Airstream Time

Exploring North America in an Airstream

Posts from the ‘US’ category

Seattle

October 1, 2017

Poor Martha. I just had to go see the fish hatchery in Issaguah. It’s October and the salmon should be running. Sure enough, these big fish were frantically trying to get over the dam or up the fish ladder. They open and close them at different times, harvest the eggs, then return them to the stream. Issaguah is a cute little town on the edge of Seattle.

We had a great visit with our friends, Becky and Dick Dudley in their beautiful home on Mercer Island. They are from one of our favorite places, Abingdon, Virginia. Becky was a hygienist who worked with us back in the late 70’s. It was great spending time with them and their family. Becky brought out some old pictures. One was of Martha holding Mac when he was a baby. We took a picture of Martha holding Mac’s baby, Bronson, who is just 10 days old. It was so cool to see Mac and Si and their families. Mac is a lawyer and Si is an orthodontist who just opened a new office in Issaguah. Becky and Dick fixed a great dinner of Salmon, mixed vegetables, spinach balls, potatoes, and a wonderful fruit pie. We so enjoyed old memories and new. Thank you so much Becky and Dick, for being such great friends. I hope we can get together again in the not so distant future.

Hike Squirrel Cache, Bike to Ralph’s for a Milkshake

September 29, 2017

As we got ready to hike Squirrel Cache Trail, Ken and Ruth came over. We had spoken last night as they were cooking dinner because they have a new 19’ Bambi. They are from Spokane and wanted to get their new Airstream out. They knew all about the campground and the area. Previously tent campers, this is all new to them, but Ken is an avid reader of the Airstream Forum. As we stood there talking, another couple came up. They too have an Airstream, a 23’. Both couples were very nice and interesting to chat with.

The Squirrel Cache hike was an easy hike, even though we made a wrong turn somehow. I keep looking at trees with holes all through them for a baby owl to be sitting in the opening.

After lunch we rode the bikes into Bayview and Ralph’s for ice cream and WIFI. Riding the Lynx Trail over gravel, rocks and tree roots slowed things down quite a bit. It makes it interesting for a while, but we rode on the road coming back. Bayview is really a nice, little town in a beautiful setting with big mountains surrounding a beautiful lake. I ordered a double scoop chocolate cone, while Martha went for the Huckleberry milkshake. Both were outstanding. I’m going to miss Ralph’s. He is sponsoring a fishing tournament this weekend and had 78 entries.

Back at camp, Martha cooked salmon, potatoes and brussel sprouts over an open fire. She is very good at cooking this way.

Lewiston

September 20, 2017

On a rainy morning, we went to the Hell’s Gate Visitor’s Center and watched an excellent movie about Lewis and Clarke’s crossing the Rockies in Idaho. Then we read the plaques and pictures throughout the center and looked at a big relief map showing their incredible journey through these huge mountains in the snow. They never would have made it without Sacagawea or the help of so many Native Americans along their whole journey. It would be fun to ride horses along their route. I don’t know how they made it in 11 days, but they almost died.

We went to the very nice Lewiston Library to post and pay bills. It is worth the trip just to see all their art and statues. We had sandwiches at the Stax Restaurant, which was quite good, then went down the block to the Nez Perce Museum. I was disappointed that only a small part was about the Nez Perce Indians, but realized this is Nez Perce County, so it was more about history of the county. The Nez Perce were instrumental in saving Lewis and Clarke’s expedition only to be persecuted by the Army years later, stripped of their lands and forced to cross the same treacherous mountains in spring high waters to a reservation in Montana.

On a rainy, cold afternoon, we took the afternoon off, read and watched a movie.

McCall to Lewiston

September 19, 2017

It is a beautiful drive with a variety of terrains along Rt. 95. At Riggins it follows the great Salmon River. Riggins is a cute little village with a bunch of river guiding companies. It was cold and rainy, so we opted not to stay in Riggins and float the Salmon. Maybe another time. The river takes one side of the mountain at White Bird to turn and join the Snake River, while the road continues north to Lewiston. Big rain clouds were in the distance. We had rain earlier, but all of this is so welcome. The whole northwest has been plagued by tremendous fires all summer, smoke covering the whole area. Makes you wonder – fires here, hurricanes in the east and a big earthquake in Mexico.

We pulled into beautiful Hell’s Gate Campground just outside Lewiston. We are on the Lewis and Clarke trail. The visitor’s center has all kinds of information and a movie about their crossing of the Rockies in Idaho and the terrible time they had in the Bitterroot Mountains.

We were setting up camp when Carol came over from the adjacent campsite. She and David are on their way to McCall, so we traded information north and south. Dave came back over later with a drink. We talked about travels and the troubles you have fixing things. You just have to learn how to work on all kinds of problems, because it happens to all of us. He was a Ford mechanic for years, so that really comes in handy. He told us about a bike trail that goes along the Snake River and through Lewiston. Clarkston is on the other side of the river. This is the area where the Clearwater joins the Snake River on its way to the Columbia. Lewis and Clarke followed the Snake into the Columbia River to winter at Fort Clatsop, near where I met my friends at the mouth of the Columbia. I have not followed the Columbia through the United States, but have seen its origin, fished it there and as it leaves British Columbia south of Castelgar, and have crossed that monster bridge at its mouth. With beautiful rivers flowing into it, like the Snake, the Clearwater and the Salmon, it is a heck of a river. It is nice to know about the hatchery in McCall, Idaho that hatches millions of Chinook Salmon, and that they can find their way to the ocean, returning five years later all the way back to McCall. Fish ladders allow them to make their way over four or five dams.

Fishing The Bitterroot River with David Hufman

September 9, 2017

We drove 30 minutes to the Grizzly Hackle Fly Shop in Missoula to meet our guide at 7:00. We met David Hufman and did all the paperwork in the shop and put our rods in his Toyota truck. We drove south about 45 minutes to the Bitterroot River. We thought we were going to fish Clark Fork, but David said the Bitterroot was fishing better. We talked about the fires as we headed toward Lolo National Forest. He said the smoke acted like a cloud cover for the river, keeping it cool and making fishing better. I asked about his beautiful Boulder boat. He said it is the third one he has had. A client had given him this one! He has guided this man on many fishing trips. He is a very wealthy man, now 90 years old, and still comes fishing with him. He had bought the boat and wanted his aid to learn how to use it and to take him fishing. That never quite worked out, and it sat in a shed for two years. One day David got a call from the man’s aid, who said, “David, this is your lucky day. Mr. … is giving you his Boulder boat. He is going to have it shipped to your house.” The drift boat is a light, thin-walled boat that slides easily over rocks.

We learned that David grew up in western Pennsylvania. His best friend moved to Montana and kept telling David he needed to come join him guiding fishing trips. Finally, he came, and now he has been guiding for 18 years. By the time we got to the river we learned David is a bright guy with tremendous knowledge and enthusiasm for his profession. After pushing off into the river, he put tippet and different hoppers on our lines. Then he gave us some instructions on how he wanted us to fish. We told him we were here to fish, but also to learn, and we welcomed any instruction and coaching. You might think we know how to fish, and we do to some extent, but a great guide, like David, is fishing every day. He talks to other professionals, and he spends every day with fishermen and women, talking and watching techniques. He knows where the fish are, what they like to eat and what time the hatches are. Even if you had a boat like this to float the river, we would just start fishing flies we thought might work, but we would likely make the wrong choices, the wrong colors or the wrong presentation. We would probably catch some fish, but we would not have the kind of day we were about to have.

David coached constantly, in a soft, positive manner all day. It was like going to a clinic with a great expert. We started catching fish from the start – big, strong cutthroats, rainbows and a cutbow, which is a cross of the two. The biggest fish of the day was a 19-incher Kelly caught. He almost made the 20/20 club, where you catch a 20 inch fish with a size 20 fly. That is a very tiny fly! After about an hour and a half the Trico hatch started. These are tiny little flies that hatch, spawn and the males die. David said they must be like cocaine for trout, because the love them, and while feeding on them, they will ignore everything else. We watched a real bug float over feeding fish, and they ignored it.

In one area, they had put old cars on the bank to try to stabilize the river banks. It didn’t work so well, but it makes great cover for fish. It also makes a great place to break your line and lose fish. It doesn’t look like these old car frames will do what they wanted. David said the powerful river moves every year, washing these sandy banks away. In one  area the river will likely go up and over the banks and take an entirely new route.

We have seen feeding trout before, but never like this. Big noses poking out of the water as they sipped Tricos. They were schooled-up in certain areas with 10-15 fish feeding. David called them pods of fish. He could tell the big ones by the size of rings they made in the water. Sometimes you would get a glimpse of the tail or the whole fish sipping tiny Tricos, 3-4mm in size. Looking into the water by the boat, you could see hundreds of dead males floating by. Similar to salmon, they hatch and mate. Then the males die while the females live on. This river is full of food for fish. The trick, and it’s a demanding trick, is to pick out a ring where a fish is feeding and cast the tiny fly one foot above it with absolutely no drag from the line. You have to drop the fly right on the target, not a foot in front or behind. Why would the fish move when the food just keeps coming down the river. You have to drop the tiny fly so gently, it looks like it has a parachute on. The fish then has 100 options, one of which is your fly. If he takes it, you must wait for him to swallow it. He has his big mouth open and if you jerk the fly, it just comes out of his mouth before he has a chance to close. This is a whole, new level of fishing. There were so many fish feeding that we managed to catch some of them. Big, powerful, hard-fighting fish that and take 15 minutes to land. Even then it takes an expert lunge of the net by David to finally land the fish.

After a while, we went back to hoppers and kept catching fish. We agreed this was the best day of trout fishing we have ever had. It was a beautiful day on a beautiful river with a great guide and coach. It just doesn’t get any better than that.

Fernie to Hungry Horse Reservoir

September 3, 2017

We got off to a leisurely start. Taking the trash and garbage to the disposal area, we found a man sorting recycling into different bags. Kelly struck up a conversation with this lean gentleman, probably in his 60’s named Holmes. He is an retired engineer, who had to go back to work because his pension wasn’t doing well enough. He comes to sort recycling, takes it to a center and then gives the proceeds to a senior center charity.  Once I told him I was from Charlottesville, like everyone else we meet, he went on about how we were still fighting the civil war. I had to set him straight. He is from Newfoundland, and talked extensively about its politics and history. I told him that is where I would like to go next summer. We probably talked for an hour before we left. It would have great to talk more over cocktails as he is s very interesting guy with a great sense of humor.

Then we went by Elk River Guiding Company to buy some flies. They have a huge collection of beautiful flies. Leah helped us and told us to stop at Larry’s Fly Shop in Columbia Falls, which is owned by a girl named Hillary, and to tell her hi. We thanked her, headed out and picked up a Starbucks coffee for the road.

Smoke clouded the mountains as we drove south toward the border. The grasses were dry and brown. There were only two cars in front of us at the border, and the crossing was easy with a nice young man telling us where the fires were – all over, but we should be OK at Hungry Horse Reservoir.

In Columbia Falls, where there are no falls, we found Larry’s Fly Shop, went in and again bought a few flies. Disappointed Hillary wasn’t there, we talked to a nice fellow who gave us some good information. Spotted Bear River was really low, but the Flathead was fishing good. We thanked him and after crossing the dam, drove a rough road for 45 miles.

We found a beautiful campsite next to the reservoir. Once we got set up, we took a drink down to the lake as the sun sunk behind the mountains. The water was crystal clear as small fish broke the surface. To the south was a huge grassy plain. I searched for bears or elk, but didn’t see any. It’s a little spooky, but cool at the same time to be in a remote place all by yourself with bear warning signs all around. As the evening went on, a full moon lit the smokey sky.

Too Hot! Move to The Coast

Thursday, August 3, 2017

It was 112 degrees at Valley of the Rogue Campground yesterday afternoon. Oppressive, horrible heat. The campground was thinning out. A gentleman next door came over to see the pickup pack. They are from Arizona and came up to escape the heat. His wife is from Grant’s Pass, so they know the area, and were visiting family. Now they figured they might as well go back home.

I packed up and headed out. Cursing at the nearly worthless GPS in the truck, I set the iPhone for Ludlum Campground in the National Forest about 15 miles from Brookings. I studied a couple of campgrounds in town, but they were packed like sardines. I set out through Grants Pass, picking up Rt. 199 west. It wound through the mountains and dipped into California following the Smith River. This is a gorgeous river, although dry and relatively low. There are apparently a lot of rivers in this area. I might have fished this, although it is heavily traveled, being the only road going through here.

I whizzed past Redwoods National Forest before I could think about stopping. It wasn’t going to be so far from the campground, and I wanted to be sure I could get a spot. I turned on 101 north toward Brookings and turned right on Winchuck Road. It follows a beautiful stream with pretty houses lining the road. I will have to go back and get some pictures. Then a left turn on a dusty gravel road, which I had read about. About a mile up the road, a truck pulled over to let me pass. He looked at me like I was crazy, and I thought I might be. There might not be a place to turn around if this didn’t work. The iPhone ran out of service, but amazingly still gave me perfect directions. It’s a tiny campground with only 7 sites and a camp host. The circle through the campground was small, but I could get through. I got out and looked at one empty spot, but didn’t think I could get in. #7 was empty, and I thought I could squeeze in there. The trouble was there was no room to swing the truck out to he right. I was going back and forth when a nice guy came over to help. After about 8 times of starting and restarting, I made it. I shook hands and thanked Cody from Louisiana. He is camped across from me and presently out of work. He came back to borrow my trash can to wash his clothes in. There is a big water pump on the corner. He was fired from his last job for criticizing the boss. A sociology major, he has been traveling and looking for work. A $10 campground helps stretch what little money he has left. He said he would move on Monday, as it is really hard to find a campsite on the weekends.

I settled in, walked around the campground and took a look at the stream. It is probably fishable, though low and crystal clear. It was a delightful 65 degrees. Since there is no cell service, I tried the InReach, but it couldn’t get anything either. I needed to tell Martha where I was, so I drove into Brookings. It’s a small harbor town with 6,500 people. I stopped at the harbor to look at all the boats. Steve said the harbor is loaded with sardines. The boat harbor was loaded with dead sardines. As I drove a road along the river on the south side, seagulls were munching something, sardines I suppose. I looked for a place to get down, but couldn’t find one. I drove up the north side with the same result. There are lots of campgrounds, some very fancy. All were full. I was lucky to have a spot – a great spot!

I drove all around town, trying to find a seaside or harbor-side place to get a beer or glass of wine, but couldn’t find it. There was an Irish pub that was full, but it was right on the main road. Driving north of town, I found a Harris Beach State Park and went it. The nice campground with generous sites was full. There is a beautiful beach below. Huge rock islands dotted the bay. People were walking the beach, laying in the sun and building things out of driftwood logs washed up on the beach. Pelicans and other birds perched content on one island. Probably had their fill of sardines. I took a few pictures and texted Martha.

Heading back into town, I stopped to call Kelly. He was going to call me, but since I had no service, I thought I should let him know. He has lined up some guides for our fishing trip in 2 1/2 weeks, and reserved some campgrounds. He also booked two guided trips, and was very excited about fishing in Montana on the way to pick up the girls.

As I hung up, I noticed I was in front of a pretty big post office. I checked to see if I could find WIFI, but there was none. I searched for a library on the phone. It was one mile away. Nice library! With a fishing section! Steve corrected me on my post and I wanted to change it. There are no Dolly Varden on the Rogue. They were cutthroat. A very pretty librarian, who didn’t want to talk to me, showed me the WIFI password that was tied around a little bear statue. I corrected my mistake and quickly read emails, then asked the cordial lady where the fishing section was. She asked what kind of fishing. Um, all kinds. “Look in 799 in the tall stacks.” There were some interesting books. The hiking and kayaking sections were just to the left. I would have to come back and explore, perhaps on a rainy day.

It took about 25 minutes to get back to camp. I was startled by a big elk cow standing beside the small road. She was startled too, and scurried back down the bank toward the river. I love my campsite, surrounded by tall ferns, it seems secluded. A little raised flat area behind me with a massive picnic table and fire pit. I’m on for four days. Steve might not come for another week, and I would love to fish with him again for salmon in the bay just off shore, but there is so much to see and do.

Lost Creek Lake

July 24, 2014

There are two Lost Creeks and they are appropriately named. Neither had any water in them, or I could not find an access to the one on the east side of the lake. Lucky I didn’t. Loggers were working above it. Way up on the top of a vertical mountain right above the stream. Let one of those trees go and you are done for! It was fun to explore the area in the morning. By the middle of the day, it gets too hot for much activity. Too hot, too much dust, I washed the truck and returned to the trailer. Think I’ll head back to Collier State Park.

Driving Across America on I-70 and I-80

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Nail found in tire seen on lower right

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Now and then when you think you have a heavy load…..check out a double trailer frequently seen.

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Driver taking a nap with his head in his hand

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North Salt Lake

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Bonneville Salt Flats

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Now that’s a load!!

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Deeth, Nevada, population, 28

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Sunset in Winnemucca, Nevada at the very nice New Frontier Campground.

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New Frontier Campground

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They have all the tricks here. Insulated water connections for when it freezes.

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Sheldon National Wildlife Preserve

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The volcano where Crater Lake formed.

Monday, July 10 – 14, 2017

Leaving Columbus, Ohio in the early morning rain, it was a bit hectic making the right turns in heavier traffic than I expected at 6:30. Once I got on I70, things settled out. Ohio and Indiana are beautiful country. Just turn the music on, set cruise control and relax. I am still getting used to the new truck, a 2015 GMC Denali diesel. What is it capable of? Can I leave it on cruise control? What kind of diesel should I buy? What is this DEF stuff? Should I use an additive every time I fill up? Then there’s the infotainment center. It is a cool interface, the neatest part is being able to get satellite weather along the route.

There is heavy truck traffic since this is a huge transportation route. 90% of all truckers are very professional, drive very well and know the roads. Like anything else, there are some idiots who drive those huge rigs too fast, some thinking they are playing a video game. I have tremendous respect for truckers. I think I’m driving a big rig until I pull into a rest area and park between these giant trailer-trucks. I marvel at their abilities inside cities, navigating tight streets and backing into delivery sites, mostly without backup cameras. Speaking of which, I LOVE my backup cameras installed by Todd and his crew at Auto Trim Design. Thanks Todd! (I get no kickbacks or benefits from ANY business or company). It is soooo nice to look in the rearview mirror and look out the back of the trailer like you were driving a car. I put another camera on the back of the truck, which is a little crazy since the truck has one built in. But it always stays on whether you are in reverse or not, and you can see the hitch ball about 5 times bigger than the truck’s camera. I do like the truck’s camera for backing into parking places, but I still look at both cameras.

Anyway, those truckers put up with cars dodging in front of them alongside and behind. Mostly they can’t see what’s behind them. I travel 64 miles an hour in the right lane. That means trucks are passing me all day. Invariably there is a car or another truck pushing behind them. They really appreciate flashing your lights to let them know they can pull over ahead of you. Most will blink their tail lights to say thank you. I started doing the same for them. At first I tapped the brakes twice to say thank you, but I quickly realized that was dangerous. In an aha moment I realized I could use the emergency signal on top of the steering wheel column.

Indiana was beautiful with lots of corn fields and rolling hills. I arrived late to camp, checked in, set up, had a glass of wine, a quick dinner and went to bed.

Driving through Kansas City was nerve-wracking, as it is in all cities. There’s just so much craziness in cities. People driving too fast, switching lanes, talking on their phones, texting – and I still don’t know how they do that. Ed showed me how to dictate into the phone, which he does for everything. With a little practice, that became very valuable, and you can do it mostly hands-free. You just have to touch that little microphone, and there is something in settings you have to do, but I’ve already forgotten what it was. I had planned to go through Kansas City at 10:00, so it could have been much worse. Then I cut north on I29 to cross over to I80 through Nebraska. I29 was a very nice road with pretty countryside. North Platte was my destination for the night.

On Wednesday I drove from North Platte, Nebraska to Rock Springs, Wyoming. I planned the trip to drive 500-600 miles a day. That’s one tank of fuel in the GMC, so I would fill up at day’s end before going to the campground. On this stretch I realized I was following the California Trail. I didn’t want to be distracted from driving on this trip because I had a schedule to keep. I have an appointment at Highway Products in White City, Oregon on Monday. But when I saw a sign for Boot Hill in Ogallala, Nebraska, I had to go see it. There were other things in Ogallala, but I told myself to just go to Boot Hill. In the middle of a neighborhood, I parked in front of someone’s house and walked across the street to Boot Hill. Settlers traveling from Independence, Missouri would travel 2000 miles to California in 4-6 months. Driving it and looking at the land, you get a real feel for what they did. Some think I’m crazy to drive across the country pulling a trailer. Imagine walking it, oxen pulling a wagon that would carry half what I can put in my truck. Those wagons were small!

By the time they got to Ogallala, they had traveled 480 miles or so, following the Platte River Valley, which is quite pretty. On a good day, they would only cover 20 miles, so they had been on the trail a month. Many would die along the way, and Boot Hill would be a high burial place where animals might not get to the bodies. Some were children, some were killed in violence, or with their boots on. Thus the name Boot Hill. The best part was the statue of a trail boss, and there is a pretty view of the town and valley.

The Platte River is divided into branches and bands, all of which were pretty. To have seen these plains with elk, buffalo, wolves, coyotes and deer in a pristine valley must have been something. It would be fun to follow the trail with time to study it.

On Thursday my goal was to drive from Rock Springs, Wyoming to Winnemucca, Nevada. As I set up the night before at Rock Springs KOA, I noticed a nail in the back left trailer tire. I was up at 4:00 and took a nice shower and shaved. On my way back to the trailer, a gentleman next to me said, “I’m glad you are awake. I need to hook up and get on the road. I didn’t want to wake you”. A very interesting guy with Oregon license plates on a work truck I had admired as I set up last night. He is from the states, lives in New Zealand and works as an engineer and fiberoptic cable installer on the railroad. I could see they were doing a lot of work on the railroad on my drive yesterday.

I jacked the trailer up, took the tire off and drove it to Dan’s Tire Service that was rated 4.6/5.0. It opened at 7:30 and I got there at 7:15. A very nice gentleman with his arm in a sling was just unlocking. He took the tire and said it should be an easy fix and to come back at 8:30. Returning to the campground, I took the spare tire out and put it on the trailer. Trying to find things in the truck now is a bit of a mess, but I found the torque wrench and sockets and torqued the nuts. Back at Dan’s, I happily paid $16 for the tire repair. The gentleman had his sling off, so I asked about it. He was just two weeks out of rotator cuff surgery, with which I am very familiar. Amazingly, he has no pain and showed me his stitches. I showed him my healed scars from surgery several years ago. I don’t how Dan’s only got 4.6 stars. A fellow checking out ahead of me thanked him profusely for the great service. They are out of the way in Rock Springs, but if you need help, go find them!

I didn’t get on the road until 10:00, but all-in-all I was very happy to have done it in that time, and thankful I didn’t have to buy a new tire. Goodyear Marathons are notorious for blowouts. Kelly can tell you the stories. They are also rated for top speed of 65mph. I have also learned you should change your RV tires every four years. These are three years old and look great. I have gotten used to traveling 64mph, so it doesn’t bother me really, although there are times I would love to do more. Driving a trailer 75 or 80mph is asking for trouble. In 8 hours of driving you will arrive 40 minutes sooner for each 5mph increase. Nice, but not a big deal. There are times when you have to drive faster for safety and self-defense, particularly in heavy traffic. This was the case today in Salt Lake City.

Once you have changed a few flat tires, you become sensitive to the amount of rubber along the sides of highways. In the middle of Salt Lake City on a 10-lane interstate 80, traffic was crazy. A work truck passed me pulling a steel trailer loaded with heavy stuff. In the dull recesses of my mind it was recorded as such, but I was trying to stay on the right highway and not make a wrong turn. I was in the middle lane with cars zipping in and out of lanes to gain a few seconds in their frantic schedules. Then the work truck’s trailer tire that was so heavily loaded started to unravel. The dull senses recorded it, but didn’t react. The driver must have felt it, as he started to switch lanes to the right, but the tire now delaminated, unraveling, and came apart, bits of rubber flying in the air. Then the huge unraveled piece flew six feet in the air. Traveling at 75 miles an hour in heavy traffic in these circumstances shoots adrenaline through my body in a millisecond. A small piece of rubber hit my truck or trailer, but I glanced in the side mirror and dodged the big piece of tire. I could see the truck swerving back and forth trying to maintain control and also trying to get out of traffic. I stomped the gas and shot past him, unable to look back to see what else happened.

Salt Lake City was disappointing. It was likely a beautiful spot when the Mormons arrived, but now it is an ugly, huge city. Driving along the Great Salt Lake was interesting though. There should be enough salt to supply the world! Over the mountain and down the road I-80 goes right through the middle of the Bonneville Salt Flats. It is huge! Road construction constricted traffic to one lane with cones in the middle and a speed limit of 65. This means you can’t look up, glance around or slow down. I don’t know how far it was across, but maybe 45 minutes of driving. A rest area at the far side was a welcome site.

On Friday my goal was to drive from New Frontier RV Park to Valley of the Rogue State Park in Oregon, a fairly easy day, but I made an into a difficult one. I changed my mind about going to a KOA in Medford, Oregon and hanging out for two days before going to Highway Products on Monday. I thought a day or two in a National Park was just what I needed after driving across country. My mistake was not calling for a campsite in Crater Lake National Park as well as grossly underestimating Oregon citizens’ desire to go camping. Not only was the National Park completely filled, but the KOA was filled. Mom and Pop RV parks were filled. I could have found a place in the national forest, but I was getting low on fuel. The truck will travel all day on a 39 gallon tank of gas, or 500-600 miles. I had not seen a gas station all day!!!

Driving Rt 95 is a very cool drive. It is remote! If you want to get away from it all, take 95. Who knows what is out in that semi-desert? Like to go off road? Load up your jeep, take all your supplies. You had best have good maps, a compass and GPS, and you’d better know how to use them. The road goes through the Pronghorn Preserve, miles and miles of sagebrush desert. Didn’t see a pronghorn or a Bighorn goat, but it was mid-day and hot. I was now following the Oregon Trail, and I cannot imagine walking this!

I crossed into Oregon in the middle of the park. Then down a steep, curvy mountain on the edge of a cliff – not my kind of road, but I must say it was cool. The views were spectacular, but who could take their eyes off the road? I would have been scared to death driving that part in the Nissan, but the big GMC diesel makes it easy.

Across the desert floor, up over a mountain and there was water, a lake, green grass, farms. What a change! A curvy road follows a beautiful stream. A sports car on this part would be fun. Then over a mountain and follow another beautiful river. Over another mountain and another beautiful river. Surely pioneers walking the Oregon Trail must have thought they were in heaven. The entire trip from Kansas City follows the California Trail or the Oregon Trail.

I was very fortunate to find a campsite at Valley of the Rogue State Park. It was only one night, but surely something would open up tomorrow. I had made the trip across the country in five days and I was tired. Then I thought of those in the great western migration walking sometimes with no shoes. I had seen a lot of beautiful country, most of which I had never seen. Now I am in Oregon and look forward to exploring this state for the next four weeks before picking Kelly up at the Airport in Vancouver.