San Clemente Conversations

On Wednesday, April 17, 2013, I left the Rose home and headed west to the coast--a short distance of under 5 miles, but very hilly. I found another joy of the recumbent trike. In the middle of every big hill in the SD and LA area, there appears to be a stoplight. And I hit most of them, I think. But with the recumbent, I stay seated, squeezing the brake, and keeping my feet pushed against the peddles. When the light turns green, voila, I just start pedaling. No rolling backward, no falling backward, no weaving side to side. 

Later I found that sometimes city streets and driveways, if really short, are sometimes impossibly steep and it takes a few attempts and a lot of weaving to get up them. And once, so far, a push. 

Anyway, on to the beach! My destination was the home of Debbie and Martin Eichmann in San Clemente. Debbie was my sisters’ high school friend and they have remained in contact all these years. In fact, my sister Shannon drives up regularly to have lunch with her, if she gets a weekday off. More on this wonderful couple later.

First it was up the coast through Del Mar, Solana Beach, Encinitas, Carlsbad, and Oceanside. These are great coastal towns with all those quaint shops that make you want to drink coffee or lemonade and sit outside. Artwork galore. There is this bike and walk path in Solana Beach--right next to the street, but bordered by flowers, trees, bushes, and artwork. You cycle through 2 carved archways as you enter the bikeway (pics in photo section--but I’m several days behind in downloading photos--it’s very time consuming. Don’t hold your breath.). These carvings depict Solana beach scenes: surfers, kids, families, plants, waves, and perhaps the founding fathers, history, and maybe the artists who did the carvings. In any case: delightful. 

Cycling by Cardiff By The Sea brought back many memories of camping along the beach at San Elijo, both as a child and as an adult. Mom used to pack up us 4 kids and my teenage sisters’ friends and we would play all day at the beach, eat Mom’s barbecued whatever at night, and sleep on the ground in our sleeping bags. My sister Katie still goes every few years, packing up her grown kids and grandkids and traveling from Tucson to San Elijo to camp. She calls herself the Camp Nazi because she rules the campsite with no argument allowed. She is organized and efficient and it runs like clockwork if we follow her directions. Fighting is futile. 

We love camping with Katie because she thinks and plans while we have fun. She is in her element: in total control, working her butt off, then reading for hours in a lawnchair in the shade, with her cute visor. 

I cycled through Encinitas and Carlsbad, reaching Oceanside in the late morning. My niece Jenny drove in from Escondido to share lunch with me. We had a great time reconnecting. Jenny is soft spoken and shy, but she does have her own opinions and, beneath the seemingly calm exterior is a passionate, feeling woman with dreams. Still waters do indeed run deep. She may go along with the family in order to keep the peace, but I love the fact that she has her OWN ideas. She lives with her mom, the effervescent Sherri, and keeps the home fires burning. She is thinking of her career choices and there are so many options. She loves to read and her passion is photography. She is kindhearted and has a best friend in her cousin, Rochelle (is that her name, Jenny?). Those two can tell each other everything without fear of judgment.

We humans seem to have honed that skill--passing judgment. We are so damn good at it because we do it all day long. But alas, our judgments are usually way off course. 

Otherwise, the world would be at peace. And we would get along with our neighbors co-workers. We would live and let live. 

But, anyway, back to Jenny. She wore this gorgeous, filmy, deep purple, embroidered blouse from India. It was a gift from Megan, her sister.  Megan is the adventurous traveler and has been all over the world through her work. Jenny is the steady lighthouse; she shines a beacon so we can remember and find our way home again. I love a good lighthouse. And a good ship. I love Jenny and Megan. What a pair.

Megan was traveling back to the states from Israel, I believe. Her mom was joining her for a little vacation. Thus, I missed seeing those 2 loved ones. 

Jenny and I had lunch at the Beach Break Cafe in Oceanside. I was a member of the clean plate club while Jenny took most of her lunch home. I seem to be eating a lot...But I’ve lost some weight, so I am happy to keep eating. As long as I keep working it off...

Just before reaching the lunch rendezvous with Jenny, I met two interesting people. One was Nina. I was waiting for a light; so was she. She was a slender, classy woman, like only elegant, beach women can be. She was perhaps around 60. We talked for just a moment. But what a moment. She wanted to know what I was doing on the trike, loaded down. Where was I going? Where had I started? She said that she had just realized that morning that she needed adventure back in her life. She put aside all her normal, daily responsibilities of the morning to take a walk down to the beach. Here she lived in a beautiful place, but had, somewhere along the way, forgotten to really enjoy her surroundings. So, the morning was sunny and she put aside the paperwork and the laundry to head out. She was musing about why she was not doing something to bring back the adventure, the mystery, the excitement, when she arrived at our mutual corner. She thanked me for doing what I was doing and said it was just what she needed to see. She was going to finish her lovely, free morning, and decide on what spark she wanted to light. 

I am grateful that I met her. She makes me remember to be present; to notice my surroundings, my gifts, my life. Thank you, Nina.

I met Ron, the Surfer, a few blocks from the cafe where I was meeting Jenny. I had stopped at this corner where I saw The Ocean House. I don’t know what it was---maybe a restaurant, hotel, resort, or museum? It is this huge Victorian building--absolutely gorgeous with all its peaks and gables. In front of this building was a beautiful mosaic. I stopped to take a photograph and this good-looking young man asked me if I wanted him to take my picture there. I happily agreed and then we chatted. For awhile. Ron is dark and handsome and fit. He has been a surfer for many years. He loves to stay active and is careful about his diet. He was on his way to get some fresh juice. He is “semi-retired” which means he has enough money to live while he considers his next move. He made some wise property and business investments but isn’t quite sure what is next in his life. 

Ron enjoys meeting interesting people, eating healthy, and surfing. He worked for 24 yrs in computers; he says he believes in life after death because he came alive at 5:01 pm every day. Great sense of humor. Ron tries to remember to be humble and to listen to people who have seen and done more than most people. He asked me “You know how you meet those people who are truly wise and you can see it in their eyes?” He likes to listen to these people and to learn what he can from someone else’s experiences and lessons. He is a spiritual man and says he is a “feeling” person who relies on his intuitions for wisdom. He likes to simply think, ponder, meditate---whatever is the term. 

Ron has two sons. One is in college and the other is finishing up high school The youngest has applied to, and has been accepted by, several maritime colleges on both coasts. This youngster would like to work on ships--be outside and by the water for the rest of his life. I hear the father in that one.

I was quite surprised when Ron told me he was 56. That is 2 yrs older than I am. I truly thought he was 38-40. I asked the secret of his youth. He provided the answers that have been repeated by every person I meet who looks younger than their years: healthy diet, regular exercise, genetics, and a positive attitude. And loving life.

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After Oceanside, I navigated through Camp Pendleton, a naval and marine military base. I got a bit turned around and had to consult my Google Bicycle Maps to get back on course. Then, there were detours due to road work, so I spent quite a bit of time spinning through the base. If you are on a bike (or trike, apparently), I guess you get a grandfathered pass through the base. The guard at the gate just saw my loaded bike, checked my ID, and sent me on my way. No paper pass. They didn’t even check my load, which was covered with a nylon tarp of sorts. I must look pretty non-threatening. 

Most of the distance on the cycle through Camp Pendleton winds through the hills. It was really great that the gov has kept that area open. Otherwise, we would have solid houses and stores all the way up the coast. Even after the official military base was navigated, I cycled through miles of preserved coastal roads, still managed and restricted by the Marines. Hi tech helicopters whirred overhead and jets zoomed in aeronautic acrobatics as they maneuvered and practiced flight skills. Miles along this old bike path--old pacific road that existed before the area became a military base---there was a set of 3 portable toilets. I was extremely grateful to the military for thinking of us cyclists. It was like a beacon in the night, although only mid-afternoon. 

North of Camp P and the Marine roads, you reach San Onofre. I cycled through miles of parking lot for the San Onofre State Beach. You can do day and night camping there. You camp right next to the parking lot and, to get to the beach, you hike through low scrub bushes before you reach the sand. It was practically empty. I seem to recall camping there a few times and feeling very proud as a grade school kid for being able to do the hike and then remember where in the heck our own camp was located. You can’t see the camp from the beach. And the way the water moves you---well, it is easy to get displaced when you are little. 

It was a beautiful but really long ride that day. I made it to San Clemente in early evening and then cycled up into the hills to reach Debbie and Martin’s house. They had rolled out the red carpet and I was greeted by smiles and hugs. I hadn’t seen them in about 30 years. But they looked the same. Debbie with her blonde straight har, adorable smile and dimples, the way she throws her head back when she laughs with gusto, and her twinkling eyes. Martin, the forever surfer, still a gorgeous hunk at 60, with his tanned skin and perfect smile. We talked for a few hours and I ate a bowl of salad meant for 3 people. Lol! I think they may have been surprised I could eat that much! 

They are early to bed, early to rise folks, so we turned in around 9:30. It was way past their bedtime. I stayed up a bit and worked on the blog (even though it has taken days to review, add, edit, etc) and planned the next day’s journey. The following morning, I met their beloved10 yr old Granddaughter, Rene. She is a real cutie---open, friendly, and smart as a whip. She really liked Henry David and, if her legs had been longer, I would’ve told her to take him for a ride. But--both feet couldn’t reach the pedals and the seat is already scooted forward as much as I could move it. I’m already half-sitting on the steering mechanism. So, Rene was invited to simply sit on the seat and play with the steering. She thought it was pretty cool. Kids can be easy to please. I love children.

After Martin fed Rene her waffle and fruit and then took her to shcool, he took Debbie and I for the scenic route to see Dana Point and to stop and look at the beach and drink coffee while the waves rolled in. We talked surfing, maritime history, pirates, and where to cycle for a great ocean view. He drove to a Triple A store so I could pick up paper maps. When we parked, he noted his right front tire had gone flat. It was actually comical---a flat tire in the Triple A parking lot! The fix-it van arrived shortly and the young AAA employee changed the tire pretty quickly. Martin then had his work cut out for him for the day. He was contemplating purchasing 4 new tires because the flat appeared to be due to sidewall damage. I have gone through many tires for that reason. Now I tend to park too far away from the curb!! 

Debbie Martin is a long, long time family friend. My sister Shannon is 6 years older and Katie 8 years older than I. When you are a child, this is like a generation! I loved having teenage sisters in the 1960’s in southern California. I wanted to be just like them. Debbie was Katie’s best friend forever, but she was with us so often that she was one of Shannon’s closest friends as well. She even lived with us for about 6 months when we lived in Springfield, Illinois when I was 11. Almost as long as I can remember Debbie, there was Martin. High school sweethearts. Debbie and I talked extensively about how they managed to buy a nice home in San Clemente and they also have retired early. They were wise and frugal and determined. And they had fun. They left California for part of their life together, raising children, following the job, etc. But they returned and Debbie has worked for Kaiser Permanente for 30-something years. Because of the medical insurance benefits, she stuck with K-P through thick and thin. She put her entire paycheck into savings for several years so they could buy a house. She is organized and knows how to plan and raise a family. 

Debbie loves her home. She loves the things in it. Every item has a precious memory attached to it. Whether the geegaw or painting or print or whatever was purchased together with Martin, or given to her by her mother Maxine---everything is beloved. I remember Maxine from when I was about 8 yrs old. She was a vivacious, friendly, and plainspoken woman. She would tell you the truth, whether you liked it or not. I really like that kind of person. I have a German friend, Carolla, who shares that quality. I don’t have to pussyfoot around or watch what I say. I don’t have to guess what she is thinking when we are together. Honest, candid. That was Maxine.

Debbie has some of her qualities. Debbie is an absolute gem.

In addition to her home and all the things in it, Debbie loves to read. She really likes to read non-fiction history as well as historical fiction. She is a treasure trove of information and she would be fun to travel with--anywhere---because she would study the area, the history, the people, and then educate her listeners. Saves them a lot of time!! I would go anywhere with you, Debbie! You would make it fun.

She has been retired for about one year. She is loving it. She keeps busy, just as she did when she was a working woman. A lot of her time is spent babysitting Rene. They take care of her after school and often on weekends, as her parents work and modern families are busy. Debbie takes yoga class 2-3 times/week. While we chatted away at dinnertime, Debbie would put her hands together in the prayer position, raise them up, arch backward, and breathe deeply. It was hilarious but calming too, so I happily took the moments to breathe deeply as well. 

Most of all, Debbie talked about Martin. She loves that guy, almost 45 years of loving him. She has never been jealous of his surfing passion and has been happy to watch him surf from the sidelines, so to speak. She appreciates who he is and allows him to be that person. One of the main reasons she wanted retirement was for Martin---as he had become burned out with his decades long job and she wanted him to enjoy his life all day, for the rest of his years. He is pretty healthy, so that should be a long, long time of enjoyment. Good for them. 

Debbie is very thoughtful and considerate. She is really funny and makes everything something to laugh about. She had quizzed my sister about me before I got there and had read everything I had previously written on my blog. So, it was like she remembered me as a child as well as knew me as an adult--as I am now. Debbie and Martin had prepared a lovely salad and a plate of seasoned, sliced avocados. She had the sparkling water and the wine at the ready. The next morning, upon my departure, she pulled out several gluten-free health bars, crisp green bean snacks, waters with electrolytes, and coconut water. Because I was already overloaded, I left some of the fluids because my water container was about full and fluids are very heavy to lug around. Especially when there are so many markets along the way. I feel like I have another best friend in Debbie.

Definitely family!

Martin is the true outdoors lover. He gets up before dawn, surfs as often as he can, but especially during the weekdays. He says he often leaves the weekends for the youngsters who come in droves to surf the waves. He still uses a longboard--which takes well-honed skill to manage. He has a VW van---I half expected to see it painted in psychadelics as it would have been painted in the 60’s and 70’s. But it was a great camper van, painted in a muted grayish brown. I am sure there is a name for that color. Very understated in color but ready for any traveling adventure! Martin’s bright surfboard was laid inside, waxed to perfection, and ready for a second’s notice! Martin does the gardening and home repairs. He likes being the cook of the family since Debbie went on cooking strike some years ago. She just got up one day and said, “I’m done. I don’t want to cook anymore”. So, he has been doing it. I think she secretly helps sometimes but doesn’t really take the credit. Anyway, Martin loves to fix weekday breakfast for Rene when her mom drops her off at the house before school. He also loves to take Rene to school. Martin loves to spoil the grandkids and to spoil their dog too. 

For both of them, they most of all love each other and the family. And they are grateful to live where they do and have the life that they have worked so hard to build and maintain.

Gratitude is the key, I think. 

San Clemente and the Eichmann’s. This was a delight.

The Pull of San Diego

The southern California call: San Diego

Ahhhhh. I feel like I’m home. 

I arrived at my sister Shannon’s house on Sunday, April 14th. In the dark. The following day, I wrote another blog, uploaded some photos from my camera, and my daughter Shannon and I checked out La Jolla and La Jolla Cove. I adore these little beach towns with all their cool cafes and wheatgrass shops! People dress casually, unless they are in the coffee shop in their business suits, working on their computers before they go into work or to make a sale. It’s a wonderful mix of the laid back I’ve-got-all-the-time-in-the-world people and the my-god-were-the-waves-good-today surfers with the thank-god-for-caffeine-and-a-good-internet-connection-before-I-face-the-clients stress junkies. Of course, there are the tourists too. I guess I’m one of those, even though I lived here through most of my developing years. 

I love the colors: brilliant flowers of reds, pinks, yellows, pinks, and purples; green of every shade permeating the grass, trees, bushes, palms; blue to green to gray of the ocean--reflecting what the sky holds; and the buildings--don’t forget the buildings. These funky little shops paint ‘em up. Signs with mermaids, flowers, fish, religious symbols, waves---all colorfully and artfully designed. Sidewalks with mosaics; tiled benches; inlaid stone. Statues and scupltures. 

And the smells. I could yammer on all day about the smells. Floral smells permeating your brain; foods from every culture; salty ocean water; and just FRESH. The smell of fresh. Do you know this smell?

Ahhhhh. Heaven.

Monday night I had the absolute pleasure of meeting Jamie, my bro-in-law’s beautiful daughter, and her main squeeze, Paul. Jamie and Paul met in the music scene, as they are both talented and dedicated musicians. They are in an indie rock band together and have done extensive road trips. Jamie has a “day job” at Aramark, managing or designing their website (or something like that). Paul has been working on passing all the tests and jumping through the hoops to be a “financial advisor” for State Farm Insurance. (I think that means he will sell life insurance!) Jamie and Paul came for dinner and we had a fun, loud time. That seems to happen whenever family members get together. I think this is almost universal. We had both the Irish and the Italian influence in this American family. Of course it was loud!

Jamie looks like my daughter. They could have been related by more than just marriage. Jamie is artistic, thoughtful, creative, driven, self-motivated. She is currently editing her first novel. She told me the basic story---it is a coming of age love story of a young man who falls for a young lady on a road trip. I think Jamie knows a thing or two about road trips. 

This woman can sing, play the guitar, write a book, design a house. Amazing. She loves creating through writing, whether it be writing a novel or writing song lyrics. She has a cat named Leroy; I understand he is a bit “round” but loves his mama. She finds architecture fascinating, both from a design and a historical standpoint. She lives in a home built in the late 1920’s or early 1930’s. She is not one to just say, “ummm, nice house”. No, she is now trying to learn about the architectural history and to follow up with decorating and redesigning. She loves art in numerous forms: from music, painting, photography, buildings, and movies.

I really love that girl!

Paul is her tall, thin man. He plays numerous instruments---percussion, string, wind. Just plain musically gifted. He is working on advancing his business skills too, though, with his training with State Farm. He enjoys making music; hanging out with his musical buddies who are like family to him; creating and tending his garden; learning to expand himself. He likes to learn about different music styles and genres and then working and creating to see if he can incorporate what he has learned into his own set of songs, etc. What gives him joy? Music. And waking up next to the woman he loves. What gets him up in the morning: the mystery of the day. He says it is the Possibilities inherent in each day as well as the Uncertainties. What will this day bring?

My brother-in-law, Jim, sells radiofrequency testing equipment. High end, complicated stuff. I’ve been asking him for years what he does, and he would quip with a “I sell microwaves” or “high tech cell phones”. Some high tech cell phone: his stuff sells for $350,000. He better get unlimited texting and internet in a cave. 

OK, so it really has nothing to do with cell phones, per se, except for the fact that electronics and waves are involved. 

But, dang, waves are involved in everthing. Like an electron. When you’re not looking, it’s a wave! Can’t live without em! I’m absolutely positive about that; mess up the ionic flow and it could be a real negative experience. 

I know, really lame puns. So, let’s move on.

Jim is a handsome man, very fit, who gets up at 5 a.m. every morning to run. He watches his calories and he makes me want to eat something. I’ve only seen him eat a few, salty pretzels and a light dinner in the 3 days I stayed there. He thinks I’m disciplined? I only do what I want. It just so happens that I want alot! Lol! This man is driven. He works in and out of the home. When he is working at home, he is one of those people who is actually working. I mean, in his upstairs office at 8 am and you don’t see him till about 6 pm. Sometimes he has to make a call to Germany, which may mean he works long outside of regular working hours. He would like to retire in a year. 

I don’t blame him. I want to retire too. To Costa Rica and get a job as a shaman. Do you know where I can get an interview?

Jim enjoys watching hockey. He will sit like the typical American male on his couch wearing a sweatshirt and coaching the players from the sidelines, yell at the ref, and tell the players that even he, himself, could’ve made that shot. I feel at home listening to his rants.

Apparently, he can play some mean strings. I was not privileged, however, to be treated to a personal concert. He is actually a bit shy in some ways. He has a soft voice and is a good salesman because he knows how to build relationships with his customers. However, he is an East Coaster---a Philly, actually. Thus, he says he loves to complain and rant. He does it well. He also is a fantastic host, a wonderful brother-in-law, and he loves my sister. 

He has a great sense of humor and makes me laugh.

Jim is my family.

My sister Shannon is a gorgeous, witty, kind woman. Everyone loves her. Especially me. She enjoys getting together with family and friends and she keeps track of the entire family, and families of families, through Facebook. She is SO good at this. 

She has been working for the same geological firm for several years. I think you could say that her favorite part of that job is when the geologists want to present their findings and they give her numbers and stats and they ask her to make a marketable package out of it. Then her creative skills get cracking. She makes them look good. 

You know, you can be good at what you do, but if you can’t present it correctly, no one knows how good you are. Shannon fills that role for them. In fact, she fills that role for our family, too. I love it when she handles the camera. We all look good when she posts a photo. She has an eye. And knows how to cover our flaws!

A more truly loving person I have never met. She makes people feel good about themselves and makes them realize how special they are. What a gift she is. She makes us feel special. And loved.

Shannon enjoys the creative process. She loves photography and has taken a few classes in it at the college level. Everyone thinks her photography is phenomenal and she has done several professional jobs, but she now declines them and says she wants to do the photography just for the sheer pleasure of it. The pressure of presenting a product that is ultimately pleasing to the customer takes the pleasure out of it, she says. That, and the fact that she wants updated equipment keeps her from doing more than her wonderful family shots. Her house is filled with incredible photographs of family; she captures so much in a single frame. Like a thousand words.

She loves people. Point blank. She loves hearing their stories. We share that in common.

She loves the surfing culture. She can ride a mean boogie board but states she takes pleasure in being the audience of a good surfing movie or watching her son surf (he is passionate about the sport) or taking walks on the beach and marveling at the skill of the surfers. I share that fascination with her. Harkens back to my youth. How they can balance on that board through a spinning wave amazes me. I also am fascinated by skateboarders. When Shaun White killed the Winter Olympics in snowboarding in 2006, I thought---now there is an American kid who ignored the adults who told him not to skateboard on school property. (Some rules should be ignored!) Poetry in motion, man, poetry in motion. That kind of skill boggles my mind: surfing, skating, snowboarding. Balancing on a board while doing crazy tricks. Humans are really incredible. 

Shannon is a morning person. What gives her the motivation to get up in the morning? She loves her life. She is grateful for everything and every one in her life. She is grateful to life in San Diego near the ocean. She loves relationships. The pull of the Ocean. Having a job ahead of her that requires her creativity. Encouraging others. 

She loves a lot of things. And I love her. 

On my last day in San Diego, my daughter Shannon (Shannon Jr!) and I went to Torrey Pines State Beach. It was cold and windy and I was happy to look out the dirty window of her Hyundai Tucson mini SUV (she was holding onto the sandstorm dirt from Gila Bend). I got out once to shoot a photo but jumped back in the vehicle. You’d think I was a wimp! I will cycle my trike through the wind and cold. But ask me to just stand out there and I will run for cover!

That night, Shannon Jr drove back to LA. I stayed one more night with Shannon Sr and Jim and took off on Henry David at 8:10 a.m. on Wednesday, April 17th. 

It was a delightful visit and now the road beckoned and my legs felt great. Good thing; there were some crazy steep hills I had to climb to get back to the coast. Next destination: San Clemente.

Tucson Times

Shannon, LouDog, and I stayed in Tucson with my sister Katie from Tuesday, April 2nd, to Saturday a.m., April 6th. I realize I have written very little about that visit.

Well, honestly, I enjoyed myself so much that I just didn’t write about it. Now for those of you reading this blog because you want to know about the “Travel”, well, this is perhaps more about Tucson in general and family in specific. Skip it if you don’t want to hear about my family. As I’m you have realized, I tend to write alot! The funny thing is that I am seeing and feeling so many things that these long epistles contain just a fraction of what I could say. But I will spare you what I can!

We arrived at a Starbucks in Tucson about 2 pm. We sat in the shop for about 3 hours writing, etc. I wrote on the blog about the trip, up to our Tucson arrival. Shannon answered emails, phone calls, managed her Viscera Organization (NPO for horror filmmakers), wheeled and dealed on the next film opportunities, and stayed busy. When we finally left, my niece Marina was wondering where in the heck we were. On the way to their house, I experienced my first flat tire. It was apparently a defect in the innertube, not in my pricey, high quality rhinto tires. No puncture. I replaced the innertube with a heavy duty tube. We rolled into Katie’s yard around 6 pm. There to greet us: My niece Marina, or affectionately known by family as Maha The Baja Mama; her son and my great nephew Jacob; Joe--longtime friend and adopted family; and Katie, my sister. 

Last year, Katie purchased a self-assembled above-ground pool for her grandkids. She is a pushover for the kiddies. She acts all tough, but she is like a toasted marshmallow. All crispy and blunt on the outside, but a real, sweet love on the inside. Her big act makes me laugh. We know she is a generous woman who would die for her loved ones. She was my hippie sister who grew up. She went to the School of Hard Knocks and we know her as a sharp woman who knows her way around.

But, back to the pool. Katie brings home this big pool in a box and told her son, Daniel, and our brother Sean, to get crackin’ and put it together. Well, they did. First, they cleared out a space, put up a short white picket fence to enclose the area, and put that sucker together. They take the pool down in the winter. They hadn’t reassembled it yet, which meant that Shannon, LouDog, and I had a perfect spot for our tent. Louie isn’t a really secure dog, so he needed some separation part of the time from the other dogs during our visit. Not only that, but the fenced area demarcated our area and kept Katie’s dogs from marking their territory on our stuff, if you get my message. Well, this was camping in luxury. The benefit of Katie’s house with kitchen, bathroom, shower, etc; her fantastic cooking every night; an outdoor refrigerator on her ample porch to store our stuff from the cooler; a closed-in flat, clean spot for our tent; and the joy of family every night. 

The next 2 days were spent hiking, wandering some shops, and continuing our daily internet work. For me--uploading photos from the camera and labeling them. Shannon and I took a hike in Sabino Canyon for about 4 hours. This is a natural masterpiece of a park. Imagine desert hills, flowers, cacti, saguaro, and streams from the mountains--clear and cool and fresh. The day was warm and we picked up some sun on our shoulders. LouDog was with us and he enjoyed putting his hot paws in the streams. 

On the way back down the hills, there was a woman in distress---sitting with an IV and a respiratory mask, assisted by family members---while rescue workers were getting prepared to get her off the mountain. Helicopter circled overhead; ambulance and firetruck and several police cars were waiting on the paved road a few miles down from the trail. Those rescue workers had literally run up the hill with a heavy, folding, wheeled gurney. Strong, young bucks. I tried to imagine carrying the gurney with a person strapped to it---trying to keep the patient safe and steady on the rocky trail. My full respect and gratitude are given to those people who have dedicated themselves to our safety when we are out in the middle of the mountains, hills, valleys, oceans, etc. Whether they be EMTs or working for the Coast Guard, or whatever their title may be. Thank you so much.

On Wednesday, my brother Sean came over and told us about his school adventures. I have written a separate blog about him. He felt compelled to tell us not only what his grades were (straight A’s) but what he learned from each class. My head was spinning by the end of the night. I learned or relearned Native American History (yes, I cried), Cell Biology, and Anatomy. We are very proud of him. He has faced many obstacles in his life---mostly alone. My heart breaks for this fact. But we are so proud that he is now going to school. There it is, folks, it is never too late to start over. He is 56. He is going to college for the first time in his life. Yay!!

Before my brother came over---Shannon and I did a bit of shopping for food, supplies, innertubes, etc. While we were out, we received texts and calls that LouDog had escaped the large, chain linked, fenced yard (the “real yard”, beyond our picketed tent spot), and they couldn’t find him. We cut our shopping short and rushed back to the house. Jacob hopped in the SUV with us and showed us the cemented arroyo where the spotted one was last seen. Thank God he went into the arroyo. We found him shortly and Shannon and LouDog had a blessed reunion. She was emotionally exhausted the rest of the day after she thought she had lost her baby. Shannon does not want any children; made that decision at age 4 and has never varied an inch from that decision. But. LouDog. That IS HER BABY. He is totally attached to her and has not left her side this entire trip. But we thought he would be ok in a big, fenced yard while we went out for a few hours. Boy, were we wrong. He went ballistic; he is an escape artist if he wants his mama.

On Thursday, or was it Friday, Katie invited my great nephew Daniel over, with his newly adopted family. We sat on Katie’s porch while the children played and the adults told big lies. That’s what we Irish do. Well, maybe not “lie” per se, but certainly we talked loud, laughed alot, and just had fun. 

We planned on leaving on Friday morning, but Katie had casually mentioned on Wednesday that she had thought we were going to be here on Friday and she kinda, maybe thought of taking Friday off work. So, Thursday evening, we suggested that maybe, kinda, sorta she had a good idea and we would stay if she would be around. So, we stayed an extra day and we got to actually spend some time with her. We wandered the old, artsy downtown area and popped into old thrift shops, colorful retro stores, and bookshops. I picked up some cool stickers for HD. Katie is proud of her town and this was evident. It was a great day. 

Tucson deserves your time.

A bit about the family. 

Marina--my niece. She is a very serious young woman and an excellent, supportive mother to her son, Jacob. She works at a call center and is also attending university to be a nurse. She will be a good one. She is a no-nonsense woman who will take control of her patients and make them feel like they better do what she tells them and that everything will be ok if they do. She is strong and determined. Marina finds joy and comfort in music, stating that there is a song or music style for every mood or emotion or need you have. I am in total agreement. She has music for study, for housework, for shopping, for hanging out. She loves her son and she enjoys watching him grow and develop. She has the smoothest complexion and huge brown eyes and long brown hair. She loves her family and will do anything for them, but they better not take her for granted or she will figuratively kick their butts. (Some of them are just too stubborn or blind to recognize when their butts have been kicked. Typical family!)

Daniel---my nephew. He is personable, friendly, funny, and a real doll. We have been teasing him ever since he was a teenager for the time he spends on his grooming. Maybe we’re just jealous, cuz he is a looker. Sometimes, good looks can be a detriment, though. (Not that I would know this from a personal basis. But I’ve heard it to be true!). Nevertheless, he has settled down now with a lovely lady with 2 adorable daughters. He has 2 wonderful children of his own---Daniel and Reyna. Daniel Sr has a fantastic sense of humor and keeps us laughing whenever he is around. He can come to a party of mine any time! Kids love him; dogs love him. What’s not to love?? He is a sweetie. WIth an incredible wit.

Jacob, my nephew---Marina’s son. He is now 11--how did that happen? He is growing fast and is taller than me and almost as tall as his uncle Daniel. He is athletic and moves with a special grace. Marina and Katie recently had a basketball net put up for Jacob’s use. He is out there every day after school (and homework!) shooting baskets. We see scholarship on that one! Jacob is sweet, respectful, and kind. He is also quite artistic. He showed me several of his freehand drawings. I love to draw, but I tend to copy stuff, not draw out of my own head. But he can. He had several designs of skulls wearing headphones and waves and curls and symbols depicting music and emotion. His passions are music, of course, drawing, basketball, and movies. He is often coming up with great plots for stories. What a creative, gifted young man.

And now. For my wonderful sister Katie. Where to begin. She is the smartest in the family. We think she is brilliant. She was a wild one in her youth, settling down in her 40’s and then she attended university and became an accountant. How she can look at pages of numbers and not go batty is beyond me. Hippie sister as a teen; daredevil in her 20’s; business owner in her 30’s; and all through those years taking crazy chances. She has had her share of falls, but this has made her stronger and wiser than all of us. She does the bookkeeping at the Museum of Art at the University of Arizona at Tucson. She has the pleasure of hanging out with the artsie folks, which suits her to a tee. She gets to do her math while talking politics with the artists. She is a bona fide “news junkie”, which is her deepest passion. Upon retirement, she wants to be a full time activist. I see a civil disobedience sentence in her future for some very worthy cause. She does what we should all do---she keeps aware of everything happening in our country and the world. She has strong opinions and passions about her beliefs and it is an education to talk to her. Everyone at work seeks her out for her advice--whether it be personal or business or political or whatever. They know she is a straight shooter. She won’t sugarcoat the message. But her advice is sound.

I want to grow up and be like her. 

But there is only one Katie.

And she is my sister. 

I love Katie. 

Mountain to the Sea

Mountain to Sea:  Sunday, April 14, 2013

Another night of little sleep--too anxious to get up and get going. And the fact that I’ve been accustomed to desert heat for so many years that the nippy mountain air at 37 deg F definitely had me trying to find positions to conserve body heat while stretching my worn out legs at the same time.

So, I almost leapt out of bed at 5:50 am and was ready to roll down the hill at 7:00. I cycled old hwy 80 most of the way down the mountain but I used I-8 for about 13 miles. These were about the scariest miles of my life. Very busy interstate, deep gorges and overpasses with wind whipping through them, and me trying to slow down the descent. The rubber on each shoe has been worn off by a few centimeters. Or more. I use one heel at a time to provide a bit of friction so I don’t wear out the more pricey disc brakes. I still pump the brakes but try not to “ride” them. Once I reached Alpine, I was back on the old hwy and side roads. By Santee, I was hitting uphills again and the way remained hilly all the way to the coast. 

And, I was wrong. (This is a fairly common problem. But that is ok. I like to learn, so I take gentle correction well.)This was the Laguna Mountain. The Sierras are just a bit more north. Makes sense. I saw lots of oak trees and lots of rock. But relatively little pine and cedar. 

Alpine is this quaint, quirky mountain village. This day, there seemed to be some sort of faire or farmers’ and craft market, so there were homemade crafts, foods, etc for sale under canopies and set out on tables in front of these adorable shops. If I wasn’t on a time schedule for the day, I would have loved to linger and meander around the town. There is quite a range of architecture to observe in the shops and motels and homes. The whole of Alpine is built on a slope halfway up the mountain. I imagine the townsfolk have some serious musculature on their legs! I also loved the clothing styles of the people in these Californian mountain or hill folk. Some are dressed in simple hiking/walking gear; others in that hippie/gypsy look I adore. Right now, I have only cycling/sports gear with me, so my fashion is simply NOT. 

In Santee and Lakeside, on the other side of I-8 and closer to the bottom of the mountain, on the outskirts of town, you can see mini-farms and gardens and happy cows and horses. In one field, the cows and ostriches were sharing a green field. In the barn I could hear peacocks. It was a cool little area with rundown homes but friendly critters who sometimes come to the fence to say hi. They are probably hoping I am carrying an apple with me. 

Hitting San Diego, I was routed through Mission Gorge---some hills there, lemme tell ya! At one point, while climbing a long slow hill (well, the hill wasn’t slow, but HD and I sure were trudging at an ant’s pace) I saw something out of the corner of my eyes on the hill to the left. I turned my head to look and there were two (I thought) people in black hoodies running down the hillside, ducking behind bushes. When I looked again, I saw only one, crouching down, half hidden by a bush, several hundred feet away. I kept peddling. When I stole one more glance, the hooded person was half standing, looking straight at me. My heart skipped a beat, or maybe two. He may have been a teenager playing games, someone running from someone else--or the law, or who knows what. That was a mini-adventure. He could have caught up to me, but he made no attempt to do so. He probably realized I was no catch and no threat. I finally cycled to the top and over the hill for another descent to wear out another cm of shoe rubber.

The marine layer was thick and, as I neared the coast, a light sprinkling mist was noted. After all those days in the desert, the mist was quite a change. My skin is dried out and thirsty, so I was grateful for the moisture. Although a bit cold. But, after a week or so of coastal riding, I will get used to the cooler air.

A few times in San Diego, I got a little turned around. The drivers were respectful of the cycle and I received several happy waves and friendly honks. Only one honked to tell me to get out of the way, but I was being a good driver and doing my best to accomodate those in motorized vehicles. Even that honk was more like a “toot” than a “BEEP”, if you know what I mean. Like a polite, “Scoot over please, I’m right behind you and want to take this onramp to the freeway”. To get to my sister Shannon’s house, I had to get back on the freeway, but for just a few miles. That was the “5”, or the Pacific Coast Highway. It was dark by then, so I had my lights on. Again, no problems from the cars and trucks zipping past. 

I arrived in the dark, with a dead cell phone. Thank Gaia that my two Shannons were out walking LouDog. (Sister and daughter) I could spot his spots even in the dark, so I caught up with them and, after hugs and kisses were shared, they showed me our destination.

Shannon Sr heated up some black beans and Shannon Jr helped make a salad. I had a huge black bean burrito on a brown rice flour tortilla and a great salad. I haven’t eaten a burrito in a long, long time. I was stuffed but it was so very, very good! I went to bed, thinking, “What have I done?” But another episode of Bomb Girls got my mind over the bulge in my tummy...

It was also wonderful to sleep on a nice bed. My shoulders didn’t dig into the ground and every position I turned was comfortable. I’ve been having leg aches at night, and this night was no different. Shannon and her husband Jim are fine hosts. They gave us the master bedroom with a private bathroom. 

Their home is decorated with superb taste. My sister has an artist’s eye. She has taken several courses in photography and has done an incredible job with the insightful and tender shots she has taken of grandchildren. She also can choose and frame the photos and hang them perfectly. 

My photos are in the cheap $2 frames I purchased from Wallyworld decades ago. When I get home, it will be time to reconsider my photos and what little I’ve done with them.  This Olympus is the first halfway decent camera I’ve owned. I am not using it to its potential at all as I tend to just turn it on and shoot as I’m cycling by something cool. 

Shannon and Jim, her husband, are such wonderful hosts. I just love them. My sister is vivacious and generous and never has a bad thing to say about anyone. She keeps up with everyone in the family and is a friend to everyone. She is an absolute gem. Jim is easy to talk to and has a great sense of humor and I could have spent hours just hanging with him. They are both beautiful people, inside and out, and I love them dearly.

It was superb to catch glimpses of the ocean yesterday. Cycling through La Jolla, I could see the expanse of blue between several open blocks. I would have loved to linger, drink coffee, and stroll the beach, but it was getting late and I will have plenty of time to see the ocean over the next few weeks. 

The interesting people? To tell you the truth, I didn’t stay put long enough to actually talk to anyone. The two cute young boys working at Starbucks on Torrey Pines Bvd were friends who would have been fun to interview and the business was slow on this Sunday night. But I was on a mission. 

The blessing of today. I know it may seem silly or coincidental, and that, it may certainly have been. But, in the morning, I expressed my gratitude to the Source and then asked Mama G for a headwind to slow down my descent from the mountain. I also asked the mountain, with whom I become one as we are all ONE, to hug me close. So. You guessed it, a nice headwind. So, even though my heart was in my throat, I knew I was going to make it. It could have been so much worse. Like, going across that bridge on I-8, with a deep gorge below, and Suicide Hotline messages posted all along the metal fence separating you from a terminal fall---a cross wind would have made it so much worse. Instead, I got a bit of a headwind. I just kept my eyes from looking over the edge, tried to relax my shoulders and the grip on the steering tiller bars, and kept moving forward. I don’t know why I get so nervous with these overpasses and bridges. On the highways, if I have to go over a bridge, I stay in the middle of the road--when traffic is nil, of course. 

It’s about facing your fears. And arriving in one piece! I checked all my parts--all present. No scratches, gashes, cuts, or bruises. Seen, by the naked eye, anyway. WIth the exception of the road wear, which is notable on my face. And the aching in my legs that hits when I am sleeping, or trying to sleep. But, even this is getting less as I get stronger.

Today (Monday), Shannon Jr is trying to figure out if she needs to jet ahead to Los Angeles. She has a backload of business to attend to. I will need to repack and figure out the true essentials of what I need to carry, as the load on HD, and my knees, is pretty substantial when he is fully loaded. I’m doing laundry and gonna see if I can drag Shannon out to a cafe, just cuz. We tend to be in work mode so much of the time. But we love those moments in a restaurant, or sidewalk cafe, or taking a hike. We also like to go shopping. But I don’t have room for anything else in the cargo hold and it is not time to shop. That will be for a different adventure. Not this one. 

So, here is to The Adventure. Yours and Mine.

What Do You Love?

The Mother and I

Saturday, April 13, 2013

Today, I was blessed by The Mother. 

Mother Gaia---Mama G.

The Sierra Madres. The Mother Mountain Range.

I asked her that I could become one with her and that she pull me up the mountain. Henry David is a slow mover, but The Mother responded with love and tenderness.

I had a fitful night last night in Ocotillo---a bit anxious about the mother ride today. I awakened and got on the road by 7:00. I headed out on I-8 up to In Ko Pah Park Rd and then to Old Hwy 80. The road was fairly steep but not unreasonable and the interstate was plenty wide enough for safety. On I-8, about 10 miles from Ocotillo, you have to get off Mountain Springs Rd for several hundred feet as the I-8 gets a bit narrow on the overpass. 

Once I got off for that particular exit, a Border Patrol agent pulled up alongside. YAY!! I had questions! He pulled off the road and we unfolded my little cycling map to make sure I knew where I was supposed to go. He was very friendly and he even took the time to answer some of those pesky questions! I took his photo but cannot put it on the website. That will remain in my personal file. He said his dream was to become a fireman. He did accomplish this dream and spent several years fighting wildfires--he found this career all he hoped for--exciting, hard work, a rush. However, he gave it up to gain custody of his little son, as he was “never” home and he needed to come home at night to be a dad. He said the choice came down to his two loves: firefighting or being a dad. Dad-dom won, hands down. So, he went into law enforcement and became a border patrol agent. He enjoys his work because he spends much of his days hiking around in the mountains, which is one of the things he liked about fighting wildfires. In fact, yesterday, on his day off, what did he do? Hike up a particularly difficult “hill”, part climbing on his feet, part on all fours. So, what does he enjoy? Being outdoors, physical exercise, rewarding work. What is his Joy? His son.

He said he would pass by a few times to keep an eye on me. Which he did, ensuring my  safety. Thank you, Officer. You are a good man. 

Approaching Jacumba, still on US land, I received a text message on my phone thanking me for entering a foreign country and that I could now use my phone with international charges!! Lol! We are very close to Mexico here and there was an imposing fence extending for miles along the border. Right across the mountains. I passed about 3 signs on the road today, warning that smuggling is a felony. I imagine that refers to contraband in both the form of drugs and humans. Funny. We don’t put up a fence across the Canada/US border. In fact, I met some Canadians on Harley Davidsons in Jacumba, enjoying a trip through the country. But they weren’t looking for work. Or maybe they were. Or maybe there is no fence on our northern border because Canadians aren’t in a rush to move here, but they might want to put one up to keep US out!!  Lol! Whatever your beliefs on immigration and borders---suffice it to say that I wish we didn’t have to put up fences. On our country’s borders, or on our own minds.

We finished our day with a few more miles to get to Live Oaks Spring Resort and Campground. I guess you have figured it out that we are in the campground part! The resort part is a bit beyond our pocketbooks! There are supposed to be showers for us tenters, but apparently they haven’t had a tenter for awhile. It took an hour or so for the management to figure out how to unlock the camper’s bathroom. It is a huge room with a toilet on one end and a tiny sink on the other. There are a few drains on the floor, but no showers! I had to turn the water on the toilet so it would flush. No hot water on the sink. But I am grateful for running water after a night in Ocotillo!

The folks here are very friendly. They have fountain outside, a little store, and a little restaurant/bar with a TV running boxing matches, a few pool tables, and a juke box. We are eating salads, drinking coffee, working on our computers, and we have heard a range of music from country western to rap. 

Tomorrow it is on to San Diego. Yahoooo! I hear the Pacific Ocean calling me. I hope my dolphins come by to say Welcome Home!

El Centro to Ocotillo

April 12th, 2013. 

We woke up in the morning to a beautiful blue sky day. I was in no hurry as I only had 30 miles to get to Ocotillo. I exited the RV campground at about 9:30 a.m. and arrived in Ocotillo about 1:00 p.m. Actually, I went slower than I felt I should have---it was primarily a slight descent almost the whole way and yet I still had to push relatively hard. Even with the chain cleaning I had just given it last night, it was not enough and there was so much gunk on the chain that it added quite a drag. 

Ocotillo was a little spot in the road. Funny thing: I meet the most interesting people in these one horse towns. I got to Ocotillo much earlier than Shannon expected and she was still in El Centro working on communications, writing, etc. So, she picked it all up and went to Wallyworld to grab some more chain lubricant/cleaner, and came and met me in Ocotillo. By the time she had arrived, I had spent a good half hour chatting with a local: Paul Martinez. More on him in a moment.

Lodging? What to do, what to do. There was an RV campground, no tent or car camping allowed and all the RV spots were filled with residents anyway. They had a 2 room motel, $50 for one person, $60 for two. I’m sorry, but this was worse looking from the outside than the NoTell in Gila Bend. I would rather find a dirt spot and hang the tent. So, we crossed the street to the Ocotillo RV and Campground---there was a single RV set up on a kind of foundation on the corner---I don’t know if it was even a part of this “campground”, several empty camping spots, and an abandoned office building. The sign had a cell phone number with some of the digits missing. There were empty envelopes--old and dusty---by the office door. So, we simply chose a campspot in that semi-abandoned lot and parked it. No bathrooms, no running water, but the campsites were clean and someone had tried to develop it at one time. It held promise. Out of the 10-12 sites, we found one that had a working electrical outlet by the road. While we camped more out of the way, we used the outlet to recharge my phone--well, I used it anyway. 

I spent a good part of the late afternoon cleaning the chain and cogs. Jeez, what filth. I think a trip to a bike shop in SD with a thorough tune up might be a good idea. The desert sand and wind may necessitate more cleaning than usual. Ya think??

Shannon made a killer salad with butter lettuce, veggies, and a balsamic glaze she picked up in El Centro. We munched tortilla chips and ate salad and watched Bomb Girls--we are totally addicted. True to form, we shared our commentary with each other, even pointing out deviations from character development. One of the things we like about this show is that all the women are just people. There is no heroine, no perfect person. Like real life. We are all perfect in our imperfection (You coined it, Brian!). I think it’s important to remember that we are all “flawed”--jeez, we expect so much out of ourselves, holding up an ideal of some perfect thing that we can not aspire too. I say, WHO WANTS TO ANYWAY??? Perfect people are soooo boring. Following the rules of what is supposed to be the right thing is just formulaic. No fascination. No interesting contours. No wonderment. 

So. Paul Martinez. Nice guy, Viet Nam vet who acknowledges the reality of PTSD. He has trouble sleeping at night, but he loves life. After the VN war, he was apprenticed and then unionized at a steam--something pipefitter. Meaning, he could fit and lay pipe meant for high pressure use. He did various jobs--going where the work was found. With this type of job, the work is generally semi-temporary. Once the pipe is laid succesfully, your job is done and you go somewhere else. Well, he helped lay the pipe in Ocotillo---Paul says there are several geothermal spots here, lending the area superb for his type of work. There is a windmill farm here, and he played a part in that. But, after the job was done (took several years), he decided to stick around and semi-retire. He has lived a hermit’s life for a good 8 years and has a fenced compound. He has a generator and solar panels and lives off grid for the most part. His daughter lives in Utah and he is moving there over the next few weeks. It is time to be with his grandchildren he says.

What does he enjoy? Working on mechanical things: engines, motors, trucks--you get the picture. We talked for awhile about his pickup truck. He also enjoys solitude---or “has”, stating he is now getting lonely and looking forward to being with family. 

What gives him JOY? His grandchildren--they are young yet and he wants to be there as they grow up. He says that when his grandchildren give him a hug and a kiss, there is no hidden agenda. They love him without strings or any reason, other than the fact that he is “Grandpa”. He loves that kind of simplicity. 

What gets him up in the morning? The opportunity to play with his engines. He just enjoys being alive. He now also purchased a mini DVD player and he has discovered the joy of watching movies and documentaries. He can pick up 14 DVDs from the Ocotillo library for free. He can make requests for DVDs on the library interloan program. He may have to wait a few weeks for the requested movies to arrive, but he is very happy and grateful. 

I love the fact that happy people are easily satisfied. That they don’t sweat the small stuff. That they enjoy the little chat here and there. 

It was nice meeting you, Paul. May you enjoy your time with your grandchildren.

I miss mine. Little Aoife and Ciara. So precious. So funny too---they make me laugh with their antics.

Tacna Trials

Tacna Trials: April 9, 2013

Upon leaving Gila Bend, I had a long trek to Yuma, 116 miles away. I couldn’t make it in one day, so targeted the town of Tacna for a sleepover. My sister Katie warned us that Tacna is like the black hole that sucks her in every time she passes through it. She usually had car breakdowns, resulting in an unintentional visit. In fact, there is a single, ragged motel--The Chaparral Motel---with a single internet written review. It was written by someone who also had a car breakdown there. But, the writer gave the manager a thumbs up for being so nice, stating the mechanic was pretty helpful too. 

Now, the road to Yuma is pretty rural--not many places to stay between Gila Bend and Yuma. Dateland is about 30 miles from Tacna, but I wanted to get further than Dateland. So, off we went. Shannon stopped at Dateland and picked up, you guessed it, locally grown dates. They have several varieties, but she was being kind to our pocketbook and got the cheapest ones. Still wonderful. Dates are one of my most favorite foods. 

The day was windy and long and I arrived in Tacna to our tent. There is a gas station, farm workers, and the Chapparal motel off I-8. The motel was full of the farm workers, so the owner let us set up the tent behind the motel for free. It was a junkyard back there: tires, metal, broken down vehicles, abandoned mobile homes, and all sorts of stuff that a hoarder would love. Still, I was grateful that the gas station was close by. We were pretty exposed behind the motel, with people coming and going half the night. But, all in all, it was kinda fun. Mind you, I wouldn’t have wanted to spend the night there twice! But once was a novelty and lent itself to the excitement and craziness of the adventure. 

To combat the soreness in my legs, I did leg lifts and crunches and stretches for a good 40 minutes in the tent while Shannon was in a phone meeting in her car. Amazing how that helped. I was pretty whupped when I pulled into Tacna. Wind trials, you know.

The people at the gas station were friendly. In the morning, the lady at the counter was in a great mood and giving the local farm workers a run for their money with her teasing.  She and the man also working the counter gave me the low down on the ag activities there. Some miles from town, in fact, off and on since Dateland, I had noticed these desert bushes planted in rows! They were brown and dry looking, but definitely had been planted by human hands. They are jojoba bushes. I remembered in the 1970s how the jojoba nut and its oil were touted to be the cure-all for a number of maladies and to be the greatest snake oil for the skin! Well, these desert bushes are thorny, as most desert plants tend to be. And the jojoba nut is kinda small. The cash crop turned out to be so expensive to harvest, that the fields eventually were abandoned. Now, they are still growing, but wild--or at least untended. And unharvested. Sad, huh?  The lady at the counter used to pick the nuts years ago and still remembers the pain of being pricked by the sticky bushes. 

There are so many wonderful plants out there, and wonderful fruits and veggies, but it is pricey in our economy to plant, raise, and harvest them. Thus our fields are converted for cash crops like corn and soybeans. It’s all about economics. Until someone gets hurt.

Well, then, it’s still about economics. Lol.

The next morning--on to Yuma. I got on the Internet in the morning and snagged a room at the Shilo Inn Hotel. (Inn Hotel--is that redundant?). The ride to Yuma was not so many miles, but the wind was heftier than expected, so I was ready to be done! The Shilo is a great ole place, reasonably priced--perhaps because they have a pool, jacuzzi, sauna, and steam room--with none of the above working or available that day. But the washer and drier worked and I needed to wash our laundry. Shannon grabbed a carryout from an Oriental restaurant and we truly feasted that night to a shared styrofoam container stuffed to the brim, plus the salad she put together from our cooler contents. We happily munched away while watching Season Two, episodes 1&2, of Bomb Girls. BTW---this was filmed in Canada and was about the Canadian efforts--not the USA. It is just so similar to the USA stories that I missed the obvious. 

I slept past the alarm in the morning and didn’t get out of Yuma until 9:30. But, my goodness, what a fantastic day. We crossed into California today. It was like coming home. The Imperial Valley is known for agriculture, and I wasn’t disappointed. In fact, about 15 miles or so from El Centro, I noted a marked change in the air. It felt just a little heavier, not as dry. I wouldn’t call this area humid by any means, but the air definitely has more moisture in it than the Arizona desert. The only real wind I encountered today was experienced while cycling through the dune area---Henry David and I took a little sand on the chin, so to speak. I have got to clean him up again already. 

Just past the border patrol and truck check, about 10 miles from Yuma, I stopped at a little gas station--I think it is in Felicity. There is a friendly lady named Pam who works there. She and her husband lived in Montana for several years, then Nebraska. Pam’s mother needed her help and Pam and hubby were ready to move out of cold country. So, they packed up and moved to the little gas station on the hill just west of the border check. 

Pam enjoys starry nights in the desert, peace, and quiet. She enjoys the people who live in the RV park near the gas station. What gives her joy? Those star-filled nights.

The ride from Yuma to El Centro was a joy for me. It was inspiring to cross the border into California. Passing thru the sand dunes in east Imperial County was fascinating. There was a bit of a crosswind and the left side of my face was gritty in seconds. I could even feel the sand grinding between my molars! I popped over to a rest stop and “re-met” a man whom I had met at the Felicity gas station while chatting with Pam. At the rest stop, we had the opportunity to talk. He was originally from Mexico. He was a happy, cheerful man and told me he was a devout Christian. He was injured in a working accident---tore his right biceps muscle and damaged a few fingers. So, now he collects bottles and cans and lives out of his pick up truck. He said he is very skilled with landscaping and setting up sprinkler systems. What does he enjoy? His faith and just being alive. It was wonderful to meet someone who appears to be truly happy and who lives out of his truck. He has no demands of life; he has just decided to be happy. And this works for him. We can take a lesson from him.

We stayed in an RV park in El Centro. It was fantastic. We camped in our tent on the grass. There was plenty of hot water in the shower and, don’t get me started on the jacuzzi. Heavenly.

There was a grocery store nearby and they had Perrier by the liter. We drank a few. We are wild that way.