1st Day on the Road

Day 1 Starting    August 15th, 2010

Riverbend campground Twisp, WA
We left Seabeck at 10:30AM after the final stocking up of the trailer with clothes, food and enough stuff that we might need for 3-5 months on the road.  It is an indeterminent amount of time because our itinerary is a loose one: from Washington up to Canada, eastward across Canada to the Atlantic Maritimes; New Brunswick, Nova Scotia and Prince Edward Island.  I have a feeling we could spend a lot of time there.  It resides in my mind  as thousands of miles of granite strewn coastline, bays and picturesque villages rich in marine and fisheries lore.  Home of the Grand Banks dories and schooners.  Gloucester Bay type schooners such as the Bluenose that were some of the fastest ships of their time.  Sails fully furled to bring the catch back the freshest and the fastest.  Then there are the inland pastures of Prince Edward Island, famous for Ann of Green Gables.  Grassy oceans giving form to each wave of breeze and wind across their tassels.  Seas of grass amid seas of foam.  I think we could spend a lot of time there.
But there are also thoughts of  the fabled fall colors of New England’s autumn  awash in sugar maple colors of tangerine, vermillion and effervescent  yellows.  I’m thinking a balloon ride over the Vermont hills where the jets of propane fire sound like a dragon's breath in the autumnal stillness of a sapphire sky.                                                      
This could be that trip.
We can all use a welcome respite from a life and spirit troubled by familial conflicts and the economic shallowness of society.
We could continue down the Eastern Seaboard to the blustery Chesapeake bay and Boston Chowder.  Then the gentle cities of Savanna and Charleston hold fascination, even the monuments of DC seem to have that must see song as well as a visit to Jo’s uncle Jack, one of the last gentlemen that wears a tweed jacket and cravat.
Down to Florida to visit my favorite ex brother in law, Frankie and his wife Ann.
After that? back westward along the southern US and over to California to drop down the Baja and La Paz and the Sea of Cortez.   Maybe 13,000 miles? Can we survive the wandering?  It is not for lack of coddling with our Airstream trailer and big 3/4 ton Chevy diesel crew cab pulling the load and tracking as if on rails.  We spent considerable time and expense getting both into shape.  All told it is 48 feet of rig.  I’ll get plenty of stressful practice backing up I am sure.  I’ll spare the details of all the extras of the DuraMax Diesel with the Allison Chalmers transmission  (made by the tractor manufacturers)  but its a smooth and strong ride and not too bad on fuel either.

The trailer is a 1995 25’ Airstream Classic.  I have always been fascinated since childhood by these shiny aluminum trailers with their aerodynamic shape like a rocket fuselage. It did not hurt to learn the astronauts travel from mission control to the launch pad in new Airstreams.  But being a 1995 model it needed work. They get beat up on the road and they get dried up sitting still.  Almost like a boat in their cries for attention.
So the interior was redone with new carpentry for cabinets, steam cleaning of walls, new plumbing and some electrical, new AC and more.  The main living room couch was turned into a layback lounger with Pendelton blankets and pillows of many sizes and a large white sheepskin throw.  It is truly a place to kick back or burrow in.

But bear with me, the most exhausting physical and emotional effort was expended in refinishing the exterior 25’ oxidized aluminum shell .  Much of the work done on step ladders hanging out with buffing and polishing tools.  My arms, wrist, back and rotator cuffs were putty.  It took 10 passes with strippers and diminishing grades of polishing compounds and an entire bolt of terry cloth cotton to get it down to an almost mirror shine.  Jo had been slowly stocking and loading all her clothes, bedding and kitchen and bath and I gave myself one day to load all my stuff including hoses, tools, chairs, gear, books, writing materials, snorkel stuff, guitar and on and on.  Not like backpacking days, and alot more than my motorcycling days. I guess these are my trailer days and instead of cutting back I’m bringing more since I have the room.  There is a mental editing process that always exists here however, that is a continual process in preparation for that day I can bring  nothing.  For now I’ll push the limits of allowable gross loads.

Off we went at 10:30 AM.  How did we have the energy to actually leave.  There is always that moment of pulling out the drive where what was left behind was not needed.



Travels with Moochi.
Jo is bringing Moochi the elderly, persnickety, and not very friendly female cat (except to Jo).  As she is coming on this journey I can only imagine how she will fare. She too must have her gear: food, litter, and litter dome, cage, bed, dishes, care & very constant watching over all added to the 25’ interior.  JoAnn inherited Moochi from her Mother when she passed away. Moochi wandered into Jo’s parents home in Merced California mooching meals thus her name.  Ah well she certainly keeps us from getting too forgetful and self absorbed.

Moochi already gave us our first scare not 2 hours from home.  We had decided to pull in to Northgate Mall for God knows what, I think some insulated glasses!  The 48’ long rig was no match for the micro sized parking lanes and appeared certain for disaster with the trailer wheels about to jump an acute curb with no maneuvering space and unable to back up. Of course it was in the 80’s and tempers were on the near side of short.  So doors were opened several times while the jam was assessed.  Finally with the help of two shoppers we made it out of there and were on the freeway north when JoAnn asked where was Moochi.  She was not in the back seat! Horrible visions of her running around the parking lot and thousands of squeezing cars diving for those empty slots or worse.  So I took the next exit as panic and despair continued to climb at booster rocket rate.  JoAnn plaintively calls out Moochi’s name and was answered by a tiny mew buried beneath the blankets in the back seats.  Change of direction just like that.  Squeeze into the proper lane and back on the freeway north.  Hearts beating and mouths dry with embarrassed relief.