May 8, 2010

The staff at La Posada granted me permission to camp overnight in their well-lit parking lot! They are the nicest folks! This morning, after being given a free cup of coffee, Jubilee and I made our way slowly to the Grand Canyon, south rim. Talk about being awe-struck! (Think: Daffy Duck with his beak literally twisting freely around his head.) That’s how slack-jawed I felt. We walked about 5 miles, grateful for the rule that allows dogs on the paved path. It was a gorgeous walk and the views were mind-boggling, stupendous, and I was filled with wonder. The crowds were a bit troublesome at first, but after about ½ mile, the crowds thinned out so that I could actually sit alone in wonder, without subconsciously taking sides or metering out advice on overheard conversations.

I last saw the Grand Canyon when I was 6 years old. At that time, the only man-made structures were a small visitor’s building and gift shop, and a short, stubby stone wall with pipe guardrails that stretched, oh, maybe 100 feet. Oh yes, and a small, paved parking lot (more like a pull-out). I was totally amazed and confused by the web of sructural growth and the complexity of the pathways, and got turned around several times (lots of new construction and road work and very poor signs), which accounts for at least 2 of the miles I hiked today. Also, it now costs $25 to stand there and look at what nature accomplished all by herself, as opposed to it being free to do the same thing 47 years ago.

Here’s a laugh: I also drove about 20 miles out of my way to see the crater where the meteor hit eons ago. But when I got there, they said I”d have to pay $15 and keep my dog in the steaming car. That crater has been there for several hundred thousand years, so I guess the cost of looking at it has gone up very slowly. I declined, though, and hit the long road.

May 7, 2010

Arrived in Winslow, AZ, my father’s boyhood home, after an incredibly long, straight, windy, hot, monotonous, laborious drive along what used to be Route 66, but is now I-40. I hardly recognized Main Street (Historic US 66) when I pulled into town. Many “improvements”, such as street widenings, building face lifts, new commerce, and a sense of  energy, compared to 7 years ago when the entire town seemed under a sleeping spell. The historic hotel, La Posada, which was completed when my dad was about 6 years old, has been undergoing renovations inside and out. That, at least, TRULY IS an improvement—very much in keeping with the 1930’s period. La Posada was a big ol’ deal back then, catering to such famies as Clark Gable and Errol Flynn, as they arrived in style on the Southern Pacific Railroad, which  unloaded its passengers right at the front door!

My dad, my son Hans, and I made a pilgrimage, of sorts, to this unholy yet legendary land in 2003, just before Alzheimers claimed Dad’s memory and wit. He walked us step by step and word for word through the town of his youth, recalling every detail, and bringing alive for us, once again, his stories of growing up in a one-paved-road town during the depression. Oh, if only a movie could be made!

 

Later, I made my way to Clear Creek, Dad’s favorite hangout as a kid. He spent many summer days splashing in the cold, clear waters with his brother and cousin, rinsing off a week’s worth of grime and grit, only to re-grit on the 5-mile bike ride back to home.

I played with Jubie for a long time, tossing sticks into the creek and watching her leap into the water and retrieve. When we were alone, I gathered 86 stones for my dad’s 86 years and arranged them on an altar. I placed sprigs of new growth in the center, then placed a rock that I stole from his old home on top of that, to commemorate his beginnings as a 5yr old in Winslow. I arranged the rest of the 85 rocks in a vortex to create an energy field to beckon in the help and love of God and our ancestors. I said a long prayer, then I just sat there in utter gratitude for the enormous gift my dad is to me and the rest of the family. I imagined him splashing and playing in the perfectly clear, cold water of Clear Creak, which is not really that clear anymore due to damming. I so loved imagining him as a young boy, so sweet and full of life and creativity and wonder and whimsy. I just know my Grandma loved him like I love my own boy. I prayed for my dad’s spirit to leave when it's ready, and fall into the arms of  his beloveds beyond this realm. 

May 6, 2010

Hiked a loop around a vortex in Sedona. It's true what they say about the vortexes. My heart space felt swaddled in cotton batting and infused with well-being! (Think: 3 months old and held by the madonna.) Who can explain such things?

Each day brings a new learning experience. I backed the Motherload over a metal guardrail (trust me, too difficult to explain why), and was snared and unable to move forward.  I hammered the guardrail with all my might, which was akin to hammering an anvil--useless. Then I remembered I had leveling blocks! I used those to elevate the Motherload's rear end and freed us from the jaws of steel.

I've discovered how easy it is to ask for help. And people respond not only with willingness but with enthusiasm! If I ask one person and three people are around, they ALL join in. "People who need people ARE the luckiest people in the world."

I've been gone 28 days and I've only encountered one sour-puss. Everyone else has been jolly, friendly, helpful, and kind. Little sweet miracles keep showing up to light my way. I'm gaining confidence in my ability to resolve the little problems that arise from day to day, and best of all, I'm learning the art of just BEING, of expanding the space between moments.

May 5, 2010

I watched myself struggle today with “trying” to have the kind of adventurous day that I “should” have, while I just really wanted to sit in a chair in the shade and read my book. It was a real taffy pull. The hike I began at 10am was aborted due to heat. I’ll try again tomorrow and leave at about 7am to wander the red desert of scarlet monoliths. I think we hiked about 3 miles, stopping many times for shade and water. We came back to our camp at about 11:30 and played in the creek that runs along the campground. Cold and clear and delightful. I busied myself with home chores for a couple hours, then sat down to read in the shade of the motherload. Jubilee napped next to me in her own patio chair. Didn’t I earn a nice relaxing afternoon? Why, then, did the internal monologue go something like this: “Here you are in this gorgeous country, full of adventure and marvel, and you’ve got your sunburned beak in a book! Why don’t you go play a video game and really waste the day!” Fortunately, part of my home chores included riding my bike into town for an ice-cold beer, which pretty much relaxed the internal haggler, and softened the taffy. It’s interesting how quick I am to judge each passing hour of my journey by how meaningful, exciting, or momentous it is. I did not know this judge resided within me.

When I say my prayers, I’ll pray for this judge to find a great new home in the reincarnated psyche of  Magellan. 

May 4, 2010

May 4, 2010

Today is what it’s all about, baby! Today, I drove for miles along the winding desert backroads north of Phoenix on my way to Sedona. It’s impossible to describe the landscape without sounding like one of Ray Bradbury’s characters on a distant planet. I stopped many times along the way to wade with Jubilee in the Tonto Creek, to eat a sandwich to the sound of nothing but cool, dry breezes and intermittent birdsongs, or just take in the sight with my mouth agape, presenting a target for curious bugs. I rarely passed a car (I should say a car rarely passed ME, since I am ever timid about pushing the Motherload beyond her comfort zone of 45mph, and have NEVER, EVER passed a car anywhere!).  I loved every aching-butt minute of today because it was backroads all the way. One gorgeous turn in the road after another, each one revealing a weird twist on cactus formations, a flock of buzzards taking flight just beyond the hood, or crazy-beautifully sculptured rocks, mesas, gorges, and a 360-degree vista that stretched beyond the curve of the earth, except where the mountains cut it off like great fists grabbing at sand.

When I finally rounded the bend on Hwy 179 leading directly to Sedona, my first view of the iconic scarlet rock formations sent a chill down my spine. In that instant I really GOT IT that I am DOING this adventure. I conceived the idea, I daydreamed it, I planned it, I made it happen and now I’M IN THE MIDST OF IT. I can’t explain the thrill that ran through me: like an electric current, but oh so sweet and melty!

Gratitude lumped up in my throat, which was dry anyway, and I had to swallow hard to keep breathing, gulping the beauty and sending forth great waves of gratitude, watching the hairs on my arms rise and wriggle like miniscule charmed snakes. 

May 1,2010

Here's a laugh: a couple mornings ago, I was camped at William Heise County Park near Julian, CA (east of San Diego). I had a wonderful drive there, just gorgeous countryside, no hurries, great little place to stay for the night. Had a great little meal, watching a family of deer outside my window, and a flock of turkeys rooting about. Next morning, when I flushed the toilet, the hose at the back of the toilet broke free and spewed about a gallon of water all over the bathroom. I panicked for a moment, not knowing if this was clean or dirty water. Tthen I thought suddenly to turn off the water pump. that certainly helped mitigate the spewage. I was unable to reattach the hose because a piece mysteriously broke off. So I was without toilet for 24 hours. Another crappy thing happened, too, but i'll spare you. I was out walking off my frustration when I encountered a park ranger who told me where I could get help with the repairs. It was a gorgeous 50-mile drive on a country road, straight to the repair place, on the way to my nephew's home in Escondido. The repairman was so kindly and so thrilled about my adventure (he had "camped" America in the 80s and never had a better time in his life). He only charged me 1/2 price for the labor, just to be a nice guy. see what I mean?

May 2, 2010

Awoke this morning at 5:15 to a bright sunny sky and the music of morning doves and twittering others and the rustle of leaves. Since it was sunday and I had not found a church while going thru town last night, I decided to get out my banjo and sing a few of the hymns from my church in Corvallis. My fingers are so dry and cracked, i wasn't sure if I could apply any pressure to the banjo strings. Oh Susannah! Even if I could, it's been half a year since I held a banjo on my knee. It went better than I thought. I especially enjoyed Amazing Grace, one of my all time favorites. Luckily, most of the neighbors are gone (the RV place is strictly a snowbird neighborhood).

Afterwards, Jubie and I walked the endless, faceless grid that defines Yuma, then returned and loaded up the bike. We rode for an hour over land as flat and dry as the back of my hands. The desert floor, leading up to the surrounding mountains is truly beautiful in it's austerity. plenty of sage (I think), Acacia trees (I also think), and other yellow-flowering bushes. Very pretty. This natural landscape has been largely plowed over and paved to make settlement grids and a golf course. I longed all day to see some water and a shade tree. As the day progressed, it got much hotter and quite windy. I always feel restless and edgy with so much wind, and I could not find respite from the glaring, hot sun. I tried to put up my portable canopy and had a WHOLE LOT OF TROUBLE! I worked and strained against the metal and the wind, and again, I was reduced to tears. I couldn't keep the hair out of my eyes, the bugs out of my face, my spirits out of the toilet. At last, after one last big breath and all my resolve, I got it up! It provided a little shade to read a book under. but the wind was relentless and the bugs stronger than the wind. either that or they were just using my face as a crash-landing site. At about 5 I gave up and packed up my Motherload, dumped the holding tanks, refilled the freshwater tank, removed any visible sign that we were there, and hit the road. I made it about 35 miles when i saw this lovely NEW motel off the I-8 interstate. I abruptly left the freeway and checked myself in for a night of comfort, space, cleanliness and TV. I also splurged and walked over to Jack in the Box for a burger, fries and chocolate milkshake. My pants have become so alarmingly baggy, I figure a couple thousand calories will do me good. I walked up to the drivethru window, where a border patrolman was waiting in his car for his order. I asked the worker at the window if I could just place my order there rather than go inside. I told him I didn't have a car and that I had my little dog with me and  couldn't walk into the restaurant with her. He said no, you have to go inside. As I pondered whether Jubilee would tolerate being tied up outsisde for a few minutes in a strange place, the border patrolman looked very sympathetically at me and said, "I sure wish I could help you, Mam." I realized then that I looked so disheveled by the wind, with gritty grime all over me, my pants floating around me in the wind, and a little dog on a leash--no car. I looked just like a hapless vagabond! He must have been perplexed when I chuckled my "thankyou anyway". I figured it was too long of a story for a fast food drive-through.

May 1, 2010

After leaving my nephew's home, I drove about 200 miles east to Yuma, where my property manager's parents have a little RV spot that they offered to me for $10/night. So generous. I was sure worn out by the time I got there, and it was hot and glaring at 5pm. Anyway, there was a a lock on the gate that I just could not finesse or wrestle open, dashing my hopes of a place to stay for the night. I worked on the lock for about 15 minutes then sat by the gate and cried a tear or two, big baby that I am. finally, I figured I've GOT to be smarter than a dumb lock! Turns out I am, even if only by a slim margin. I got in and hooked up and relaxed to the sound of doves outside my windows. My spot had a quaint little brick patio, just right for grillin' and sittin' but I had no charcoals, so just did the sittin' part. It was a fenced area, so Jubilee could roam about as she wished. Her wish was to lay in my chair, so I sat on the bricks and sang little songs to the evening, which was beginning to cool quite nicely.

April 22, 2010

During my stay with my cousin Charlee Ann, I hastily turned a sharp right and bumped the Motherload over the curb! Oops. the impact launched my microwave off the shelf and it smashed itself onto the floor. Luckily, my herb garden and guardian angel survived the impact, as did all my dishes and my spinal column! Jubilee airlifted about 2 feet out of her carseat, ears in the air on the descent.  Hans tried to repair the microwave, but it was a gonner, I think, so we went to Sears and selected a new, smaller version, which I secure on the shelf with an extension rod. I'm still carting the old microwave around on my couch, as I've yet to locate a place to unload it.

My new stereo abruptly stopped working, too, but Hans was able to fix that by removing my battery cable, then restoring it, and VOILA! Music! He downloaded about 700 incredible songs on my computer, which I've downloaded in turn to my ipod. great travel music.


My son is the best playmate ever! We'll never get too old for a little FantasyLand!

April 20, 2010

Here's my son Hans, at Santa Monica Beach, making do without the monkey tail I always promised him.

OK, I learned something really important about myself: I HATE driving! Hmmmmm. This is somewhat tempered by the fact that I LOVE arriving somewhere. 200 miles in one day seems to be the limit for my butt and for my attention span, and can only be accomplished with multiple stops for play, stretching, snacking. The back roads are far superior in scenic wonders, whereas the interstates suck the energy out of me. However, the back roads usually meander over hills and dells, and are curvy, which really eats up the gas. I'm trying to conserve where I can, but also take the routes that bring the most pleasure.

I never know what the day will bring. At least once each day (usually more often), I am overcome with a sense of awe that I'm actually DOING this journey! How in the world can this be? it's like I made a decision one day and then the Universe said, "Oh, OK, Let me work it all out for you." I've been so blessed by all kinds of helpful people and lucky breaks. I've also been blessed with some mishaps to keep me grounded. More than once, I've thought, what the heck am I doing? Can I really handle this? What was my vision again?

One evening while parked outside Hans' house in Santa Monica, the police rapped at my door. (They sure have authoritative knuckles!) They said they were responding to a complaint about a vagrant parked in the neighborhood. They checked my I.D. and asked what my business was in the neighborhood. "just visiting my son and daughter-in-law" seemed innocent enough. They took a look around and very kindly apologized for the intrusion and told me I could stay another night, even though the city of Santa Monica has a strict ordinance against nefarious overnighters. I get a laugh out of thinking about myself as not only a vagabond, but a vagrant!

Sunday April 18, 2010

This is the little Episcopal church I visited on Sunday, April 18, in San Luis Obispo. I had a dream the night before that I went to church and saw my dear ol' dad. It was a sweet and joyful reunion! The next morning, I figured I'd better get myself to church! Like the dream was telling me: When I'm in the Father's house, I see my father!

Driving down Pacific Coast Highway

I just drove the Pacific Coast Highway from Half Moon Bay to Santa Monica. A wonderfully slow and gorgeous adventure, except for my aching butt. It was spectacular. The coastline was ablaze in color with unexplainably brilliant poppies, and wildflowers in lavendar, yellow and pink. Sunny, breezy and warm all the way. Stayed the night in Morro Bay, walked through Santa Barbara and visited the mission, then on to Santa Monica at the end of the day. The Motherload is holding up well despite my little blunders of inexperience.