Look Mom, I'm Camping!

 

Well it took forty days but I am finally living the way I thought the entire trip would be:  Camped in a forested campground adjacent to a lake, with miles and miles of hiking surrounding me.  It is my second idyllic spot in a week, so naturally I am in Naturally Beautiful British Columbia.  The moment I pulled away from the border patrol I felt like the country reached up from deep underground and enveloped me in a giant hug.  The one place, other than inside Beagle, where I have always felt at home.

Some of you know that I was born here (Kelowna) but not many know that I spent every summer for eight years (my formative years I like to call them) at my Grandparent’s cabin on Shuswap Lake.  That’s where I grew into my love of being outside, the smell of a lake after rain, the enveloping quiet of tall trees and the mesmerizing motion of a river filled with bright red salmon.  As well as my love for being alone:  After mandatory morning chores with Granny which ended by making lunch for my brothers and Grandpa (who had been out building cabins), I was free for the day.  I would walk down to the lake and swim and sun and repeat until I became old enough to work at the local café.  And that’s where I learned how to make a martini.  At fifteen.  But I digress…

This morning I woke to the wonderful sound of rain on Beagle’s roof in Gladstone Provincial Park on the shores of Christina Lake.  It was moving day so I waited for a break in the downpour to hitch up Beagle and grabbed it at ten o’clock.  Gladstone, being my first Provincial Park in BC, set the bar quite high:  The pitches were well placed for privacy, with packed gravel (convenient for draining away all the rain) with a dog beach area along the lakeshore and access to miles of hiking trails.  (Pictured above.)

It was a much-needed break after my trials to get up here.  When the camp host remarked that I was “totally bad-ass” for doing this all on my own, I replied, “Sometimes it’s just bad.”   You all know what it took and know how grateful I am to have courage, but on this trip I learned that I also have perseverance.  (Who knew?)  I simply refused to give up.

And now you find me at Champion Lakes, the nearest Provincial Park to my dear cousin in Trail.  (The BC Parks website was so easy to use I decided to do the Canadian portion of this trip completely in Provincial Parks.)  The rain has been off and on since we arrived but I managed to get out for a few miles’ worth of walking, appreciating the smell of wet pine needles while keeping an eye out for the resident moose and her calf.  After the walks, the Noses and I huddled back inside Beagle enjoying the sound of rain on the roof, the taste of chamomile and honey tea, the feel of warm fleece slippers, and the sight of absolutely nothing but tall pine trees out every one of Beagle’s windows.

And there are a lot of windows, eh?

-K

Twenty-two Hours of Bliss

 

At what point do you stop trying to make it work?  Dear reader, you have been privy to most of my traveling issues but not all of them.  Buckle up because here comes the entire saga.

Greetings from the Seubert RV Park in Cottonwood, Idaho.  Yes, another RV park, and yes, I am thrilled to be here despite the fact that Wurzig and Beagle arrived here separately.  Go ahead and think about that for a minute.

Once again, my plans have been tossed aside by the winds of fate.

When planning the Boise to Priest River phase of my trip, I had decided to camp only where I would have cell service.  Between car issues, trailer issues and health issues, I figured it was time to be more conservative. 

My research led me to stop for two nights at the Pine Bar Recreation Area in Cottonwood, Idaho.  I used the Verizon coverage map to determine that I should have cell service and the place looked delightful; an asphalt road winding along the Lower Salmon River to the camping area. 

Leaving Boise, I made a rookie mistake and passed by an Albertson’s grocery with a nice, large parking lot.  It was early on in the drive and I wasn’t ready to stop yet despite needing a few groceries.  I figured I would find another store in one of the smaller towns further north.

Due to construction, I had to travel along Highway 95 rather than my original route, Highway 55, but it proved just as beautiful; the highway travels along the Snake River and I noted the many attractive camping areas and RV parks along the way.  All with strong Verizon service according to my phone.

About half way to my destination, the audio went out in Wurzig.  Again.  This had started on my drive down from Ketchum and I thought I had it repaired while in Boise.  But apparently not.  In addition, Wurzig had begun sending off meaningless alerts like “rear brake light out” or “too close to car in front” (and no, Mom, I was not too close.)  There are two things you don’t want to experience when towing your home:  An unreliable tow vehicle and “Dead End” signs.  I had one and was about to have both.

I had an upcoming appointment with Porsche in Spokane so tried to put the messages aside (the warning lights would often disappear after turning off the engine but, alas, the sound never returned on that drive.)

At five miles off of Highway 95, along the gorgeous Graves Creek Road, Google announced that I “had arrived” at the campground just before I lost Verizon service.  I was no where near a campground.  I was on a (barely) two-lane road traveling between farms and cattle, alongside a creek, with stunning bright green hills surrounding me.  I had no choice but to keep going forward, there was no place to turn around.

Then there came a “V” in the road, to the left a sign indicated, “Pine Bar Recreation Area” (note, no mention of the campground) along with “Dead End” and to the right was unknown.  Not brave enough to force the issue with the “Dead End” sign, I turned right.  The road became even more narrow with still no place to turn around.  Thankfully, a cowboy on his modern 4-wheeled horse came toward me, I waved him down.

              “Hi, thanks for stopping, do you know if I can turn around anywhere up here?”

              “Yes, just around a couple more corners there is a spot which should be wide enough for you.”

              “Great.  I’m looking for the camping area, is it down the dead-end road?”

              “Oh yes, there is a lot of camping down there.”

Now a note about Idahoans and their idea of camping:  They are use to a lot of BLM land, land where you can just pull over, put down your stabilizers and call it a night.  I prefer a real campground so wasn’t completely confident that the cowboy’s response would work for me. 

I managed to turn around where he suggested and headed down the dead-end road.  An absolutely beautiful, gorgeous drive.  I cannot say enough about it; the Lower Salmon River flowing at the bottom, the dark rock cliffs leading up to horizontal meadows of bright green grass spotted with black cows and the occasional tree.  I was in heaven.  But still no cell service.

After about four miles of this I decided I better take the next pull off area and head out on foot to determine if there really was a campground further along.  Beagle and Wurzig safely off the road, I hooked up the Noses and we set off. 

Almost a mile later we came to the “Pine Bar Recreation Area” sign (again no mention of the campground) and, due to the winding nature of the road, I could not see very far.  But I could see that River had had enough walking and we needed to get back to the car.  Noting that I could drive down to the sign and be able to turn around, I decided that was a good next step.

On the (very slow due to River) walk back to the car, a couple pulling a travel trailer came down the road toward me.  I waved them over. 

              “Hi, thanks for stopping, is there really a campground down there?”

              “Oh yes, it’s lovely.  There are only six sites so you are arriving at a good time.  Is that your rig parked up above?”

              “Yes, I was nervous about the ‘dead-end’ sign and thought to walk to the campground but my older dog cannot go any further.”

              “Well, you’ll love it down there when you get there.”

              “Wonderful, I’ll see you there!”

Are you wondering about my promise to myself regarding cell service?  I sure was.  But I was holding out hope that it would magically appear at the campground.

Pulling into the camping area, I noticed D&K’s rig parked up to the left; I continued down to the turn-around.  I assumed I would loop around and park up there with them.  But Site #6 sat all alone at the end of the road and it was vacant.  I looked at it a long time trying to figure out what was wrong since surely D&K would have taken it—it’s hard to imagine a better camping spot. 

But it was evidently available so I spent the next twenty minutes backing Beagle into the exact right spot and making her level.   It was Thursday, 3:00 PM.  Start the twenty-two hour clock.

Still no cell service, but I could not pass up the opportunity to stay there for two nights.  After coming close to turning back home at least twice, this was a reminder of why I do this.  Peaceful, beautiful, and I felt very comfortable.

D&K sought me out a bit later and we chatted for awhile during which I let slip that I passed up a grocery store when I should not have.

              “What do you need?”, D immediately asked.

              “Oh, nothing, I was just stocking up.”

              “But you had stuff on your list, what do you need?  We have tons of supplies.”

              “Well, honestly, what I needed most was bread.”

              “Do you like Dave’s Killer Bread?”

              “Love it!”

              “How many slices?”

              “Two would be fantastic, that way I can have my peanut butter toast both mornings.”

Such a nice couple, I was thrilled to hear the next morning (which dawned clear and warm and with clarity and color like something out of a Pixar movie) that they decided to stay two nights as well.

Friday morning I took Opus on a long walk and just soaked up the atmosphere.  I had on shorts!  The sun was shining, the scenery was breath-taking (pictures do not do it justice), and then just sat in the sun until I felt like moving again.

Which was around 1:00 PM, when I decided to make my next day's travel a bit easier by heading into town and getting groceries and gas.  I started Wurzig, was surprised to hear sound come out of the speakers, and barely noticed the ding of an alert bell (having heard so many by now.)  But when I put it in gear, I heard the unmistakable and heartbreaking sound of a completely flat tire attempting to roll on gravel.  This time the warning was true, there really was no air pressure in that tire.

I walked up to D&K’s site intending to ask for a ride up to cell service so I could call AAA (incidentally, they passed up site #6 because they had parked there before and had a terrible time getting level, or so they say, I think they left it open for me—they are those kind of people) but they were all closed up so I thought they were out hiking.  Walking back, I passed another set of campers, introduced myself and told them of my issue.

              “We could certainly give you a ride, but do you have a spare tire?”

              “Yes, but it’s nothing I can get on.”

              “Well, we can put the spare on for you.”

And so grandfather and grandson came over and spent a good hour changing my tire.  I’m not sure they knew what they were getting into—a German car and its funky tools and jack “like they’ve never seen before” but they got the job done.  I did offer twice to do the AAA thing but the grandson just said, “No, this is a challenge now.”

I like these Idaho people.

Spare on and the flat tire loaded in the back, the Noses and I made our way, very slowly, the twenty miles into Cottonwood.

Naturally, the hole was in the sidewall (unrepairable), naturally they do not stock high performance 21” tires, naturally I would need to replace all four in order to not mess up the all-wheel drive.  (We have been here before, haven’t we dear reader?)

I sat down while the young man worked at the computer locating the appropriate tires and providing me an estimated installation date.

              “Looks like they will be here Tuesday, we could get them on Tuesday afternoon for you.”

              “Ok.”

He looks over at me for a minute.

              “Are you ok, ma’am?”

And that’s all it took, one more nice person to make me crumble.  To my horror, tears began to fall down my face.  The big fat ones that come when words just aren't enough.

I look to all the world like someone who cries because they have a flat tire.

              “I’m so sorry, it’s just been one hell of trip.”

              “It’s ok ma’am, we’ve all had trips like that.”

“But… but… but…” I wanted to lay it all out:  The trailer brakes, the flat tire in Reno, the food poisoning that led to a concussion that led to an ER visit, the weird electronic issues with Wurzig.  And most of all, how, just when I was feeling like I was about to enjoy The Trip as Planned, I got another Friday Night Smack-Down.

Instead, I walked quickly to my car and cried into a Taco Bell napkin.

Looking up I noticed two women watching me from inside the grocery store across the street.  They quickly turned away.  I dried my tears, finalized things with the tire guy and decided to pick up some groceries while I figured out the best way to handle the next five nights.

              “Can I help you?” the lady asked as I was making my way stoically through the aisles.

              “You could point me toward the bread.”

              “Right side toward the cashier.”

              “Thank you.”

              “Excuse me, I don’t mean to pry, but we noticed you might be having a rough day, is there anything I can do for you?”

And the tears started again.  Good lord!  This entire town thinks that I am such wuss!  The Lady from California Who Cries Because She Has a Flat Tire.

              “Thank you, but it’s just been one of those days.  Well, months really.”

              “It could always be worse.”

Which is a statement that I cannot stand.  But I stopped, took a breath and thought, yes, I could be attempting to live in the Ukraine right now.  Gain some perspective.

Exactly what I needed to kick myself into gear.  I was in town, I had cell service, I needed a plan because I was not going to spend five nights out at Pine Bar with no cell service and no way to freshen Beagle’s tanks (impossible to tow with a spare tire on.)

I tried AAA but was on hold for too long.  I walked to a car repair shop and arranged for someone to come out Saturday morning and tow Beagle to the local RV park.  They offered to do it that night but I had had enough.  I just wanted to get back to Beagle, put everything back that was tossed and thrown around while digging out tools and an air compressor, deliver beer to the grandfather and grandson, and drink one myself.

Back at camp, D&K sought me out having heard of the flat from the grandfather.  They were aghast that I had to wait until Tuesday and suggested that we get back to cell range and try some tire stores in Lewiston.  I tried to tell them that no one ever stocks these tires but they would not hear of it.  Isn’t it worth a try?  They kept asking.  They had a point.  By then I had downed half a beer so I was up for just about anything.

And so we loaded into their truck and drove back into town.  No one in Lewiston could get the tires any faster than the local shop.  But D&K were not going to be thwarted from helping me.  They made me go back to the car shop and cancel the Beagle retrieval, stating that there was no way they would allow that to happen when they can easily hitch Beagle to their truck and tow me out.  Honestly, I argued and argued with them but I think D was getting mad.  So I let people help me once again. 

Actually, the laughter they provided along the drive with their sharp wit and funny stories helped me more than anything.

D arrived bright and early at 7:00 AM and we hitched Beagle to his Ram truck and drove the twenty-three miles to the RV park where just getting me level wasn’t enough for D; despite the freezing rain, he swapped out a piece of hardware on my rigging to make my life easier and put some bright tape on the nose of my hitch saying, “You won’t believe how much easier lining up will be with this marker.”

Finally, I convinced him to get back; I knew they wanted to head home this morning and he still had to go all the way back to camp and pick up K and their trailer.  He offered a hug which I readily accepted, tears welling up in my eyes again.

And so what now?  It has crossed my mind to just give up but if I start limiting my experience of Earth now, at age 56, imagine how narrow my life will be in ten years?  I’ve got at least four nights in mostly rain to think it through.  But I don’t see me giving up.  Even this spot has its charms:  The pitches are angled up a hillside with views across farmland into the mountains (when it’s not socked in with rain), a shower where they provide towels (!!!), individual soaps (!!!) and shampoos and a gracious hostess who, upon greeting me this morning (and knowing of my situation since yesterday), asked, “You are going through a rough patch, is there anything I can do for you?”

-K

Ida-Know

 

Wow, I really haven’t written since heading to the Oregon coast?  The truth of it is that there isn’t much of a story; after my delightful visit with friends in Oregon and a surprise treat of coffee and Danish the next morning with T&D, I high-tailed it back to the mountains.

And so you find me in Eagle, Idaho, at the Hi Valley RV Park, yes another RV park, but that seems to be the only way I have enough internet connection to actually post anything.  This is also an unexpected second stop in the Boise area and, wanting to be close to the city, there isn’t a lot from which to choose.

I took a leisurely drive from the Oregon coast to Boise, stopping in the delightful town of Sisters for one night and another night at Idlewild Campground in Burns, Oregon, where we woke to snow.  The forecast called for a "40% chance of rain" at 8:00 AM and, since it was snowing at 7:30, I decided to make a hasty retreat before the "100% chance of rain" hit at noon.  And so we were snowed out of the mountains yet again.

I was beginning to wonder if I would ever feel warm outside; I was quite sure that my Spring Fling started an entire month too early.

My first stop in Boise was a planned stay for five nights at a VRBO in the Harris Ranch neighborhood.   After three solid weeks in Beagle without even a hotel, it was a welcome treat.  Even more so with the fenced backyard so that when my bout of food poisoning hit me all I had to do was crawl to the sliding glass doors and let out the dogs.  Yes, it was bad.  I was extremely grateful to be in a house (and a delightful one at that!) rather than in the Beagle.

Having lost a few days to sickness, I extended my stay two nights so had an entire week to get to know the neighborhood (fell in love) and more of Boise (still think it’s the best next stop for me.)

Despite the snowy weather still approaching the mountains, I was looking forward to being back in the Ketchum/Sawtooth National Recreation Area part of the world.  So we set off on a Thursday morning in the freezing weather, thinking I was well covered with both a Plan A (a campground just outside of Ketchum) and a Plan B (a disbursed camping area on the other side of Ketchum.)

This brings us to lesson # Whatever:  Shoulder season camping requires a lot of research into what is open and, even if your research reveals that it is, you cannot count on it, so best to leave yourself lots of time because maybe, just maybe, neither Plan A nor Plan B will work.

And so it was.  The charming looking Boundary Campground, despite the Forest Service website listing it as “open” was in fact closed until the Friday before Memorial Day.  Plan B’s disbursed sites flat out gave me the creeps:  They were deep up a canyon along a small river, with lots of trees, no cell service, and muddy snow everywhere.  I turned around.

Time for Plan C:  I remembered the Sawtooth National Recreation Area, a place I had camped at last year, and figured it would be open year-round for snowmobiling and snow-shoeing, and, if it wasn’t, I planned on camping in the Ranger Station parking lot for the night.

But it was open and I nailed a gorgeous site alone in a field with the creek about twenty yards away and a view of snow-capped mountains out the front and back window of Beagle.  Add in the fact that it is the only spot in the NRA with some amount of Verizon service (as verified by the Ranger) and that camping is free this time of year, it was a camper’s heaven.

(Yep, that's Beagle & Wurzig in the distance!)

I had hoped the weather would hold out long enough for me to stay four nights but, alas, the snow she did come again.  And I was just darn tired of being outside in the cold.  On Day 2, when the altitude began to make me nauseous, and the weather reports in all the mountain towns I had hoped to visit showed well-below freezing nights and snow/rain during the day, I did a hasty retreat back to Boise.

Having been thrown off my schedule innumerable times now, I just need the world to hold still for a few days so I have five nights here.  It’s a lovely park in the Eagle area of Boise, lots of walking trails, a dog run for the noses and I have a nice, wide spot with very quiet neighbors.  Plus a pool and jacuzzi; if it ever gets above 50, I might take the plunge.

So now when people ask me where the next stop is, I just reply, “I dunno.”  I can tell you this, my next reservation is May 17^th at Farragut State Park in northern Idaho and after that every night is booked until June 26^th at which point I need to high-tail it back home.

Hopefully there will be some good stories between now and then because this one was a real snooze-fest!  But thanks for reading anyway.  :-)

-K

Where the Warm Wind Blows

 

Greetings from Casey’s Riverside RV Park in stunningly gorgeous Westfir, Oregon.  A planned one-night stop for laundry turned into a two night stop for fun. 

Lessons learned so far:

1)  You probably aren’t going to be able to hike above the tree line if people are still skiing in the resorts.  (Hello?  Why is this a lesson?  What was I thinking?)

2)  Partial shade and partial sun and nights below freezing are the trifecta of conditions leading to your batteries only lasting three nights in one place.  (And yes, I could have just plugged Beagle into Wurzig and run the engine but that would be dangerously close to using a generator—something I cannot stand to hear in a campground.)

3)  Cell service matters greatly in the shoulder season:  Between road conditions and needing to find alternate places to stay, having access to the internet is vital.

Now back to the regular program.

Here’s the thing about me and Wind:  I can’t stand it.  Well, most of it; I do enjoy a warm, caressing island breeze particularly at night, nothing better than that, but for the most part the rest of Earth’s breath I would rather not feel.  So, despite being all alone next to Eagle Lake in Northern California, 

where I should have been living the camper’s dream, the wind had me trying to scamper away as quickly as possible.  But not without leaving a lasting impression.

I have rituals while camping that keep me sane and, more importantly, breathing easily which is hard to do when you are allergic to dust and your little white dog who sheds like nobody’s business:  Every morning I shake out the bedding and hang it on the door while I vacuum out Beagle and the dog beds. 

My morning at Eagle Lake was no different; I had the back door open on Beagle and upon the front door hung my down comforter.  But not for long:  The wind, which had been a constant cold companion for twelve hours, burst into hyper mode and Swoosh!  Away flew my comforter!  And Swoosh!  The wind whipped right through Beagle’s two doors, pulling River’s bed out the back. 

Yep, all into the dirt.

This was the first time I thought that I might need a spa appointment.  

The second time was when I had learned from the Ranger’s office that I would not be able to reach my campground in the Three Sisters Wilderness due to snow closures.

The third was the morning I made the appointment.

I found the lady via the Yonka website, a brand of cleansers and lotions that I have been using for over twenty years, she was practicing in Bend—where I was headed instead of Cougar Crossing.  I thought if nothing else, I could stock up on supplies but booked an appointment for a full facial.  It was raining and cold and I needed a treat.

And here’s the thing about me and Facials:  I rarely let anyone give me one except for Ollga in Seattle.  I have tried other places and have been disappointed.  But I knew I was in for a treat when I was led into the warm, inviting therapy room, asked to put on a terry cloth wrap (engineered to leave your shoulders and chest bare so they can massage them while the masks are working their magic on your face) and climb into the heated bed.

Ahh. 

A little small talk ensued to get us both comfortable, I quickly discovered that, despite looking like a city lady, she was as much of a camper as myself.

              “Where have you camped so far?” she asked.

              “Bass Lake, Lopez Lake, Reno for laundry and repairs, Eagle Lake.  I was supposed to camp at Scott Creek but when my navigation system suggested a turn onto a dirt road for six miles with a snow storm moving it, I headed down to La Pine State Park instead—which I found wonderful.”

              “La Pine is great but you have to watch out for cougars.”

This actually made me laugh out loud—not an easy thing when someone is massaging your face.

     “Opus and I enjoyed a six-mile hike there during which I actually said to myself, ‘It’s so nice not to have to worry about cougars.’”

After that not much was said.  I enjoyed the feeling of potions being applied to my skin, listening to the expensive jars of face cream being opened and closed and then…then…could it be?  The boiling hiss of the warm mist machine!  First introduced to me by Ollga, it is a device that heats up water (scented with Yonka’s spray lotion, of course) and then puffs it across your face much like a warm, caressing island breeze.  I was a million miles away walking along a beach, my feet in the sand and nothing but warmth surrounding me.

Then all too soon, it was over.  My skin was radiant; I felt like a new person.

The weather continued to be a challenge with only partially sunny skies and below freezing nights but Opus and I managed to get in one great hike, almost seven miles up Tumalo Creek.  The day was mostly sunny and we were both feeling so great that I let Opus run free--until I saw the cougar prints in the snow.

And here’s the thing about me and Fate:  If you believe in Fate life becomes very simple.  You see a cougar print and you think, “Well, if it is my fate to be mauled to death by a cougar, I can’t imagine a more scenic spot than this.”  It was indeed gorgeous.

With no electric sites available at Tumalo State Park, the partial sun and partial shade of my pitch not allowing for much solar generation, and Beagle’s batteries at 32%, it was time to hitch her up.  And if I was going to hitch her up, I was going to see something new.  So we left Bend a day early and headed south.

What?

Yes, it felt very odd on my Northwest Tour to be heading south, but I still wanted to visit Westfir, the town just below my original camping spot of Cougar Crossing (the name of which, by now, was taking on a whole new meaning.)  So 97 South to 58 West and what a gorgeous drive that is!  Definitely an area that will need further exploration.  Odell Lake, Waldo Lake, high mountain passes, rushing rivers below and plenty of Snow Parks to pull into and take some time to enjoy it all.  I cannot wait to return in the Fall.

Today Opus and hiked up into the snow again, it’s our last mountain adventure until we reach either the Sawtooth Range in Idaho or the Wind River Range in Wyoming.  So we soaked it all in.

Hard to believe tomorrow we will be at sea level--and enjoying some of the most beautiful coastline imaginable.  Oregon is one magical place.

-K

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