Leaving Home to Return Home - 4th Day's Journey

 Up in the frosty Gallup morning air, reluctant to burn daylight, I skip breakfast and strap myself behind the wheel.

As a seasoned traveler, I know I can get inexpensive fuel in Childress, TX (at $2/gal cheaper than CA!), so I make it my last fueling stop before Garland. I pull into the pumps at the Walmart outpost way up along the Red River in Texas. 

As I finish calculating my mileage for the last leg driven, a foreign fellow claiming to be "from tourist" asked to speak with me at the pump. He had a wife and kids in the car. Said he'd lost his documents, wallet and papers and needed money to get to LA. His English and hers was pretty good for being "from tourist." He offered me his 'gold' chain and 'gold' ring, demanding I give him $200 or more - he'd repay me double later if I gave him my address. A great deal he insisted. His wife pleaded with me hurry and close the 'deal' to feed her hungry children. 

I told him I don't carry $200 cash and I do not engage in gold jewelry transactions at Walmart gas pumps. He turned to shout at his wife in a foreign tongue. 

I thought I should tell him that in America anyone can call for help using the three numbers 9-1-1. I thought maybe I would call for him and tell the authorities in Childress that a visitor was in trouble and had to sell his gold for cash. 

I figured the sheriff would come and say, "Howdy stranger, us friendly folks in Texas would like to help out a family man in need and get you in touch to recover your documents. But listen up mister, if you is out here kickin' up a thieving ruckus in these parts, we'll hang you."  But I just left with all of my money in my wallet and my self esteem in tact for having not fallen for his scam.

At the other end of my journey from The Pilchuck, I too have still unfinished things down in the Lone Star State. Federal taxes are large and painful this year, complicated by the fact that we are married, filing a joint return with me a resident of Washington, my wife a resident of Texas. I'm hoping to claw back a few of the tax burden my itemizing all of the WA sales tax I've paid in building the house.

Great to be home! I have things to do and have I have the pleasure of getting re-acquainted with my wife. Yet, she has a job, and I have plenty of things to do. Many of which will be neither inexpensive or fun.

Leaving Home to Return Home - 3rd Day's Journey

 Breakfast the next morning, after a night of San Joaquin Valley rainfall, was home cooked at Pam's house. I got a late start, but I did not regret the extra time with the two ladies who had welcomed be back. There was more rain as I drove down Highway 99 to Bakersfield where I planned to cross over the Tehachapis and cut through the Mojave and catch Old Route 66; Barstow, Needles, Kingman,  - don't forget Winona, and into Winslow, Arizona. 

I called Sue from Winslow, and told her that: 

There's a girl my lord, 

in a flat bed Ford, 

slowing down to take a look at me. 

She warned me: 

Not to let the sound of my own wheels drive me crazy. 

I told her: 

I'd like to sleep with you in the desert tonight with a million stars all around... 

I did not have the Eagles CD in my audio player, but I didn't need to, I was living it.

I had filled the tank in Tehachapi with exorbitantly priced California gasoline, calculating this might be my last fuel stop in this highly taxed state. I was hoping to make a run through the Mojave and get across the border to fairly priced fuel in Arizona. I admit, I was a bit concerned; checking frequently the 'estimated range' readout on my dash. Do I stop and pay the price in Needles, or do I push to get across the Colorado River border and save some coin? I estimate I have a limited amount of fuel, maybe 20 more miles or less. I roll the dice and go gentle on the accelerator. I coast into cheap gasoline at Mile Marker 8 in Arizona. I am relieved.

Now fueled and flying into the lingering twilight of the eastern sky, I find that I-40, stretching through parts of Arizona, was unfortunately pocked with large potholes generated by a winter of heavy snow and ice. I passed by a few stranded motorists where their low clearance cars had hit these road hazards at high Interstate speeds and had their tires blown out and shredded and their wheel rims bent to hell. It was sad to see 2 or 3 cars on the side of this isolated stretch of road, disabled by the same wicked pothole, waiting for tow trucks to come from miles away. The state Highway Dept. trucks were desperately throwing asphalt patches into the breech. Too late for those half dozen disabled motorists I passed with my larger, high clearance tires as I now zigged and zagged around these pitfalls. 

I had snow falling on my windshield in Flagstaff. I remembered camping in Prescott, AZ as a family in March (1970?) and waking to 6" of snow before we folded the tent trailer and headed to the South Rim of the Grand Canyon. We stayed in the rim-side hotel and got a wonderful hot bath in a claw-footed tub and I ate 14 pounds of fresh strawberries at dinner that night. Memories were frequent and good all along my route. 

I had reservations that night at a basic room in Gallup, NM and was gratified that the gas heat fired up quickly and efficiently warmed my room as snow and sleet fell in the darkness outside.

I text Pam and Carole whom I left in my rearview mirror in Madera at the beginning of the day, telling them I arrived in Gallup, as they had requested. I don't know what they could have done if I didn't make my preordained destination. But, they were kind hostesses to me and I returned the small favor of letting them know I was not swallowed in a desert pothole and was not stranded under a saguaro cactus.

I slept well. Dreaming of being home once again with a wife and a house in need of many a serious chore once I arrived back home in Texas from my home in Washington.

Tomorrow, Gallup to Garland was a doable day. The New Mexico geology is always a beautiful and fascinating trip for me. I'd love to spend winters in NM and bask in the orange sandstone canyons of this part of the country. 

Leaving Home to Return Home - 2nd Day's Journey

I dislike burning my daylight on my road trips, therefore I was up early and ready to roll in the morning. While tossing my bag into the back of my SUV, I found a stowaway in my, a field mouse from WA had been living in my vehicle and took a ride with me. I brushed her out and wished her well, having trapped 18 of her family already over the past few months in my root cellar at The Pilchuck. The field mouse now lives in exile next to the Great American Pizza Company in Ashland. 

Over the highest elevation pass on I-5 and across the border into my natal state of California. Mt. Shasta was covered with snow as I passed through Weed, CA with plenty of snow still on the shoulder of the highway as well. Pleased to see Lake Shasta with some water in the reservoir, unlike the dry lake bottom the last several times I've passed along that way. The fruit and nut trees of the Sacramento Valley were in bloom and lots of wild flowers visible at the edge of the fields as I swept down toward Sacramento, passing exits to Marysville and Yuba City - where it all began for me. March is a spectacular time to be in California. I put the Beach Boys CD into my audio player for some old times sake.

I had arrange to see Pam and Carol, a couple of High School friends in Madera. At the last minute, Carol offered me a bed at her place, insisting that I should not rent a cheap room on A Street in Madera, otherwise I might not live to see the next day she thought. Carol is a bit of a catastrophist. But I was grateful for her invitation and spacious digs offered by Carol in my old home town.

We three had dinner together at Carol's, caught up a bit on each other's lives and doings and a few glances back to old times nearly 50 years ago. Madera was a place of 16,000 souls when I was there in High School, now the sign says 61,000. By all accounts, it is not the same, and it is worse. 

Life moves on. But it was good to reconnect with a few people from my past.

Leaving Home to Return Home - 1st Day's Journey

My years of living my 'One, Long, Strange Trip' continues: I packed light and got a midmorning start on St. Patrick's Day on my drive to Texas. I usually make the drive in 3 days, crossing the Cascades and the Rockies into Wyoming and Colorado before sweeping south to New Mexico and into Texas. With the atmospheric river still making news and making frozen precipitation, I decided to travel due south on I-5 until I got close to the California desert and then turn east to Texas, thus avoiding the complications of snowy mountain passes this time of year. I planned on 4 days of travel.

I left The Pilcuck with a few things still unfinished; some flooring still to be put in the office tower, deck rails yet to be bid and installed and much of the interior millwork; window sills, door casements and base boards remain to be painted and put in place. Also, the final connecting decking from the front sidewalk up to the front porch remains to be built in my absence - I refer to this elevated ramp connecting part of the walk to the front porch as 'the drawbridge'. My contractor likes the terminology and I tell him that when I come back from Texas I want a moat under my drawbridge and I will put in a pair of Texas alligators in the moat. 

The night before I left The Pilchuck, I knew I'd missed Sister Sheri's (and Tony's) birthday, so I bought a generic card and planned to draw an armadillo inside and drop it off on their doorstep on my way south. Standing in the check-out line, a young boy asked me what I was buying, and I told him I was a bad brother and I was trying to make it up by delivering a late armadillo birthday card to my sister. He asked, 'What's an armadillo?" 

I told him it was a famous animal that lives in Texas and likes to drink beer on the side of country roads. He asked. "What's beer?"

I told him it was Texas silly juice. His mother thanked me for the education of her son and I paid my money and left them at the checkout with their groceries and a few things to think about. 

Sheri got her card, secretly delivered after a quick dodge off my I-5 route to hand deliver it to her house in Tumwater and then a return to my travels down the 'Main Street' of the American West, a route which I would hold for the next two days.

From Tumwater I called Inga in Portland and asked if she would be available for lunch around 1 as I was heading through Portland. She and Sean welcomed me. I suggested Mediterranean cuisine, but we ended up with Hawaiian tasty treats on Alberta Street at one of their favorite local places. Then, back on the road to the south end of Oregon.

Night 1 was in Ashland, OR. Across the motel parking lot was a pizza joint. I slipped in for a slice for dinner and started a conversation with a local. He told me last week the interstate was closed by all of the 18 wheelers parked at a stand still due to ice and snow covering the pass into California. 

Timing is everything. 

Swiss Weather

 Today, March 2, I enjoy the snowfall. 

Today's weather I believe comes to us from Switzerland. 

I look at the pattern of snow covering my back steps and I see Swiss Cheese. 

I look at the trees and I see Swiss Alps.

Beauty in a Mudpuddle

 I rise from my warm bed on the first day of March. I shower and dress and walk down into the chilled air to open the gate to my property. It is a routine, yet it is a beneficial routine to rise and walk the land and see what this new day looks like.

I stop to admire the pattern formed in the ice coating a mudpuddle in the driveway on my way to the gate. Concentric rings of ice have formed along the edges of the water overnight, I am thinking that a series of freeze-thaw events have created this geode-like layering in the crystalline structure.

I pause in my purposeful walk to enjoy the beauty in a mudpuddle on a crisp March morning.