsite with my batteries at 100%; no more pulling into an RV park for a night to charge things up.  Talk about freedom!

Confident that Beagle could handle below freezing, I headed to Bitterbrush Campground, about twelve miles west of Bishop, the only Forest Service Campground in the area open all year.  The campground sits at 6,800’, Beagle sat with her back to a lovely creek and her front facing up the valley to the snow-capped peak in the distance. 

Nights were well below freezing but there was enough solar to keep things at an acceptable level; I stayed four nights, the only camper to stay that long although every afternoon three or four others would show up just for the night. 

On day two, before heading out to hike, I set up my portable solar panels to assist with my fixed roof-top panels; I wanted to grab as much sunshine as possible.  As I was pulling away, I considered how easily someone could steal my portable panel; and how coveted they are right now.  My neighbor, two pitches down, traveling in a white panel van, circa 1960, with a hand-made chimney coming out the top wrapped in foil, watched as I packed up the dogs for the hike.  I thought about bringing in my portable panel but opted to choose freedom over fear; the additional solar power would bring me freedom of mind for the cold night ahead.

Returning later that afternoon, I was happy to see my faith in fellow campers paid off.  The solar brought my batteries to 98%.

That evening, three other sets of campers arrived and, around cocktail hour, the slow walk around the campground began along with the socializing which that often entails.  I watched from inside Beagle, listening to a Goldstein lecture on Buddhism, and wondered if there wasn’t something wrong with me.  Why do I always choose solitude over socializing?  But then I wondered, “Do extroverts questions why they don’t like to be alone?”  Maybe they should.  Why is it that the introverts feel the need to explain themselves? 

Things that make you go, “Hmmmm.” 

I was content, that is all that mattered and I didn’t feel like talking.

I spent the days trying to hike old favorites but was thwarted by roads closed for the winter.  I did find a new favorite, The Palisades, recommended to me by the clerk at one of the five (five!) outdoor gear shops in Bishop—no wonder I love it there.  The lead picture is of the Palisades Glacier hike, this one is what Opus and I looked like the entire time:

Although I was often hiking on snow, only one hike required my newly purchased ice-spikes.  A wonderful invention made of rubber and steel—the rubber part fitting over your boots anchoring the steel teeth to the bottom.  A necessity when hiking over ice fields.

It took me two times of slipping and gliding down ice fields to remember that I had the spikes.  Once attached to my boots, I cruised along like I was hot shit, practically running across the top of the snow and ice until, Thunk!  Post hole.

Post hole is a term I learned in Colorado:  For you non-hikers, it is how you describe the moment when you feel like one of your legs has disappeared.  You are walking along and then Thunk!  Down goes one of your legs, deep into the snow.  Usually at least to the knee, although I have had plenty of times when one leg was buried to mid-thigh.  These spots usually occur when (unbeknownst to you obviously) the snow is covering a field of small boulders and/or downed trees.

Now, since I was cruising along thinking I was the bee’s knees, when my right leg disappeared, my momentum kept me flying forward, causing my shin to hit a snow-buried boulder.  It smarted, and certainly slowed me down, but I continued to post-hole at least five more times before I stopped for lunch.  (It is tiring to heave your pack-laden body up with one leg.)

After refreshing myself, I decided to turn back; in an attempt to keep a sense of humor, I thought I would count the number of times I post-holed.  On the seventh one, as I was pushing with my left leg to haul my right leg up out of the hole, there was a second “thunk” and down went my left leg. 

At that point, I just leaned my butt against the snow-bank and laughed. 

The only way I knew to get out of a double post-hole was to roll to one side and drag my legs up together.  Which I did, and was rewarded by a lick on the nose from Opus.

Yes, Opus was off leash almost the entire time during the hikes.  He has become a great off-leash trail dog, coming when called and allowing himself to be leashed up again.  Quite unbelievable, I know, for those of you who have spent time chasing him.  But never fear, he has not lost his devilishness.

One morning, as I opened Beagle’s door to go get the dog food, a white blur shot between my legs.  I think he may have said, “Thank you very much”, but I cannot be sure as he was about one-hundred yards away before I realized it was Opus gone a huntin’.

I had a quick shot of panic and called out few hopeless, “Opus, come!” ‘s before I started to make my coffee.  I kept one eye on him; we were well away from the highway with a creek behind us, my only fear was of him attacking a bear.  But he was intent on a squirrel hole a few yards from the front door.  So I sat with my coffee and watched his little white tail jerk excitedly back and forth, head down, dirt flying between his legs, and tried to comfort River.  After about twenty minutes, I grabbed the Dentastix bag, rustled it a little and called, “Opus, hunting cookies!” and he ran right over.

I considered keeping him leashed on the hike that day but decided it would be better to allow him his freedom.  After all, he did return.  We hiked along a creek and were rewarded with birdsong for the first time of that trip--Spring was definitely in the air!

At the end of the hike, as I was getting River out of the car so we could all go play in the snow for a while, a fellow hiker began to ask me questions about the snow quality, depth, etc.  Turns out he was heading in to camp at the lake (my guess is it would have been at least a three-mile hike in from where we parked in front of the “road closed” sign—usually the road takes you right to the lake) and wondered if his sled of camp wood would be able to glide the entire time.  I assured him that it would, the snow was deep and nicely packed, “I never even post-holed once!” I exclaimed.  Then I noticed his gear:  Backpack clearly with bedroll and tent, really nice snow-worthy leather hiking boots (I did have some boot envy although I love mine, his were obviously meant for more snow than dirt), and the aforementioned sled filled with wood.  He was packing in and pulling a sled and, you guessed it, all alone.  Testing his love of solitude more than I could ever imagine.

Introverts united.  But don’t blink.

-K

PS:  This trip ended just before Alan’s birthday which, of course, had me thinking of him often.  I don’t believe that he is “watching over me” but I do imagine that, if he was, he would be proud of how I choose to live.  But not as proud as he would be of Opus.

Scotch on the Rocks, Paper Cup

 

Dedicated to TT who is considering more time on the road; it is not always easy and fun.

Greetings from Beagle’s southern base camp in Morro Bay.  I believe I left you at the Hitch N Post RV Park in Panguitch, Utah, where Beagle was being tossed around in 30 MPH winds and trying not to freeze during the fifteen-degree nights. 

Opus and I were huddled inside, the heater had been running constantly for forty-eight hours (and only set at forty-five degrees!) and the only thing I was happy about was being plugged in.  I was miserable; first and foremost, tired from very little sleep the night before (remember me Googling error codes at three o'clock in the morning?), grumpy because it was so cold outside I was spending many, many hours inside Beagle, and running on very little sleep.  Yes, it needs to be repeated; those of you who know me know that Tired Kit should just be left alone—especially by Any Other Kit.

And so, when a picture arrived into my Messages app, a picture that made me want to put on The Purple Dress of Devastation and strappy heels, slide on top of a tall bar stool and allow someone to buy me a dirty martini, my first inclination was to reply with, “Fuck you.”  (Sorry Mom.)  But I managed something more charming, I’m sure.

And then, when CH replied to my battery update with a teasing, “You need heated batteries”, intending to be funny because he knows I have been waiting for an appointment with him for just such an upgrade, my first inclination was to suggest he meet up with the person from paragraph three and fuck each other (sorry Mom.)  But I managed something more charming, I’m sure.

At that point I put my phone on Do Not Disturb (because, clearly, the only thing coming out of my mind was going to be that lovely four-letter word [better, Mom?]) and relied on my meditation training to comfort me:  Yes, my situation was less than ideal, but it was My situation, My life, and I welcome all experiences.  Embrace Misery, welcome it, it is the only way you will know Joy.  Deep breath.

And then my phone rang and it was Roomie, one of the few people whose call will break through my Do Not Disturb.  She and her real roomie listened while I complained, set me to laughing, and then we planned our Alaskan adventure.  Life turns on a dime.

The next day dawned sunny and frigid so I bundled up, sent a package on its way knowing it was going to bring joy (one of the greatest feelings on Earth), and headed out for a hike.  Opus and I didn’t see a single soul as we hiked through Red Canyon (a wonderful dog-friendly option given that they are not allowed on most trails in Bryce Canyon) and he enjoyed spazzing out, off leash, in the snow, trying to get me to chase him.

That afternoon I returned to Bryce to see more sites, barely surviving the cold long enough to take some pictures.

The following day I hit the slopes at Brian Head, something I had not done for five years.  Talk about joy!  Sparkling packed powder, bright blue sky, and no lines at the lifts.  After countless runs, I was flying down an intermediate run thinking I was hot shit and decided that should be my last run:  Thinking you are hot shit is always the prelude to a major wipe out.

Saturday was going to be a long drive day, having to leave from Panguitch, pick up River in Las Vegas and try to make it to Barstow, so I decided to treat myself to a night where it all started two weeks earlier, at the Hampton Inn.  I knew there was RV parking and, obviously, it was pet friendly. 

Tired and very road-weary upon arrival, I fed and walked the dogs and moved them into the hotel room, pausing to grab a cup (this being a Hampton Inn, it was paper), and returned to Beagle to make a sandwich for dinner.  I plunked two ice cubes into the cup and poured a hefty helping of scotch, carrying my reward back to the room where my two well-traveled and delightful dogs were sleeping patiently by the door.

I mention their good behavior because at ten o’clock the dog across the hall began to bark.  It was clearly a large dog and vicious so on top of it keeping me awake it also sent my heart racing with irrational fear.  I called the front desk, she said she would try and reach the owners, then she heard the bark and said, “Oh my god, that’s terrifying, I am so sorry.” 

After ninety minutes of blood-curdling barking, I called her again.  She sounded like she was going to cry; by then many other guests had complained and she was not getting an answer from the owners.  There was no use getting upset with her or the hotel.  I got dressed, leashed the dogs, walked out to the dark parking lot and slept in Beagle.

And so you see, TT, times can be trying on the road even when you think you have set yourself up for a treat.  But as long as you have your dogs and your rolling home, it is always worth it.  

And scotch.

-K

Peanut M&Ms Before Noon

 

Greetings from Panguitch, Utah, where Opus and I are riding out below-freezing temperatures and a probable snow storm on Day 10 of Beagle’s Winter Adventure. 

The original trip was going to be just four nights at Red Rock Canyon Campground outside of Las Vegas, and three nights out of Beagle, at the ultra-comfortable Chez C&K, to prepare for- and watch the Superbowl before returning home.  But plans change.

Red Rock Canyon Campground turned out to be a delightful winter stop, a BLM campground surrounded by slightly elevated and challenging hikes.  Opus and I hiked thirteen miles in three days, including a leg-buster up Turtlehead Peak which started at 4,000’ and climbed to over 6,000’ in a mere two miles.  It was grueling with plenty of places where I had to dig my fingers into the rock in order to hoist myself up and over.  (Opus, off leash for those spots, bounded up and down and up and down multiple times.)  The view from the top is not what I am used to from the Sierras (spoiled), so I just enjoyed the fact that I made it.  This was taken along the way up...

Then the aforementioned three nights at Chez C&K, where I placed my first “prop” bets, reveled in a Van Gogh immersion, and enjoyed time with family.  After losing all my bets on the Superbowl, the ski slopes were calling me and, since I was so close to Brian Head, Utah, I thought about heading that way.  When C&K graciously offered to keep River, the trip became certain and even expanded –I had been worried about her arthritis in the freezing weather.  Plus, after three days at Chez C&K, she started to follow C around rather than me.  Terriers!

Excuse me for a minute while I watch the snow fall outside and change into my cashmere lounging sweater. 

Ahh, lovely.

Leaving Las Vegas, at the recommendation of a friend, I spent my first night at Snow Canyon State Park, just outside of St. George, Utah.  A lovely place with miles of trails (the most interesting of which are not dog friendly) and a strange campground.  I had booked Site #3, I think because it was the only one available, at least I hope that’s what the reason was because the site was horrendous.  Horrendous!  It sat so close to Site #4, it was worse than an RV park. 

So, firing up the Kitness, I ventured into the office to see about changing pitches.  The charming man behind the counter was eager to help and moved me to the much-preferred Site #25, the only neighbors being sage brush, red rocks and a couple of squirrels.  When Mr. Charming ended with a wink and, “I am in Site 18 if you should need anything at all...anything at all”, I thought maybe the Kitness was set a little too high.

We hiked that afternoon and again in the morning before starting the short-mileage but long-duration drive to North Campground in Bryce Canyon National Park.   We were heading into elevation over 7,000’, with nights down in the teens and, scariest of all, the rookie mistake of not arriving before 3:00 PM to a first come campground.  With first come sites, it’s best to be there around 12:01; three o’clock was foolish.  I was feeling nervous; I have my new batteries but they get squirrely when the temperature drops below 25, plus the late arrival, plus the altitude…I did what any self-respecting person would do, I phoned a friend—one on whom I can always count to place a vote for adventure and provide some good, logical advice.

That conversation was no different; I left it feeling excited and brave and ready for anything.

Arriving at North Campground a little after three o’clock, I was fortunate to have my pick of about ten pitches.  I chose Site #6, up on a hill (my favorite) with lots of sun shining down on my solar panels--which I knew my batteries would need were I to survive more than one night.

Unhitched, site registered, and Opus walked (I did break the rules and let him run off leash in the snow for a bit—dogs just love that so much), I drove out to some of the look-outs and gazed in wonder at the scene.  Pictures do not do it justice and I cannot believe I have never spent any time here before.  It being winter, there were very few people and I marveled at the crowd-control devices in place for the more popular overlooks (one-way walks, etc.); thankful that I was not visiting during the high season.

But what a first night!  My heater turned on at 5:00 PM when I entered Beagle and did not stop running (despite being set at only 40) all night long.  Well, no, it did stop at 3:30 AM when I discovered the system had turned itself off and was flashing an error code.  Did I mention it was 3:30 AM?  And around ten degrees outside?  With the thought that Beagle’s pipes could freeze in about ten minutes, I frantically Googled the error message and, after a couple of clicks, learned that the system had over-heated and needed to cool.  So I let it do it’s thing and after about fifteen minutes, it righted itself and started pumping out the heat again.

I did not get much sleep.

In the morning, my lovely lithium batteries had only lost 20% but were down to 50% (having started at 70% in case you didn’t want to do the math.)  I knew without a lot of solar generation, I would not make a second night but the day dawned bright and sunny so I left the solar charging, layered up, and headed out for a morning walk with Opus.  And what a delightful morning walk that was!  From the campground to Sunrise Point and over to Sunset Point, we got in four miles (a very fast four miles as it was well below freezing still) before arriving back at Beagle. 

My plan was to check everything at 3:00 PM then decide if I had enough battery power to go another night.  If it was at 60% or above 13.4 Amps, I would stay.

As I was making my second breakfast, the wind picked up and the sky filled with clouds—there went any hope of solar.  I turned on my inverter to make some toast and, despite my meter saying the batteries were at 49%, it started beeping an alarm and the monitor started freaking out.  (These are the exact words I texted to CH, my installer and ever-ready technical support, who by now can interpret “freaking out”—whether displayed on a machine or coming from me, quite easily.)  The monitor suddenly dropped to zero percent and less than 13 volts; there was no way I could ride out another night in the teens.  Even if I managed to get the batteries to charge more, the thought of that alarm going off at 3:00 AM was enough to start me packing.

I hitched up in the freezing wind as the first snow flakes began to pelt my face.  Opus had long since retired into his crate in the back of the warm car.  As a matter of fact, I haven’t seen his eyeballs in about three hours.  Dogs know what to do in a storm.

Just after leaving the park entrance, I broke open a bag of Peanut M&Ms, it was 11:48 AM.

And so we are down in Panguitch, Utah, at Henrie’s Hitch ‘N Post RV Park (yep) which, despite its location adjacent to Highway 89, is delightful.  I am plugged in, my monitor is no longer freaking out, the heater is blasting almost as hard as the wind is knocking Beagle around.  To keep life simple, I’ll stay here three nights and just day trip back up into Bryce (tomorrow) and then try my hand at skiing Brian Head on Friday.  Providing, of course, that this storm passes as it should.

At some point I do have to return for River--whether she likes it or not.

-K

The 2022 Inaugural Voyage

 

I cannot use “inaugural” without thinking about one of the last times I was able to hear Alan’s voice.   He had regained consciousness in the hospital and we were told to try and orient him to the present.  His daughter asked him, “It’s Inauguration Day, do you know who will be president?”

He thought about it for a minute then replied, “No.”

              “Donald Trump.”

              “You’re shitting me.”

God he made us laugh those last few days.

*

And so we are off beginning Beagle 2022, a year that promises to be the most exciting yet in large part due to my new lithium batteries and in immense part due to my acceptance that this is how I prefer to live.

I do have certain goals:  There will be a lot of hiking in Alaska this summer so this Winter through Spring I am turning myself into a lean, mean hiking machine.  Last year, my average miles driven per night in Beagle was over one-hundred miles a day.  Way, way, way too many miles each day and clearly not enough hiking.  (I do give myself a little slack for the fact that for most of 2021 I was either still being operated on or in some state of recovery.)  I would like to see that average be more like fifty by the end of 2022.

You find me today relaxing just outside Beagle in the dappled sunshine (my very favorite), listening to the creek running less than twenty yards from my door. River is at my side in her large, fluffy, blue bed, and Opus is recovering from our six-mile hike in the back of Wurzig (Opus, off leash for at least half of it, did more like nine miles including wading three times across the Sespe River [think creek].) When he wants to sleep, if he cannot be behind my knees, he opts for the warmth of the car and the security of his crate.

Beagle is luxuriating in the backcountry behind Ojai, California, at Wheeler Gorge Campground, a funky place but one to which I plan on returning often.  There is no cell service for miles and miles and, after the initial, “What in the hell?”, I have come to love it.  I do have my Garmin (satellite communication) for emergencies and at least two people always know on which trail I am hiking.  The weather is delightful; high 60’s at camp, low 50’s during the higher elevation hikes and cold nights.  Heaven.

Having camped twice in the KOA near Ojai (one-nighters on my way through the area), I am thrilled to have found this delightfully wooded and much more private spot.   We have developed a nice routine of peanut butter toast and coffee in bed (of course, we are not heathens—wait a minute, we are heathens…we are not Neanderthals), a half mile walk with both dogs, a quick clean out of Beagle, then settling River inside Beagle before taking off on a longer hike with Opus.  I try to not be gone more than four hours; although I know River is sleeping the entire time, I just worry about her.  When we return, Opus remains in the car for his aforementioned afternoon nap and I walk River alone; she prances slowly along, her spirit lifted by the thought that she might finally be the #1 Dog.

The first hike was up Chorro Grande, altitude averaging 4,500’ and only five miles.  But a nice start to get my legs reacquainted with a full pack. 

The second hike was up Piedra Blanca which was beautiful and quite easy so we quickly clocked six miles (my first time in the Sespe Wilderness!)

The final hike for this stop was up Matilija Creek Canyon, a mere three miles; the trail was difficult to follow after a mile-and-a-half, clambering over the many fallen trees and, after the second time I got one foot stuck between two narrow trunks, I turned around. 

Although short, the hike was oh so sweet as the entrance to the trail was through the Matilija Creek Ranch which, with its stone walls and sheltering oaks and the smell of live chicken and goats, took me back to Guejar Sierra, a lovely town in which Alan and I camped near Granada, Spain.

Wait, can we David Whyte that lovely phrase?  “…with its stone walls and sheltering oaks and the smell of live chicken and goats…”  Yes, worth repeating. 

I spent most of the hike reminiscing about the hikes we did from that picturesque town which started in the stone streets, flanked by stone walls, and wound up taking us through similar topography of soft, rolling hills and fresh flowing creeks.  Here sits the elegant, stone, Matilija Creek Ranch.   

You can imagine my thrill when, on the drive home, I turned back onto Highway 33 and saw…it’s hard to believe…a small Spanish man walking two heavily laden burros down the narrow highway.  I considered the fact that I might be in a time warp. 

Four nights in one spot and three good hikes.  An excellent start to 2022!

*

As most of you know, I am not a big one for the New Year meaning anything.  But starting out on this trip I did flash on the fact that ten years ago this month Alan and I were making our final plans to ship Salt, Pepper, two dogs and ourselves over to Europe for an unknown amount of time.  (You can still read about those adventures here.)  And five years ago this month (unbelievably), Alan woke up just in time to die.   

Take stock dear Reader, this is your life and the only thing you absolutely know for sure is that it will end.  To paraphrase Sam Harris, it doesn’t matter what you choose to do—you can sit and watch hours of YouTube videos, stare at a tree, read a book, go to work—just recognize that it is the choice you are making for your life; give yourself over to it, and live those moments completely.

According to my neighbor’s bumper sticker, “The purpose of life is to live it.”  It has beaten out my prior favorite, “I refuse to have a battle of wits with an unarmed person.”

-K