Blog One October 23, 2011

So...I am figuring out how to blog and find I do not know the address.  I will find it.

I've been on the road officially for eight days now, not counting the three week shakedown cruise with my neighbor Kelly, which is a story in itself.  I started in Markleeville CA and headed down 395 on the eastern side of the Sierra on October 16th.  Spent six days camping at ten dollars a night (thanks to the Golden Eagle pass, best deal in the country).  Then, last night--an RV park.  All the power and water I could want!  Was doing ok on the budget thanks to a food stockpile, but the $200 fillup of the gas tank and the $40 nightly RV park fees creates a big hole.  So far, counting tonight's RV park as well, I've spent $470.00 in eight days, or $58.75/day.  I see some desert camping coming up.

First, stopping at Scooter Depot in Chino.  I already bought a 1982 Yamaha Seka which proved to be too heavy for me to load onto the back of the RV by myself, and a Suzuki Burgman 400 scooter, which also proved too heavy for me to load onto the back of the RV by myself.  Third time is a charm.  After that I'm driving down to San Diego to visit Jason and Tammy.

395 was beautiful.  The aspen are turning, especially near June Lake, and the weather in the high country is threatening winter.  Got a chance to climb some; I am driven to reach the top wherever I am, even though the top is almost never really the top.  Meeting the most interesting people--a group called School of Lost Borders, which does Rite of Passage work with young people; they were kind and generous to me when we met in the sage.  Also met Bob, an ex marine wounded on Okinawa by a Japanese 155 mortar shell.  Bob was born on the boardwalk at Coney Island ("never had to pay for a ride in my life.")

I am drinking in the scenery and the people I meet like a camel at the oasis.  Every turn of the bend brings something new, and it's all so different. And the people!  Just talking with the lady running the collectibles store in a one horse town or the owner of Rick's Cafe on the highway is fascinating to me. The stories they tell are so unique and fundamentally the fabric of America, much more so than the news on television and in the paper.  I wish I could take pictures of them all.

Love and miss all of you.

Sitting by the fire at night is a grand privilege.